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Chapter 14: Kindling
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A thousand thank yous, everyone. I am continually overwhelmed by your generosity and kindness.
Also, I will be traveling next week over spring break, so it may be longer than normal for me to update. I apologize for the delay, but this chapter should offer something to chew on regarding the story's future.
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Komeko-chan - /You/ are graceful, and fluid, and so clever and charming. Reading your comments I'm just like: you give me purpose, and I am ready to honor that purpose. Thank you.
Daisey Reydly - Thank you, I really, truly appreciate it.
River Fox - Thank you so, so much. I always look forward to your comments especially, not just because they are like as wonderful as tiramisu, but because I wonder if I'm meeting your expectations. Every chapter takes me longer to write, because I'm determined not to disappoint you. So, I hope I continue to live up to your expectations in the future— just to make you happy!
Jedi-pixie - Yes! Yin and Yang! -Perfect. And don't worry, epic butt-whooping is fully formed and I think it will satisfy. Also, I looked up Ben Amidala, and... hubba-hubba! Thank you for that delicious little reference. And I completely agree, a walk in the woods with Qui-Gon, Yoda, Anakin and Obi-Wan; I wouldn't need heaven. Thank you for being so thoughtful and kind- I soak it in to the fullest extent possible.
catqueen8 - Thank you- you're fantastilastic! That 'bless this fanfic' line really made my day, and still gives me the fuzzies every time I think back on it.
Cat Beats - The fact that you can *vomit* and still keep reading is the perfect compliment (or so I choose to take it). I definitely keep you in mind when I'm writing. Therefore, thank you so much. You're so great.
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Rey wandered along the coast in the darkness, Kylo filling her mind as if he were walking next to her.
The only light in the night was absorbed by the ocean, sprawled out across its shoulders in a million white embers that pulsed meekly to each other, reflecting off the neighboring waves in hazy glimmers.
As she stepped her feet sank into the wet surface of the tideline, the sand yielding beneath her. Occasionally, a wave would rush up and slide past her ankles, warm and comforting, like the ocean was brushing at her affectionately.
The warmth of Kylo's body still clung in her hair and on her clothes. She could feel a lingering pressure in the places where he had touched her; the press over her mouth and on her pelvis.
It felt good, despite everything. Despite whatever she had witnessed in the labyrinthine history of his mind and his background, he had saved her life, and he was here with her still. Someone to walk with on the coast and through the forest beyond it. To show her things she'd never imagined she wad capable of.
He had been nothing but generous, deferential, and tender since Mannassar. There were the things she had witnessed him do before; to Han, capturing her like an animal, and whatever he had done to Finn, although she had since been reassured by Obi-Wan that Finn was now healthy and an active part of the Resistance. These things had weighed on her like burning cragged rocks. Almost as if tied to a fishing-line hooked into to her chest, she had pulled along behind her. But the sand and water of this place had begun to abrade them, and now they felt like small, smooth and rounded stones she almost didn't notice.
When she looked at Kylo now, she saw freedom. And with reckless abandon she could drift on him like a river to the open ocean of the universe.
It is hard to inexorably condemn a river that had coursed its way through toxic ground, even if it carried the toxin with it.
All polluted things will be purified with enough time.
And, already, his current seemed clearer.
But now there was the decision of whether she should should she fully slip into it. To let herself connect to someone alive and present. Though, it appeared her subconscious had already made the decision, it was just a matter of accepting it.
And he had made decisions too.
It felt right— this compact. There would be someone to touch, to look for, to unburden her mind on. To fill the void in her chest that had echoed with battering, reverberating loneliness for as long as she could remember.
So, she would let herself do this for now. While the water was clear. She could handle separation later, if necessary. She always had.
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In the morning, after walking back to their familiar stretch of staked shore, he was there waiting for her. He watched her approach with a carefully arranged expression, like a perfect pattern of eggshell tiles, placed into a grout of volcanic ash. Regarding his face, she was reminded of the full spectrum of human emotion that sifted inside him. The molten core of a planet. He was still dressed in ebony, though his clothing had been stripped away to a single light layer of fabric that covered his torso and limbs.
