In the weeks that followed her first hallucination, and then 2187's revelation about what the spectrum nanite really did, Rey walked through her new life in a bit of a daze. The idea that by the time she made it back to Earth, that everyone she knew would be long dead was something Rey was having trouble getting past. Was it even worth it to try to return home? Between the time it would take her to save up to buy the ship and supplies she'd need for a long journey and then actually finding Earth, everyone she knew would gone and her planet wouldn't really be her home anymore. Home was where Poe was and without him . . . what was the point?

Rey had always been the type of person to keep her chin up and take care of business. Even when she'd been at her lowest, testifying at a hearing with bruises on her face and seeking emancipation and escape, she'd never felt as she did now. Long life and youth might have been the holy grail of technology on Earth but she'd trade it all to be back in Manhattan with its smelly alleys and rude cab drivers . . . To have her brother back.

Rey kept a strong facade but she'd sunk into a sort of depressive state that lasted weeks when she'd realized what her future might become. She'd spent days absently painting her walls, her mind elsewhere. Her sulking was broken up occasionally by visions like the first one. Men and women fighting, talking, being. She was always in the body of one of them, but occasionally she caught sight of her reflections in a mirror or window. Seeing herself as a young man with blue skin and red eyes the first time had been . . . different.

She did her best to ignore them and thankfully, they seemed to only happen when her mind was relaxed. During her work hours, when she was actively engaged with her jobs, they weren't able to creep up on her. But at night when she painted or tried to sleep, they would hit her and she would be left with this feeling of emptiness—this blinding void where there was no color or texture or shadow, just endless white.

Probably a side effect of PTSD or something, she'd decided.

2187 kept her company when he could but Rey could tell he was worried about her. If she wasn't working at the bar or the factory, she was home, brushing on layer after layer of pigmented whitewash, highlighting and shadowing the trees and flowers. He silently watched her and it seemed as though he'd never seen a painting before. There were holo projectors which she found fascinating but the color was always washed out on those. Almost as if they'd been invented a thousand years ago but after getting it to work, neither the inventor or anyone afterwards had never made any other advancements on it and just left it as is.

While her walls had occupied her for a time that had ended on the day of her seventy second hash-mark. By that point, she'd found that she needed the outlet in order to keep some semblance of calm. Painting and expressing herself artistically was what she now seemed to require in order to keep herself spending too much time thinking . . . worrying . . . crying.

Rey had been forced to move on to something else. She'd worked on several other projects to satisfy her craving for some form of creativity and to the alleviate the endless boredom that came with living on a planet so far out in the boonies of a galactic empire. A few pieces of clothing sewn from some of the fabric remnants that she got for free from the factory or making short videos about her life on her phone like she was vloging for youtube. She spoke in them like she was talking to Poe. Maybe one day he would see them . . . or maybe not.

There was also the slowly enlarging pile of canvases in the corner of her tiny room. Well, they weren't canvases in the traditional sense. She had to make her own by stretching coarse cloth over a frame made from broken shipping crates from the garbage pile next to the landing port. Necessity was the mother of invention, as they say and 2187 had been nice enough to stretch the cloth while she hammered tacks in.

She'd started with paintings of Poe and 2187 before her art had expanded to include other things, Breeka and Maelin as well as the wisp-like images from her visions. 2187 had been nice enough to point out the species names for some of the people she depicted. Rey had felt guilty lying to him when he'd asked where she'd seen these sentients. How could she tell him that she was having nightmares and waking dreams of people who she'd never seen before?

As it was, 2187 let her have her secrets and she was grateful that he never pushed her. She was meeting him after her shift at the bar and then they were going to go watch one of the traveling plays that had recently come to the De'Pruren. It wasn't one of the big ones but her friend had assured her that it she'd enjoy it. What Rey thought she'd really enjoy was her blu-ray player, her seventy inch TV, and the box set of Friends.

She was just finishing up her shift and talking to Maelin, when 2187 came in . . . followed by three other men. The stormtrooper looked apologetic and she raised a brow when the group ambled up to the counter. She recognized them, of course, from her conversations with '87. These were his squad-mates. FN-2199, or 'Nines' had pale skin and bright red hair, his mouth had creases at the corners that showed he scowled a lot. FN-2000, 'Zeroes' had dark skin and hair with a scar running from his forehead across the bridge of his nose to his cheek. The last, FN-2003—Slip, her mind supplied—had short light brown hair and tanned skin as if he spent all his off hours in the sun. He wore a kind smile, though he looked slightly uncomfortable.

Zeroes had his arm around 2187's neck, almost in a chokehold as he eyed Rey. "Wow! '87, you've been holding out on us!"

