Carry Me Home

Now

She took the moldy bread and ate it. Blue mold strewn across the thick crust was better than nothing. She wouldn't eat it at first. Then, she learnt the hard way that grumbling stomach and tremor in her hands made Rey an easy target.

Mildew treat slid down her throat. It itched. Tears sprung from her eyes. She wiped them away and chewed. She knew what this bread meant.

It meant "Have you learnt your lesson, yet?"

It meant "Will you obey, now?"

It meant "You are small and we are grand and there is nothing you can do about it."

Her hands were bound, her ankles shackled. At night, they freed her of the restraints, as if mocking her inability to escape. Days, she spent like this. Rigid statue, a doll sitting with her legs stretched. She feared to bend her knees not to hurt her belly. Free Rey counted scratches on the wall. Bound Rey counted every morning kick. Maybe they would make it. She gazed up at the pole to which she was chained. Once shiny, the metal was rugged and dented.

She tried.

Oh, how she tried at first. I fall. I get up. I keep running. This worked in the woods. It failed in the compound. She wouldn't use the Force. She could, when it was all about her. Sing a song, move her legs – that was all the comfort she could give. Wipe the tears, sing again and eat to sustain life.

He wasn't coming. She knew and yet, she hoped. Kylo would tear the galaxy apart just to find them. Not her, them. But the time was running out.

She was reckless. She was foolish. And now, she had to pay.

Twelve months ago

The Order wasn't a unit.

It was a fracture of splintered shards, each led by few identical brutes with slightly different ideas. She got captured by a man with blue skin and gleaming red eyes.

The mission didn't fail.

Rey failed.

Cockpit was burning and her hands got clammy; and in the end, she could but watch her ship falling down, spinning around its own axis like a leaf.

"Not this one." Familiar death rattle chilled her veins. Rey stood bound, going through selection of slaves - not slaves but prisoners of war, the Order would say. "This one I know." The leather on her cheek irked her more than sprained ankle, more than burning villages on the horizon.

"Still fighting for the wrong side, I see." He had her brought into his quarters, inside the compound, where stormtroopers carried out executions till the first spark of dawn. Old and sick were useless. Rey felt useless, but apparently not to him.

"Still a killer I see, and a cold blooded evil… " words failed her. He knew all she had to say in advance.

"Save your breath. Whatever you accused me of – you're probably right. Even of some things that you didn't. "

She winced. Leather glove was off and skin on skin burnt her more than the inanimate.

"What's to happen to me now?" She strained her muscles to evade his touch, his look mocking her futile existence.

"You're going to be executed, scavenger."

Her heart valves constricted. Beads of sweat trailed down her chest; in the valley of her breasts. He scoffed. "What – did you expect anything else? Did you expect me to save your useless life?"

"Do it yourself, then. Come on. Prove to me that you're…" before the sentence was finished, red glow danced on her skin. And the heat - the heat was unbearable. He thrust his lightsaber so deftly in the air, as if it were an extension of his own hand.

"Any parting words?" he asked in a voice too quiet to rejoice in her fate.

Heroes died like this, she thought.

It was her only consolation. Nobody would ever remember her, save Finn and a few others. Her bones would forever rest in mud, in the blood soaked soil of the First Order. She raised her eyes, looking intently at him, inside him. She felt like searching for a sliver of goodness, a tiny beam of light which would save her. He didn't glow light. She didn't find pity inside him, only sorrow.

Suddenly, she felt sorry for the man he had to be in order to survive.

"Yes. Enjoy it. "She shut her eyes, and counted her heartbeats.

"This gives me no pleasure at all. I believe I said it, once." He couldn't look away. Her eyelids were fluttering spastically; she pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Come on. Do it. Don't prolong my fear." She panted, nearly crying, almost there…but not. The serenity before dying was a lie. She never felt more alive than before his blade was about to end it.

"Please…"She begged now, shaking, unable to contain the movements of her body. "Please, hurry."

