Ren could have slapped himself. For all the planning he was supposed to be doing before they landed on that moon, the only thing he had really elaborated upon his first instincts was - a sunset picnic. Perhaps he just needed to stick to making decisions on the fly, he was never a strategist. They were no closer to finding a non First Order ship or getting Rey medical aid. And now he was even more sleep deprived, starving, and his groin ached from being so intensely aroused. Just don't think about eating Rey…

And as for the locals, he had been innocently (!) picking flowers (! Sleep deprivation?) when he chanced upon six of them hiding in the bushes. When he had expected them to be uncivilized, he couldn't have imagined just how much. They weren't human but close enough to find himself and Rey attractive enough to watch. Their guilty expressions and exposed genitals told him as much, as did the two coupling like stock animals on the forest floor. Ren had seen some backwaters in this galaxy, but this just revolted him.

One of them immediately snarled pulling out a knife from the harness around his vivid yellow torso.

"First Order scum! You have come to the right place to die. We like your woman. We will show her how it's really done." His dialect was hard to understand the flavor of the jibe was familiar. Cackling laughter erupted behind him. They didn't laugh for long. One force choke and toss and they were silent.

"I'm busy." Kriff. Picking flowers.

The coupling female threw off her partner like a pest. The others pulled out their blasters, and one aimed and shot at him. Freezing it, Ren screamed louder.

"I said I'm BUSY!"

One of the band pulled out a comm to hysterically beg for reinforcements. The others where in various states of shock and fear. Ren wanted to end them right there and then, he really did. He looked at the fistful of flowers in his left hand, sighed, and dashed for the ship.

He had almost wanted to tell Rey all about it, but decided that hearing her first roll in the hay being a public event might not be welcome news. The girl had softened when she found her gift, but he could feel the pain of her wound spreading out from her ribs, intensifying at a frightening speed. So he did what he thought was best and forced her into sleep. She lay unconscious next to him, wrapped in his cloak. Maybe I should have asked.

But then Ben was getting impatient. At this point he needed sleep as much as Rey needed her wound to be addressed. He knew the limits of his capacity were being stretched, and thoughts of the task ahead only aggravated his fatigue. Med bay and bed, med bay and bed.

He steered the ship back toward the surface, approaching a desert settlement and landing stealthily behind a ridge. Having grabbed his blaster and saber, he used the force to close the ramp from the outside and set out across the sand. It was night here, but dawn wasn't far away, this moon having a predictably short rotation. The air was quiet except for the hot gusts of wind and the creak of his footsteps. Behind the dark rocky monolith shone a dim sprinkle of village lights, inviting him forward.

He hoped it would be a different species this time, he'd had enough of those piss colored cretins. Maybe he could write Rey a poem about it, she said she liked colors. His last poem was exceptionally atrocious, all his skill with words had corroded away with disuse. That would explain his proposal in the throne room, he had taken a page from Snoke's book of persuasion. Yes, that was it. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, attempting to bring his delirious mind back to the present moment. It kept sliding from his grip, drifting into internalized stupor.

There was no activity in the small settlement. The huts were no more than a collection of scavenged debris and primitive thatched roofs. They leaned against the towering cliff side as though huddling for warmth, though Ren doubted they ever saw the cold, or much of anything. Scanning around the perimeter he spotted a small freighter parked behind the village. Perfect. With that thought, as though in self-mockery, he tripped on a string the length of which carried tiny bells. A guard animal started baying and snarling toward him, barely restrained by rope. Knocking the animal out with the force he dropped to the ground with bated breath. Someone stirred in a hut, turning a light on, peeked out for a moment then headed back in.

Ren chastised his own carelessness, only to laugh at the silly game he was playing. When he had originally suggested to Rey they steal a ship, he had already tempered his inclination to take it with violence. The fact she was scandalized by even that delineated even further the vast gap between them. If he had credits perhaps he even would have woken someone up and paid.

