I had all and then most of you
Some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
(The Night We Met – Lord Huron)
A cord snaps from within him, and Ben doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Luke Skywalker vanishes to the folds of the Force.
Freedom rushes down his veins, as if his uncle's death has removed the last of the chains that bound his power. The Force vibrates beneath his skin, fueling the anger and revenge singing in his blood.
He commands his army to kill them all.
Crait bleeds in its soil like bullet-ridden resistance fighters. He lets General Hux maneuver the men to position. He reaches deep into the mountain from which the ragtag remnants of the Resistance are
He feels General Organa's grief (I'm sorry, mother, the lost child in his chest whimpers), palpable even through the distance that separates them.
He feels melancholia, pain, panic, grief as well, and he relishes the coldness that buries in the hearts of those left behind. (It's only a matter of time before they surrender.)
But then he feels a flicker of warmth, a single flame amidst the onslaught of ice.
Then the flame grows – another source, another person – and Ben screams.
(The last time he felt that warmth is the night he left with Luke, his parents arm in arm until they are specks of distant stars.)
When alone in his room, he sometimes sees Rey. She stands by the window, and Ben is quite relieved that his room offers no clue as to the First Order's plans or location. (Still, he is certain that the Resistance knows where to find them.) He has noticed that she has shed the tunic that once wrapped her slender form, giving way to a form fitting top and bottom. The cloths that wrapped her arms, however, remain.
His own anger burns away.
He kneels beside her, hands clenched deeps to his robe. The apology almost spills from his lips, just as the tears pooling on his eyes.
Then that same warmth pushes from the depths of consciousness, enveloping Rey's form. He wonders if how strongly she feels it. He looks at her face, her expression unchanging until an arm touches her shoulder.
Her own warmth reaches out.
Electricity cackles, and the lights in his rooms disappear the same time the vision does.
(He knows whose warmth is that. He has picked on his memories and has planted a seed of doubt in his mind.
He laughs, knowing exactly how to ruin his mother's favorite Commander.)
He is discussing battle plans when warmth pools in his belly.
His hand grips the armrest tightly as he feels straining down his suit. His breath becomes heavier, and a groan escape his lips if not for Hux calling him.
"Leave."
The room is emptied in a flash.
His head drops on the table as another wave sends his vision reeling. He curses the inaccessibility of skin.
He closes his eyes, feeling wetness against his bare face. He hears the damnable name – Poe, Poe, force – and looks.
The man's body anchors her against the wall of the fresher, with her legs wrapped on his waist. One of her arms are grappling against the wall, the other guiding the head of brown to where his lips are mapping uncharted flesh. The man sucks on her breasts like a starved babe, and he feels her shuddering through the fabric that connects them.
The man gives a final thrust, and they both shout in release.
Her forehead drops on his shoulder, before her eyes slowly lift to his direction.
"Leave," she mouths.
The vision shatters.
It is the beginning of the end – for the First Order, for the Resistance, it is yet to be determined.
The man, battle worn and wounded from the fall he sustained when his X-wing dropped, stands before him. Ben laughs at his luck.
Invisible hands begin to lift the pilot, but he doesn't give Ben the satisfaction of screaming in pain. He sees the man bite his bleeding lip.
Amidst the chaos, Rey walks calmly towards him. Her body doesn't betray the underlying tension she radiates in the Force.
"Let him go, Ben."
His grip on the man tightens, and the pain reflects in Rey's eyes. He drinks her image until his eyes zero in the ring on her finger.
"I would have given all the galaxies to you."
A shadow of a smile graces her lips. "But it wouldn't have saved you, would it?"
He brings the man down, clutching the collar of his flight suit. Rey and Poe face each other, and the warmth flickers again.
"Don't save me, Rey," the man chokes on his breath.
Rey shakes her head. She brandishes her lightsaber, and Ben almost marvels how starkly bright it is.
He feels a brief whisper, an uncurling from the recesses of Rey's core.
(It calls to him, the way the vision of his grandmother once did as dainty hands curl around her rounded belly.)
The next moment, Rey's face is inches from him, and heat explodes from his chest. His hand uncurls from his own lightsaber.
From his periphery, he sees Poe fall to his knees as the red of his saber withdraws from his flesh.
Rey withdraws hers, and turns her back as she catches the father of her child.
His eyes close. As his curtain falls, he remembers the fraying of two cords.
One of them snaps, and there is nothingness.