In his eyes, though, there were smears of the blue morning sky reflecting past his irises.
"Good morning," he said softly. His voice like wind through trees.
"Good morning," she responded, noticing the gentle vibration in her throat as the words were produced. Stepping next to him, he rose to meet her advance, his movement limber but controlled, waiting for her to choose the next action.
She stretched out a palm and laid in across his sternum. A smile formed on his mouth, fluid and streaming into the rest of his features, burnishing them with an aura of focus and ease. He lifted his hand to trace along her arm, over her shoulder and to the back of her neck. His skin feeling contradictorily rough for the smooth movement. Stepping in he pressed his lips to her forehead.
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Conversation had dappled the last hour in light strokes. Kylo watched Rey lay curled comfortably in the sand beside him, her clothes drying on her skin and one of his data pads detailing the account of the Battle of Malachor in her hands. It was remarkable how much she knew of the world for how little of it she had personally experience. In his conversations with her, he found her knowledge of history before the fall of the Empire rivaled his own. Anything she didn't know she learned as quickly as she could with a ravenous appetite.
But political science was something that he had not spoken to her about. He was too involved in it through the First Order, and he had carefully sidestepped any situations where political agendas could be a topic of discussion. She didn't need to be reminded who he was before he met her.
But eventually, things had to be said. He felt like a fish in a bowl, whose water was filling quickly with ammonia. He needed to find some outlet; some way to clear his lungs of the decay of his actions.
"How do you envision stability returning to the galaxy?" he asked the question abruptly, looking over his shoulder at her, holding emotion deep under the surface.
She laid the history text down and propped herself up with an arm to consider him. The question was impulsive, but he knew it was something that she had been considering. Sometimes the things she said about her life on Jakku or the possible futures she had once envisioned for herself danced around galactic order, but flitted away anytime they got too close.
Now, however, her response, through slow, was steady and deliberate. "By allowing the people to find it on their own. A wellspring."
Her eyes met his, firm and bright. There was no challenge in them, just conviction. And naiveté? Maybe. It was hard to know anything for sure anymore when the ideals he once believed in so fully resulted in the massacre of an entire solar system.
The feeling that rose in his chest as he waited for Starkiller's dark matter to reach Hosnian Prime, like his lungs were being shredded by wires of guilt and shame for the unnecessary measure, was a memory that still clung to him like a tattoo.
"Do you really think that is possible?"
"Yes," she responded, as sure as before. "There would need to be leaders who organize the discussion and coordinate the decisions. But their interest cannot be just power. It would have to be selfless."
Selfless. Who, that wanted to play a role in government, could be selfless? He could think of no one, from his childhood, watching the New Republic walk along on stilts, pretending to be so much more than it was; to any person who commanded power in the First Order. His mother was included. She had loved her power more than him, despite the excuses she gave.
"And you believe people are capable of that?"
"Yes. It has been done before."
He waited for her to add more, knowing what inbred, disillusioned martyrs she would probably reference, but she didn't. So he let himself roll back to focus on her words, and her way of saying them. A firmly as ever, a stroke of paint across a canvas.
She looked so certain saying this, like recounting a fact about the function of a a cell, something true and undeniable.
Like his need for her and the shelter she provided. Another universe.
He reached for her and she took his hand.
Afterwards, they walked together towards the forest, to escape from the midday sun.
His heart cantered slowly in his chest, like large, glossy seabirds sauntering on the shore, occasionally dodging a stretching wave. Yet, each breath felt light and free, as if his lungs had grown the bird's thick, feathered wings. He could sense hers flowing softly in and out beside him with a similar ease.
He glanced at Rey, slender and gleaming in the sunlight like a polished piece of smoky quartz. She had fallen into a deep consideration of something, her mouth drawn into a tight, pensive line. Not for the first time, he felt a thirst to reach out and look into her thoughts— wanting to know what ideas could engage her like this. But this desire was coupled with an automatic resistance. He wouldn't, ever again. It would be like pouring tar into drinking supply. Her mind was her own, wild and pristine.
