[Rey]

"The dark side of the Force is a deep well-spring of power," Kylo said with frustration as he put the datacrons back in their bag. The devices could only be accessed using the Force and neither he nor Rey were able to do it at the moment – not even the small trickle that would be required. "It is always there, constant and unwavering. I shouldn't be cut off from it like this! Not still."

"Neither should I," Rey said with a hint of offense that he thought he was being singularly persecuted. "It's not like the light side abandons people either."

"Yes, it does," Kylo said. "It always does. The light side is like the rain. Sometimes it's there. Sometimes it's not. Changeable as the weather."

Rey scoffed, sitting cross-legged on the top bunk that she'd claimed for herself. She'd gone first and her meditations had proved no more fruitful than his. "There's no difference. They're balanced. It's not as though the dark side is more powerful."

"But it is."

"It isn't."

"The dark side destroys," he said. "The light side creates. It is easier to destroy than to create. Creating is … tedious."

Rey shook her head. "I don't believe this. You don't actually believe what you're saying, do you?" She leaned over to look down at him. Kylo gave her a puzzled, offended look. She continued, "Creation … creates something. At the end of it, you have something. That's powerful. Destruction is not powerful. It's just destruction!"

"Creation means nothing if it's destroyed. The power to destroy things, to unmake them, is true power."

"So you go around destroying things! It means more to create things in the first place. Everyone across the galaxy creates things. That's society, culture, love!"

"Exactly – everyone creates. If you have the Force, there's no reason to focus on something anyone and everyone can do. The dark side gives you control, select your targets-"

"No, that's a lie! It's ridiculous."

"It is not a lie!"

"It is!"

Kylo threw himself down on the lower bunk. To both of their surprise, they had earlier discovered it was long enough for his frame. So was the top one, but Rey had put dibs on it first because the idea of having Kylo lording it over her, whether literal or metaphorical, got her hackles up. It was bad enough how tall he was, but that wasn't something she'd trade away for anything. Kylo said, "I'm not going to have a … yelling argument with you … here."

"Fine with me. Lights to ten percent." She laid down as well, giving a superior sniff. She was right; the two were balanced; and there was no possible way the dark side was stronger. But he didn't believe that and his absolute certainty that she was wrong kept needling at her. There was no way she was getting to sleep until this was settled and if his breathing was any indication, he wasn't asleep either. "Ugh," she said. "You are so frustrating."

"Am I?" His voice sounded teasing and more velvety than it had a right to. He had moved on from the argument even if she hadn't.

She leaned over the side of her bunk, even though she couldn't see him very well. "You are! I don't know how anyone puts up with you!"

"Come down here and I'll show you. I'm sure I can help you with your … frustration."

She leaned out further, peering at him in the dimness. She swung her arm out to make a rude gesture at him and miscalculated. Even in the short time she'd had a tentative mastery over the Force, she'd already come to rely on it for minor things like keeping her balance. Ironically, without it, she was literally unbalanced and the grand, obscene gesture she was trying to make toppled her off the bunk. There weren't any safety rails, after all. "Wahh!"

Kylo reached out reflexively. She fell onto his outstretched arm as he, too, demonstrated that he was accustomed to relying on the Force. But he couldn't summon a power to stop her fall. He could just break her fall a bit (and was lucky it wasn't at the cost of breaking his arm), and then fall on top of her as part of his lunge to save her.

They ended in an ungainly, undignified heap on the floor. She shoved on him. He was huge. But she didn't ask him to move, or demand it, because she figured he would. She didn't quite want that. Instead she shoved him and then shoved him again when he barely shifted. His size was … impressive. It did something to her, something inside her that had nothing to do with the Force. It was a tightness and a heat and a need.

"I didn't expect you to take me up on it," he said, catching one of her wrists in his hand. His hands were … big. Just as big as they'd felt engulfing her shoulder earlier.

"What, can't deliver?" she challenged him. With her free hand, she found the side of his face. He sucked in air and so did she. It felt so strange to touch him, especially this intimately. She cupped it, petting his face a little, her thumb moving back and forth between his cheek and the side of his nose. She felt him lean into it and for a moment, that's all it was between them – soft and gentle.

"I can deliver." He leaned forward, fumbled the kiss in the darkness, and his lips found her cheek.

She giggled and tilted her head. "Let me guide you, you big … destroyer." The Ravager had been the name of the star destroyer crashed on Jakku, the one she'd scavenged through for years. "My ravager," she whispered against his lips, finding them in the dark. He made a sound – surprise and interest – then his lips sealed over hers. Something lurched and flexed inside her. She wanted him. She could feel it. She was thankful, so thankful, that both of them were exhausted or burned out from the Force, because she didn't want to deal with knowing he knew how he was making her feel.

She shoved him again, this time with purpose, pushing him over onto his back. She straddled him, her legs on either side of his waist, sitting on his belly more or less. She had a hand on his chest, only a single layer of cloth between her palm and his hard muscle. He still held her other wrist with one hand. His other was on her thigh, stroking. This was about to go somewhere, somewhere she suddenly wasn't sure she wanted to go. Or rather, she wanted to go there, but wasn't sure about the consequences. "How soundproof is this compartment?" she asked, stalling.

"Um … the forward compartment – the cockpit – is soundproof. That's so you can take private communications and control information. And vice versa, so the pilots can be isolated from any conversation the passengers might have in the main hold. But this is just a sleeping area."

"So? What does that mean?"

"They've already heard us."

She sighed in aggravation, but there was also a bit of satisfaction that she'd found an out. She stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm not … I'm not going to do this. It's not because of the soundproof or not. I'm not ready." She climbed back to her bunk and insinuated herself under the single blanket. Over her shoulder, she said, "I hardly know you."

He made a dissatisfied groan and sat up. "That's not true. We're fated to be together," he said sulkily.

"To work together, maybe. But the other? I'm not even sure I like you." Which was a lie and not, at the same time. She wanted him. She didn't want to want him, but she did all the same. She kept finding herself running hot and cold with him (or rather, scalding and lukewarm, but she wouldn't admit that, either). It was annoying, she told herself. He was annoying. But she knew part of it was her, too. And now that the Force wasn't in the picture and she still felt this way ... She sighed.

He got himself back in his bunk. "'Liking' doesn't have to have anything to do with being with someone. Look at my parents."

"And how did that work out for them? How did it work out for you?" she snapped. "When I first met your father, he hadn't been with her for years. That's not what I want. I want a family who will be there for me. Not leave at the first sign of trouble." Of this she was certain.

He was silent and she thought she might be being unfair, because it sounded a lot like she was blaming him for his father's behavior. She'd heard the stories people told during Han's funeral – he was a smuggler, a rogue, and a rapscallion – getting into trouble and going on grand adventures, telling people off and then showing up in the nick of time. Maybe it had been fun from his point of view, but she couldn't help thinking about everyone he'd angered and disappointed in his path, from Jabba the Hutt to Leia Organa. And his own son. Even the worst scum of the galaxy were done with him.

If Kylo thought that was how a person should act … well, she told herself she was glad she'd returned to her bunk when she had.