Chapter VII – Needing You
The harch, Zengal Reth, didn't just sell houses, but all manner of land vehicles as well. Rey traipsed to his storefront on the edge of the spaceport, pushing a hovering cart laden full.
"Hello again," she supplied brightly, even as his six eyes widened, and his jutting mandibles clacked in a series of snaps.
"Ah," he smoothed a hand over the thick fur of his chest. "The little terran who knows her way around a desert," his expression fell when Ben materialized from behind a hulking mandallian giant, manning his own cart. "And her… friend," he paled.
Ben extended a curt nod as he neared, and Reth braved not returning the gesture, folding multiple sets of arms instead.
"What can I do for you, Miss?" He purposefully addressed only Rey, emboldened by the separation of counter spreading out between them.
If the male terran noticed the slight, he pretended otherwise, resting an elbow on his cart as he surveyed the surrounding cargo and pilots in disinterest.
The woman held no such guise, narrowing her eyes. "We are looking to buy a landspeeder," she replied. "One that will safely get us through the desert."
The harch straightened, clicking his mandibles in affront. "All of my crafts are sturdy and safe, child," he followed the title with a lift of his chin. "They can even cross the Death Plains, where few return from."
The man left his perch, marching forward with bridled strides. "I know your race lives for centuries, but she has reached adulthood by human standards," warning poured into his tone. "Do not attempt to repeat your prior misstep assuming otherwise."
Reth swallowed. "Right this way," he swept one of his arms to the left.
This day was about to become most unpleasant.
The sale had gone relatively smoothly actually. The woman and man consulted each other over the purchase this time, though most of their conference seemed confined to long shared looks, and odd interludes of quiet that ended in one of them smiling or shaking their head.
Were terrans telepathic? Reth tried to remember from his school days, but couldn't recall any mentions of such an ability among their species. The longer he watched them though, the more certain he became of a silent exchange passing between them.
The pair settled on an old X-34 landspeeder with a recently refitted repulsorlift engine. Its thrust turbines had minimal rust, and the female had crouched to examine its inner workings with a critical eye, knowing exactly which bolts and wires to test.
It seemed they both could easily differentiate between quality and junk, and the mystery of them deepened. Why were they on Carajam, when they obviously possessed skills and experience of the galaxy?
The parts and gear they'd brought to trade helped flesh out the beginnings of an answer. A few scrubbed signs of removed sigils revealed they'd once belonged to an organization extensive enough for ships. They weren't Syndicate or Hutt – the man had the stern bearing of one who'd done unsavory things to get where he was now, but the woman possessed no sinister air. Had they been Resistance fighters? Why were they hiding it? Reports of the fleet that had amassed to destroy the Final Order in the edges of unexplored space had reached even the farthest of the Outer Rim planets. They'd be lauded as heroes, bestowed with discounts, water stores, anything residents had to spare, even if they'd only been grunts who'd toiled at a Resistance-controlled loading dock. The duo stood too tall though, confident in hidden abilities they didn't flaunt, to have been simple laborers.
If they'd formally been with the First Order, they wouldn't have both ducked behind a hoverbike when Garr Teh'lel sauntered by. The chistori was a fool, more fan than actual devotee, but he proudly displayed his stitched-on Order badge as if he were a commander of the newly-defunct reigning body.
As Rey and Ben counted out credits to pay for the landspeeder, the man mostly using his palms to hold sticks of change as the woman did math, Reth felt bold enough to inquire. "Where do you two hail from?" He motioned to the piles of equipment now mounded atop his counter.
She responded with an absent 'Jakku', and the man answered in a glare. His origins would not be so readily unveiled.
"Lots of commotion there recently," the harch dropped with forced nonchalance. "Talk of Resistance fighters, missing droids, Order troops…," he trailed off meaningfully.
"Lots of commotion everywhere," she returned, unfazed.
The male terran's gaze grew shrewd, and Reth had the sudden sensation of a presence in his mind, a stranger delving into his thoughts like a trod upon sand-thorn piercing into a heel. He shook his head at the foreign body, palming his forehead, and missed seeing Rey whip to Ben with an angry scold.
