a/n: Because I apparently cannot write for a fandom without at least one "5+1" fic. Also because I am apparently complete trash. ;)
This story will have six parts.
i.
Kylo Ren has been able to think of very little besides Rey since their strange new bond flared to life.
She has overwhelmed every one of his senses, flooding them all with memories and images of her that have set his mind and his heart to racing, leaving room for nothing else.
He tries to focus on the tasks at hand. But it's useless. He's useless. He performs his duties perfunctorily, in a sort of half-stupor, because he cannot rid himself of the foolish hope that at any moment, the Force might reconnect them and he will see her again.
(Touch her again.)
Not even the fear of death, or of his master's wrath, can drive from his thoughts the way she'd looked at him the first time they were bonded.
He'd seen confusion in her eyes, and fear, and a longing he recognized immediately because he sees it in himself, too, whenever he looks in the mirror.
It's that perfect symmetry he feels when they are connected that unnerves him the most.
He drives himself to distraction, sometimes, trying to discern the pattern behind their unexpected connections.
Because there has to be a pattern.
He has long since stopped believing that anything in this galaxy happens randomly, or by chance.
Yet by the same token, he is terrified that whatever created their bond will decide to sever itif he ponders the situation for too long, in much the same way a lurid dream dissolves into wisp and smoke when analyzed in the harsh light of day.
As loathe as he is to admit it to himself, Kylo Ren does not want his connection with Rey to end.
Not ever.
So he tries to force himself to stop thinking about its cause.
(It doesn't work. His mind still races, yearns, for answers. For her.)
He is alone in his quarters the next time it happens, and suddenly he finds himself standing just a few feet away from her, looking down at her as she sits inside a mud-covered hut.
Her hair is freed from its usual restraints, down and loose around her shoulders, and he's not sure he's ever seen anything so pretty.
She looks up when he appears, and she bites her bottom lip in a way that makes him want to bite it, too.
"I was just thinking about you," she says.
She has never said anything like that to him before. The shock of her admission now nearly stops his heart.
He sits down next to her, much closer to her than is entirely wise, without waiting for an invitation.
Only then does he sense the dark energy that flows, pulses, all around her.
His stomach seizes, and his heart clenches painfully, hopefully, in his chest.
"Rey," he breathes. His mouth has suddenly gone very dry. He licks his lips to stall for time, and tries, feverishly, to think of something to say to her. "What – "
She shakes her head. The gesture is effective. It cuts him off.
She sighs, and buries her face in her hands.
"Tell me what happened," he implores. "Please."
And so she does.
"I didn't know where I was," she begins, very quietly, her voice thick with emotion, and confusion, and what sounds a lot to him like unshed tears. "There was a large mirror, wherever I was. And… and there was a long line of people, too, both behind me and on the other side of the glass, who… well."
She looks up from her hands, and directly into his eyes.
She bites her lower lip again, making him feel dizzy and his palms sweat.
He clears his throat. Tries to collect himself.
"Well, what?" he prompts. "Go on."
She sighs. "Well… all of the people there looked exactly like me. Their clothes, their hair. Everything."
Kylo frowns. What she's just described makes no sense. He closes his eyes, and reaches out with the Force to try and discern the meaning behind Rey's strange experience.
But if there is, in fact, some meaning behind it, it is one that is hidden entirely from his view.
He opens his eyes, and decides he can tell her none of this.
"I can help you," he says instead. "Please. Let me try. I can help you make sense of what happened to you today, and of your… your… Um." He pauses. Rubs at the back of his neck with one gloved hand. "Your everything."
She shakes her head again. "I don't see how you can, Ben." She swallows, and a single tear slides down her cheek. "I've never felt so alone."
Her words, and the sight of her tears, tell him exactly what he must do.
"You're not alone," he corrects her. He means it.
"Neither are you," she murmurs.
And just like that, he's hers.
Much later, when he is alone again and in his bed, Kylo Ren cannot remember which of the two of them extended their hand towards the other first.
He remembers Rey's hand had been very small, the skin of her palm smooth as silk against his own. Before tonight it had been years since he had last experienced the gentle touch of another living person, and he knows his hand trembled, very badly, as she held it.
He shudders, now, when he remembers how desperately he had wanted to kiss her tonight. To hold her close.
How he likely would have done both of these things had Luke not spoiled everything.
The meaning of Rey's vision in the cave remains murky to him, even upon further meditation and reflection. But what he saw when he held her hand could not have been clearer.
Rey will eschew the light. Join him here. Be with him.
Be his.
It's not yet clear to him how it will happen, or when.
But when the time comes, he will be here, waiting for her.
And Kylo Ren has gotten very good at waiting.
He drifts off to sleep, the pleasant memory of her touch still imprinted on his cheek.