ABSOLUTE MAGNETISM

"I was always attracted not by some quantifiable, external beauty, but by something deep down, something absolute. Just as some people have a secret love for rainstorms, earthquakes, or blackouts, I liked that certain undefinable something directed my way by members of the opposite sex. For want of a better word, call it magnetism. Like it or not, it's a kind of power that snares people and reels them in."
—Haruki Murakami

Sequel to Psychedelic Inebriation.

Rey never expected to find herself hidden away on yet another backwater planet with only one other person for company. Joining the First Order had broken her chains, but leaving it had truly set her free. Her newfound freedom does not, however, help her come to terms with her past. Instead it only makes her feel adrift and unsure, and she fights to find her path. Luckily, she is no longer alone in her venture.
REYLO endgame/StormPilot too/Rated E for mentioned rape/dub-con, violence and smut.

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Chapter I
Mysteries Of Attraction
"Mysteries of attraction could not always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls became the very hinges that held them together."

―Lisa Kleypas

Rey

The wind is warm and dry as it swirls her hair around her face, and she enjoys the heat of the sun on her skin. The stone remnants of the once large and impressive statue that flanks the steps is warm beneath her fingertips, and she enjoys the heady feeling of the Force wrapping around her and flowing through her as she stretches her consciousness out across the vast emptiness of the Valley of the Dark Lords.

She can feel Kylo's strong Force-signature humming in the back of her mind, and she can sense he is holed up in the Library, as he had been before she had started meditating.

Whereas she had struggled with meditation before, she is now quite proficient at entering a trance, and she often spends hours on end meditating. At first, she had sensed precious little life around her—Kylo had been ever-present; a bright, all-encompassing presence that temporarily blinded her from all other presences she could sense.

Once she learned to look past his presence though, she had been stunned by the sheer number of living organisms that surrounded her. It was as though she had been standing deaf in the midst of a crowd and now she could hear the rivers of conversation whirling around her.

It was a vulnerable feeling; one that left her feeling completely exposed and alone. But on the other hand, it was also a heady feeling to realize that she was one of the lucky few to ever get to witness the galaxy and the Force in its awe-inspiring natural state.

She had spent many an hour attempting to discern and identify each different life form, out of nothing more than sheer curiosity, and sometimes even boredom.

It had taken her only a few weeks to realize that the Force truly is present in and around everything that lives—at first, she had been foolish enough to assume that the Force only moved through sentient life—but now, when she closes her eyes and slips into a restful meditational trance, she can sense everything—from the smallest larvae to the largest Shyrack in the caves, and everything in between.

Even the foliage, limited in its existence in the harsh desert climate, has a tangible presence within the Force. Even the sandy soil of the planet's crust is teeming with organisms so small that she can barely sense them at all—and the only thing she can conclude is that her previous idea of sentient life was wrong all along.

Intelligent life is not reserved solely for species that have evolved to include the capability to communicate with others, but also those that thrive on their own.

She slowly drifts back to the boundaries of her own mind, heaving a soft sigh as she once again becomes aware of the weight and feel of her body. She doesn't move from her cross-legged position as she muses over the life she and Kylo have built over the past few months—it had been difficult, at times.

Their Force Bond had been strengthened to staggering and frightening intensity, and they both still struggle to navigate the uncharted waters of that particular connection. In the first few days, Rey had found it nigh impossible to tear herself from Kylo's side—she is certain he found it aggravating, but he had been kind about it, and allowed her to tag along everywhere he went, and even went as far as to move her bed into his room so she could be closer to him.

She's fairly certain that the events on Starkiller Base had rattled him as much as they had her, and that he needed her physical proximity as much as she did.

He had put his foot down when she attempted to follow him into the 'fresher, though.

It wasn't that she was that clingy—she isn't, really—but her every instinct had protested against letting him out of her sight after nearly feeling him die in her arms, and the newly strengthened Bond had drawn her to Kylo like a moth to a flame.

