I cannot believe I am finally updating this, omg. That long hiatus was unexpected. Whew. I want to share that your comments kept me going when I was having a hard time. So thank you, I appreciate your kind and supportive comments very much. I hope you are all well during this crazy time (crazy year?).
It's been a while, here's a recap of wtf is going on:
-Kylo exiled himself to Rhelg. He thinks he will find some Darkside power to win back Rey. Dude - seriously? Get a clue. (just my commentary).
-Rey is on a planet that the Resistance uses to protect at-risk Resistance members. She is super preggers, super tired, and all up in her feelings.
-The galaxy is in a major upheaval.
This chapter is mellow. thank you for bearing with me as I ease back into regular updates and the general angsty-ness of this fic.
Also, I want to share some beautiful art created by rumitakas on twitter. This chapter starts out with a vision of adult reylo child, and her art is exactly how I envisioned him. I will upload the art piece as my profile fic since IDK how to post graphics within a fic on here.
thanks for reading.
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A young man ignites a saberstaff. He is strong and capable, on the cusp of adulthood, but not yet hardened into a warrior. Each end of the blade glows a brilliant shade of white-blue and whirls faster and faster into a blur as a curious crowd gathers to observe. With a wide grin he effortlessly spins the saber, switching from one hand to the other. Children gasp and point as they giggle and bounce with excitement. Their minders attempt to turn them away from the spectacle only to find the youngsters reenacting lightsaber fights with all the imagination they can muster. One person, an older gentleman, has been watching for a while. The old man grunts disapprovingly before speaking in a low gruff voice.
"Bit of a show off, eh? I wouldn't head down that path if I were you. No good comes from trifling with the Force. Your bloodline is cursed, boy. The great grandson of Vader and son of the mad Supreme Leader. A would-be Prince to a dead planet, your ancestors all killed long before their time. Victims of the Dark side, the lot of them. The odds are stacked against you."
Rey glances at the young man to gauge his reaction. To her amusement, he rolls his eyes and twirls the saberstaff. His annoyance is fleeting - seconds later he smiles lazily and lets out a short laugh.
"I never think about the odds. Besides," he locks eyes with Rey and nods towards her, "I am a Jedi like my mother before me."
Rey jolts up in bed, mind and heart racing. Her nightgown is sticky with sweat and clings to her skin.
"My son." She utters a hushed whisper into the empty bedroom, hands clammy as she palms the sleep from her eyes. Another heart beats in time with hers, distinct from the baby. It echoes within the Force at a frenzied pace, and before the realization can emerge from her subconscious, a deep voice pierces the darkness.
"Our son, Rey. Our son."
Rey drops her hands and finds herself staring into a pair of gleaming eyes. Kylo looms at the foot of her bed, his raven hair wild and curling in all directions. A shadow of stubble sweeps along his jaw and despite Kylo's attempt to exert his dominance, it is apparent that he is as sleep addled as she is. His footsteps are silent but swift, and Rey only just pulls the covers up to her neck when Kylo appears by her side. He fixes her with a hard stare, and she can feel a growl building in that broad chest. Heat rushes through her veins, but she doesn't allow fear to take root.
"Tell me the truth - are you all right, are you safe?" Kylo's voice is surprisingly soft when he speaks. It is not what she expects. He lays a trembling hand on her cheek and traces her lip with his thumb, his palm brushing away a few escaped tears. A painful moment passes, and then he murmurs, low, husky against her cheek, "I am not your enemy, Rey. I love you."
Oh, he is dangerous. Very dangerous.
Rey shoots him a glare full of steel and Kylo takes a step back. He withdraws his hand as though bitten by a viper. Rage threads through the bond, she can feel power rising through his anger. Kylo is trying to control it, but she catches a glimpse of the turmoil burning in his eyes.
The bond feels deeper, darker, more potent. It feels weighed down and strained too tight all at once. It makes Kylo's subdued, calm demeanor all the more concerning. But he can't mask the ravenous flame burning in his gaze.
