Rey had never felt cleaner.
The path of resistance was proving to be long and rocky, fraught with constant peril and long, sleepless nights.
Showers - a non existent luxury back on Jakku - were a wonderful new ritual, but due to the rebel base's strict rationing protocols, they were always over far too quickly.
Few and far between, these showers were the only moments when Rey was truly alone with her thoughts. She grew to love the pounding and pressure of the water. But the more days that stretched to fill the space between her last encounter with...him...the silence began to deepen and gnaw.
Ruined.
Because of him, she started to dread those moments, when she was laid bare, naked and raw, alone with her thoughts.
Torture.
That's what it felt like. Self inflicted and constant. A never ending test of will, which she constantly failed. Always, her mind would spin with questions. What could she have done differently? What could she have said? What would have happened if she had chosen differently? What if there had been another way? Not light or dark, but something in between? A silver line, running between them?
Every day was filled with battles, but none so exhausting as the ones Rey fought in her own mind. Like the vision in the cavern, alone in the dark, surrounded by strangers who wore the same face. Lonely, always lonely. Cold, uncertain, full of regret.
But cleaner than she'd ever been.
At least, on the outside.
It wasn't until yesterday, during a supply run to Takodana, that Rey had her very first bath. With all that was going on in the universe, Maz Kanata insisted that Rey and Chewy spend the night in her home.
"Get some rest," she said. "You have earned it, and more."
Chewie had gone straight to the cantina, but Maz brought Rey to a place she called a "spah," which was filled with odd smells and vapors of exotic colors. And more, indeed.
Red and purple steam swirled together invitingly as Rey let herself be scrubbed and massaged every which way, then oiled and powdered until she shone.
When she finally caught sight of herself in a plaque of polished metal, Rey almost gasped in surprise. Eyes bright, cheeks pink, hair falling in soft curls around her face, a loose white caftan swirling around her ankles...she looked like a completely different person. Someone shimmering and full of hope. Someone who hadn't been touched so often by darkness.
That night, sprawled in the softest bed she had ever touched - let alone slept in - the New Rey lay still, breathing more deeply than she had in months, without a thought in the universe. Peaceful. Content. Unburdened.
Sleep claimed her suddenly, deeply.
It was then, for the first time in many months, Rey began to dream.
She dreamt of a life she had never lived, or if she had, a life she couldn't remember.
Rescued from Jakku at the age of seventeen, brought to a strange new land by a robed old man with kind eyes. Before the hope had left her heart, before she had begun to doubt.
He left her on a planet that was covered in water, but for small clusters of green hills that jutted out of the silver sea. So much green. More lush and beautiful than she could've imagined. It was Ahch-To, but younger. Teeming with life and purpose. There, she met a small group of others her age, Late Comers who were strong in the Force. She soon learned what that meant, that something inside her had called out to them, these Others from all across the galaxy, who were all so different but also, somehow, so familiar. Others like her. Late, but not forgotten.
It wasn't long before she noticed him. The tall young man with dark eyes, a deep voice, and a shy smile. Always wearing gray, always shifting his weight from one foot to another, like he was waiting to take off and fly.
"Ben Solo," the others whispered. Reverently. He was a Skywalker. That meant something important, Rey knew, but she wasn't sure exactly what. So she watched him. Hoping to discover.
A Skywalker, well, that would explain his graceful way of moving. He barely made a sound when he walked. Rey wished she had the courage to ask him how.
But he was a teacher, not a student. It was forbidden to speak to them unless first they spoke to you. Oh, how she wished Ben Solo would speak to her. But he never did. Hardly to anyone, but especially not to her. As time went on, Rey learned to speak with her actions. The others hated it when she showed off, but they seemed to hate her less when she beat them all without comment. Once, after she handily disarmed three of her classmates, she turned away to hide a triumphant smile. Just in time to catch Ben Solo watching from between the trees. He quickly looked away, and Rey wondered if she was only imagining the smile she'd seen tugging at his lips. If it had been there, she decided, it definitely wasn't meant for her.
When the others slept, Rey liked to sneak out and practice by herself on the beach. Sometimes swinging a practice saber, sometimes swimming and taunting the monsters of the sea with her ability to snatch herself away from their jaws at the last second. A dangerous hobby, but an exhilarating one.
The night Ben Solo caught her at this game was the first time she ever heard him raise his voice. He called her reckless, and sent her back to her hut for three days of solitary meditation.
She thought of him almost the entire time.
Weeks went by, and Rey began to make up a new game, much more exhilarating than gambling with the sea. She would poke at the edges of Ben Solo's seemingly endless patience, until it began to crack. When that happened, she would win a rare glimpse of the fury that roiled beneath his placid exterior.
