He had always felt comfortable in the vastness of space, had never felt anything except wonder or anticipation when he left the confines of a planet behind. But here, in this well-traversed corridor, it was almost like he couldn't breathe for the trepidation that seized him. The loss of Alderaan was a never healed scar still bleeding out into the Force.
If this was the mark left by the loss of just one planet, he did not think he could stomach returning to the Hosnian system.
And Leia... how confusing it must have been to feel the destruction of Alderaan as it happened, to absorb the horror and fear of billions as they died before she knew how to shield herself.
Some of his memories made more sense now, an underlying layer evident to his adult awareness,
Like when his father would describe how he and Leia met all those years ago. With a cocky grin, he would jovially relay their bickering throughout her rescue and Leia would smile and roll her eyes at the predetermined points. But in between indulging Han, her face would fall as soon as the attention shifted away and she was no longer participating in the recitation of the tale.
Her soul had been marked just as the Force had been. The time she met her husband and brother was also when she had lost everything. Her parents, her friends, her home, her birthright...
Everything but the Rebellion.
Ren swallowed as he stared out at the billions of stars in his view, feeling as if a long-missing piece to the puzzle that was his mother was slotting into place.
She was the Resistance and the Resistance was her.
He remained in his chair for several long minutes before he rose to collapse onto one of the bunks onboard, hoping his string of sleepless nights would finally break. The strain of this place was too much but he felt he must remain, a small bit of penance.
"Are you alright?"
He swallowed, his fists clenching where they rested on his chest and he turned to look at Rey, her profile barely visible in the dim light that seeped under the cabin door. She was so close, their bodies parallel as if she were in the bunk with him, all the while her gaze remained forward and he surmised she was unable to see him. With the opportunity to study her close and unfettered, his gaze traced the sweep of her nose, the curve of her lips, and the arc of her neck. She reminded him, bizarrely, in that moment of the confectionary art he had been enamored with as a child. Except instead of delicate strands of sugar that broke under even the gentlest touch, Rey was as strong and as sharp as songsteel.
"Yes," he replied, realizing much time had passed since her question and the absurd direction his mind had wandered would make him embarrassed to articulate.
"Where are you?" she asked, her voice a little higher than usual to his ears.
He took in a breath and held it in indecision.
"M-10," he said finally. "Coordinates 1942.44 by -89.52."
"What's there?"
"Nothing. Just empty space."
"Oh..."
"Where are you?" he asked in a rush.
"Rori."
He looked at her sharply, surprised that she answered him with minimal hesitation and his hand slipped, brushing against hers. Immediately he pulled back out of her space. This bond and his presence in her life had been forced upon her and he would try his best to minimize his encroachment further.
"Sorry," he muttered, but she immediately faded away, taking the distraction of her company with her. His mind returned to his visions in the cave. The smell and the screams of his grandfather's transformation seared into his senses and he recoiled. What sort of existence had he led afterward? And the life he had before…
The man who had burned on Mustafar and slaughtered children had inspired love at one time. A woman had loved him enough to marry him and bear his children.
Padme Amidala.
Ren had never given much thought to the woman, her identity and relation to him only being known the same day Darth Vader was revealed to be his grandfather. A Queen of Naboo, he had seen old holos of her in ornate and elaborate costumes, where she appeared like a frozen porcelain doll, the picture of an eternally wise child-sovereign. There was not much beyond that, the Empire seeming to have taken great effort to erase her existence from record.
But surely something of her remained on Naboo...
He rolled over in the bed, his gaze falling to where Rey had been just moments before and closed his eyes to let sleep take him.
Naboo was a blue-green and white marble floating before him. It was why he had come and yet his attention kept being pulled to the smaller green ball orbiting it. Rori, moon of Naboo and current sanctuary of the last Jedi.
He had not seen her in person since the throne room, not since the moment she pleaded with him to…
He sighed, one hand coming up to rub his brow. At the time, he thought she was asking him to join the Resistance but when Rey unintentionally flooded him with her memories he had seen the intent behind her words.
Stay with me.
He tore his eyes away from Rori and steered his ship down to one of the trading hubs on the far side of the planet and away from the moon, intent on restocking his supplies before he set out for Theed.
The planet's atmosphere was pleasant in this sector, a breeze rolled off the calm ocean.
"What can I help you with?" Asked the station master as he approached the ship.