She deserved a position of power. To be a leader who would organize the discussion and coordinate the decisions of the *wellspring* that recreated order. Her interest would not be power. It would be selfless. Of everything he had ever seen her do or say, it was all selfless. She was patience, reason and compassion incarnate.
It was a ridiculous thought, but she would be a perfect Jedi, everything his old, brittle uncle had insisted he be.
He looked back as her and spoke, feeling his voice move through his throat as soft as wool. "Maybe you're right— about people rebuilding on their own. And there would have to be a fresh start. The New Republic is gone. The First Order is not capable of democracy. It needs to be broken up and dissolved. It was never what it should have been anyway— it was a mindless machine that coerced rather than promoted. Something must fragment and sweep it away."
"What would this something be?" Her eyes grazed curiously along his face as she responded.
"A number of powerful individuals who understand it. How it was built, and its foundation."
"How could this happen?"
"Snoke would have to be removed first. He is the fountain-head; every decision and action the Order pursues comes from him. But it isn't really order anymore, if it ever truly was." The words moved out of his mouth freely, like water flowing over a fall. The words themselves did not surprise him, but the ease with which he spoke did. He would have expected them to clog his throat obstinately. But there was no taste to this lack of friction, it just was.
To harbor these caustic thoughts of his master, the Supreme Leader, was one thing, but to actually say them? Snoke was the one that had pulled him from the abandoned cave a thousand meters underground, and placed him in the sun. The sun had burned so hot it was obsidian, but it was alright. Snoke had promised him legitimate power and purpose, and every promise was delivered.
Until he ripped himself away.
Perhaps because of her, perhaps because of some acid within himself that finally burned through. None of it was clear, especially the numbing relief that enveloped him in hesitant waves.
"Then? After Snoke is taken down?"
Rey's lilting, temperate voice bathed him in the oxymoronic simplicity of the moment. He was walking beside a young, unbelievably powerful woman more resemblant of a desert rainstorm more than a human, discussing the expulsion of his master from power,—the most powerful being in a thousand worlds—as if they were discussing a harvest to be performed at the end of a season. The word traitor trailed through his mind, searing, but bearable.
Not that it much mattered. Snoke was too powerful.
"It's not as simple as that. Snoke isn't just going to be eradicated."
"There's no one— no group that could do this?" She was so calm, her voice mild, barely glowing in inquisitiveness beneath her smooth demeanor.
"Not that I'm aware of." Who would be capable of killing a black hole? Snoke would inhale any attempt like vapor, absorbing it effortlessly into his infinite mass of ability, then then swallow the performer.
Rey held his gaze, as composed the ocean behind her. But she was merely uninformed.
"He is a Sith lord whose knowledge of the Force is so great he learned how to create life almost a century ago. I have no idea what he is capable of now. He can revive any living being; I've seen it many times. It is the main reason he holds such influence over the First Order. And he is capable of reviving himself. He is immortal."
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As the sun was setting, Rey went to the forest to gather wood for a fire. The conversation she had had with Kylo earlier about government and Snoke had ended as abruptly as it had begun after the word immortal, but the discussion had orbited in her mind since with a steady gravitational pull.
As she stepped through the trees, picking up dry, fragrant branches and piling them into her arms, the light began to transition into a lambent bronze. Moving deeper into the trees the sound of the ocean faded away until there was only the clipped whir of winged insects.
"Hello, Rey."
Qui-Gon's voice reached out to her, and she turned to see him standing with Anakin in front of a large boulder; shielded from Kylo if he were follow her.
Immediately, the thought of their kiss the night before and what had happened this morning streaked through her. A moth beat its wings against her stomach and the muscles along her spine tightened as she waited for the Jedi to say something about it.
Blunt shadows in the Jedi's eyes betrayed concern, cool and stale, but when Qui-Gon spoke, his voice was the same tranquil baritone it always was.
"You have had some significant conversations with Kylo today about Snoke and government. Rey, things are moving very well."
"I'm really just letting things happen on their own." Her voice felt abnormally light, relieved at the respect to privacy.
