to meet on the other side

Kylo Ren woke up to a world of darkness, tasting ash and bitterness.

Pain rippled through every vein. In the glittering dark, he tried to stretch his fingers, but his bones would barely move, as though the fall had crushed them into dust. He lay on the cold floor, unmoving, as though he were embedded in a bed of nails, each slowly digging its way through his black clothes and into his skin, carving out his punishments in blood. The sound of his slow raspy breathing whispered to him that he was alive, that he must be alive.

Everything hurt so much.

He struggled to open his eyes. For the briefest second, he blinked, a grey-black world appearing like a curtain and then the tiny pin-pricks of agony forced them shut.

In the fetid darkness, he tried again, breathing dust and stale air.

He coughed up blood.

The darkness swirled around and fell over him, like a shroud. Far away, or perhaps in another lifetime, he thought he could hear thunder, the sizzle of lightning, distant screams of rage, or was it all in his own head?

He pushed himself to move, to get up, but goddamn it, it was so hard. Summoning whatever tendrils of energy he had left, he called to the force, trying to heave himself up. But the force whimsical and sheepish, rarely answered and he stumbled and hit the ground again, sinking into his own blood.

He was nothing.

All he could do was crawl and grovel in the dust and ash, like an injured insect.

He remembered a desert, miles and miles of sand and sky, the silence and the loneliness, a girl-child with eyes like a feral cat, sand glittering off her white robes, staring into the horizon as though enchanted by the mirage of a caravan or a ship.

Her name settled on his tongue, like a stone. He could not bring himself to speak.

He could not bring himself to do anything.

And that thought and that rising panic, made his body tremble and he reached out to the force again. His heart fluttered like a caged bird, helpless and desperate.

He tried again, and again, and again.

The ground was rocky and his body ached so much, it felt as though it was covered by a million tiny bristles. He couldn't lift himself up, so he crawled on his fours, his hands desperate for something to hold on to.

She flashed across his mind, a figure in white and blue, a ghostly streak of iridescent light.

He remembered carrying her through that forest, the moist smell of leaf and rain that mingled faintly with his sweat. He remembered staring at her in that golden-white desert, that tug-of-war with the force that he was so sure he would lose but he was too proud to admit, because how could Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, compete with that kind of raw power, uncharted and unadulterated and channelled by a being of such glistening luminosity that he felt he would blinded if he beheld her for too long?

And that thought of her, that name short and unassuming and barely a syllable long, that his tongue was too hurt to even roll over, lit the faint wisps of force that he could still command, even though it seemed his mind would shatter if he concentrated on it too much.

He remembered or imagined (he wasn't sure anymore) that girl from the desert to whom he was inexplicably bonded, staring down Emperor Palpatine with her two gleaming blue lightsabers, that same girl looking at him with anguish and sadness in the rain, those words she had said, finally as if wrenched from her lips by some unseen and unstoppable power

I did want to take your hand. Ben's hand.

He could no longer feel her through the bond and the implications of that one thought were so horrible to comprehend that it sent waves of manic fear scuttling across his still-beating heart and with that shuddering fear he began to climb.

He thought he would never make it, that the force would rip apart his weakened fingers and cause him to fall, to plummet to a certain and rocky grave this time.

But he did not.

There was so sound, except for his breathing. The air was cold but voiceless. No light, except for a faint glimmering blue glow, so far away and so faint, it may have just been a hallucination.

And so he climbed.

By the time he got to the top, his eyes were so watering and his vision wavered. He could barely make out the cavern, the dark walls, the small clumps of rocks that were strewn around. He tried to make his way among them but he stumbled and fell, but he got up again, searching, feeling, for that one soft...

Surely she must have been here. She had to be here. She had to.

And then he saw her, it, no her, that tiny white bundle, lying discarded and abandoned like a childhood toy that one had outgrown. No…it couldn't be and weeping, he went and cradled that lump, lifting that tiny form up to his lap, the skin already clammy and cold.

He cradled that lump to his chest, desperate for to hear that faint tick tock, that effervescent promise of life.

There was none.

He turned her over. Heartbreak could not exist if it wasn't named. The whitened face was crusted with dried blood, sad eyes staring into the distance but not seeing, eyes that had once been lit with a feral intensity and a strange grace, but were now marbled and lifeless and that jet of pain that was waiting to erupt and annihilate him

did not erupt.

For the first time in his life, his mind was suddenly clear. He knew exactly what he had to do, and all the voices echoing in his head were still at last.

He looked down upon her, that girl he once sought to kill, now cradled in his lap like a broken puppet (after all, had they both not been played like puppets by cruel and whimsical fingers, all along?) and his hand shivering and shaking (oh, if he couldn't get it right, oh what then, no don't think) touched the white fabric that covered her waist. The softness of it would kill him surely and he closed his eyes, searching for the force that had by now surely forsaken him, yet still probing for those invisible fronds of power that criss-crossed everything to every other thing.