The presence left abruptly, and Reth straightened, wondering if he was getting too old for the stress that came with trade.
"Thanks for taking so much," Rey murmured, keeping her eyes downcast.
The harch, still disorientated, waved her off with two of his right arms. "Some of these we haven't seen in awhile. The transformers, complink, and deflector grille will go quickly."
Ben cleared his throat. "We have more if you prove to be a friend," he said, gauging him.
Reth met the stare warily. "Friends introduce themselves."
The man obliged, palming his chest. "Ben," he gestured to the woman. "Rey."
"Ben and Rey of…?"
"Of Carajam," an icy chill crept into the words.
"Zengal Reth," he offered. "Also of Carajam." He was not of course, but obviously neither were they.
The cold bled from the man's eyes; he appreciated the strategy of his reply. "Looks like we have much in common then, Zengahl."
The harch offered him the nod he had withheld earlier. "Perhaps."
Rey realized she had acquiesced far too easily on the blurrgs. Ben's knees were almost to his chest in the cramped seat beside her, and he collided with her shoulder as she drove around a dune. She was unprepared for the proximity, hyper aware of the firm definition beneath his layers, and she blocked off the portion of her mind suddenly consumed by a curiosity she'd definitely never felt for a friend.
"Sorry," he mumbled, palming the dash to right himself, trying in vain to keep a modicum of space between them.
"We'll make alterations before our next trip," she assured, sighting the ridge they sought up ahead.
"Oh, come on," he joked. "You don't want a jabbing elbow crashing into you every five minutes?"
Rey fought the blush spreading up the back of her neck, and Ben thankfully didn't notice, too embarrassed by his bulk.
He had been trying out interludes of humor since she'd revealed her surprised delight that morning. The attempts were so heartwarming and sweet, she'd almost missed the pattern in them. Most were at his own expense, self-deprecating and shame-tinged. This one because he thought himself too big, one earlier about his nose, and a jibe about Zengal taking more of a shine to him than her after they'd left his storefront.
"I like those elbows nearby," she reassured. "Makes me remember all this is real."
His eyes grew clouded, and she knew his mood was shifting.
"Rey?" Her name wavered. "What if we never survived against Palpatine?" The desert wind robbing the soft words of volume, but she heard them anyway. "What if we're still lying there, and this is all a dream?"
Rey jerked the landspeeder hard, upending him until he landed on her lap, colliding his head down onto her thigh.
For effect of course, not to ease the curiosity that was spiking to craving.
Ben craned his neck up from her waist, wide-eyed, and she brushed his temple, running a hand through his hair. "It's not," she vowed. "Otherwise, I'd shape you very differently."
He frowned, and she hurried to clarify as he sat up.
"I'd make you kinder to yourself," her eyes snagged his. "I'd silence all those self-doubts ricocheting around inside you until there was only an awed pride at what you've overcome and how much you've reclaimed."
Ben turned away, facing out to the desert, and Rey reached for his knee.
"I wouldn't change the elbows though. Not for anything."
She caught a swallow stick in his throat, and his only answer was to cup her hand at his leg with his own. The contact was a solace at least; when he retreated inward, at a loss for words, touch was still one way to reach him.
After a minute of quiet, with only the whistle of whipping sands around them, Ben sighed.
"I'd make you need me more," he admitted.
"I do—."
"I mean accept my help, look to me for guidance," he shrugged, still scanning dunes. "Maybe show a glimpse of weakness where I could be your strength," Ben kept her hand trapped under his, and Rey squeezed his knee, willing him to look over.
"You big dummy," she whispered. "I have."
He craned back, meeting her gaze.
"Do you think I've lived with another soul in anything but a ship or spread-out Resistance base before?" She asked. "Think I've shared my mind and communicated mentally with countless others?" Rey could hear the tremble in her voice. "I begged you to stay for my sake, Ben."
His gaze pierced in its intensity. "Prove it?" He asked. "Be less self-sufficient?"
Rey shook her head, cracking a half-smile. "How about getting used to help? Trusting that it won't be stolen away the moment my guards are down?"
"Deal."