"Everything you said to Kylo we agree with fully. Eventually, the galaxy will come together again. It will take time, but the people are ready. The conditions of the last 50 years will mold the efforts of the systems to create lasting balance." Qui-Gon said.
Turning his sharp gaze from Qui-Gon to her, Anakin added in his sleek accent. "And Kylo has almost fully detached himself from the First Order or Snoke. Already, he is open to the idea of the galactic political system you described. He is enamored with you— he trusts you and sees you as a source of unbiased reason to help determine the future. You have him, Rey."
A contradicting wave of warmth rushed through her, causing her to shudder and bring her arms across her chest. The idea of having so much influence over someone else felt off-balance, though knowing it was Kylo was somehow both disarming and pleasing.
"What about Snoke?" she asked quickly, to distract herself. "You told me you wanted me to work with Kylo to remove Snoke. Can this happen?" Her question felt fragile; a young sapling still lean and pliable. The word *immortal* continued to rested in her bone marrow.
"We don't know the full extent of Snoke's capabilities. It may take some time to determine the best course of action." Qui-Gon's voice was steady despite this lack of knowledge. He considered her for a moment, his gaze impenetrable, then finally asked, "Do you still feel safe, here, with Kylo?"
"I think so— But as you said, I wonder about his stability. I trust him for now, but I don't know if he will continue to act how I expect him to."
"We've decided it is time that I spoke to him." Anakin said. "But this is something I should do alone. In the morning, will you ask him to come here on his own?"
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Her conversation with the Jedi lingered on her mind as she walked back, floating though her in short, downy verses. Anakin had said he would talk to Kylo in the morning. He indicated he would expose the years of observance and forbearance he and the other Jedi Masters had practiced, and explain to Kylo why they had done so. Then he would explain to Kylo how they had been in contact with her, but just very recently— during the last page of their almost 15 years of waiting and hope that Kylo would abandon the darkness he had entered. Anakin would be honest, and perhaps Kylo would accept the honesty with understanding. If he didn't, Anakin told her they would alert to Aing-Tii to guard her immediately.
But somehow she felt this stone-solid certainty that the Aing-Tii would not be needed.
She expected Kylo to feel some semblance of relief; even if there was anger, but the relief would outweigh it.
She found him sitting against one of the massive stone pillars thrusting out of the ground near the shore. The last rays of sun light streamed into his inky hair, tracing lines of copper through it that fell and glanced off of his brow, contrasting with the sharp angles of his cheeks. He was reading a data pad, drawing lines of notes with long, deft fingers in the interface beside the text.
Looking up at her he smiled as she stepped into view. The copper light slipped down and washed over his whole face, illuminating his expression.
It was still strange to see these smiles, like he was learning them in the past few weeks the same way a child learns to walk. It was also strange to compare him now to what she had seen in his mind on Starkiller Base, though that felt like it happened years ago.
"Thank you," he said gently as she laid her arm-load of sticks and kindling next to the rock and began placing it for a fire.
"Of course." She replied mildly, sweeping a light glance at him. His gazed pressed against her chest in a way that made her lungs exhale silk with each breath. Looking away, she knelt and regarded the wood. Focusing on the air surrounding the kindling, she imagined the molecules too small to see rubbing against each other until a spark flew sharp and bright and caught on the feathers of wood. She stroked the flicker with a thought and the flame spread obediently, crackling softly as it laid its roots.
She looked to Kylo, feeling a small blaze pride travel along her skin.
He smirked back at her, suddenly looking almost young and carefree, if not for the dark lines under his eyes. "You learn fast at everything, don't look so smug," he said crisply.
She pressed away a smile and laid down next him, letting the sand cradle her back and neck. The dye of the black layer of cloth that she wore, which Derisdem had given her weeks ago on Mannassar, had washed away to a faded, slate grey, bleached by the salt water and the sky. It carried the scents of the Aing-Tii homeworld now; ocean and rust and something floral like the powdery blossoms of the fruit she picked each morning. A week ago she had begun to place a sweet, azure sphere of it into Kylo's hand every time she returned with a bundle, and last night she noticed that he had begun to bear the fragrance on his skin as well, though mingled with the incense of charred forest that still lingered on his body.