He doesn't want to.
The galaxy he once ruled has grown smaller, he only wants her.
Rey closes her eyes and draws in a shuddering breath. She opens them to find Kylo gone. She is getting better at this, at pushing him out of her head, out of her mind. But the shared visions - glimpses into futures that may come to be - are unpredictable and out of their control. With a trembling hand, she reaches for her canteen on the nightstand and takes a sip. She cannot get the image of her son's face out of her head. His smile, the burst of laughter at the mysterious stranger who somehow knew so much about his background...and the relaxed, easy way her son dealt with the man's harsh words.
Three weeks have passed since her arrival on Domah, since she fled Kylo's flagship and his embrace. There are moments when Rey feels as though she escaped yesterday and moments when it feels like decades have passed by. Time would blend together completely if not for the life in her womb. Her son keeps growing, she keeps expanding, and yet something about her current state feels stagnant.
With a heave Rey swings her legs over the side of the bed. She isn't falling back asleep after all of that, and she doubts Kylo will either. Rey probes the Force with a gentle push, searching for any signs of Kyo's lingering presence. A coldness that wasn't there before sends a shiver down her spine. Thankfully, she feels her own imprint through the Force - and the glimmering pulse of the baby. A child bound to the Force just as she and Kylo are bound to it and to each other.
"I am a Jedi like my mother before me."
Her son's statement burns between her ears. The way he moved with the lightsaber was so natural, so well practiced - and what did he tell the old man? That his mother was a Jedi! She laughs a little at that.
Once Rey was in awe of the Jedi philosophy. Envious of its followers and their blind faith in its doctrine and the greater good they claimed to serve. What a comfort it must have been to those in the Order: to believe you had the foundations of morality all sorted out. But Rey knows better now. Those foundations were shaken and permanently cracked when she encountered Luke on Ahch-To.
"The Force does not belong to the Jedi... if you strip away the myth and look at their deeds, the legacy of the Jedi is a failure."
Though they parted on rough terms, Luke's wisdom about the Jedi legacy strikes Rey deep in her heart. No one is exclusively Light or Dark, Good or Bad. Everyone, every being, functions in a perpetual grey zone while occasionally veering far into the Light. Or in Kylo's case, the Dark. He's gotten stuck there, and he is not interested in leaving. Not even a little bit.
"Well," Rey sighs, patting her stomach, "We can address all that Jedi business when you're older. Let's focus on one thing at a time, eh? First we have to get through the whole birth thing, and then there's rolling over and crawling..." she becomes animated when talking to the baby, and some of the tension leaves her body.
The grey light of dawn spills into the room and Rey pushes a button on the wall so that the windows open to reveal a breathtaking view of the ocean. She never tires of watching the currents dance beneath the waves. It makes her never want to go near another desert again. Today the water is choppy and rough, and Rey scrunches her nose against the salty cool air.
Inhale, exhale.
Quinn would advise her to stop the spiral of negative thoughts. To stop ruminating about the Force, the Jedi. Obsessively going through the same mental patterns over and over only ends in self pity. But Quinn isn't here right now. All Rey has to keep her company is her worries, hopes, and dreams. Her nightmares. Sure, her days are spent translating languages and working on communication modules for droids. It keeps her head busy and her hands occupied. Last week Quinn dropped off the parts for a personal droid, but the box sits untouched. She can't seem to muster the energy to open it.
Rey is used to anticipating every possible scenario. Life on Jakku was monotonous and punctured by sheer moments of terror. Her mind became hypervigilant and fine tuned to survive. Daily rituals kept her from tipping the scale into madness - a scale she worked so hard to keep balanced.
And now - now that the galaxy is in the midst of a power vacuum after the collapse of the First Order, she feels a bit unmoored and lost at sea. She isn't out fighting or organizing anything...it still feels like she is waiting for the scales in her life to find balance. Until she feels more like herself again.
