Leia reaches out to squeeze Jeyna's hand gently, in a rushed farewell. Her eyes are pained with regret. For a moment, it looks like the older woman wants to say more, before Aleck interrupts.

"You need to get back to your ship and depart, immediately," he urges her.

Leia looks torn, searching for words she can't seem to find, before nodding to Aleck. She tears her eyes away from Jeyna's, allowing Aleck to lead her toward the hatch.

Jeyna watches as the General is led off the ship, and Aleck heads to the cockpit. Only moments later they lift off. They quickly ascend from the planet, and Jeyna settles back onto a seat as she wonders where they'd attempted to hide. She hadn't gotten a chance to see it, though perhaps they never would've let her glimpse it.

Apparently, it had an ocean. Had that simple fact in her mind been enough to tell Ren where she was? He must know which planets Leia would consider hiding her on. Perhaps the ocean had been enough of a clue.

Jeyna realizes she's never actually smelled an ocean. She'd seen one, from a distance, but had never been close enough to catch the scent of saltwater. She concludes that his hold on her mind is much stronger than she had realized. The recognition of the scent had to have come from Kylo.

It is simultaneously alarming to her, and also bizarrely comforting. She'd never felt such conflicting emotions before in her life. How could she want to run from someone just as strongly as she longed to rush towards them?

The ship breaks free of the atmosphere, immediately jumping to hyperspace. Jeyna is struck by an odd sensation as she pictures the ocean they'd left behind. She can see it, in her mind, as the ship gives a shudder and drops out of hyperspace quickly. It was an extremely short jump.

Aleck stands, his face registering concern for a moment before he wipes it back into a neutral arrangement.

How does she know that the sand had been white? That the shore had been speckled by large, sparkling rocks that jutted out into the surf? How can she picture it so accurately, never having seen it for herself?

The pilot emerges from the cockpit, his face intense. "We need to refuel, or we'll never make another jump!" he declares, before registering her sitting there. He looks horrified as he realizes his mistake in speaking in front of her.

You're closer. I can feel you.

Ren's voice is clear in her head, and she can suddenly feel him, an almost physical manifestation. It is strange to her, as the Force is still so new to her. But she can detect, weakly, that the void between them has lessened. It no longer feels like lightyears separate them. It's as if she could reach out and find him there, before her.

Jeyna puts her hand to her head, pressing her fingertips to the spot on her forehead between her eyes. A pressure is pushing there, at the front of her brain. She winces at it, and suddenly the image of the beach and ocean is pulled away. The pressure disappears with it.

You aren't far from there… Kylo's voice is determined, but also tinged with curiosity, as if close to solving a puzzle. They are running out of moves.

"Miss Torre…" Aleck asks softly.

She jerks, looking up to see both him and the pilot watching her. "He's close," she says simply.

The pilot swears, turning his back to her to pace towards the wall of the ship. She watches as he leans his arms against it, pushing his head onto them to hide frustration.

"You can feel that?" Aleck presses. She nods. He takes a deep breath, his eyes scrutinizing hers. "The bond is growing stronger. I was hoping it would do the opposite, with distance."

Jeyna hangs her head, feeling an odd emotion similar to shame course through her. She isn't helping their cause, and she doesn't want to get them hurt. But she can't seem to stop the willingness to welcome him into her awareness, to hear his voice in her mind, to feel him any way she can.

It won't be long. I'll have you soon. There is something unspoken with his words, and she searches for the word to describe the emotion leaking through to her. It's possessiveness, coloring his thoughts, tinging his intent.

Many Hours Later

She's retreated to the dormitory, assuming the pilot and Aleck will need to be alone to discuss their options. She doesn't want to risk overhearing anything that could give Ren more clues, trying to allow logic to prevail over her emotions.

For their sakes, she needs to resist helping him find her. The feelings she'd detected through their connection were relentless and brutal. She knows he'd meant it, when he said he'd kill anyone that gets in his way. And she feels intense guilt at the thought of that happening to either of the men on the ship, because of her.

Jeyna takes a bit too long of a shower, as the water helps to drown out her thoughts. Her mind wants to wonder about the planets she knows of, tempted to search for answers. But she doesn't want to think about what system she might currently be in, to give him any more clues.

Eventually, however, she bores. She paces the dormitory, wishing she had taken up the pilot on his offer of something to read. Anything to distract her brain from Kylo's presence, from the lure of thinking about the puzzle he's working on in regards to her location.

Mercifully, at the moment she's desperately hoping for a distraction, the door opens. The pilot strolls in to toss her a food pack. "You don't have to stay in here any longer, you know. We've got a plan, you won't hear anything else out of my big mouth," he says, his voice showing he means it jokingly. "Plus we figured out how to voicelock the cockpit. You couldn't get in there if you tried."