"I have not! You were all there when she came in!" 2187 said in exasperation.

Nines scoffed. "She was talking crazy and looked like—" his words died at the hard look Rey was shooting him.

"Yeah, you go without food, water, and air for five days and let's see how you look," she said, unimpressed.

He held his hands up. "I didn't mean to offend."

"It's fine," she said, dismissively.

Zeroes piped up. "Anyway, we just came to escort this fine young gentleman to his date."

"It's not a date," '87 muttered.

Zeroes released '87 and leaned over counter as he looked up at her through long dark lashes, "If you aren't dating him, I'm available and I've been told I'm great fun." His voice dropped. "In all areas."

Rey couldn't help it, she laughed, and a smile spread over Zeroes' face. "'87, you didn't tell me how funny your friends are," she said with an amused smile.

2187 was elbowing Zeroes out of the way. "That's because they aren't." He turned back to face his squad-mates. "Alright, you got your look. You've talked to her, now go back to the barracks."

"Ah, you're no fun, '87," Nines said with a scofft.

The 'trooper wasn't impressed. "I'm plenty fun, but we've got to go in a bit and she doesn't need to be staring at your ugly mugs on the way out."

"We're going, we're going!"

Slip waved dejectedly as they walked out and Rey eyed the younger man, and the lingering look he cast toward '87. Uh huh, so that's how it was, she thought. 2187 had never mentioned anything to her but then, he was pretty oblivious to the appreciative looks that were sent his way when they went out.

She smiled at her friend. "I'm going to go talk to Maelin real quick and they we'll head out," she said, pulling her apron off. The bar was all but empty tonight, with most of the town going to the same show as she was. Maelin was going tomorrow and she would work solo, which was pretty uncommon as Maelin seemed to prefer working in his bar over just about anything else.

Rey walked into the back and found her boss overseeing his small brewing operation. He served all the usual favorites that were imported but he also liked to craft his own liquors in the backroom of his bar.

He didn't seemed to have heard her enter the room. "Hey, I'm clocking out now, if that's alright," she said.

The twi'lek didn't look up as he answered. "Sure, Rey. See you tomorrow," he replied absently and she heard a tired thread in his voice.

Rey's brow furrowed. "Is everything alright?"

Maelin finally looked up. "I'm sorry?"

"Are you alright?" she asked again, carefully.

He blinked several times before nodding quickly. "Oh! I'm sorry. I've got a few things one my mind. Nothing to worry about, though. I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he walked past her and back out into the bar.

She pursed her lips a bit but it wasn't her business, really, and she didn't think Maelin would appreciate her pushing the issue. Rey dropped her apron on a hook by the door and came back out. '87 was waiting for her and she smiled as she came around the counter.

On Earth, if she'd been intending to go to a show, she would have dressed up for it, carefully applying her makeup and styling her hair into luxurious curls. She'd have chosen a beautiful evening dress or at the very least a nice top.

Her hair hadn't seen any heat applied to it except from the sun and it had gotten so long that she now tied it back into three small buns. Breeka had been the one to do it the first time, mimicking the mohawk of bright orange hair that grew on her own head. It was a bit fancier than just a ponytail, but after 2187 had complimented her, she'd stuck with it.

Her hair was the only thing that was anything but casual. Here, there was no point in dressing up because very few people had 'going out clothes'. There wasn't much point when there were few places to go. She dusted off the beige and white fabric of her work clothes and walked with 2187 towards the center of town where the play would be shown. The city was in full swing tonight as the crowds moved with them towards the giant tent. The play would only be here two or three days before moving on and everyone wanted to get in. Entertainment on Ord Canfre seemed almost an afterthought but when presented with something so rare and eventful, everyone flocked towards it.

"What is this play about, again?" she asked, eyeing the posters that had been pasted to the sides of a few buildings.

"It's a reenactment of the rise of the Galactic Empire after the fall of the Old Republic," '87 said enthusiastically.

"And you thought I'd want to watch that?" she asked with a raised brow.

2187 looked thoughtful. "It's not about the Corellian empire. Before the Supreme Ruler was even born, there was another Empire that spanned around forty percent of the galaxy. It was born out of the crumbling ruins of the Old Republic after the Jedi were massacred."

That was new. She'd seen a few mentions here and there about the 'Old Empire' in the literature that she'd been given by Maelin, but there had never been anything about 'Jedi'. It was easiest to just ask. "What are Jedi?"

2187 shrugged a bit. "You'll find out during the play. If you have any questions after, I can try to answer but history was never exactly my strongest suit."