She was having quite the effect, abrading away his sharp edges with every refusal. Training him, he realized. Who's the teacher now? He had to admit her positive reinforcement was worth it, shifting uncomfortably at the hardness in his pants. He would eat out of her hand and pretend he knew no different, that it wasn't the sum of his previous choices driving him. Somewhere in the edge of his mind lay the mark of each life he had taken, thousands of scratches, not unlike the ones he'd seen Rey scratch into the wall. Thousands of tiny cuts that haunted him in every fleeting silence. He didn't even know most of their names and he sacrificed them on an altar of lies.

His body began to sink into the sand, life draining out of his bones, dread deep in his stomach. A dangerous line of thought at any time, and especially now. He closed his eyes and dug deep. His hand raised and the freighter followed, floating up above the village, crossing like a shadow toward him. Wearily he hauled himself up to walk behind his silent bounty.

The overabundant starlight reflected off the sand and Ben was all of a sudden struck by its beauty. A quiet world of inky monochrome, vast expanses of space completely empty of life (the village didn't count). How was it that he was happiest right here, being no one, in the middle of nowhere. He vehemently wished he had just been a scavenger. No First Order, no Resistance, no force, no Snoke, no darkness, no light. Just this vast emptiness and Rey. She would hate that of course, she'd had enough sand to last a lifetime. Maybe if they had a garden.

The black silhouette of the First Order craft loomed near and Ben sat down the freighter next to it with relief. The downgrade in tech was comical, but no where near as much as his new status in the world. From Supreme Leader to pauper at the speed of Rey. A poem. Rey would probably like something like that, another creative apology. There would be an endless stream of them, carved into the steaming carcass of his life. He wondered if it was remotely possible to contort words into the shapes needed for his purpose. There were no words to erase the thousands of cuts.

Rey was still inside where he left her, cocooned in black, face slack and lips pale. Ben placed her saber staff and clothing into her bag with renewed energy, pointedly shoving every last flower in there too.

His arms tingled as he carried her, and his breath catching in his throat. She was heavier than her compact frame would suggest, a warrior's body, muscle built through scarcity and fighting to survive. They were made from the same cloth, him and her yet now he only felt guilt holding her. The body remembered, and hers sprung in revolt far too often.

The new craft stank of livestock and rot. Whoever piloted it had left a shrine of trinkets and beads on the console, and piles of wrappers and bones scattered on the floor. Disgusting. Ben kicked the mess away and ley Rey down, with her head on her bag as a pillow. Firing up the engine he froze as it spluttered and died.

"Start you forsaken piece of shit". He tried again and to his relief it roared back to life.

The journey was thankfully short. It was dusk in the Oplorian capital when they arrived, navigating through the streams of traffic to a public landing pad. He was hailed by a control tower and identified themselves as refugees from Plexis, fleeing the First Order. They let them go on their way as expected without any further checks. With such weak security measures they were likely completely unprepared for what was coming their way. Hux would crush them with mercenary fanfare, it was only a matter of schedule.

Once more he carried Rey, through the bustling street. This capital seemed more of a high density village than anything else, but the species were particularly diverse. Ben wondered how many of them were really refugees, trying to stay ahead of the wave of violence sweeping through the galaxy. The throng clashed with garish shop fronts and makeshift stalls, their bags and vehicles fought for space with stock animals and beggars. Ben felt eyes follow him everywhere, and perhaps it was an omen, but he couldn't care anymore in his fatigue.

He pushed himself through the door of a small brightly lit clinic and deposited Rey on a row of seats. A twi'lek attendant appeared from behind the desk bearing a holopad and concerned look.

"I can see this is an emergency but we must settle payment before we commence." Her apologetic tone was barely enough to appease him. You would die without credits in this shithole, facilities just a few steps away.

"We have paid in full." He waved his hand.

"You have paid in full."

"She will receive your best possible care."

"She will receive our best possible care."

The nurse disappeared for a moment returning with two medical droids. They lifted Rey onto a stretcher and took her into the treatment room.

"The clinic is closed to all other clients."

"The clinic is closed to all other clients."

The nurse switched off the reception light and locked the door, withdrawing into the rear of the building. Ben, already collapsed on the row of seats, was asleep before she finished.