And in the darkness, he could almost see it.

Those webs of white lines that passed from thing to thing, from rock to tree, from man to woman, from beast to bird, folding in on themselves, like an origami toy unwrapped with all the interconnected creases laid bare and he imagined himself like a sort of spider, grasping and fumbling at those fine threads, pulling them close, wrapping them around that black empty hole that was her body, wrapping and tying them in intricate knots, with the hope that if he could ensnare this soft sad thing, then maybe, just maybe, she would…

And he felt his breath grow laborious, as if the air was slowly being sucked out of him, his eyes aching to stay open, but he still he tried, fumbling with those threads. He was running out of them soon, but he had to cocoon her safely even if it meant losing all of his own threads, his own grip on reality and really, it would be alright just to see her again, to see her smile.

She would not have to forgive him.

He would never forgive himself, anyway.

But for one moment, if she could live, then all of it, Luke's betrayal and Snoke's torture and all those voices that had whispered inside his head for as long as he could remember, twisting him, forcing him to do things that he would regret silently, all the raids and the murders and the star systems that had gone up in ashes in a fit of a monster's rage- none of it, of course would assuage that terrible guilty grief that had latched onto his heart like a parasite- but for one moment, it would be silenced, like a candle flame flickering for one last time before it was snuffed out.

And that split second's worth of salvation, that was surely worth his wreck of a soul…hell, that was worth dying for.

Long ago, long before he had plunged that lightsaber into his father's startled body and tossed him into the fathomless depths, he had known that salvation was never meant for him. That no matter of repentance could atone for his sins, for all the crimes they had made him commit, that hell, he had committed, while relishing the flavor of the dark, little by little, not because the dark was too much or too heady but because he was afraid, like a little boy constantly looking over his shoulder, too scared to be caught doing what he knows his wrong.

And so he had never hoped or pleaded for redemption, but he thought of the boy Ben, playing once-upon-a-time on his father's spaceship, his mother rocking him to sleep beneath the windy orchards of a now-dead planet, that girl looking into his eyes with so much concern and care, promising that he wasn't alone, traversing light years in the blink of a few hours just to reach him (and what had he done but handcuff her and lead her astray, right into the throne room of his hated mentor, and that look of betrayal oh how could you Ben...) and those moments came rushing back, violently jolting him, reminding him that redemption was never an option.

But perhaps a moment, a lone moment of peace was.

And then he felt someone's hand upon his and for a split second he did not want to open his eyes, because that meant he was either dead or dreaming, because it felt…nice, nothing else could ever feel so… nice, and then in the flash of one stilted heart beat to the next, he opened his eyes and he saw her.

Her eyes were open too. Surprise and gladness and surety and…(was that, could it be?) gratitude beaming on her white face, as though she was subtly glowing with some dim light from within, and she was looking at him, not as some monster or a wounded creature that needed saving, but looking at him as though he was exactly where he was meant to be, looking at him and smiling, and then he was lifting her up, his fingers dancing faintly on the back of her neck, touching the folds of her hair and her cold skin. Her smile widened into a grin, her lips forming a word as short and shorn of syllables as her own name and he was so entranced by that glad and ever-grateful smile, that closeness of her breathing form settled snugly upon his lap.

Her hands were firmly enfolded his (I offered you my hand once. You wanted to take it) and her voice felt like it was emanating from a far off tunnel, and he heard her faintly but clearly, that name that shook something deep in his heart, something he had long forgotten even existed, like a sunken moss-encrusted ship being pulled to the surface, to winter sunlight once again.

Her voice was a song that was calling home

and her fingers were brushing his cheeks with so much wonder, as though she could hardly believe it, so soft and welcoming and cold, but so full of life and it would make him cry, it would make him splinter apart like glass and looking at her, into the open incredulity of her grey-blue eyes, he saw himself reflected, the shadow of the boy he could have been, the boy he could never be but perhaps for a single moment…

And that thought suddenly, involuntarily made him smile and it was such an alien feeling as though his mouth was unused to it, but he smiled still and it was so glorious and her fingers were caressing his cheek with so much care, her lips half-open, laughing, edging closer and closer, and the feeling of peace was so heady, he could surely die, dissolve into starlight.

And before he knew it, her lips were upon his, soft and eager, and he was so startled he almost leaned back, like what was he supposed to do and then his arm found the small of her back and cradled her close, and she had cupped his cheeks with her soft hands and she was kissing him, softly and fiercely.

He didn't know what to do and so he did the only thing that was left, and so he kissed her back, with incredulity and joy and hope and surprise, and yes, he had imagined this before but not like this, yes, the thought had flickered at the back of his mind when they had held hands for the first time by a weak campfire a million light years apart and when they had gazed at each other in the elevator he had wondered what her lips might taste like, but those were only stolen and fleeting moments that he was too scared to even admit to his own mind.