She smiles despite herself, relieved he isn't frustrated at her hearing his earlier slip up. She fights the urge to think about what their plan might be. Is there someplace close to refuel? Is it possible Ren will guess that location?

"I heard Aleck taught you Pazaak. Want to play?" the pilot asks, dropping down to sit on one of the bunks across from her.

Jeyna watches as he tears open the corner of his own ration pack with his teeth. "I'm not very good," she admits. He shrugs.

"It's something to keep your mind busy," he says nonchalantly. She understands instantly. They're trying to break the connection, or at least preoccupy her mind.

"Alright," she agrees. He grins.

"What are we betting on?" he asks.

"I don't bet with people whose names I don't know," Jeyna replies, giving him a small, teasing smile. She uses his lack of identity as an excuse, knowing she will likely lose every round regardless.

"Oh," he says, shrugging. "You can call me Poe."

She falters, her grin falling. "You didn't have to tell me!"

He waves her off. "I decided, he's going to want me dead anyway. Might as well give him the name that goes with this handsome face." His smile is as charming as it is self-deprecating. "I'm Poe Dameron."

Jeyna feels the rush of jealousy and anger come from nowhere, releasing an onslaught of adrenaline in her veins. She recoils from his smile, dropping her gaze and clenching her jaw in an attempt to block out the feelings that don't belong to her.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she lies. "Let's play Pazaak."

Many Rounds Later

Jeyna gradually gets better as she plays, even as she suspects Poe lets her win several times. She has a hard time concentrating on the game, and bizarrely it almost seems to help her hide her hand.

By the time they've quit the game, she is tired. He gathers up the card deck for the last time, giving her an easy smile. "I'll let you get some rest," he says.

She nods, returning his smile without thinking. She finds him to be an easy presence, likeable in his upbeat, carefree attitude despite their dour situation. She tries to ignore the pang of jealousy in her chest, the smile slipping.

"Goodnight, I guess," she says. She finds being on ships so disorienting, the lack of day and night always throwing her off. He gives her a nod before letting himself out.

She turns the lights off manually, pitching the room into darkness before settling on the cot. The blankets quickly overheat her, and she kicks them off as the jealousy lingers still at the edge of her awareness.

Ben Solo, she thinks, remembering Kylo's birth name. Her body responds to it strangely, her breath catching as she longs to say it out loud. She holds onto it, however, keeping her lips closed.

The longer she thinks about him, the more desire builds. It doesn't help that as soon as she is calm, with nothing else to focus on, she can feel his presence. He is close, closer than he's been since she was taken off Nar Shaddaa. She feels attuned to his power, tensing in anticipation.

Jeyna tries to not think of the smirk on his face, as he told her she was his. The way he'd been so cocky in the declaration, admitting he knew exactly how his presence affected her. Could he feel it now? Could he feel her body and her heart calling out to him, the way she felt his jealousy panging within her own chest?

She turns over, attempting to bury her face in the pillow. She lets a fitful sleep claim her.

Later

He is there, in the dark. She can see him as clearly as if he's laying right beside her. Naked from the waist up, his pale skin almost glows in the low light. She's taken aback by the musculature of his shoulders and chest, even more noticeable when laid bare.

She can sense the energy surging from him, he's worked up. There's a faint coloring in his cheeks, his hair damp with sweat. She reaches out, wanting to brush the hair back from his forehead, to run her hand along his flushed skin.

His eyes snap open the minute she swears she can feel him, feel the sensation of skin and soft hair on her fingertips. They lock onto hers, wild and black and starving.

When Jeyna awakens from the dream, her mind is fogged by a heavy cloud of lust. Her body is already aroused, wetness pooling between her legs. Her nipples are peaked beneath the thin undershirt, her skin feeling like it is radiating heat.

Her confusion at waking up in such a state is overruled by her body, throbbing with need. She's never woken like this before, already lost in heat. She hesitates for only a moment before abandoning control, sliding her hand down between her thighs and under her panties. She slips her fingers through the moisture in her slit, jerking at the sensitivity when they brush over her clit.

She only becomes aware of him in her mind then, as his presence grows stronger. Her fingers instantly freeze, pulling back from herself as embarrassment floods her.

I didn't tell you to stop.

She gasps in a breath as she realizes she can feel his arousal through the connection, foreign as it creeps in to mingle with hers. Her core pulses lightly with need as the sensations build, his urges sending her own desire surging, a positive feedback loop.

She's never felt him like this before. His emotions are clear to her, despite the distance between them. And what he's feeling at the moment is feral, possessive. Images flood her mind, and she knows they are coming from him. What he's picturing doing to her, carried away as he is. His imagination is somehow both sweet and obscene, and her body reacts with another wave of craving.

