Commemoration

She was reading again, some long, dry historical text from Luke's library, and he wondered, not for the first time, what his uncle was playing at. She should be training with a light saber, learning new Force abilities, learning to counteract Force abilities. Not staying awake until all hours reading about the past.

He frowned.

Not that history wasn't important, of course it was, but this just didn't seem like the most urgent of issues right now. He didn't usually pay attention to what she was reading; he could tune it out. The bond wasn't like a comlink that was always open. It was more like a water faucet, always there, but able to be turned off or on, opened wide or slowed to a trickle, on both ends. Of course, it was a bit of a leaky faucet, letting some things come through whether they wanted them to or not: intense emotions, pain, pleasure.

But tonight he was bored, pacing the decks of the Finalizer, and she was so warm and cozy, snuggled under her blankets – he remembered those blankets, what they had done under those blankets, and it made his trousers tighten. Her mind was open, welcoming, and he found himself in her room. It was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the datapad, and he knew her skin would be warm and her hair would smell like flowers and sunlight, and he let himself nestle in with her, and he listened…and was surprised to realize that he knew the passage she was reading by heart. It was about the Battle of Endor. It was about his grandfather. Of course, the version she had was Luke's version; the one he had read as a child. The Empire's version, the one the First Order claimed as truth, was somewhat different. She was almost to the end, reading about his funeral on Endor and…crying? She was crying for his grandfather. His Rey was weeping, touched by the story of the man he had tried so hard to emulate; whose legacy he wanted desperately to live up to. That she would weep for him…it made him feel like she understood something fundamental that no one else did.

She put the datapad away and started getting ready for sleep, thoughts flitting through her mind, vague and unconnected and not really making sense. Something about accident chains and contributing factors and unavoidable conditions and pilot error. Flying stuff. She was tired, and her mind was drifting, as happened just before sleep. He turned his steps toward his quarters, his pace quickening.

They almost always told each other good night. It was a bit of galactic good luck that D'Qar's solar cycle was not far off from the Coruscant Standard Time that the First Order used on all their Star Destroyers. So, almost every night, unless he was…unavailable…when she pulled on her soft night clothes and curled into a little ball under her blankets, when he had taken off all the paraphernalia of his persona and was just a man in a pair of shorts stretched out on his side under a sheet, he reached out to her. He imagined himself lying behind her, his long, lean body pressed against her smaller, softer, but still strong, one. He could feel her warmth seeping into his skin, smell her warm, sunny scent, feel her hair tickle his mouth as he leaned in and whispered, soft and low, Goodnight and felt her press against him. He knew what his voice did to her, knew he could make her wet and wanting with just words, a fact that made him swell with pride. He wanted her to go to sleep every night with his voice in her ear, wanting him, aching for him as he ached for her.

Goodnight, she whispered back, her voice doing things to him, too.

Some nights – many nights – they visited one another in their dreams. He hoped this would be one of those nights. It couldn't compare with actually being together, with real lips and hands and flesh, but even an illusion of that bliss was delicious.

It had started not long after she had figured out what the bond was. She had been on Ahch'to, she had just discovered a holocron in Luke's collection that explained, in infuriating detail, exactly what a Force Bond was and all that it entailed, and she was fuming.

"Kylo Ren!"

Her voice was loud and demanding in his head. She was standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, on the watery planet where she was training with his uncle. The wind was whipping her hair out of the three loops she kept it in, the salt spray was making her face glisten, and she was shimmering with rage.

He had never seen anything so beautiful.

You called?

Forever? Her voice was icy.

What?

This, she hissed. This thing between us. It lasts forever?

Umm, yes, it seems so. He had only discovered that recently himself.

Gah! What have you done?

I told you, I didn't do it!

And if you die, it might kill me?

Again, it seems so.

Well, that's just brilliant, isn't it? Since our main purpose in life now is to kill one another.

He frowned. You think that's…

Well, isn't it?

Not necessarily.

She growled, actually growled, into his mind, and he had to clench his fists and breathe deeply to steady himself. She was perfect. He had to have her, had to convince her that this was a sign, a sign that she should join him.

This is a mistake, she hissed, turning and picking her way down the stone steps. It's a mistake and I'm going to tell Luke and he's going to fix it.

Mistake? Did she know that she was ripping him apart by saying that? It was no mistake. It was meant to be. They were meant to be.

Rey. It was the first time he had said her name. She stopped.

What?

We could just try not to kill one another, you know.

She glared across space and time. I'm not sure I can manage that, she snarled.

He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything.

She was talking to his uncle, and it enraged him. He should be the one training her; he could help her become who she was meant to be, show her all the things she could do with the Force. Because, oh, she was powerful. He had felt it. With the right training, the things she could do. The things he could show her, teach her…she could be unstoppable. And he wanted to show her those things. He wanted to show her a great many things.

