Sorry about the delay for this chapter, I found it extremely difficult to write - it went through about three versions before I felt satisfied enough with this one.
Thanks again for everyone's really lovely comments, they encouraged me to keep rewriting!

(Cross-posted on AO3)

The First Step

Memories were the only things keeping Rey company on the seemingly endless march to Starkiller City. The other prisoners walked single file ahead of her, shuffling their feet in a dazed stupor, the gas masked members of The First Order marched in formation surrounding them, and their leader, a dark smudge on the tarmac, stalked ahead of the group, flanked by two bodyguards. He was a fair distance in front and Rey wondered whether he made the others march that far back, or whether they instinctively hung back through fear. Everything about him was clearly designed for maximum intimidation so Rey suspected it was the latter. A flash of something dark and raw shot through her as she stared at the distant black figure and remembered the sight of a woman abandoned to bleed out alone; mouth still open in silenced desperate cries and limbs twisted at odd angles from writhing in agony.

Rey had to remind herself that she'd been away from humanity for so long that she just wasn't used to its cruelty again yet. She couldn't dwell on it. But with the steady crunch of boots on the road and the never-changing brown landscape on all sides, it was difficult to keep the memories down and her feelings under control.

She mostly remembered her childhood.

Back then she hadn't needed shackles or the pressure of a gun at her back to be a prisoner, just the supply of food rations and empty promises.

It was during those long, lonely years that she decided she didn't care much for people. All she'd ever had from humans was hardship and lies; they were selfish and complicated and didn't mind improving their chances of survival by ruining someone else's. That was why she always preferred the company of animals, since they only required to live out their lives by killing to eat or to defend themselves. Humans weren't like that at all. Once she'd escaped she'd found it easier to just avoid people altogether, finding comfort in the friendship of her cat, and purpose in their continued survival.

She regretted leaving the coach that night. She wished over and over that she'd stayed in the safety of her home and gone back to sleep. But who was to say that they wouldn't have come back another day and explored further along? They didn't seem like the sort of group who would have passed the vehicle over. In the end it was her decision to see what was going on that haunted her the most, because she knew deep down it wasn't because she had been curious, or that she was going out to defend her home; she had left to see if someone needed her help. She couldn't silence a little voice telling her that that's what she hated about people - she still wanted to help them, even after everything they'd done to her.

But helping people or being helped by others was not a rule in the world she lived in. That sort of philosophy was only going to get somebody killed.

Rey looked down at her shackled wrists as she walked, her feet moving of their own accord even though she had long since bothered to put effort into the movement, and then brought them up by her face for a closer look; she hadn't noticed before how shiny and new the metal looked. With a spark of interest she remembered that their guns all had a similar appearance, and took subtle glances at the guards and their firearms flashing in the sunlight at their hips. Rusty guns certainly didn't shine like that, and her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

When mass manufacture and industry collapsed new things stopped being produced in a way that people could easily get hold of. That's why travelling merchants were so well-off, because they provided an accessible way to acquire goods besides scavenging for them yourself - provided you had the food or goods to trade with them. They usually had slaves that would scavenge for them, or repurpose old junk into functional items, so they didn't even have to do the work themselves, she remembered bitterly, so most of them were lazy scum bags too. So even when something was 'made' it was put together using old parts and pieces, leaving some signs of visible wear or modification on it somewhere. Most guns had been around for so long (guns were still being manufactured until just after The Event) that they were usually rusted over or combined and modded with other guns using whatever materials would make them stick together. She had seen them with crude welding jobs, paint over rust or even held together with tape and nails. But these people all had shiny, identical handguns that could only be new - which meant they were making them. If The First Order had the means to make guns they were an entirely new level of threat that Rey hadn't anticipated.

Now that she thought about it, the newness of their clothes and weapons and the practiced and organised nature of their movements suggested this was more than just another mad cult like she had assumed.

There were countless cults in the wastelands; people all banding together to provide a large enough force to beat the other cults into submission. It was always about who could hit the hardest with the most force, so they would raid each other to fuse the groups or wipe others out entirely. When she saw The First Order taking on the raiders, she assumed they were just another cult like the others, but clearly they had some methods of production, organisation and the requirement of prisoners. (Though she still couldn't fathom why they would pick up people with radiation poisoning so severe.)