Childish though it was, Rey loved the idea that she was the one weakness that Ben could not resist. Even if it was annoyance instead of attraction, at least he reacted to her. It was a start.
One day, she challenged him to a duel in front of everyone. His answer was a stoic glare. The jeers of her fellow students almost masked his reply. Almost, but not quite.
"Careful," he said, so softly.
That night, she closed her eyes and pictured his lips forming the words. Careful...careful...as his hands reached for hers, as his lips caressed her face. Careful.
On her nineteenth birthday, Rey decided she had been careful long enough.
She crept out of her hut and stole to the beach, stripping off her clothes and diving into the water. "I'm done being careful," she told the sea, between strong strokes. "Come and get me, or let me go."
She was almost a mile from the shore when something closed around her waist from behind. Strong, smooth and pale in the dark water. Like no monster she had ever seen. Rey smiled ferociously, laughing up at the moon. Triumphant, she turned in his arms. His dark eyes burned into hers, hair slicked back, lips wet. His mouth captured hers, once, twice. Floating together, they tangled like weeds. The current dragged them toward the shore, but they didn't let go.
When the pair finally washed up on the beach, both were breathing heavily, limbs entwined. Their struggle with the sea had very little to do with how her heart pounded, Rey knew.
He was the breath in her lungs, the blood in her veins. His skin against hers was all the warmth she needed. His eyes told her all she needed to know. Neither of them were experienced in this game, so there would be no teacher and no student here. The thought thrilled and terrified her.
"Rey..." he whispered her name, in that same tone. The careful tone. Reverent, yet full of warning. Or maybe a promise, if the heat in his eyes was any indication.
Rey took his hand in hers, guiding him to where she wanted - no, needed - to feel his touch.
"Are you sure?" He asked. His voice shook slightly. Was it possible he was actually afraid? The unshakable Ben Solo, afraid of her? The thought made her heart skip a beat.
Rey refused to be afraid. Not now. Not ever again.
"Do you want this?" She pressed her lips against his neck, loving the sensation of his pulse pounding beneath that smooth, pale skin. "Do you want me?"
Jaw clenched, he swallowed. Rey watched the lump in his throat and held her breath. She wanted him more than anything. More than life. More than—
"More than anything."
Rey exhaled, and Ben Solo finally touched her. His hands caressed her chest, her thighs, no longer careful or shy. Hungry. Desperate. Before her eyes, her gentle Jedi turned into a dangerous man. Determined to conquer her body with his own. His movements were anything but timid, as he stroked and grasped, twisted and tasted.
Rey felt a cry building in her throat, and she reached out, clutching his strong shoulders for balance.
"Ben!" She moaned, writhing against his body, desperately trying to bring him closer. "Please, Ben, I need you!"
It was at that moment, back arched and lips parted with burning pleasure, that Rey woke up.
No longer lying on a moonlit beach in another reality, but alone in a soft white bed on Takodana, sheets tangled around her legs.
Except...she was not alone.
Blinking into the darkness, Rey gasped. The dark eyes that met hers were the same as the ones she'd dreamt about. The arms that has enveloped her, pale and strong, were the ones she'd imagined pulling her safely from a treacherous sea. And his hands were...oh god.
His hands were right where she had put them.
Touching her. Intimately. In ways she had begged to be touched only seconds before. It felt discordant, like laughing and crying all at once. Yet, the pressure inside her continued to build, a force she was powerless to stop.
That face...the smooth face of her beloved Ben, with its shy smile and careful temper, was now the face of her enemy. Scarred and twisted with desire, lips curling with male satisfaction. Bare chested, trousers undone, Kylo Ren hovered above her, panting in time with her own ragged gasps. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to flicker with doubt. But then he smiled, and bent to claim her mouth with his.
Stunned, Rey didn't push him away. But she didn't return the kiss. Instead, she tried to process what was happening. Was this another dream, or had the force connected them again?
"Ben." It was a test, the way she whispered his name. A test for him, or for her. She wasn't quite certain. He didn't answer, but his smile disappeared. His hands moved against her, more insistently. Rey groaned. "Ben, please...I need...I need..."
"You don't know what you need," he whispered. "But I know. I know you want this. More than anything.
With those words, Rey felt her world exploding. Eyes shut tight, she tensed and screamed. It felt like her body was being torn apart, atom by atom, only to be pulled back together by a gravity she could not control or begin to understand.
Universes colliding, reality ripped apart and sewn back together with threads of pure light. Years of wanting imploded in an instant, and nothing would ever be the same. She would never be the same.
When the shaking finally subsided, she opened her eyes. He was gone.
Kylo Ren was gone, if he had ever been there at all. Ben Solo was gone. She was truly alone.
Rey had never felt dirtier.