She nodded, unsure but unwilling to give up the night of excitement. They were seated in what she would have dubbed the 'nosebleed' section had they been back on Earth but the place was fairly small so they were still close enough to see what was happening.

The actors were a mixture of human and sentient, with many dressed in lavish costumes unlike anything Rey had seen so far on Ord Canfre. Perhaps that's how the upper echelons of the empire dressed or perhaps it was an exaggeration just as the movements and dialogue were fairly hyperbolic. Still, she clapped along with the crowd when some particularly daring hover-work occurred or during the fights sequences. But it was really more of a love story. The poor boy turned Jedi Knight and his doomed bride, a senator who worked tirelessly for the Republic until being assassinated by the Jedi. Her death had revealed that the boy-knight was the dark exemplar and had set off the chain reaction that put an insane emperor in power after he proclaimed himself the light exemplar.

It was an interesting play, she thought as it came to an end, though how much of it was true, she didn't know—if both men had truly been exemplar or if neither had been. It was ambiguous even in the play and she was still unsure what being an exemplar really meant. It was important to some people, she knew, and it seemed as though everyone had some idea of what it was but not a specific definition or purpose. She still cheered with the crowd when the actors came out for a final bow and got up with 2187. The crowd was heavy and slow moving, and Rey could hear the conversations flowing around her as people talked about the lovestory of the Jedi and the Senator. It turned her stomach to hear the the women—and quite a few men—gush over what it would be like to have the Supreme Ruler be so devoted as The Jedi had been in the past.

"So what did you think?" he asked once they'd finally exited the tent and had a little room to walk side by side again.

She forced the gossip of the other people from her mind. "I liked it. Thank you for taking me," she said with a smile, taking his arm again. She'd liked the play overall. it was a fun diversion from the usual monotony and she had truly enjoyed the story, even if it was particularly tragic. The pair of them strolled down the street and Rey noticed once more, the appreciative looks being thrown towards the proud soldier. 2187 didn't notice as usual and Rey allowed a slightly mischievous look to cross her face.

"So, why don't you have a girl or boyfriend?" she asked innocently.

2187 abruptly came to a halt, his mouth hanging open. "R—Rey! Why are you—What brought this on?"

She pursed her lips and shrugged. "Oh well, I see people eyeing you everytime we step out together but you never seem to notice."

He flushed and brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head in embarrassment. "I—I It's not something I've ever really thought about."

Clearly, she thought with a wry smile. Slip had been pretty transparent about it and she'd only been in his presence a few minutes.

"Are stormtroopers not allowed to be in relationships?" It was the only explanation she could think of.

He was blushing furiously, looking anywhere but at her. "We are. I'm just . . . just not right for anyone right now. I'm just a stormtrooper."

"But you're a unit leader," she said eyeing the orange pauldron on his shoulder.

'87 smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "The empire doesn't tell you this when you sign up but stormtroopers are the lowest ranked and most expendable soldiers. I was told I would eventually have the opportunity to be promoted to officer but in reality, only those who can afford to go to the academy get the chance to become an officer. In a few years, I'll either be discharged or promoted but they rarely promote from the 'trooper corps unless a high ranking officer recommends you for a commission.

"I don't want to start something with someone . . . when there will always be a chance that I won't come back from a mission. It's fairly safe here on Ord Canfre but I could be called to the uncharted zone at any moment to fight for the empire." '87 didn't seem terribly happy with the idea of being discharged and she could tell he still had dreams of being an officer.

Her head tilted. "You practically run the entire 'trooper corp here on Ord Canfre—"

"And after I am discharged and sent to Corellia for education training in another field, someone else will take my place," he finished for her.

"Corellia. . ." she echoed softly.

"The capital of the empire," 2187 confirmed. Of course she knew the empire was the Corellian Empire but she'd never given much thought beyond that.

"Have you ever been?" she asked, suddenly curious.

The stormtrooper allowed a half-smile. "Once, when I had just enlisted. I was only a kid but it's . . . a beautiful planet. Amazing silver cities and green for as far as the eye can see. The Supreme Ruler is very strict on what can be built on that planet as he prefers it to remain mostly untouched," he said and she could hear the awe in his tone.

"Wish I could see it," she said and Rey was surprised that she genuinely meant it. She wanted to see places other than this little rim planet. Maelin had spoken of the beauty of Ryloth with same look of wistfulness and Breeka had told her stories of planets where every day was a celebration that had people dancing in the streets.

He squeezed her hand. "I'm sure you will. One day. Maybe we can go together. Eventually I'll be able to get an ID chip made for you and you'll be an imperial citizen. I'll go back to the Corellia to receive my education but there's nothing that says you can't come with me. You can get another job there, easily enough," he said and she heard the happiness in his voice.