More than ever she realised the importance of finding some way of escaping before she found herself in whatever hellish place 'Starkiller City' was.

Being so absorbed in her now racing thoughts, Rey didn't notice the prisoner in front of her stop walking and nearly went straight into her back. She caught herself just in time and peered around to see what the problem was. The prisoner at the front of the line was an old man, seemingly the oldest of the group, with deep wrinkles in his face and a beard that reached his chest, and he stood practically swaying on the spot. His dirty clothes were drenched with sweat, and he was wheezing heavily. Though the other prisoners didn't look much better.

"Keep moving." A guard with a red gas mask, that completely covered his face, stepped forward and pointed his gun at the old man with a click.

The whole group had stopped moving by now, the other guards standing to attention around them, and Rey craned her neck to see what was happening.

"I said keep moving." The guard snapped.

Rey felt herself bristle as she looked from the old man, wheezing with every breath and struggling to stay upright, to the guard still holding the gun to his chest. She couldn't believe that they were trying to get the poor man to move on - he could barely stand! But she held her opinions inside with difficulty, knowing that remaining inconspicuous and well behaved was going to be how she earned her escape. She was just a skinny scavenger girl they picked up on the road. A nobody. They were bound to get complacent with their watch over her - just a moment was all she needed - then she'd give them the slip. She just had to stay under the radar and not draw any attention to herself.

The old prisoner finally attempted to take a shaky step forward, but he crumpled to his hands and knees and threw up loudly. The guard jumped back with a noise of disgust and Rey's stomach clenched in sympathy, as the man heaved and retched, knowing there wouldn't be much to come up, as they had been given very little to eat and drink. But the guard recovered from his shock quickly and resumed his position, now pointing the gun down at the old man's head.

"You will get up, or you will die." He hissed through clenched teeth, the sound muffled strangely by his mask.

Finally the prisoner spoke. "I - I can't." He wheezed. "Don't... No... Can't..." He coughed, still on his hands and knees, and Rey couldn't stop flashes of the memory of a woman growing still, as red bloomed across her dirty shirt, from running through her mind. Her eyes flicked over to the other prisoners, but they weren't even looking at him; their heads were all bowed over, though whether it was through resignation or unawareness she couldn't be sure.

She clenched her jaw.

She had to stay inconspicuous. She was a nobody. Wasn't worth watching.

The gun clicked.

"Can't you see they just need a break?" She exploded, before she could stop herself, her voice sounding clearer and stronger than she expected. The guards all turned to face her, but were so unfamiliar with their prisoners speaking up that none of them moved. Rey was dimly aware of the dark shape of their leader in the distance, striding towards the group, having noticed them all stopped in the middle of the road, but she was unable to stem the flow of her feelings and opinions that she had been shoving down all this time, and continued in the same fervent voice.

"How can you all be so blind? If you keep pushing them like this, you'll kill them all. They need a break." She didn't even notice that she'd begun to walk to the prisoner at the front. "You think you have any say over who survives and who doesn't, while you hide behind your masks like the monsters you are."

Rey had positioned herself in front of the old man as she spoke, between him and the gun, in a way that wasn't too dissimilar to how she had defended BB-8 from the dog only the day before. Except that she had no staff to hold in front of her this time, and she was putting her life on the line to defend a complete stranger rather than her best friend.

The guard regarded her coldly.

"Get back in line prisoner. We have our orders."

"Make me." Rey said, lifting her chin. Finally speaking out had made her bold; if she'd just ruined her chances of escape then she wasn't going to go to Starkiller City quietly.

The guard narrowed his eyes behind his red gas mask, and Rey heard him take a rattling breath in the complete silence. She was acutely aware of the gun pointed at her chest and knew the man in front of her was wrestling with loyalty to his orders and leader over how much he wanted to pull the trigger. She found it liberating to be free of the fear surrounding that decision; if she died here than at least she'd die standing up for herself, she thought grimly, though trying to save another human being wasn't how she had imagined she'd get herself into this kind of situation.