They'd also spoken about Starkiller Base briefly, and Rey remembers the pained expression on Kylo's face as he avoided talking about why he'd stepped in front of her instead of simply catching the bolt with the Force, as she had seen him do many times before during their training—and she remembers the petrifying nightmares they'd both suffered that night.

She remembers dreaming that she had been too late—that she couldn't catch Kylo as he fell, and that he tumbled off the walkway, into the reactor—that he bled to death before she could get him away from the oscillator—that he was dead when she'd finally gotten them off of Starkiller and returned to heal him…

She remembers waking up screaming his name, shaking and sweating, unable to steady her erratic breathing until Kylo had climbed into bed with her and held her until the shaking had stopped. He'd stayed with her until she had fallen asleep again, and she had been woken a few hours later by his own screams of terror. He had, initially, not allowed her to comfort him in the same fashion as he had comforted her, but she could sense that he did, in fact, yearn for the comforting physical contact, despite his aversion to touch. So, naturally, she had ignored his weak protests and shoved him to the side so she could fit in his—stupidly small—bed with him, and had hugged him until she could feel his mind quieting down and slipping back into sleep.

As such, it had taken them nearly two weeks before they'd managed to regain some semblance of normalcy—especially since Rey still had trouble with letting Kylo out of her sight for more than a few hours at a time.

Their previous training schedule had required them spending quite some time apart, which had frayed Rey's nerves within ten minutes of their first attempt to return to it. Instead, they had decided that they would begin their day in the Library, studying as many of the ancient Sith scriptures as they could before Rey would find a place nearby to meditate for a few hours.

Kylo had instructed her to try to go a little bit further each day, to test the limits of their Bond, and to not forget how to be a separate person—and she's never been able to go as far as she has today.

The entrance to the Academy is a good five hundred meters away from the entrance to the Library, and she can sense that Kylo is hidden somewhere near the back of the immense halls, which puts him at nearly a kilometer away from her—it's unnerving, despite the fact that she can sense he's perfectly fine, if not a bit lazy and sleepy after having spent the entire day reading through dusty books.

She sits in silence for a little while longer before she opens her eyes, taking in the sight of the stunning sunset—there are colors within it which she's never seen before and, though the air is rapidly cooling around her, she remains seated until the sun has fully disappeared and a chill is beginning to settle in her bones.

Her legs ache when she stands, and she rolls her shoulders to rid them of the stiffness that had settled there after hours spent in the same position.

She gathers the quarterstaff that she had made of materials she'd found while exploring the Academy and pulls her warm, heavy cloak over her shoulders, pulling her hair out from beneath it before she heads into the decrepit Academy again. She's taken to wearing her hair loose while she meditates, enjoying the way the winds blow through it when she does—it also serves as a calming agent.

And, she muses as she walks inside, if she happens to enjoy the way Kylo's eyes glaze over when he looks at her with her hair down… Well, that's really nobody's business but hers.

"Kylo?"

Her skin seems to tingle when she enters the Library, and she instantly knows where he is. She finds him exactly where she'd left him, sitting cross-legged against one of the back walls, surrounded by piles of scrolls and datapads.

He looks up at her with surprise coloring his features, his full lips parted just a tad, and his hair a veritable mess—she can only guess how many times he's been running his fingers through it—and Rey has to consciously stop herself from laughing at him. She does not catch him by surprise often, but it is always funny to see the expression on his face when she does.

"Rey," he says a little huskily, as if from lack of use. The rich baritone sends a little shiver down her spine. "I didn't realize it was this late already."

She offers him a little grin and takes the scroll he'd been reading from his hands, demonstratively putting it down on one of the piles that surround him. "Come on," she tells him sternly. "We haven't sparred yet, and I'm sure I'm going to kick your ass this time."

Kylo chuckles before heaving himself onto his feet, and she can sense he's rolling his eyes at her. She's been challenging him, swearing she'll beat him, every day, but she's been unable to actually do it so far.

