She stared at the two wooden boxes, chewing on her lip while her thumbnail worked the cloth grip that was formerly attached to her staff. It was quiet, Rey being the only one left in the foundry and sitting pensively in a dark corner. The castings had been set for the last hour but she couldn't bring herself to open them, doing so feeling overwhelming, like one more irreversible step.
She snorted in frustration. Her staff had already been dismantled. What difference does it make now? Of all the things she had done thus far, why did this feel so difficult?
Because you are letting go.
She frowned at the thought. Was that the same as letting the past die? His phrasing had never sat well with her. Just because something ends doesn't mean it relinquishes the hold it has on you... her relationship with her parents was testimony to that fact.
Letting it go, however, does.
Deciding, she set the metal rod to the side and slid the lock bolts free, digging her fingers into the sand until her skin skimmed cold, unyielding iron. She pulled back, clumps of sand and newly created glass falling away from the dark grey metal that gleamed underneath.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple as she repeated the process for the other half, her heart thrumming and she lifted her multitool. Long minutes ticked by as she set to work meticulously clipping off errant scraps of metal from each piece then rose to kick on the grinder to file down the remainder.
After the hilt had finally been worked smooth enough to safely house the components, she stretched her fingers that had been made near numb from the vibration of the machinery. She wished to continue her work, feeling vulnerable without either her staff or light saber, but she had put off her sleep cycle far too long and was more likely to make a mistake than not. With a sigh, she wrapped the pieces in a cloth and trudged back down the path that lead to the Falcon. A bead of sweat trickled down her shoulder blades and she grimaced at the humidity that permeated even the indoor spaces.
A half hour later she exited the main refresher on the Falcon muttering the praises of dehumidified air-conditioning to herself as she made her way to her small quarters, rolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness that had developed from long hours hunched over. Her fingers were getting caught in the snags of her hair as she haphazardly combed them through when she drew up short upon the threshold of her door.
At first it was faint, the sound of jagged staccato breathing reverberating throughout the room. She blinked and he was there, his long form twisted in the sheets of his bunk. His eyes were closed but his mouth moved with agitated mutterings, a thin sheen of sweat forming over his brow and exposed torso.
Rey hesitated a moment before touching his mind, flashes of his dream appearing before her and she felt suddenly ill.
He was on the catwalk, watching his father fall over and over again. This time he tried to catch Han, his fingers seeming to always swipe at air just short of his body.
She pulled out of his head, unable to just let him suffer in the anguish rolling off him in waves.
She reached for him, her fingers stretching tentatively toward his bare shoulder when he moved suddenly, eyes flying open. A guttural roar escaped him as he bolted upright, his features twisted and suddenly awash in a red glow as his shoulders heaved in deep pants. He blinked, confused recognition filling his eyes that was immediately followed by horror.
Rey's jaw fell open as her eyes followed his alight saber blade... the one now pushed through her abdomen.
She looked back at Ben when she heard him inhale sharply, his face pale and lower jaw trembling as if he were trying to speak. She did not move, afraid even a breath could worsen the wound, though somehow she felt no pain.
All in time, she was sure.
In her peripheral vision, she saw his hand fumble as he thumbed off the emitter, the hilt clattering to the ground, grey hues replacing the red.
One of his hands immediately pressed against her stomach and she instinctively flinched. And yet, still she felt nothing.
Her hand closed over his and she lifted it away, steeling herself...
But instead of ruined cloth, her tunic was whole and unmarred. A choked, disbelieving sound bubbled out from her lips as she lifted the hem of the shirt to see the skin of her abdomen intact.
Fine. She was completely, utterly fine.
Her shoulders sagged in relief and she squeezed the hand she still held, a small incredulous laugh escaping her as she looked up... and froze.
Ben was shaking, his lips an alarming shade of white and he scrambled back on the bed, his hand pulling out of hers as he ran it repeatedly though his hair.
You nearly killed her. You only ever ruin-
"I'm... I'm alright, Ben. I promise," she whispered as if speaking to a frightened animal and interrupting his thoughts.
He jerkily nodded his understanding, his eyes seeming to look anywhere but her.
"I sleep with it, my lightsaber..." he trailed off, his voice breaking and he stood from the bed, stalking away to put some distance between them.
Ever since Luke, his mind finished.