But the moment was interrupted by the arrival of their leader, and all of the members of The First Order snapped to attention at his approach. The one in front of her reluctantly lowered his weapon to also stand ramrod straight, as the heavily cloaked figure stepped towards them, his two personal bodyguards taking over the job of pointing guns at her, and she saw the guard's hate filled eyes flash at her before he looked respectfully to his leader.

"Sorry, sir. Just some commotion with the prisoners."

Sunlight flashed off the decorative silver metal on the leader's mask as he swept his gaze from the guard who had spoken, to Rey, and then to the old man, now lying on his side by his own vomit and bile.

"I see." He eventually said flatly. "There is no time for interruptions, we move on immediately." He turned with a swish of his heavy cloaks and went to move away.

"Then you might as well shoot us all now." Rey's voice was steady, and he stopped at the sound. "These people are at the end of their limit, keep pushing and they'll break. You might not care for their well-being or even for the loss of one or two of them, but you'd go to all the trouble of getting these prisoners, walking them through the wastelands, and then go back to your... 'Starkiller City'... empty handed?" She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears at the adrenaline rush, but her voice didn't waver.

Speaking up to the mysterious figure, that looked more nightmare than man, felt far more dangerous than we'd spoken up to the guards; like standing outside in a storm, she could almost feel his darkness and rage crackling in the air around him.

He didn't turn around, so there was a long moment where she just stood staring defiantly at his broad back. His left hand was clenched into a fist, while his right clenched and unclenched stiffly. He was considering her words.

"Break until the sun sets." He finally growled. "Then we walk through the night. Leave me." He snapped as the two bodyguards made to follow him as he stalked away.

Rey let out a breath as his oppressive presence lifted at his departure, not bothering to watch where he went as he left the road and disappeared into the dry undergrowth and dead trees surrounding the tarmac. The First Order members all scurried into action as if he was still there though, and herded the standing prisoners to a spot on the dusty roadside, where they all but collapsed onto the ground, while a couple of them began patrolling the area and the rest took seats on the floor nearby, under the shade of a blackened tree trunk. Nobody bothered to help the old prisoner. Rey leant down and helped the old man crawl to a spot by the other prisoners, which was made significantly harder by the shackles connecting her wrists, and moved into the relative shade of a twiggy shrub, being closely watched by the guards.

The shrub was a light shade of brown, much like everything else in the wastelands, and its sharp branches stuck into her back painfully as she leant against it with a sigh. In all honesty, she needed the break just as much as the other prisoners. She'd only gotten a few hours sleep over two whole nights so far, and it seemed as if she was going to go another night without one too. The adrenaline that had made her so bold before was beginning to ebb, and a bone aching weariness was beginning to take its place.

The guards would be watching her closely now. Any hopes she'd had of slipping away unnoticed had disappeared the moment she'd opened her mouth. Which was even more frustrating because it went against everything she had taught herself about survival and about other people, reviving the uncomfortable thought that she didn't hate humanity as much as she thought. Just aspects of it, she mentally added, looking over at the huddle of gas masks nearby.

She hadn't realised a few of them had been walking with huge packs on their backs, they must have been walking behind the prisoners on the march, but they had placed them in the centre of their little group and were reaching deep inside to pull out bottles of water and food tins. It was also where they'd stored the shields she'd seen from their attack with the raiders, and all the spoils they'd plundered from the gas station, judging by all the clunking she could hear coming from them. It was only as she began to lose interest that she noticed a familiar silver glint poking out from the top of the bag furthest from where she sat. Her staff. The compulsion to go over and snatch it from them was almost overwhelming. It would sound strange to say that a staff felt like a friend, but Rey spent most of her waking hours with it either in her ands or strapped to her back, and relied upon it with a trust deeper than any she had ever given. Its strength had never failed her, either as a weapon or as a tool to get into wreckages to scavenge, and she missed the feel of its solidness in her hands, like she was missing an extension of herself.

Rey finally looked away with difficulty, feeling her stomach ache with emptiness as the guards all shared out food and water, and closed her eyes instead. Their leader hadn't taken any rations before he stormed away, so at least the prisoners weren't the only ones with empty bellies. That was a cheerful thought to pierce her melancholy. Though she wouldn't be surprised if he had them hidden in the many layers of cloak weighing him down. She had to wonder how he could stalk around in the wastelands wearing such a dark and cumbersome outfit, when she could see sweat pouring down the faces of the prisoners, and knew she didn't look much better. She certainly wouldn't want to be wearing a mask in all this heat either, since her scarf was light but even that was sometimes too much.