Her attention is diverted when he bends over to pick up his cloak, the tight black trousers he's wearing doing positively delightful things to his backside. After their arrival on Moraband, he had rid himself of the ever-present, heavy black robes that were now charred and covered in his own blood. She had taken great pleasure in burning the robes, and in finding him a white shirt somewhere in the depts of the Academy's wardrobes clean enough and long enough so that it'd fit his large frame.

The change in his wardrobe does things to her, and it makes his reluctance to touch her any longer than he has to—not to mention his absolute refusal to discuss the kiss they'd shared—all the more frustrating.

"Rey?"

She snaps out of her quiet reverie to realize she's been staring at him—which is, to be honest, not an entirely uncommon occurrence—and silently curses at the blush she can feel rising on her cheeks.

"Right," she nods, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. "Let's go then. Sparring or dinner first?"

She follows him as he breezes past her out of the Library, willing herself not to look at his delectable derriere again—he will never let her live it down if he catches her staring again—and grumbles beneath her breath when she realizes he's heading straight for the sparring rooms. "Sparring it is," she sighs, running her fingers through her hair to twist it up into the three buns she usually favours, falling a little behind him in the process.

By the time she's caught up with him, he has disposed of his cloak again and has retrieved their training sabers. He's waiting for her with a grin that promises nothing but pure agony should she lose again—so she resolves to not lose this time.

She catches the saber when he tosses it to her, slips into the best stance to begin a battle with, and makes sure she has a firm grip on her control over the Force before facing him confidently.

They face each other for a long, tense moment, and she's beginning to wonder if she should attack first when he suddenly charges forward, slashing his saber at her unprotected torso. She yelps and attempts to block the attack, but she's a split second too slow, and he manages to land a strike on her ribs, sending her stumbling backwards.

"Stang," she curses beneath her breath, deliberately ignoring the tingling feeling that spreads across her torso, numbing the muscles there, and lunges towards him, aiming to strike him on the knee, but he easily parries the blow. She forces herself to act without consciously thinking of her next move—Kylo had pointed out once that she was far too busy thinking about what she could do rather than actually doing it—and pushes forward, whirling around him in an attempt to hit his arm from the side, where he'd not been shielding it, but again he sees her coming and blocks the hit.

She refuses to let her failure to surprise him deter her attempts and swings her saber at his other arm to draw his attention away from her actual intention, drawing upon the Force to lock his foot in place when he attempts to step back, sending him crashing to the floor.

It's a trick she'd been practicing for weeks now, but had carefully shielded from Kylo's prying eyes, and she's more than a little bit proud that it actually worked.

Rey growls under her breath as she uses the Force to pin Kylo down, but Kylo's pushing back just as hard and, despite her growing strength, he is still more skilled and powerful than she is, and she is beginning to shake with the prolonged exertion.

He senses that she is tiring, and before she can stop him he shoves her away from him with a powerful Force Push, rolling to his feet immediately. The wind is knocked from her lungs for a long, tense heartbeat when she hits the floor, but she refuses to let him win this easily and jumps to her feet as soon as she can, brandishing her saber in front of her, locking her blade with his as she advances on him.

"Good," Kylo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with something not unlike pride. "Not good enough, but good." He eyes her form critically—and she can tell he's having fun with this, the arsehole—before demanding, "Keep your knees bent a little more and pull your shoulders back before you strike."

She does as he tells her, but hides her satisfaction when she senses his attention waning slightly quite suddenly—and she's not sure what it is that has drawn his attention away from her, but he's taught her enough to know she should never let an opportunity to gain the upper hand pass her by.

And then, suddenly, she realizes she is gaining ground on him.

He's backing away from her.

She grins broadly, and she can tell that she's unnerved him with her speedy response to his distraction—and she doesn't plan on giving him any time to regroup. She swings her training saber faster than she ever has before, forcing Kylo back another step before smashing her blade against his, forcing it down, and kicking him in his stomach as hard as she can manage while swinging her saber around to smack the blade down on his hand, knocking his saber to the floor.