Kylo wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. She was begging not for life, but for honorable death. She was begging him for it to be over soon. Why did no one ever beg him to be spared? Han Solo never begged. He embraced his son, just as he embraced the handle of the lightsaber spearing his heart.

And now – the scavenger refused to beg. Why would she? He radiated hate and determination to be rid of any obstacle of the Order. Not his obstacle, though. Who was she to him? Why did he have to kill her?

That moment where her life hung in balance felt like eternity.

"You are no one," he spat.

What? A string of accidental sobs came out. She started fighting for each new breath; because the fear consumed her whole. "I… I'm Rey. I'm a sc-scavenger. I'm not 'no one'. You're killing a person, not 'no one'." She marveled at how many syllables it took to say words, meaningful words which were so empty in the end.

The heat disappeared. The glow went away as swiftly as it came.

"Bind her." Kylo roared at a stormtrooper and Rey felt more dead than alive, when her life was spared for a little longer.

…

Ten months ago

"You don't get to do this to me." She raised her voice. He was buckling his belt, and she threw her tunic on in a hurry. "You don't get to just come and go as you please."

"What's worse – comings or goings?" He turned to face her and skimmed her cheek. The leather was off. He knew she didn't like it.

The resistance had freed her, but he found her anyway. She ran – he sought; she pulled – he pushed. And nobody ever knew. She wanted it as much as he did. He never forced, only asked, and she gave back.

"Don't come back. Don't seek me out, ever. You hear me? This is over." She said, but leaned into his touch.

"I understand."

"Good."

"I said I understand, not that I will stop."

"Why?"

"Because neither of us wants it."

And they didn't.

…

Nine months ago

"This is a terrible idea. This can't be happening." She sobbed into her palms. He wouldn't console her; not when she hated even a mere sight of him. "How could this happen - how could I let it happen?" She cried, over and over.

"Do you regret that it's mine, or? " he asked coldly.

"That's not the point." She darted up, wiping tears which wouldn't cease falling. "I feel sorry for it. What kind of life it is – on the run, never safe, always hungry and hurt and…"

Now, he drew the bulk of his body up and followed. "What are you talking about? And don't say "It." It's a child, my child, not some nameless scavenger."

The moment he said those words, he regretted them. Her eyes widened. The green in them shone like never before.

"I'm some nameless scavenger!" She hit her chest. "Do you remember? I'm no one. You said it and now, your child is going to be no one."

He grabbed her arm, pressing and twisting until she complied and stopped shouting. "You're crossing the line. And he or she will never feel hungry or hurt. I'll take care of that."

She yanked her arm. "Never. You'll never see it. This… you and I, we're done."

He remained calm, eerily so. "No, Rey. We have just begun."

…

Four months ago

"A child of the Jedi killer and a no one." She goaded, patting her small bump. "What a fate. What a legacy."

His jaw twitched. He said nothing, but felt the calm of a third person in the room. Her willowy frame carried the child almost imperceptibly; like she never had anything of his growing inside her at all.

He nodded towards the plate. "Eat."

She crossed her arms. The plate remained untouched.

He sensed an odd feeling permeating the room, more than their usual whirlwind of accusations and hate. "What is it? You're dying to tell me something. Whatever it is, spit it out."

She shrugged.

"I won't ask twice. You know I'm about to be deployed to Sullust. If you won't say, I can't help you."

Her eyes shot up. "You - help me? Don't be ridiculous. We're helping you." She used we – for the first time ever. Until then, it was her and it, a would-be mother and something unidentified. Suddenly, a pair of them became they. She thought about it, chewing her lower lip. Then, she let out a long sigh and told him.

"I'm needed on a mission."

"Out of the question. Absolutely not."

"It's not anything dangerous. It's just a precaution, a backup. I'm the only Force sensitive person the resistance has. Now that Luke is-"

He rose and shook half the table with him. "Get it out of your head. I won't allow it – you will not endanger my child like that."

"Well, lucky for me you can't do anything about it, so…"she quirked her lip.

His tone bore a finality to it, something hollow and frenzied at the same time. "I'm not going to Sullust alone. You did this. You decided for me, so pack your things. We're leaving tomorrow."