All the radiation had eaten away at the atmosphere of the planet, so the sun was always strong and fierce, making clouds struggle to form, but Rey had read a book once where it described the way rain used to help plants and trees grow into bursts of colour and green, and she would spend hours fantasising about it when she was alone.

Rey only realised she'd fallen asleep when her eyes fluttered open to the sound of someone's voice.

"Wake up. We leave now." The voice was gruff and commanding, the effect amplified by the gas mask's breathing apparatus over the guard's mouth, and he bent down to place something by her feet, then moved into formation with the others.

Rey cringed as she leant forward, moving muscles stiff with sleep, and slowly pushed herself upright, reaching her bound hands high above her head to stretch out. She picked up what the guard had left, realised it was food and water, then immediately took huge gulps out of the bottle of water, making sure to leave just a little in the bottom for later, and tipped the entire contents of a small tin of fruit down her throat, swallowing it in one. The syrupy tinned fruit revived her energy a little and she felt better for the few hours of sleep she had gotten, though relying on tiny food rations brought back bitter, resentful feelings of her childhood, that she tried to push away as she reluctantly moved back into line.

The sun had completely set so she didn't get a particularly good look at the other prisoners on her way past, but they all looked less unsteady on their legs, the old man in particular, and their green eyes seemed a little brighter.

Once she was back in line, very aware now of her staff being so close behind her, the whole group began the march forward, and Rey fell into the rhythm uncomfortably easily. She assumed their leader was in out in front again, but even with the light of the moon he was completely camouflaged in the darkness.

Walking on a road at night went against everything Rey knew about survival in the nuclear wastelands, so she couldn't help but feel a little on edge as her brown eyes roamed the shadows as they marched. They hadn't passed many cars abandoned on this route, and she wondered if that was because of the remote location or because The First Order had cleared them away. She didn't recognise any of the roads they'd been walking since the first couple of hours into the trip, but she'd been trying to commit features to memory (a certain kind of car, a particularly large tree trunk, left or right forks in the route) so that she'd be able to find her way home when - if - she managed to escape.

Despite the potential dangers of the walk in the dark, the journey was entirely uneventful and the march was slow and tedious. Rey's replenished energy was beginning to fade again as the sun began to rise once more, the horizon turning a hazy light blue, and she noticed distinct changes in the lightening landscape; the tarmac itself was clear of dust, a dark inky black without the layer of brown, while thick wire fencing lined the roadside and deep bullet holes were scattered along the ground. But the most noticeable feature was the city looming ahead of them.

There was a huge cluster of buildings rising up out of the wilderness itself, contained within a vast brick wall that seemed to stretch on for miles in all directions. The entire city was something she couldn't have even imagined; the structures stretched high into the sky, built on top of and around each other, as if they were just constantly being added to what was already there, creating a chaotic kind of silhouette, and the scale of the place was enormous. But even more impressive was the illumination shining out of every window; the whole place was lit up like a beacon, with more electricity than she had ever seen in one place.

Rey swallowed hard at their increasing approach, unconsciously slowing down enough for the guard behind her to prod her hard in the back with his gun and command her to keep moving. She sped back up to her normal pace, alarmed at how quickly the walls were rising as they neared, only serving to make the city seem even larger.

How was she going to get out of this.

How.

How.

The whole group finally reached the base of the wall, where a large gate had been built into the brick itself, and two guards beside it both raised their guns at their approach.

The man with the red gas mask stepped forward and saluted.

"Lord Ren's prisoners." He said in a clipped tone. Rey didn't even have time to realise she had finally learned their leader's name before the couple standing by the door, also in gas masks, turned around, looked up and nodded, gave a small salute to the group, then moved back into position as the gate swung open. Rey looked up and squinted, realising there were also guards standing on top of the wall above them, but was pushed harshly at her back and stumbled into motion again.

So she'd finally reached Starkiller City... but what were they going to do with her?