Before Kylo can react, Rey pushes forward and flicks the tip of her training saber up to his throat.

Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she feels a little lightheaded because of the adrenaline that is still rushing through her veins. Kylo is staring down at her, panting as heavily as she is, the tip of her training saber hovering less than a centimeter from his shirt-covered collarbone.

Slowly, she lowers her arm, a shaky smile spreading across her lips, and she backs away.

"I did it," she grins breathlessly, kicking at Kylo's training saber and tossing her own on the floor as well. "I actually did it."

"You did. Well done." A rare smile spreads across his features, and she can feel him let down the walls that usually shield his mind from hers before she is suddenly quite literally basking in the feel of his pride and approval. It's heady and unfamiliar to feel him quite so clearly, despite the flashes of emotion that he had let slip before, and all it does is convince her further that, whatever he's said on the subject so far, he truly does feel the same as she does.

She just…

She cannot contain her joy and giddiness and launches herself at him, tightly wrapping her arms around his neck and pointedly ignoring how he visibly starts and stiffens before allowing the hug.

"Thank you," she tells him sincerely, pressing her face into the warm crook of his neck as his arms hesitantly rise to wrap around her waist. "I couldn't have done that if you hadn't been such a good teacher." She tiptoes swiftly upwards to press an impulsive kiss to his cheek before pulling back, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she peers up at his stunned expression.

Much to her amusement, his pale cheeks flame with a pink blush, and he seems to be at a loss for words. She revels in his embarrassment, because she knows that he enjoys this—the physical proximity, the intimacy, the affection—as much as she does, and the only reason they've not indulged in more of it is because he refuses to.

"You're welcome," he finally utters, before withdrawing from the embrace. "I'll prepare our meals for us now. Stow the training sabers and see to it that the Library is locked up before you join me in our chambers."

She's not entirely surprised by how suddenly his mood has shifted from warm and affectionate to cool and reserved—she has become somewhat accustomed to his abrupt mood swings, and now that she's actually felt what his head feels like when it happens, she cannot even truly fault him for it. It is simply overwhelming and stifling, and she understands that it is easier to just shut down and not deal with any sort of emotion at times.

"Yes, Master," she nods, taking a respectful step back and allowing him to leave the room.

She may enjoy pushing him a little, and she may want to push him into accepting whatever it is between them, but she knows him well enough to know when she can push the issue.

She bends down and retrieves their sabers.

This had definitely not been the time to push it.

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The air feels unbearably thick and hot, very nearly too difficult to breathe. The cold durasteel bites into the skin of her knees and the weight of Kylo's prone body is almost suffocating her, but she doesn't care. Her lungs feel like they're shrivelling up with each breath that she attempts to take, panic and fear burning a little deeper into her mind with each passing second.

She swears she can feel her heart, stuck high in her throat, throbbing and cutting off her breathing—and even if she felt as though she could breathe normally, she knows she wouldn't dare.

Tears roll down her cheeks relentlessly as she presses her hand to his chest, gagging at the feel and sight of his blood pooling between her fingertips, hot and sticky and terrifying. Han has disappeared, and there's nothing but her and Kylo and the occasional bomb that makes the whole place shudder and quake.

Kylo jerks roughly in her arms, a violent cough tearing through his lungs, blood spilling from his lips and dribbling down his chin and onto his neck, and she gasps in pain, clutching at her own chest as the ghost of his pain tears through her mind again. "No, no, no," she breathes shakily, pushing his hair from his face with trembling hands. "You're going to be okay—I'll get you out of here."

His eyes are wide, and she can see how terrified he is, and it is tearing her up from the inside out.

"You can't die," she cries, pressing on the wound desperately and attempting to gather her hold on the Force so that she can try to heal him—she knows it's possible, she's read about it, and with their Force Bond it has to be—to do anything to save his life, but she can't concentrate.

Her lack of focus is going to cost her the best thing that's ever happened to her.