But she had chosen his uncle, and he knew exactly what his training entailed. Caution, restraint, non-attachment; a tamping down of emotion that limited the Force. He didn't want to see her limited; her potential was limitless, and he wanted to see it, wanted to see her embrace it and become what she was destined to become. Wanted to see her again as he had glimpsed her on Starkiller, a blazing warrior queen, lightsaber slashing with quick, furious swipes, eyes flashing fire…only this time, fighting with him, side by side or back to back, taking on and obliterating every challenge.

She was talking to his uncle, and she sounded young and small and scared. "What if…what if this is a mistake?"

Luke frowned. "What? Training?"

She shook her head violently. "No. All of it. Me, having the Force…what if it's all just a big mistake. What if I'm not supposed to…to do this. I'm just a scavenger, a nobody. What if I'm not the right person…maybe the Force was looking for someone else, maybe Finn or…or you or…"

She wasn't really questioning her Force abilities, he knew. She was talking about the bond. She really was going to tell Luke, and he would tell her there was no way, really, to sever it, but he would teach her to block it, to block him, and that felt like being sentenced to exile on Hoth.

"Rey." Luke's voice was quiet; his eyes were intense, and he took a long time to speak, putting the words together carefully, painfully. "I've spent the last fifteen years alone here, with my doubts. And I have many. But I don't doubt the Force. People make mistakes; they're blind to things that should be obvious, they refuse to adapt; they mis-use their abilities, they refuse to consider any perspective except their own. I'm guilty of all those things and more. But I blame myself. I made mistakes, and I'll regret them for the rest of my life, and probably on into the spirit world, but I don't blame the Force. I trust it, even now, even after everything that went wrong. That's why, when you came here, reluctant as I was, afraid as I still am, I'll do my best to train you. Because the Force sent you here. And the Force doesn't make mistakes."

Hearing his uncle speak like that, it hurt, like an old wound reopening, but it also soothed a bit, to have Luke share in the self-loathing.

Rey was quiet, thoughtful, considering. She picked at a thread on her sleeve. He felt her, on the edge of telling Luke about the bond, of asking him how to end it, but she didn't.

"Are you sure?" She asked, voice tremulous.

Luke nodded, adamant. "Absolutely."

Rey bit her lip; he could feel her sharp little teeth digging into the soft flesh. Finally, she nodded, said in a soft, little girl voice, "Okay."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She hadn't told. She hadn't asked Luke to sever the bond or teach her to block it. She hadn't exiled him.

That night, as she drifted to sleep, he had dared to reach out to her. Rey?

He felt her sigh. Yes?

You didn't tell him.

No.

Why?

Because of what he said. The Force doesn't make mistakes.

So…

So I believe that. I don't understand…this…but I'll…wait and see. Her tone changed, then, from soft and uncertain to fierce. But don't think this means I'm going to talk to you. Or listen to you. Or train with you. Or …or do anything else with you!

He felt a warmth spread over his cheeks, neck and chest, and realized he was feeling her blush.

Anything else?

Definitely not!

He smirked. So you've thought about it?

She growled.

Rey?

What now?

Goodnight.

That's all?

Yes.

Okay. Goodnight, then. And she curled herself into a tight ball in her blanket. For hours, she tossed and turned; sleep wouldn't come. But finally, finally it did, and with it a dream, and he was there. He simply knelt beside her bed, watching her sleep. Appreciating her. He reached out a hand, gloveless and bare, let his fingers skim her cheek. She turned her head, ever so slightly, and nuzzled into his hand. He tensed, gasped.

For the first lunar cycle on Ahch'to, she refused to speak to him at all. By the second, she replied, but not in a positive manner. Go away, get out of my head, leave me be, or, if she was especially peeved, shut up were her main replies. No one had dared tell him to shut up in…fifteen years? Force, she was perfection; gleaming, fearless, perfection.

She thrived under Luke's instruction, growing stronger and more sure of her abilities every day, secure and peaceful and blazing with light. He wondered, as he had long ago, if the reason he withered under his uncle's teaching was due to some fault in him, some flaw in his personality. Perhaps that was what had drawn him to the Dark side, because that, that he could master. That came easily, flowing through him like lava, whereas peace and serenity were always just a bit out of reach. But Rey had no trouble connecting with that light, and he found that he was as drawn to that as he was to the darkness that still simmered under the surface in her.

By the third lunar cycle, she had taught herself to block him. Self-taught in everything since childhood, she was remarkably proficient at it. But, interestingly enough, she didn't block him all the time. She could have; he was quite aware that she could have. But she didn't. He never blocked her out. He reveled in the connection, in whatever she allowed. He spent most of his mental energy on another kind of blocking; hiding the bond from his master. He would not have her contaminated by Snoke, as he had been. No. Her power was too fine and pure. Dark, light – it didn't matter. She was raw potential. And she would be his, his alone.

It was during the fourth lunar cycle that she had spent on the planet that she actually really responded to him for the first time. She was practicing light saber forms, and struggling, and he could feel the peace slipping away from her, being replaced with frustration.

You're making it too difficult. You're putting too much weight in your heels. If you transfer your weight to the balls of your feet, it'll help your balance. Keep doing it like that and you'll get knocked on your ass.