"You can't force me to go with you!"

She screamed and he retaliated. Their voices created a cacophony which rose to high ceilings of the shuttle. And 'It' wasn't dreaming anymore. It woke up, kicking its mother hard.

…

Two months ago

"What do you mean captured? Captured by whom?" he couldn't comprehend. Who would dare? He didn't want her dead. If she was safe from his wrath, she didn't need to fear anything.

"Do you think we would be here if we knew? If she wasn't… if it wasn't yours…" traitor stormtrooper dared to raise his eyes, let alone his voice in Kylo's presence.

Pride bested the anger in him, still. "I could kill you, right here for you insolence. I didn't forget, traitor."

"Just give her to us. That's all we ask. Just give her back."

Kylo tilted his head, the mask reflected light. "You… you feel something for her. More than a friendship, more than the need for companionship. I can feel it."

Traitor coveted something that belonged to him. Problem arose. If he killed him, he would still his trembling hands and restless nights. If he let him live, he might help him find his child. Not the scavenger; the child came first. Rey wouldn't look at him. He could only do so much with a creature that hated him, even though Kylo stopped hating her a long time ago.

"So be it. I will let you live, traitor. For now."

…

Now, dark cell, midnight

"No, no ,no. Please not yet, not now." She was begging an invisible deity to protect her invisible child.

Inhale, exhale, cry and dig the nails into the damp soil. She repeated the process through jolts of pain and panic.

She thought she heard a ship. Not one, but many. Lights crossed the sky outside her cell. It might very well have been a lie. Outside her cell, life ceased to exist. Only the cell mattered. Green, red, and purple lightning shone on her face, tumultuous cries filled her ears; but the sound of her blood hitting them overcame her. She felt something warm trailing down her tight, but too thick to feel normal.

"Oh no." She put beige hand under her dress and withdrew it bright red. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She sagged down to her knees, pressing them together. She would keep it safe. She would keep it inside and as long as it remained inside, it would be safe.

She apologized to a baby she never wanted, from a father she stopped hating. She pitied him. His child and she would die and he would get to live. Alone, without the dream he got ready to suffer for. Bleak was the future to which her death sentenced him.

She woke up. When did she fall asleep? A pair of hands was wrapped around her waist from behind.

"Come on. You have to push. Come on, Rey."

Push? She didn't want to push. She wanted to sleep or let go, any of that would do.

"Come on!" The voice seeped into her mind, an order combined with threat. "I'm not letting you do this. You won't give up on it. Push!"

She threw her head back, exposing her slender throat. It hit something solid and warm. It hit his chest. "You're here?" She blinked.

Did he choose this – to be with her, to help her? No. He was just comforting a mother giving birth to his offspring, nothing more. He cared until she vaulted his child. When the vault was opened, he would stop caring.

"Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"

She no longer recognized his voice, once it lost its usual venom. He was holding her from behind, providing a wall on which she could lean. Someone was kneeling in front of her parted legs… but who?

World became blurry and her heartbeat faint. She was writhing in agony. Roots of a mighty tree had been plucked from her very insides. She felt being ripped apart, mutilated and for what? For the sake of another one, a wrinkled, little being he would love more than her. When did he ever love you? Her consciousness screamed amidst her own screams.

"I can't… I can't…" she kept panting. He was there, wiping the damp hair from her forehead.

"You can. They're attacking the compound. You have to do it, now; we have to flee. Come on, just a little longer. It's going to be over soon." He felt her pain. They shared this, just as they shared the making.

"No, you don't…don't understand. I …" her eyes rolled up the back of her head. He gazed into them, bloodshot and contorted in pain. "I can't go on. I don't have the strength."

They tortured her in captivity. They took her from him and depraved him of those final moments. He never felt a kick of his child. He never saw her standing under the moonlight, caressing her bump, happy for the new life they had created.

"You will endure this. We will. Don't you dare, don't you give up on that." He begged, squeezing the life out of her.