Their Bond is aching because of his absence, and she can't stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks continuously as she struggles to get a grip on the Force. "No, no, no," she cries, desperately pressing his cloak against the wound on his chest in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. "No, you can't do this to me."

"Rey," he chokes, immediately followed by a rough coughing fit and another wave of blood spilling from his lips—and this time, it doesn't stop.

"Kylo!" She shouts in alarm, holding him down as he chokes and jerks violently. "Kylo, no, no—please don't—I need you." The convulsing stops almost abruptly, and she breathes a sigh of relief before she realizes that he's not breathing.

"No," she breathes. "No. No, wake up. Please, wake up."

There's no response, and the Bond feels like a gaping wound inside her mind, cutting off her ability to think and to breathe. All she knows is that Kylo could fix it—if only he would wake up, tell her he's okay, that she needs to pull herself together—but he won't move.

Rey.

She slumps down over him, cradling him in her arms as she weeps, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please come back—don't leave me here alone. I love you—please, please wake up."

Rey.

And then there are hands on her shoulders, shaking her, dragging her away from him—away from Kylo. "No!" she screams, struggling violently against the hands that are dragging her away. "No, please, let me stay—no! Kylo!"

She gasps as her body bolts upright in bed, her breath coming out in frantic pants as she struggles to distinguish dreams from reality. She's in her bed, sheets twisted around her torso and her legs, and there are arms wrapped around her—

"Kylo!"

"It's okay," he tells her soothingly, rubbing his hand in soft circles on her back. "I'm here. I'm okay. You saved me—you saved us both. You're safe. We are safe."

"No," she croaks, shifting in his arms so that she can hold him, so that she can listen to his heartbeat to assure herself that he's here, he's alive. "No, I—you died. I was too late, I couldn't—" She tries to explain, tries to find the words, but all she manages is a choked sob before she bursts into tears again. She takes a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to quell the sudden onslaught of tears, but all it does is make things worse, and all she can do to calm herself is to burrow deeper into his arms.

"Please, don't go," she whimpers when he moves, tightening her grip on his shirt.

She'd be embarrassed, but all she can see in her mind's eye is his bloodied, lifeless body on the walkway, and even his heartbeat is not quite enough to soothe the fear that is still burning through her veins. "Please, Kylo," she whimpers, pressing herself against him. "Please."

He stiffens against her for a split-second, and she can feel his apprehension before he complies and settles back down onto her bed, wiggling until they are both comfortably lying in her bed. She's pressed up against him from head to toe, and it feels immensely comforting to have his entire body wrapped around hers.

Her nose is pressed against his collarbone, and his scent is ridiculously addictive, and she can't get enough. "I was so scared," she whispers in a small, trembling voice, curling her fingers in the back of his shirt to keep him close. "It felt so real."

She feels him press a soft, hesitant kiss to the top of her head, and it makes her heart flutter with something unfamiliar, but comforting and warm—and she wants more of it. His side of the Bond is uncharacteristically calm, and all she can feel is warm comfort. Slowly, carefully, she moves her hand up from where it is resting on his back, slipping it beneath his shirt and up over his back, as she presses an openmouthed kiss to the side of his neck.

Her entire body feels as though it's on fire—one that can only be quelled by his cool and calming touch. Her skin feels too tight and too hot, and she wriggles against Kylo impatiently, desperately grasping at him, holding his body pressed firmly against hers.

He stiffens immediately, and she wants to burst into tears all over again, because she needs him to stay with her; to comfort her.

"Rey," he sighs, slowly withdrawing his arms from around her. "Don't."

"But I need you," she whines—Force, when did she revert to being a five-year-old?—digging her fingers into the soft flesh of his back. "Why can't we just—"

"Because we can't," he growls, shoving her back as much as the limited space in her bed allows, glaring at her angrily. "I've told you this many times, Rey. We are not doing this." His voice is hard and his eyes are cold, but she can sense just how conflicted he is, and she wants to push, wants to force him into acknowledging this thing

And then he suddenly pulls himself from her bed, glaring down at her furiously before spitting, "You seem well enough now. Go back to sleep."