Be good for me. Touch.

She winces her eyes closed at the lewdness of his command, feeling timid even as she moves to obey him immediately. Her fingers find her clit again, swirling in focused circles. Pleasure builds, her mouth falling open at the intensity.

Her shyness soon falls away as she gives in to focusing only on her touch, only on the feeling of his invasion in her awareness. His mind is still transmitting his thoughts to her, whether he means it to or not. Her rhythm picks up as his imaginings turn even more explicit, and she can feel her heartbeat echoed in his, both pounding a frantic pace.

It isn't long before she's close, her breathing coming in ragged, sporadic gasps. Her thoughts flare up, compete with his, turning to picturing him in flashes. His eyes, dark with emotion, focusing on hers with unrelenting intensity. His lips, full and soft and yet so demanding when he claims her mouth.

Her hips are jerking, she is panting as she rushes towards the edge.

Stop.

Her fingers halt, pull away at his command, before she even fully recognizes it in her haze. She whimpers aloud in the dark dormitory, her core clenching down on nothing in the desire to fall over into euphoria.

She can practically feel his breathing like it's her own, can feel it as he attempts to steady himself. Her own chest rises and falls rapidly, her breath whispering in the otherwise silent room.

Use your fingers inside yourself.

She slides one finger in slowly, experimentally, before he corrects her. Two.

She obeys, adding a second. She pumps them a few times, her arousal coating them, before she begins curling them to hit the spot that hides on her front wall. Noises start to spill out of her, whimpers and choked moans, as she targets her most sensitive area for him. The thought of him inside her, filling her, makes a loud cry of pleasure break free. Are they his thoughts, or hers? She's lost, and can't tell the difference any more.

You make such pretty sounds.

She can hear it then, in his voice as it reverberates through her mind. It's rough and taut with his own need, and she is suddenly struck with the thought of him echoing her actions, wherever he is. She tries to picture his face, lost in pleasure, and has to turn her face into the pillow to try to muffle herself.

Her fingers move faster, thrusting rougher, as she imagines him, hard, between her legs. She swears she can feel the sharp bite of his teeth on her neck. She fights down the urge to cry out a second time, biting her lip at the sensations that accompany their imaginations.

Stop.

She pulls her fingers out, holding them hovering above her center, even as the frustration hits her. "Kylo!" she gasps aloud, desperate.

You know better now.

His voice is hard with arousal and frustration, and she reels as her body demands more. But she keeps her hand away from herself, compelled to obey him by whatever power he holds over her body. A perverse need in her loves this, thrills from the control he exercises over her in the moment.

Ask for what you need.

Her head is filled with pleading, her body crying out for relief. What's happening is too intense, the connection between them blurring the lines between reality and their shared fantasy. But he isn't satisfied. Out loud.

"Please!" she gasps. "Please let me finish!"

Touch yourself. But don't come yet.

Her fingers descend on her clit again, feverish in their motion, and she's immediately back on the brink of bliss. Her voice is gasping out her desperation in a hushed stream of begging. Her nerve endings are screaming with sensitivity, and somehow, she can feel him holding onto control just as weakly as she does. His pleasure is surging with hers, and she's right on the edge. "Please, please, I can't take it, please, I need it…"

Please who? Say it. He presses, voice tight.

"Please, Ben!" His true name spills off her tongue easily, she's so lost in the coils of pleasure building inside her. It becomes a frenetic chant, as she repeats it aloud, choking it out amid frantic gasps for air. "Ben, please, Ben!"

Come for me.

She comes undone immediately, the waves of her orgasm crashing through her, pleasure surging from her core to linger everywhere. She's holding her breath, vision in the dark decorated with stars, her body contorting as she rides out the release. She can feel him, there with her, his own arousal peaking in time with hers.

Her eyes are blurring when she drags in a breath finally, her muscles relaxing as the last intense wave subsides. She lays still for a few minutes, fighting dizziness, letting her body calm. The chemicals that flood her bloodstream make her feel like she is buzzing, on a high.

He's silent for so long she wonders if he's broken the connection. But when she reaches out, she finds him, there lingering on the edge of her thoughts.

Does it change anything? What she told you. His voice is different now, quieter and contemplative.

"No," Jeyna answers honestly, without pause. Knowing his past hasn't changed anything, hasn't diminished her affection for him, only strengthening it. She'd call him any name he chose, as long as it connected him to her.

Then I know what I will have to do.

She is confused at his statement, but doesn't have a chance to ask him what he means before he breaks the connection. His presence is completely gone. She's left alone, on the thin cot in the dormitory that suddenly feels too cold and bare.