Ren
"Would you do this for me? I don't like doing it myself."
Ren glanced over to see her holding a needle-the one to prevent pregnancy. He walked over and took it from her, kneeling down just as he had before.
"I grabbed it from the med bay before I left," she said, staring ahead. He inserted the needle carefully and within a moment he was done.
"Thanks," she said, pulling her shirt down. He ran his hand down her arm as he stood, craving the touch of her warm skin. She didn't mind—he knew she liked it, also having suffered without touch for so long. He felt the spike of pleasure she had when she slipped into his arms when they slept, intertwined. She almost always fell asleep first, apparently finding it easy to relax.
"Want to go look around the place?" Rey asked, turning her clear gaze on him. They had spent most of the first day in this room, where it was warm and they could talk softly and sate themselves with kisses and touch.
"Sure," he said. He was not in any position to deny her, for she was so unwittingly persuasive. Or at least, she was to him.
She underestimated the cold, so he ordered her to put on another layer.
"I do have some experience with covering up," she objected. "I protected myself from the sand storms and sun for years."
"You dressed in the lightest garments because of the heat," he replied flatly. "Just put the damn coat on."
In the end, she did, and they strolled through the long halls and walls of old technology. Rey inspected the parts, praising the parts for their worth. He kept turning around, hearing whispers. There was an energy throughout the place that haunted him, making his head ache with effort to try and keep himself focused and calm. Luckily, her lips turned blue and she tried valiantly to hide her tremors, but he was watching her carefully, as he always did. After a brief argument, she agreed to let him carry her on his back to their warm haven.
They ate, and they warmed themselves by the fire—thoroughly, with him completing his promise to make love to her by the fire. She murmured to him that in the morning she had to leave, and he found himself unable to push the darkness back. It swirled around him and he quickly realized that he needed to get away from her. He was bound to explode with disappointment and anger, and he would not let her be a part of that. Never again.
He controlled himself enough to kiss her brow and to tightly tell her he needed a walk. She scrambled up, with a protest but he refused her.
"I'll be back," he promised, grabbing his saber and cloak and leaving before she had the chance to follow.
He strode, fast and hard through the snow until he was certain he was far enough. He ignited his saber and slashed at the nearby machinery, smoke and sparks flying out to sting his eyes and cheeks since he had no mask. He had been in such a hurry that he had forgotten gloves, so his clenched hands quickly became completely flushed.
But his anger made him hot. It boiled his ears in a way the sun could never burn him. Horrible sounds tore from his throat, and all he could see was flashes of white and red as he destroyed. Finally his tense muscles were able to relax, and he was hollow and empty. Calm enough to return to her once he caught his breath.
When he opened the door she was pacing. Her eyes snapped to him and she crossed her arms. He reached out with the force and felt anger and hurt—and a little fear, which shamed him. He never wanted her to be afraid of him. She was the only person who wasn't.
"Rey—"
"Why did you do that?" She burst out. She turned her head away but with a start, he realized she was crying.
"Love, I'm sorry," he said mournfully, but she shook her head and refused his embrace.
"You never let me help you," she said, her voice choked. She was oh so very angry.
"I don't need your help," he said coldly, but regretted his tone instantly.
She glared at him, cheeks flushed.
"You make it hard to love you," she said.
He felt himself shudder and for a moment he heard nothing but a high ringing sound. Then heat rushed through him and he was able to focus on her face. She looked a little shocked, but the sorrow in her eyes spread throughout her features.
All the anger rushed out.
"Don't be one of them," he said quietly. "Don't be just another one of those people who wants me to be different."
Her clear gaze met his without fear or anger.
"You're better than this," she said. "You're stronger than this."
That cut him deep. And suddenly, he could hear that voice in his ear.
You're stronger than this.
At every moment of weakness, he heard that voice. His grandfather, urging him on. He remembered standing in the biting wind, barely deflecting Rey's blows on Starkiller.
You're stronger than this.
He had a surge of anger, had hit back with more force, driving her back until their blades clashed against each other for a long moment. She had been beautiful, teeth bared and bathed in the purple light. But he had only seen red.
"I don't need anyone!" She had shouted, and pain had coursed through him.
You're stronger than this, the voice said again. Ren's anger mounted, heart pounded.
Kill her.
It was then that he had snapped. She had gotten the upper hand. He had been shocked, both by his grandfather's order and her declaration. He had howled in pain inside and out. He had thought one word in defiance
No!
She had won that fight, given him his scar. She would have won it even if he had not have been so shaken by the voice. But something inside him had shifted.
His grandfather had fallen silent. He had not heard that voice since Starkiller, since that moment. And he had buried the memory deep, deep down. He hadn't thought of it until now.
Why?
He stumbled back from Rey and sat down on the bed. His hands and legs were shaking. He could hear her voice, concerned and confused, but recognized no words.
Her hands came to rest on his cheeks and she tilted his face up.
"Ren!" She shouted, and he blinked.
"What?" He said stupidly, and her shoulders sagged.
"What's wrong with you?" She asked. "You looked like—" Her voice cut off and her hazel eyes were filled with fear.
With his shaking hands he drew her into his lap and laid his head on her breast.
"Hold me," he said roughly. "Please."
She did, tightly, and he closed his eyes. She was here, solid and real. He could feel her love and concern. It filled the emptiness inside him and drove away the horrible fear that had seized him.
Why had he thought that the voice was his grandfather's? He tried to remember.
Faintly, he remembered rejection from a group of boys at Luke's academy. His cheeks, sticky with cold tears. And a voice, comforting him and encouraging him. He had imagined it was his grandfather's voice. It would be scary if it wasn't.