"No," she exclaims angrily, pushing herself up and off the bed. "No, we're not done talking about this."

She can feel his anger flare, and it only fuels her own indignant rage, even as he stalks towards her again, roughly poking his finger against her shoulder. "There is nothing to talk about, Rey! There isn't anything worth discussing about this!"

"Of course there is," she shouts back, pressing both hands flat against his chest before shoving him back. "We've been ignoring this for weeks and it's not going away! I know you feel the same way—"

"But I don't!" he bellows, and the force of his exclamation, of his anger and rage and frustration, sends her stumbling back a few steps, her heart sinking when he carefully rebuilds the wall to separate his mind from hers. "You only feel and sense what you want to," he continues, no less forceful and angry, curling his fingers around her upper arms as he takes another step towards her. "You refuse to take everything into account—I may feel many things for you, but I don't want to act upon a single one of them. You're my Apprentice, no more. Accept that."

It's nothing he's not said before.

They've had this discussion several times.

But he has never been so serious. She's never believed him before, but he's radiating how much he means his words to her and it makes her feel sick. The idea that she may have been dreaming of a life with him when he has no interest in her beyond being her Master is nauseating, and she feels humiliated and angry that she was so caught up in her own head that she didn't see this before.

"Oh," she breathes, swallowing thickly. "Right."

She takes another step back, surprised when he lets her go without so much as a single word of protest. "I need air," she whispers unsteadily before fleeing the room, fleeing his stifling presence—now that she knows she is nothing more than a child in need of help in his eyes, she can't bear to be around him anymore.

It hurts in a way she'd never expected it to hurt—it's a kind of agonizing pain that she'd never experienced before in her entire life.

She had never known that her entire body could hurt from emotional pain, as though she is being torn apart from the inside out. Too many feelings battle for dominance within her mind, and she can barely see straight—now that she is experiencing the heart-breaking, crippling ache firsthand, she wishes she had not been so impatient with some of the other girls on D'Qar at times.

There had been many a young girl who had lost their hearts to one of the men they were supposed to service, and Rey had always thought they had to have been incredibly dim-witted to fall for one of those pigs.

She wishes she would have been better, more understanding now—she doesn't understand how they survived this ... pain; how they had enough control to continue living with the crippling ache constantly lodged in their chests.

She understands the pain now—but she cannot help but wish that she did not. She desires nothing more than to be ignorant to this kind of pain—she wishes for nothing more than the reason for her pain to be erased.

She wishes things were different—that Kylo could return what she feels for him.

Her skin puckers into goosebumps when she steps outside, the stone steps cold beneath her feet and the winds icy against her exposed skin. She tentatively wraps her arms around herself and crawls up onto the foot of the statue where she'd meditated earlier that day, curling up in a little nook, back against the large stone leg.

She'd been so sure that he had returned her feelings—she was so incredibly convinced that the magnitude of what he made her feel was too much for one person to feel on their own—that she had indeed completely disregarded all the signs that he had given her to indicate that he wasn't interested in a romantic or even a carnal relationship with her.

How did she let herself fall so deeply?

She supposes it was all too easy to fall for the man who had freed her from what may have been a lifetime of slavery and prostitution—the first man who had ever valued her for reasons other than being pretty or good in bed.

She knows he feels something for her, even though he has no intention of acting on it, and it makes the whole thing even harder to accept, because she knows it could easily grow into something more and she wants that. She wants more with him, wants to stay with him permanently, and wants to be sure that he'll never leave her, because he's the most important person in the galaxy to her, even if nothing in their relationship would ever change.

She sits for a while longer, knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, before she gets an eerie feeling—almost as though she's being watched.

She tentatively tries to sense her surroundings with the Force, but the only other being anywhere near her is Kylo, and she can feel that he is still in their bedroom. The rest of the Valley is quiet, and she feels silly for even considering the notion that she was being watched.

No one's here.