"Fuel," Ren replied, handing over a credit chit. "And clothes."
He stored away his new clothes, lamenting that he could not find a helmet to cover his distinct features. He supposed the large beige cloak and hood would do the job well enough if he moved about the capital in the evenings and kept to the darker areas. And if that failed, there were always mind tricks.
He made use of the refresher before returning to the cockpit. Night had fallen on the planet and its moon, the outline of which was just barely visible thorough the clouds. Ren dimmed the functions of the ship for the night to preserve his newly purchased fuel then retired to his bunk.
He felt his lip twitch as their connection opened, her warmth already reaching him from where she lay at his side, though his mouth tugged into a frown as her discontent hummed across to him.
"They are frightened of me," she gritted out through her clenched jaw.
His reply was automatic. "They should be."
"I've done nothing but help them."
He shrugged even though he knew she would not see him.
"It does not matter whether or not you've done something to earn their fear. You command the Force and they do not know how to counteract it or if they even can. Regardless of where they are from, they've all heard stories. True, fabricated, embellished, or abridged… it doesn't matter. They've taken those stories and made them into something in their heads of which you are now the walking personification." He took in a breath, his memory of her on Starkiller base looming over him and the awe he felt pushed to the forefront of his mind. "And if they knew how powerful you really were, the idiots would be on their knees."
Her frustrated anger gave way to a gentled confusion.
"I am not that powerful."
He was torn between laughing or snarling and instead settled on a scoff of incredulity. "You fought off my invasion into your mind and were able to read my deepest thoughts without any training. You used a Jedi mind trick to escape right under the noses of the First order, and you bested me in your first ever lightsaber duel."
"This link between us allowed me to do it, allowed me to access some of your abilities. And as far as that night in the forest, you were bleeding out and-"
"Rey," he growled and gripped her wrist to get her attention, "you defeated the First of the Praetorian Guard, escaped the most fortified ship of the First Order, saved the Resistance from annihilation, and invaded the mind of every First Order officer from across the galaxy unintentionally and with minimal training. And you did not learn that last one from me. It is not a skill I possess. I saw your mind. Skywalker was afraid of you and how important you are."
His anger rose with every word and he wished he could reach back in time and run his blade through Plutt, her parents, and every toothless yokel that ever made her feel worthless-
"I thought I was nothing."
The words landed like a blow in his gut and his fierce grip on her slackened.
You have no place in this story.
He closed his eyes in self-disgust at his own cruelty. He was no better to her than those he despised.
"I was careless with my words," he said quietly after a long beat of silence. "That's not what I meant. Not even close."
Her wrist shifted under his fingers. "I don't want to rule over people. I only want control over my own life."
He let out a long, low sigh. "I know. I thought that was what I was offering. I see now that was not the case. I should not have asked that of you."
He released her and made to move away, but her hand wrapped around his wrist. Frozen, he waited for her to withdraw, assuming it was a gesture to get his attention, his confusion building when she too seemed uncertain of what she intended. Curious, he let the wall between them thin, his lips parting as he felt the same nervous anticipation radiating from Rey and he lowered his hand to rest between them, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her clothes.
His breathing picked up as she started to move, her fingers moved over the back of his hand and he closed his eyes, his senses focusing on her hesitant exploration.
The muscles of his abdomen flexed involuntarily, his insides feeling molten and yet somehow tense and he fought the instinct to pull away from this new and terrifying feeling.
Some of his anxiety must have slipped through as he felt her fingers slow and hesitate.
No, don't-
He quickly cut off the thought embarrassed at how desperate, how pathetic he must seem to be so undone by something as small as a touch of the hand.
But it was far from something small, all at once too much and not enough.
This was Rey, a girl who had been left alone and starving in an indifferent universe, his enemy who had slashed open his face, and the woman who had every right to still hate him.
His equal who knew him better than any other.
She resumed her touch, this time more assured, and after some time the trepidation left him leaving just an ill-defined need wrapped up in affection.
His mouth ran dry as her fingers spread to trace down his and he wanted to reciprocate in some way, but feared too large a movement would drive her away. And the opportunity presented itself when her little finger slid to the side of his and he reached up, running his thumb over it before shifting his hand.
Their fingers interlaced and he didn't dare move, Rey's side of the bond feeling skittish and wild. If any bit of the reality of what was happening, of what she was actually doing slipped into her awareness, he was certain she would pull away. And for all the times he had tried to step away, had tried to severe the tether between them, he felt he would shatter if she did the same in this moment.