And Snoke, standing in front of him, laying a gnarled had on his shoulder many years later.
"Your grandfather does speak to you," he said. "Listen closely to his guidance."
Had Ren been wrong?
The idea shook him to the core. He knew Rey was dying to understand, her curiosity and worry leaping from her into his mind.
Confusion stabbed at his mind, which ached more than any punishment from his master. Only Rey's even breaths, and the smell of her soft, sweet skin kept him tethered to himself. A low groan echoed from his throat and he dimly felt her hand stroke his black locks.
"Shh," Rey hushed. Even if she had no idea what was wrong, even if he had frightened her, angered her, she was still here. He was a sniveling scrap of flesh, a shriveled embryo outside it's mother's body. But still she held him like he was precious. Not like he was revolting, or repulsive. As his head pounded and pricks of light pounded behind his eyelids, he silently vowed to never let her go. He would keep her safe from anything.
Even from the dark side. Even from his master.
Rey
Even after they parted from Hoth, Rey could not stop thinking about Ren. He had been so, so vulnerable in her arms the night before she left. And she still hadn't the faintest idea why.
She had thought it was because of her, because she had told him he was hard to love. But he later assured her that wasn't it. He wasn't ready to talk about it. When she protested, his gaze was steel and his jaw was set.
"I love you," he had said quietly, firmly. "I will tell you when it is safe."
It was not like him to be so quiet and withdrawn. He was either tender and passionate, or raw and explosive. So the image of him, and of his strange swirl of emotions haunted her.
But somehow, she progressed in her training. Weeks passed, and she worked harder than ever to perfect her forms, her use of the Force physically. Luke did not say much, but she felt his approval. One night he carved her a sweet little bird, etched with tiny feathers and strung on a thin leather cord. The wood was soft and silky and smelled faintly of the pine she had smelled on Ahch-to.
"Is it from…?"
"Yes," Luke answered, a small smile playing under his gray beard. "I've been saving it."
"Thank you," she said quietly, beaming at her little bird.
Luke sat back, satisfied, and then gazed off into the flames.
"You've been doing well with your meditation," he remarked.
She nodded. She hadn't told Luke what Leia had told her, or that Rey had stopped fighting against the dark side.
"You are still not at peace even if you can reach serenity with the Force," Luke said.
Rey swallowed, looping the cord over her head and playing with her little bird. Her thoughts and dreams of Ren were troubling her more than they should. She didn't answer. She had learned from Luke that sometimes no answer said more than words.
Luke sighed.
"You need to separate yourself—" he began, but then stopped, an odd look on his face. He looked at her, and she felt the warm grasp of his Force reach around her.
"You feel like—" He cut himself off again and then shook his head.
"What?" Rey asked, running her tongue along her teeth. She thought of Leia, her hand around Rey's, and waited.
"Nothing," Luke said. A long silence came and settled around them.
Rey ran her hands along the wood of her bird again and again. Luke had told her of the charm his father had made for his mother—and how she had worn it every day until she was buried with it in her hands. He alluded that he had spoken to his father—but never his mother. Rey wondered why.
"You are doing well," Luke finally said. "Perhaps it's time we start finding you a kyber crystal. You can't use that old blade forever. A new kind of Jedi needs a fresh start."
With shining eyes and her face cracking open with joy, Rey looked up at him.
"Really?" She asked breathlessly. "My own saber?"
Luke nodded, his blue eyes bright in the dark weathered skin. "We'll have to start planning an off-world trip."
"Is it safe?" She asked. "For you?"
Luke nodded. "We will be careful. Besides, I sense that I am not sought after right now. Those eyes have turned on another."
Rey frowned. Did he mean that Ren was too busy focusing on her to find Luke?
Luke got up, his stiff knees cracking.
"Going to bed. Full moon tonight. Makes me antsy."
"The Force is strong, then," Rey said sagely, and Luke scoffed.
"Just a shift in the tides," he grumbled. "Nothing more."
Rey went to bed shortly after. There was little to do alone in the dark. She closed her eyes and snuggled under the thick fur on her little pallet. The corner room was barely big enough for her bed, but it was cozy.
A full moon, she thought. Idly through a dazed mind she started counting how long it had been since she had seen Ren. But then a thought came to her, and frozen, she began to count again. And again.
She sat up in her bed and used her fingers until they were stiff with cold.
Surely something had been messed up. It was impossible. She stuck her fingers down the front of her hips and touched her center. When she brought her hand out, there was nothing on her hand.
She had been regular since she was sixteen. She had only missed a period from near starvation. And she was far from that now.
Somehow, she had missed her period. It had been over two months. She hadn't noticed. Panic set in and she clutched her messy head, trying to remember. Had Ren put the shot in right? Had she grabbed the right package? What color had it been? She had been in such a rush to leave the resistance base. Had she taken the wrong one by accident?
No, she prayed. Please. She couldn't be, she couldn't. She was twenty years old and in love with a man who killed people for a living. She was learning to become a Jedi. She was to make her own lightsaber!
Tears slipped down her cheeks. It was early, she realized. But something had shifted. She had been more tired, which she thought had been from her training. She had eaten a bit more, but figured it was her body still adjusting to a better diet. She had felt strong in the Force. Maybe…Maybe it was because there was a new force inside her.
She wiped away her tears and touched her stomach. She hadn't the faintest idea what to do, except to go to a medic as soon as possible. She needed to know. Then, only then, she would figure out what to do.
A/N
Just a short chapter so you know I'm still alive. A lot happens; did you guys catch the foreshadowing? :)