He expected her to ignore him, or tell him to shut up, but instead, she stopped, looked thoughtful and then…As I recall, last time we fought, you were the one who ended up knocked on their ass.

He chuckled, low and deep, and he felt something, surprise and warmth and a little frisson of pleasure running through her, and he realized she liked his voice.

She shifted and tried again, this time flowing through the entire form easily. She beamed, and, ever so grudgingly, thought, thank you.

That was the first real softening. And he took it, took it like a dog waiting for scraps, because it was something. He watched, waited, aching for more, unable to stay away. When he was feeling strong, he offered her advice and, instead of telling him to leave her alone, she listened. She took the advice and used it, and her progress, her power…it was stunning. His uncle noticed, amazed at what she could do, never guessing why. When he was feeling weak, he visited her in her dreams, kneeling by her cot, watching her sleep, perhaps reaching out a finger to touch her cheek – never more - whispering goodnight before letting himself fade away to lie in his lonely bed and pine. He wanted more, but he dared not push; he was all too aware that she could slam the door on him permanently. So he waited and tried to think of a way to entice her.

In the end, she was the one who invited him in.

It felt like a door opening, when she let down all her defenses and let him in fully, and he could see and feel what she did. She was exhausted, on edge. It was the end of her training on Ahch'to. Tomorrow, they would return to the Resistance base. She would see Finn – he was recovering well, according to Poe, who kept her updated – and she would bring Luke back to his sister, and…things would change. She would be expected to do things, to fight; to earn her keep. This made sense to her; nothing was free. But she was afraid; and not for reasons anyone else could understand. So, lying in her cot, staring at the stone ceiling, unable, once again, to sleep, she reached out to him.

I would like to…talk.

Of course. What is it?

No. Come to me, she said. I know you can. I know you've been here before.

And he was there, without really knowing where 'there' was…only that he was in her presence, in her room, and she was right there.

Rey?

I'm going back. To the Resistance. And I know, eventually, we'll meet again. And we'll have to fight.

Yes. Do you still want to kill me?

She sighed, shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes, almost embarrassed. No.

He smiled. Good. I don't want to kill you either. So we won't. Problem solved.

She nodded, but didn't seem ready to end the conversation. She wanted him there. He felt his pulse quicken.

Why do you visit me like this? Every night, just watching, she asked.

Because you let me. He swallowed. Why do you let me?

Because when you're here…I'm not alone.

Oh, Rey. My Rey…

I'm not…

But you could be. And you would never have to be alone again.

She inhaled. Then she reached out, hand shaking, and touched his face…only a Force-dream touch but oh, oh it was so real. He felt her small fingers, slightly calloused, nimble and clever, nails short and practical, tracing his jaw, his lips, his scar – her scar. Oh, it felt so good, even in illusion it was beyond anything he had ever felt.

Why did this happen to us? She asked, fingertips trailing over his lips.

He shuddered, shook, ached. I don't know. But there must be a reason. You said yourself, the Force doesn't make mistakes.

Is this the Force? Me, wanting you?

He froze, shocked. You...you want me?

Y-yes. So quiet he barely heard it.

He leaned closer to her, pressing his face against her hand, and breathed in; breathed her in. I don't know. But I feel it too. I've felt it since the first moment I saw you.

So what do we do?

Her hand was still on his face, and he mirrored her action, touching her cheek, her lips.

This? He asked, leaning in, his lips just brushing hers, waiting for a response, waiting for her to fling him away.

But she didn't.

Instead, she leaned in too, and deepened the kiss, her lips parting slightly, and it was more than he had ever expected; it was beauty beyond light or dark. It was truth; it was them; it was the only thing, she was the only thing in the universe. He would belong to her, and she to him, and nothing else mattered. Her lips were soft and warm. She was hesitant, uncertain, but eager, her hand moving from his face to his hair, her fingers running through it as if it was something she had been wanting to do for a very long time. He pulled her closer and opened his mouth, pressing against her lips, begging for entrance, and after a second of confusion, she parted her lips, and then her mouth was moving against his, fervent and responsive. It went on for quite a while, although, when they finally pulled away from one another, short of breath, eyes blazing, it felt like far too short a time.

She smiled, and he noticed that she had the most adorable little dimples. Was that real?

Oh, yes. That was real, he sighed. But I would love to try it again in person sometime.

Me too.

He felt her blush again, and pulled back, sensing her need to process what had just happened. Goodnight, he whispered.

Goodnight, she whispered back.

He cherished that memory; he cherished every kiss and touch. Now, though, now they did far more than kiss in their dream meetings. He pulled the sheet over his shoulder, slowed his breathing and reached for her sleeping mind, aching, anticipating…

A/N

Too sweet? Hopefully not; tender kisses and sinful smut are both good, right? And next chapter, some Force-dream smut will appear, plus more of Rey's analysis of just where Anakin went wrong. But it will be a while; I'll be out of town this week.

I'm not the only one that cried for Darth Vader at the end of Return of the Jedi, right? Right?

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!