A rustle of sand sounded from behind them and a sudden placed sense of amity swelled within her.
Turning her head, and feeling Kylo do the same, she saw a group of four Aing-Tii approaching them.
She recognized her monk from among them automatically. The geometric patterns lining the monk's ivory body plates had become familiar; they swirled across the monk's frame in ways the sharp lines and vertices of polygons shouldn't, reminding her of the soft lines of driftwood.
She rose calmly to meet them, Kylo beside her. But there was a brisk apprehension wavering around him in short vibrations. She reached out to brush her fingers against his reassuringly, but he kept his eyes firmly on the Aing-Tii as they drew to a couple meters away.
Stopping in front of her the monk kneeled, reaching to the ground and collected a handful of sand in three elegant fingers. Cupping the sand in a tiled, porcelain palm, the monk rose again and regarded her, eyes still and full of something reassuring. Stepping forward to close the space between her and the other Aing-Tii the monk extended the arm holding the sand and waited with it poised. Rey reached her own hand forward and the monk spilled the sand into her waiting palm.
In the same gripping lurch as when she accepted the blanket from him, she was forced into somewhere else.
She is standing alone on the beach, a hundred meters from the jutting rock where she just stood in front of the monk and next to Kylo. But now the rock is 10 times the size, as are all the others, littering the coast like curled and sleeping giants. Day and night pass like a strobe light, settling in a medium of soft, steady glow— a mixture of morning and dusk. Somehow she knows the world is moving around her a thousand years in a moment.
Scanning the slow flurry of her surroundings, her eyes are drawn to the tideline. The ocean is a glassy surface sliding steadily up the shore towards her, like a blanket. Eventually, the water rises over her head but she doesn't need to breathe. She is weightless and safe, watching the world beneath the surface, hushed and calm.
Soon, the water recedes again, sliding back down the shore. When she is twenty meters from its tide line, fingers of grass and brush start to rise out of the earth around her. A slowly growing crowd of evergreen trunks, tall and straight with slender, fine branches, march down onto the coast from where the Aing-Tii have always come. They flow past her towards the retreating sea until she is completely surrounded in the shade of these pillars of life reaching towards every horizon.
Then, a mist of sand comes. Dusting back in from the shore, sweeping a dissolving fog through the forest until every trunk has fallen and faded away, revealing the ocean once more a hundred meters away. The tide has reversed and the line of water rises again towards her. But a steady wave of sand slides before it, slipping evenly up and over any diminishing remnants of life—grass and shrub—washing everything away until it is all that is left.
From nowhere and without warning, the Aing-Tii appeared in front of her again, and Kylo at her side. His palm was resting between her shoulder blades, light as a leaf. It was so comforting. She leaned slightly back into it, and felt his Force signature surge.
The monk regarded her passively for a moment, and a swell of something she couldn't identify, but reassuring, even empowering, lodged itself in her chest. Then the monk lithely stepped backwards to stand next to the others again. After only a moment, they bowed together to her in a synchronous movement and, without further incident, silently turned to leave.
She and Kylo watched them stilly until they disappeared back into the treeline. Then he turned to her, his face hard and his eyes searching, the eyes of a starving animal. "What happened?"
Suddenly, the sense of fortitude the Aing-Tii had instilled in her was overwhelmed by a burning and urgent curiosity. "I saw something… here. But it was about time; the coast's history over a huge span of time. I saw forests rising where we stand and continuing so far past the shoreline I couldn't see through to the end, then the ocean came back and wiped them away. But it was the sand— the sand always came first, and when it did, it covered and dissolved everything. It was the sand that made the trees disappear."
"Psychometry." Kylo said, barely audibly. Then his eyes blazed, flaring coals, and he spoke louder. "It's a skill a few Force-sensitives are capable of. Where objects tell you their stories— but why the sand? Do you have any idea?"
Considering the question was like looking out over the fields of Jakku; there was sand and sky, but nothing else.
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