But hell, this was honest and brutal and kind and soft, their tongues faintly brushing at first, as though still cowed and unsure and then entangling, desperate and pleading, and they clung to each other for moments or an eternity, in that blue darkness, the lines of force criss-crossing their hearts and their bodies, wrapping them up in a blaze of golden-white light, as if the very threads of reality that had been mapped onto their battle-weary skins since before they could spell, were untwining and rearranging themselves into new folds, into a new evanescent and furtive pattern and he knew in his heart of hearts it wasn't meant to be, that such radiating peace couldn't last and that was okay, this was more than he had ever dreamed of, and he could feel his strength fading, some unseen force calling him, crooning to him to sleep at last.

And they broke apart but she was still looking at him with so much awe and love, her eyes glistening with tears and in her eyes, he saw himself break into a smile again and then a laugh, and that laugh felt so careless and glorious and it was okay, it was all okay, there were no more voices in his head and Rey was here and she did not hate him and Rey was here and she was alive, the force had listened to his last and most desperate wish and they were holding each other as though they were the only lovers left in this forsaken planet and it was okay, he could still breathe in a world that wanted him dead, he could still breathe and believe in peace and that was enough and he could finally let go…

And so he did.

And that look of consternation that flashed on her face, as if screaming no no no no no but he was already too far away, pulled towards a moonless grey-dark world where untold punishments awaited him and he would face them contrite and resigned, holding onto those few precious moments of peace and care forever, like the beads of the necklace he had once snatched from her neck and he wanted to tell her that it would be okay, that even if the other half of her soul was gone, she would still live, unbroken and complete because she was perfect and so full of goodness that it was heresy to imagine otherwise, that the very force that had tormented him, would still conspire to give her life and hope and promise, to that girl who grew up in the loneliness of a desert sun and dreamed night after night of someone showing up in her empty town and taking her away, except she had finally found her wings and could fly into a sky full of dreams.

But she didn't want to let go.

He didn't want his last moments to be so cruel, to hear her scream and scream, begging him to come back. He didn't want to leave her like this, so afraid and so lonely but he was powerless like he had always been and he could feel her feeble strength trying to pull him back, wrap those tendrils of force all around him like a safety net, like he had done, like she had once done in the rain on another planet, but those threads were too fragile and he felt himself slipping away, unwillingly but resolutely to the dark…

and then he felt it.

Not her, but Leia.

Leia.

It couldn't be. But it was, it was his mother.

Leia reaching out to him with the force, across light years and memories of pain that he could never hope to cross. He felt that warm rush of her forgiveness wash over him like a blessing and he was crying, crying so much. All of this forgiveness he did not deserve but was so freely given, and it shamed him and it hurt him and it maddened him and then, he felt Rey's fingers wrapping themselves in his, her voice calling to him, like he was someone that mattered, and he thought he almost saw her, his mother laid out in a bed, a white shroud covering all of her except her face which wore an expression of peace and resignation and sad faces of all those he had once hunted kneeling around her and he wanted to tell her so much but there was so little time and words would not come, oh the words would not come as waves of her forgiveness and love washed over him, telling him what he could never believe, that she had until the very last moment had held out hope, had trusted his son to come back and he wanted to scream for her to stay, to please stay, that he was sorr…

And then suddenly there was nothing.

Nothing.

Everything was sucked dry as though she were never there, and in her place there was a gaping hole and it couldn't be, no she couldn't be dead while he was still here.

She couldn't. She wouldn't, surely, she…

But he had felt. He felt her leave, as though something within him was wrenched apart, forever and he would feel that loss of the organ every waking moment and in his dreams, he would still remember and scream… and she would no longer be there.

And Rey was pulling him up, the strength in his limbs was slowly returning again and Rey was holding him like a child and Rey was saying something, so excitedly and he opened his eyes and looked upon her face, not for the last time but as if for the first. She was glistening and angelic and so full of light, it almost hurt to look at her.

So crying, he pulled her close to hug her, to hold and let himself be held in a way he had never ever been, oh like lonely lost souls embracing each other like a promise.

Her hand lay on his beating heart. "Oh Rey…", he whispered, so broken and hopeful, through the tears. "Rey", he said, closing her mouth with a kiss.

THE END
*~

A/N: Hey, so this is the first time I'm uploading a fic online and I'm really nervous, so I'd really appreciate all the reviews/comments/feedback. Pleasetell me if you liked it or not, or if you'd be interested in a sequel to this. I actually have a few ideas for Reylo fics in mind, so just honestly tell me what you think, please!

I'm also on tumblr as ladyofthelake666, so feel free to message me there if you'd like to fangirl over reylo or anything geeky!