He never wanted this. He wanted to rule the galaxy, restore the order. But now, when it nearly slipped his grasp, he wanted nothing more. A nameless child with a nameless scavenger – his heart ached for that more than he was willing to admit.

A blood curling scream later, tiny set of lungs pierced the night sky. She went limp in his arms. Her breath condensed into a pearly mist, and he would have caught it and put it back inside her where it belonged.

"Rey," he shook her gently. "Rey! I don't allow this! Can you hear me? I can't…stop…it."

But he commanded in a world where mortals no longer ruled. Sway of his hand could execute millions in this galaxy. In the world where she was headed, he was no more of a king than she was a queen. He saw her wet eyelashes. He saw her bleeding form, sinewy skin; her slightly parted lips through which the last breath escaped.

And in that moment, a son who killed his father would die for the mother of his child. He closed his eyes and felt the Force flow, giving as much life essence as he could to her. He would do without years, if it spared hers.

…

Two weeks after

Endless prairies, warm sunny nights and gentle breeze – Rey felt all that in a strange land under the strange moon. Once in a while, something kicked her and called her back.

"Pay no heed; give no thought to that pesky imp." She laughed under the lune.

This shadow land grew on her. At first, she was lonely and sad, and afraid. But she was lonely on Jakku and she made it. Why would a shadow land be any different? She loved the serene aura all around the things which glowed and whispered in the dusk.

She realized that she hadn't eaten in several days. Then, she realized she didn't need to. No sleep or food or toil of mortals bothered her there, in her spirit shadow land.

Save for that little imp.

It kept haunting her and popping at her from under the rocks and shrubs. It bared its teeth at her from the most random places.

"Come, come. Back, back." It chanted; mocked.

Rey shook her head. "Back to what?"

…

He didn't hold his son properly, ever. Once he compared his massive palm to the baby's head; he forbade himself to touch. That thing was small. And pale, and its eyes looked hazel one day, and green the next. And a small patch of jet black hair covered its pruny head.

And Kylo had no idea what to do with it. All he knew was that he would kill anything and anyone to keep it safe. Apart from that, he was lost, drifting in the ocean among the stars without her.

"You… you really did a number on me. Is this your idea of a joke? Last punishment before you wake up, right?" he was pacing by her medivac.

Bless the Force she possessed. It kept her from certain death. Kylo submerged her in a deep hibernation trance, an ancient Jedi technique to restore and heal both mind and the body.

She couldn't hear, could she?

He slumped down on a chair and raked his hair. "Wasn't all bad. What about the happiness we knew? What about that good that was true? What about that, huh? You just can't do that to me… to him. I haven't even named him, you know." His eyes drifted to that little bundle by her side.

If she wouldn't wake up because of them, Kylo would wake her out of spite. He smiled, holding her hand. "Anakin. That sounds nice, doesn't it? Yes," he nodded. "I think the name should be Anakin Kylo Sheev Ren Organa. Not Solo, naturally… "

He imagined the slightest of whimpers. Imagined being the key word. She kept dreaming and dying, just like she had been for weeks.

He pressed her palm in his. "You're million of miles away. I know where you are. I know there's peace. But if you only came back to the turmoil, you would love it. I can't do this. I can't describe you to him. He can't know you from the holocrons. I can't…"

This time, the whimper wasn't imagined. Her chaffed lips parted, ever so slightly.

"Ben." She murmured.

"Yes. Yes, it's me. I'm here." He had to dose his breaths. They came in torrents.

"N-name… his name is Ben. I'll d-die again if y-you name him Sheev."

His eyes widened. He carried her home. He brought her back and she opened hers. They were gleaming in the same two colors the eyes of their son did. He saw green and brown, combined in perfect symmetry.

He pressed his lips on her pulse point.

The bundle started crying. Rey started crying upon hearing the voice of her son for the first time. She would take the turmoil over serene shadow land any day. She chose – or did Kylo? He carried her home.

He hunched and handed her the baby. Medi droids were fussing around them, checking Rey's vitals. New parents paid no attention to them. All they saw was each other, and two halves of them combined in that little scrunched face.