Her much smaller fingers curled over his to touch his palm and he felt the strangest mixture of relief and trepidation swirl in his chest.
And that night, long after she was gone, he slept.
The teal colored domes of Theed mirrored the water that flowed through the city, the distant rush of water creating a persistent background noise that rumbled through the city.
Ren glanced up at his goal, a glass-domed building and winced into the sunlight shot back into his eyes.
The Temple of Queens.
Pulling his hood further up to better conceal the scarred side of his face, he entered the cavernous hall. An homage to the current Queen of the planet was front and center with long passageways breaking off in opposite directions. Quickly doing the math in his head, he surmised any information about Padme would be to his right with the more recent rulers.
Each term lasted two standard years…
After several rooms, he paused in between the two exhibits, his hope sinking. Had the Empire destroyed her memory in the very capital she called home?
She should be right here…
The sun broke through the clouds illuminating the window behind him and Ren turned, his eyes following the light as it trickled through the stained glass, reds and yellow dancing over the beige of his cloak and he stopped breathing. The work was of a Queen in exquisite detail, her form clad in full ceremonial regalia. She could have been any of the child rulers of this planet but he knew her, an innate instinct allowing blood to recognize blood.
"Ah, yes. Padme Amidala," spoke up one of the attendants who had been roaming prepared to answer visitor's questions. "She was one of our most beloved Queens."
"Do you-" he started to ask and cleared his throat after he finally managed to look away from the artwork, "Are there any exhibits of her?"
The woman smiled softly and inclined her head for him to follow to a more central room, and larger than the rest.
There were several life-sized holos, each depicting the traditional ceremonial garbs of the Queen, her face serene as she stared unblinkingly forward.
She looked so young and yet she still appeared to wear the voluminous wardrobe instead of it wearing her. Ren towered over her figure, despite the raised platforms that created the projections.
Mom's height makes much more sense now.
He drew back, his body having a physical reaction to the thought after not referring to his mother as anything else but "Leia" in years.
"Queen Padmé Amidala Naberrie," started the woman, her hands clasped in front of her as she spoke with reverence clear in her voice. "One of only three queens to ever be elected to a second term, she rose from humble beginnings to become one of our youngest rulers once her aptitude for public service and leadership were discovered. During her reign, with the help of the Jedi Order and the Gungan armies, she liberated Naboo from the Trade Federation blockade and was a staunch advocate for democracy and peace in the time that followed."
Ren leaned forward to read her birth year from one placard.
Fourteen years old. What had he been doing with his life at fourteen?
Glaring at Luke and growing resentful of my parentally enforced exile on Yavin 4.
As his mind so frequently did these days, he thought of Rey and drew up a clear picture of the woman as she must have been at that age, small and painfully thin, staring up from the shadow of a half-buried star destroyer with nothing but blue sky and orange sand for miles around her.
He frowned and returned his attention back to his host as she continued around the room.
"Upon completion of her final term, she represented our people in the Senate and fought against the Separatist crisis that lead to Clone Wars. After an assassination attempt, our brave Queen was apprehended during a rescue mission and sentenced to die, however, she led a revolt that allowed herself and her companions to escape. She played a pivotal role during the galactic conflict, near the end of which she died during childbirth and her body was interred here at the temple of the Queens. She was only twenty-seven years old, may her soul be carried on the mists."
Three years younger than I am now, he thought, swallowing against an unexpected sadness. As a distraction, he looked over the cases holding some of the more personal items that had been Padme's during her reign and paused when he found a small, pale trinket among the more ornate jewelry.
"What is that?" he asked, jutting his chin in the direction.
"A gift from her husband," replied the woman, her ever-present smile faltering for just a moment.
Ren studied the piece, feeling it vibrate with the Force even through the security field holding it in place.
"Her husband," he asked, "who was he?"
"We do not speak of partners or children here. Our Queens are not defined by their relationship to others but instead by their deeds and accomplishments."
Ren nodded and turned to the woman, raising a hand in her direction.
"You will dismantle the security system to this room and then return to your duties."
Her face went slack, her pupils dilating. "I will dismantle the security system to this room and then return to my duties," she muttered quietly and walked away.