Rey smiled and nodded. It was a nice thought on the surface. However, going to another planet and working another dead end job as a waitress was the last thing she wanted to do. But then, if it was going to take her a hundred years to save enough money to buy a ship, she might as well do it on a beautiful planet rather than a dustball backwater world. She'd need to give it more thought, but at this point, that was all still years away.

They stopped in front of her building and she gave '87 a hug before the two parted with the promise to meet up again in a few days. Rey walked up the stairs to the third floor and unlocked her door. She let out a sigh as she entered and closed the door behind her. The lock slid in place and she quickly shed her work clothes for something looser and more comfortable. Baggy, harem style pants and what passed for a sweatshirt on this planet beat out the tighter more durable trousers and lower cut tops that got her the most tips at the bar.

She dropped her underthings into a crude woven basket that she'd traded a charcoal portrait for at the market. She did that on occasion to make some extra credits. Not many people on Ord Canfre were interested in art as it didn't serve much purpose but every once in awhile a merchant passing through would purchase a few of her drawings. She'd never tried to sell any of her paintings as that would take too much time, energy, and credits to set up a stall and the likelihood of her selling enough to justify the expense was pretty slim, in her opinion.

She'd eventually need to do something with all the canvases that were slowly piling up as her room wasn't large enough to store everything. Rey looked over the small space of her apartment and her eyes hit the slightly bulging kraft-colored envelope sitting on the counter.

"Shit . . ." she muttered when she realized what it was.

She'd almost forgotten to pay her rent. Her landlord was more than a little strict about that. A day late cost five more credits. Rey quickly wrapped a makeshift ruana around her shoulders and slipped her feet back into her shoes before walking down to the first floor. She dropped the packet into the drop box beside her landlord's door. Well, that was one less thing to worry about.

Rey was about to head back upstairs when she heard something. Her eyes narrowed and she opened the door out to the street and looked out. It was the 'trooper siren and her head tilted in confusion before she finally figured out why it was going off. They were after someone!

Crime was almost non-existent in De'Pruren so the siren was a rare sound and she was aware that sometimes the very bored 'troopers got a bit . . . overzealous when it came to apprehending a criminal. Rey wasn't expecting to see anything and was about to head back inside when a flash of blue caught her eye. Someone was running towards her! They were shorter than her and most of their skin was covered but for the flash of cerulean that showed between their goggles and the rather bulging headscarf.

Rey blinked a few times as the person ran closer. She recognized that jacket . . .

"Caladon!" she called quietly, and the boy came to almost a dead halt before her.

"Rey?" he asked, hesitantly.

She shook her head at the son of Maelin. "What did you do?" she asked in exasperation.

He looked behind him before looking back up at her pleadingly. She furrowed her brow before shrugging and gesturing with a sharp motion of her head that he should go inside. He quickly ran behind her and she shut the door to the building.

The 'troopers ran by and she felt sort of bad for hiding a criminal but Caladon was the son of her boss. There were only so many options when presented with that kind of situation and Caladon wasn't a bad kid.

Rey turned back to him. "Come on. You can stay with me for a few hours until things die down and then we'll get you back to your dad."

He pulled his scarf down and his goggles up, revealing his lekku and face. "Are you going to tell him what happened?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know what happened," she said as they ascended the stairs. "You still haven't filled me on on why you were being chased by stormtroopers."

The boy looked entirely too innocent. "We were just having some fun," he said sheepishly.

Rey smiled at that, amused that the excuses of children didn't vary much no matter when planet one was on. "Uh huh," she said, "and what sort of fun where you getting up to?"

Caladon hesitated as they reached the landing of the third floor and walked down to her door. She unlocked it and pushed it open for the boy.

"Well, Jerin got these spray tubes of green," he began but paused as he took in her apartment. He blinked a few times before exclaiming dramatically as only a fourteen year old could, "Rey, your walls!"

She shut the door and came up behind the boy. "Not your cup of tea?" she asked off handedly before going to her sink and pouring them both a glass of water.

He was still looking around wide-eyed as he stammered out, "No! No, nothing like that!" Caladon took the glass and gulped down some of the water before adding, "They're amazing! Who did this?"

Rey walked around him to sit in her lone chair in the apartment. It was an ancient stuffed chair with quite a few holes but it had been within in her decorating budget; free. "I did," she answered.

He turned back to her. "You—With what?" the boy asked incredulously.

"Whitewash and cloth dyeing pigments," she said gesturing over to the many buckets of paint that she had stacked in the corner along with most of her complete paintings.