Those scales will be tipped drastically when the baby arrives. Her first prenatal and parenting class starts in the late afternoon and Rey anticipates it with equal amounts of excitement and dread. How many times will she be asked about Kylo Ren? A tiny, ugly voice in the back of her mind says she deserves to be questioned for falling for his schemes, for being so naive and loving him.
After all, it is no miracle that she has not been interrogated as a traitor: Leia is protecting her from wary Resistance leaders out for retribution. Retribution for exactly what, she isn't so sure. Is loving someone a crime? Does it make her a traitor? Perhaps they just want recognition and clout for ending a galactic war by punishing someone. Rey knows she is an easy target.
"Well, that's quite enough feeling sorry for myself then," she mutters, heading over to the wardrobe to exchange her nightgown for soft slacks and a loose shirt. Messaging Finn, Poe, and Rose help chip away at her loneliness, but it's hardly the same as talking with someone in person. The baby class - that's how Rey thinks of it - may help snap her out of this heavy fog.
Once she is dressed, she makes her way into the kitchen and flips on the tea kettle. While the water boils, she opens her datapad and turns up the volume on the holo-news channel.
"...The First Order struggles to maintain its stronghold on worlds located in the mid-rim territories. Scrappers in Bracca organized uprisings resulting in the destruction of numerous engineering plants constructed by the First Order after the fall of the former Republic.
In the outer rim, Jabiim and Garel remain under heavy occupation. The command of leadership is unclear and there is no word of a new Supreme Leader. Under the orders of Kylo Ren, high ranking personnel were subjected to mass executions. His motivations are unclear, and it is worth noting that stormtrooper numbers depleted after the practice of seizing children came to an end under Ren's rule. What prompted his decision is under investigation.
It has been confirmed that Kylo Ren retreated to Rhelg, a planet associated with the Dark side of the Force. Rumors of his descent into madness have been sparked by his refusal to cooperate with what is left of the First Order.
This is the first time since the New Republic that a Force user has not had the galaxy at their mercy. Kylo Ren is still considered highly dangerous, unstable, and is not to be approached. The Resistance is joining forces with -"
Rey's heard enough. She shuts off the holo-news. Kylo was never one for a cohesive ideology unless his grudge against his family counts. His rage and need for control fueled the churning chaos in the galaxy until it cowered in fear of his violent temper. At least her name wasn't mentioned in the news this time.
I'm so tired of thinking about Kylo. I'm tired of fixating on him and focusing my energy on him. Unless something changes I always will.
Cup in hand, Rey walks out onto the balcony and stares upwards at the blue sky, observing the occasional billowing cloud passing by. She breathes in the scent of the sea air and the fresh perfume of flowers and green foliage in the surrounding garden. Trying to outrun her grief is pointless because it will always catch up with her. And in that moment she just decides to stop. She decides to stop worrying if she is healing properly, if she is trying hard enough to heal, and if she is, then why isn't it working?
Rey places one hand over her heart as the epiphany surges through her like lightning: nothing about mending the wounded parts of herself will be linear, there is no finish line. And that is okay. She is still Rey, and she isn't broken. At least, she won't always feel broken.
The parts of herself she thought were gone forever had been siphoned and hidden away as she dove deep into survival mode. But they are still there, even after a heartbreak so excruciating that it refined her understanding of pain.
The wind picks up and blows wisps of hair across her face. The baby rolls and kicks - Force it hurts when he is this large - and Rey pictures the lightsaber her son was holding. The color of the crystal embedded inside of it was unlike any she had seen in recent memory: blades so bright she could barely detect the hints of blue. Yet she would know that crystal anywhere, she knows it intimately. Whether it is bleeding fiery red through a crossguard saber or blazing white through a saberstaff.
Rey has no interest in the Jedi, or in trying to resurrect a failed order. She has no intention of trying to define and control the Force. But she will ask Leia about Kylo's lightsaber - she will ask that it be returned to her. She is not afraid of going to the Dark to heal, be it the dark and wounded places within herself or Kylo's cracked kyber crystal.