Ren stared at the bone colored bauble until the security field around it fell away and he levitated it into his gloved palm and wrapped its leather strap around his left wrist. His right hand repositioned his hood before it slipped into the folds of his cloak to rest on his saber.
Once free of the Great Hall, he ducked into an alley, mentally mapping out how to get back to his ship. A streak of black caught his eye and he skimmed his finger over the scar of a blaster bolt against a wall, one of the few remnants he had so far seen of the invasion nearly seventy years ago.
He took in a sharp breath when he felt the bond open, and his hand fell to his side to allow the japor ivory wood to press into the palm of his glove, effectively concealing it.
Lowering his hood, he studied his companion. Rey stood rigid, her countenance appearing uneasy or uncertain while her forefinger worried at her thumb.
And there was something about the lighting, the way a tired bulb flickered against her skin…
"Where are you?" he snapped, keeping his voice low to not draw attention from passersby in the street off the alleyway.
Rey's head tilted, her brow drawing together in mildly hurt confusion. "Rori. Same as before."
He shook his head, his impatience flaring. "No. Where are you?"
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "The Falcon."
That ship was his childhood, ferrying his family across the stars. That ship was his abandonment, disappearing into the clouds of Yavin 4. That ship brought his father to him, brought him to his death. The Falcon was Han and Leia and Chewy, the embodiment of his weakness. And now the embodiment of his shame.
Of course Rey would be on that ship.
"Of course you are."
She had thus far been uncharacteristically non-confrontational about his gruffness and he felt frustrated with his inability to provide anything beyond a prickly response.
"Are you still at Alderaan?"
She looked up the coordinates, he thought as his head snapped up.
"No."
She raised an eyebrow, waiting and his shoulders sagged in resignation.
"What does it matter where I am?"
A part of him truly wanted to know what difference it made. Perhaps the universe would be better off if he just stayed right where he was and settled into a life of obscurity in the lower class of Theed.
It matters to me.
Her thought drifted through to him within the bond and his heart clenched, perplexed by the gentleness in her tone and the conflict in her eyes.
"Naboo," he responded without having meant to.
"Why?" she asked, panic clear on her face, and the warmth in his heart was effectively doused.
"I'm not after your precious Resistance," he replied as evenly as he could around the jealousy that settled in his gut but then her face shifted, and he swore he felt disappointment instead of the expected elation or relief.
"I know," she said, dropping her eyes to the floor. "I believe you, I do."
Ren's skin felt hot suddenly, an uncomfortable prickling up his neck and he begged the Force to end this session before he did or said something stupid.
"That heap of junk barely manages to heave itself out of hyperspace and remain intact," he said finally when he could take the silence no longer.
"I'm repairing it."
"Don't waste your time. It's not worth it. It's not worth anything."
"I like fixing broken things," she replied and lifted her chin, the very picture of stubborn defiance as her arms folded over her chest.
Her steadfast inability to see the world as it was irked him greatly and the young face of his dead grandmother flickered in his vision.
Idealists did not last long in this galaxy.
"Some things cannot be fixed," he replied firmly with a pointed look.
"That doesn't make them worthless."
"Kriffing scavenger," he groaned under his breath and fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose before his eyes met hers again.
Fine. He would speak plainly then.
"That ship is on the most wanted list of every merc and bounty hunter worth their salt in this galaxy. Unless you want to shoot your way out of every port, I recommend you find a new one," he replied snapping his hood over his head and turned away, feeling both relieved and angry at himself when the connection closed.
That evening he lowered himself to sit on his bunk, his eyes staring at the stolen japor snippet in his palm, the white such a stark contrast to the black of his glove.
His grandfather had obviously made it, a token of his affection for his wife and she, in turn, had kept it close, a reminder of his love. Ren tried to imagine Vader as he knew him carving the delicate piece and frowned when he could not. Had her death lead him down his dark path? It would not be the first time loss had broken the will of a Jedi.
He thought of Rey falling through the ice on Ilum and the sickening fear that had rocketed through him unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
Acutely aware he was comparing his attachment to Rey to that of a husband for his wife, Ren rubbed at his temple to stave off his building headache. With a sigh, he lifted his other hand and using his teeth, pulled off the glove to allow his fingers to trace over the carvings.
An unnatural chill shot up his arm at the contact and he jerked his hand back, scowling.
"Perhaps you shouldn't steal things that are not yours."
Ren's head snapped up and he froze, his lips parting in shock.
"Grandfather."