Caladon continued to blink several times as looked around and she watched with a soft smile as he touched the walls and examined the little details here and there.

"I've never seen anything like this," he murmured.

Now that, she hadn't been expecting to hear. Rey tilted her head. "Never?"

He shook his head, lekku swinging behind him. "No, never."

"Huh," she said thoughtfully. Perhaps hand painted art really wasn't terribly widespread. She'd thought that it was just this planet that didn't have it.

Caladon finally spotted the pile of canvases in the corner and once he'd realized exactly what they were, he sat himself down on her floor and began flipping through them. Most were her more abstract colorful art but there were portraits of people mixed throughout. Humans and sentients she'd seen and met in De'Pruren—Caladon's father among them—along with images of people who were important to her.

There was also . . .

Caladon pulled a painting from the pile that ran in stark contrast to the rest. While most were vibrant and slightly unfocused, this one was a sharp image of man surrounded by darkness. His large nose and full lips should have made him off-putting but he was striking even on her crude canvas.

"Who is this?" Caladon asked, his head tilting from side to side like an eager puppy.

Rey swallowed as she kept her breathing even and her voice pleasant. "No one important. Just someone I saw at the landing port," she said lightly.

Caladon didn't look like he believed her and he examined the painting again. It really was quite different from everything else in her tiny collection and if even a boy like Caladon noticed . . .

He didn't run his fingers over this one like the others. "He looks . . . scary," the boy murmured.

Rey tried not to grimace. "He's the stuff of nightmares," she said honestly.

Caladon almost hastily put the painting back down as if the man in the portrait would come out and get him. The boy continued flipping through the paintings, his eyes alighting with each new image as it was revealed.

"Hey, that's my dad!"

She smiled. "Yeah, that's Maelin."

Caladon pulled the painting out and fully into the low light of the apartment. It was a long painting depicting the counter of the bar. Maelin was standing in the center behind the counter cleaning a glass while customers drank and spoke to one another on either side. Most of the work was done in shades of brown, red and grey with Maelin's striking green skin standing in sharp contrast to the rest of the image.

"Has he seen this?"

Rey tilted her head. "No. No one except my friend, 2187 ever sees this stuff. It's not really fit for public consumption."

"You should show it to him. He would love it!" Caladon said earnestly.

She snorted. "If you say so, kid."

"I do," he said, his voice serious, "These are all so great. I wish I could make this kind of art."

Rey smiled. "Anyone can make art, it's just a question of honing your talent and finding your niche."

Caladon looked dubious but shrugged. "Can I have one?"

She tilted her head before nodding. "Sure. You can take almost any of them. I've got to start getting rid of them anyway."

There were eleven of them there in varying sizes but only a few actually meant anything to her.

"Can I have the one with my dad?" he asked, clutching the desired painting.

"Go right ahead."

Caladon smiled as he held it up, looking it over again.

Kylo Ren's eyes slowly opened and he clenched his fist. That memory . . . he was reliving the important moments of the exemplars . . . again. She was living them for the first time. He'd seen it all before—the joy and the tragedy of the exemplar.

The swirling blue and white of hyperspace cast ripples of light in his quarters and he looked through the viewport, remembering that he could not go to her . . . not yet, anyway. He was the Supreme Ruler and with that came the responsibilities of governing the largest empire the galaxy had ever known.

He wished that he'd been there with her during her awakening but from the little he could glean from their connection, nothing major had happened to her yet. Her power was still barely noticeable—a soft chime in his mind, reminding him of his purpose—to find her and to teach her.

To rule with her and keep the Force and the galaxy in balance.

This memory though . . . a reminder of his past and the pain and madness that came with losing one's exemplar. Anakin Skywalker had succumbed to the darkside—had allowed himself to be controlled so he could forget his pain. Snoke had tried to do the same, but he . . . Kylo Ren would be controlled by no one. He had destroyed Snoke and then waited, holding on to his last vestiges of humanity even while his eyes showed his losing battle with the darkness.

But now she'd come. She was waiting safe and sound back on her little undiscovered planet for him to return to her, and he would not be weak as Vader had been. His grandfather had destroyed everything in his misguided quest to keep his wife—the light exemplar safe. He'd been manipulated by the Sith and had been too stupid to see it.

Kylo turned away from the viewport and picked up his helmet, his mind wandering back to the dream. The beginning of the end.

"I'll always protect you, Padme," his grandfather had whispered. A lie.

"I love you . . . Anakin Skywalker."

The painting of Kylo Ren is actually based on this image: goo . gl/eS9lR9

Short URL to make it easier on you guys. Just remove the spaces around the period.

It pops up here and there through out the story. :)