She shifted on her feet, unable to think of an appropriate response to dispel the tension of the situation as she stared at him as he stood rigidly on the other side of the room. The scar that etched down his face to his shoulder was as prominent as ever and she wondered why he hadn't tried to have it healed properly to minimize its appearance. But, as her eyes scanned down the rest of his half turned away form, it did not appear as if he ever sought aesthetic attention for any of his injuries, though bit of guilt stabbed at her heart to see the ones she gifted him were by far the worst, even the smaller starburst burn on his left shoulder from where she had jabbed his grandfather's blade into his flesh.
Cor, he must think of me every time he looks in the mirror or undresses.
The thought makes her feel strangely unsettled and her eyes cast desperately around the room, catching sight of her new casing and she snatched it up, pulling the cloth from the pieces to show him.
"I destroyed the last one," she said, wrinkling her nose at the abruptness of her rejoinder.
His downcast gaze lifted briefly to her face in confusion before alighting on the objects in her hand and he stepped closer.
"What happened to the first?" he asked, his voice still flat.
"My crystal, it's cracked. When I constructed my first hilt, I used a non-resistant metal and did not include a vent."
She looked at her palm, missing the way his eyes snapped up when she mentioned the condition of her crystal.
"I'm lucky it just burned my hand instead of taking off a limb," she continued, shaking her head at her poor choice.
"Mandalorian iron," he murmured, looking impressed before his mouth drew down in a frown. "Your proportions are off."
She scowled at him and pulled her bundle back slightly. "They are not."
One eyebrow arched up. "They are, unless you-" His voice cut off as he looked back at her work, his head tilting in contemplation. "Where's the vent?"
She only smirked as a reply and the corner of his mouth tilted up. "It's a staff. The vent will be your second blade."
"Sort of," she confirmed. "The blades won't be even and the hilt will conceal most of the vent, leaving a smaller emission from the back."
"A pike, then," he supplied, nodding.
She grinned brightly in response, proud of her creation as they locked gazes. He returned her smile with a small one of his own and Rey felt herself startle. It had not been much of a smile, just the slightest bowing upward of the lips but it had reached his eyes, crinkling the corners and softening the dark depths, the effect she found alarmingly pleasing. A haughty aristocrat, a reluctant kin slayer, an enraged warrior, a melancholy lost prince, a handsome, kind man... How could one person have so many different faces? Had she even seen them all?
His brows furrowed, the smile dropping, and he stepped back from her, looking at an invisible wall as silence descended over them once again.
"I've left Naboo. So you don't have to worry anymore," he said softly.
"I wasn't," she replied, earning her a skeptical glance. "Where will you go next?" she asked, setting her bundle aside.
"Corellia."
"But... that's a core world. The First Order controls it."
"I am aware."
She frowned at him, her arms crossing over her chest, her mind whirling. "Where did you go first? Right after you defected?"
He studied her and answered, almost as if he wanted to see if she'd put it together. "Dagobah."
Her face scrunched up when she did not recognize the name.
"What's there?"
"About one hundred thousand square miles of the most putrid swamp you can imagine, infested with the most troublesome of creatures," he replied, his lip curling in mild disgust.
Dagobah, Alderaan, Naboo, Corellia...
A swampland, empty space, a scarred planet, and a core world...
"I don't understand. What are you looking for?"
A dark, short chuff of laughter escaped him accompanied by a sardonic twist of his lips. "The same thing you are. An answer to the question."
The words left her lips as she thought them.
Who am I?
His silence was confirmation enough.
"What were you doing? When you, you know-" she asked with genuine curiosity a few moments later, miming his earlier pushing of his hand against her abdomen. "Lightsaber wounds don't bleed."
His cheeks colored lightly, the brief flush extending down his pale chest before it disappeared and she found it strangely endearing.
"I was going to try to heal you," he replied shaking his head as if the thought was ridiculous. "It would have been useless anyway."
"The Force can do that?" she asked, voice tinged with astonishment.
"It has its limitations, but it can help."
"Why would it have been useless then?"
He scowled. "Darkside users can't heal. Not in that way, at least."
"Could you ever?"
"Some, when I was training, but it never came easily."
"Does that happen frequently? Abilities changing?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes. After..." he paused, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. "After Starkiller base, I struggled with the less tangible uses of the Force. It wouldn't heed my commands and when it did, it took significantly more effort on my part."
"And now?"
He looked her over again. "It's returning," he said finally.
"When did it-" she started to ask but stopped mid sentence as he blinked out of view. Her arms fell limply to her sides as she stared at the vacated space, the sudden sparseness of her room making it feel infinitely colder than just moments before. With a sigh she put away her things and settled in for the night, giving into sleep far later than she intended, a fact couldn't bring herself to regret in the least.