"We have everything we need."

The general had a way of facing the darkest moments with sure-footed grace. Perhaps it was merely the product of her lineage— born of an awesome and fearsome mythos, proclaimed in song and whispered amongst starry-eyed children in all corners of the galaxy— which allowed her to gaze into a sea of darkness and uncover a glimmer of light. It wouldn't be so far fetched a presumption. Even the general's twin brother had bet the entire fate of the galaxy on it not so long ago.

But no, that explanation, however convenient, was far too inadequate— perhaps even bordering on a slight— to capture the true depth of her capacity to harbor hope. For Rey sensed that this richness in the general's character was not merely a product of heritage or chance, it was a matter of choice; a commitment to the idea that to put one's hope in any undertaking was ultimately to invest in it. Like a whispering wind over a rippling pond, just enough to shift the crests and troughs on the waves of fate.

"Your lightsaber!" Leia's gaze had fallen to the completely severed weapon lying in Rey's lap. The mere mention of the fractured item was all it took. She hastened to avert her eyes from the general.

In an instant, fragmented memories shot through her mind, unhinged as comets streaking through a midnight sky. Snoke's once pristine throne room had been gutted into nothing but chaos and ash. One red-cloaked enemy after another had danced in a whirl of treacherous crimson until only the fire remained, blazing in festering swarths of heat as the maimed, mangled corpses clung lifelessly to the floor.

And him.

The desperation of his expression in that moment had burned into her with a ferocity that seared like a white-hot brand across her bare flesh. He had pleaded for her, reached for her, vulnerable and exposed. She struggled to suppress the rush of emotions which threatened to suffocate her like a tightly clenched fist cupped around her trembling throat.

"Oh...Yes. I intend to try and fix it," she mumbled clumsily in reply. She'd hoped to convey a collected, composed demeanor, but she sensed that her response had sounded more like a deflection than an assurance.

The general was surveying her closely now, searching for something in Rey's countenance that would give her a glimpse into the young woman's true sentiments. For Rey, the general's eyes made for an eerily familiar stare.

"Well, I'm sure you can." No doubt General Leia had noted Rey's patent unease, but to the flustered scavenger's relief, her superior graciously steered the conversation away from the source of her discomfort.

"Understand, Rey," Leia continued in a serious tone, "the path that lies ahead is not an easy one."

Rey nodded politely. But in truth, she judged the assertion to be categorically understated. The Resistance was no larger than those aboard The Millennium Falcon. More to the point, there was nothing left of the New Republic. Setting aside the obvious issue of a lack of funding for securing weapons of defense, for whom did The Resistance now even fight? There was no governing body for it to protect or defend.

"Rey…" the general's whisper cracked with a hint of desperation, "I promise you that there is still a way." She placed a gentle hand on Rey's arm, tightening her grip as if to begin an earnest appeal, "but what I ask of you— all of you— will take a great deal of faith."

"General Leia, I cannot think of another person in the whole galaxy in whom The Resistance would now more willingly place its trust." She returned the general's entreaty with a reassuring smile. Although she certainly harbored concerns about the means of accomplishing their goal, or even discerning precisely what that goal now entailed in so grim a circumstance, she had not the slightest shadow of a doubt in the intentions and capability of the woman who was prepared to lead them through it.

The general appeared satisfied for the moment. "Thank you, Rey." She rose from her seat and made her way through the bustle of all that remained of The Resistance.

The Jedi novice surveyed the scene that was abuzz all around her. Undoubtedly, their meager band of fighters looked a weary and battered crew, but despite barely making off with their lives, the sentiment aboard their escape vessel was not one of despair or fatigue, but rather of hopeful anticipation. Her companions dwelt not on what they had lost or what they had endured, but on the challenges that lie before them. The realization of the strength and resilience of her friends evoked a warmth within her that she hadn't felt since…

No.

She was determined not to dwell on that. After all, she had literally closed the door on it, and she was resolved to let it fall away. He had urged her to let the past die. How apt. Undoubtedly, it wasn't the interpretation he'd had in mind. But she would gladly leave that entire misguided entanglement in the past.

Kill it if you have to.

She needed a distraction. Sitting idly wouldn't be conducive to offering her the solutions she required. Her eyes fell to the drawer where she'd tucked away the ancient texts. In an instant, her heart sank as the implications of the situation grew more apparent. Master Luke was gone. All that remained of the Jedi Order had been hastily stashed away in a cubby on a damaged, decades old ship. The task of cultivating the light for the good of the galaxy fell solely to her now, a responsibility— though humbling— which felt overwhelming and beyond the scope of her knowledge and skills.

Finn lingered near the drawer she had been eyeing. He hadn't left the injured young woman's side since they'd come aboard. Rey couldn't help but admire her dear friend's compassionate heart. She approached him tenderly, letting her palm graze his shoulder in solidarity for a moment. He gave a half smile as he caught her eye, but quickly reverted his stare back to the girl's bleeding, unconscious form.

Rey opened the cubby just enough to fumble blindly for the nearest book, shoving the dual pieces of her lightsaber into the compartment for temporary safe keeping. She tucked the text under her arm and made for the gunman's well. There wouldn't be too many secluded places to read quietly on the overcrowded Falcon, but the gunner's seat would be a likely place to find a minute to herself at present.

It was only after she'd settled into the chair that she had a moment to survey the book she'd extracted. She'd serendipitously pulled out precisely the same one Luke had picked up as he stood with her inside the gnarled tree on Ahch-To, fingering the Jedi emblem that graced the inside cover. She placed an eager index finger behind the ear of the first page.

From the walkway behind her, a startling commotion of beeps and squeaks erupted in a frantic, incoherent whir. She recognized the sound immediately: Luke's little droid, the R2 unit. At her distance, however, she couldn't quite make out what seemed to have caused it such alarm. Rey carefully placed the book in the elastic of her pants and quietly crept from the chair toward the corner of the small compartment. She caught a brief glimpse of shimmering, metallic gold as she ducked into the corner. Another familiar voice rejoined the cacophony of resonating beeps.

"R2-D2! Keep your voice down! It is not our place to question the judgement of the princess!" Rey was only moderately acquainted with C-3PO, but the rigid nature of his voice was unmistakable.

This time, she was just close enough to catch the hurried ramblings of the anxious little droid. By his account, wherever it was that the general had instructed Chewbacca to direct the Falcon, it was so dangerous that it bordered on an act of madness. She popped her head out of the gunman's well just in time to catch the eye of an unsuspecting C-3PO, startled at the presence of an eavesdropper. Her limited interaction with the golden protocol droid was sufficient to convince her that there would be no coaxing the elusive information out of him. R2, however, seemed to play by different rules.

"Hey, friend," she shot him an amicable smirk. "Where are we heading?"