And do I dream again? For now I find the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind.
Unkar Plutt is dead.
Niima Outpost is abuzz with the news. Traders already vie for his position as junk lord, while the other scavengers circle his little hut and look for a way inside. All those rations stored in that hut, just waiting to be taken —
Rey frowns. She detests chaos.
No one talks to her, but she overhears how it happened. A creature in black descended upon the outpost, sought Plutt by name, and killed him with a fiery red blade. A lightsaber, some say, like the Jedi. Or the Sith, she reasons, considering the color of the weapon.
Rey doesn't usually listen to gossip, but something about their words makes her uneasy. It is like an itch at the back of her mind, something that scratches against her thoughts. Why would a Sith care about Unkar Plutt?
Well, it doesn't matter, does it? She is still hungry, but there is no one around to offer her a quarter portion for her meager haul of scrap. Rey reloads her speeder — might as well save the scrap for another day, another junk lord — and heads home.
At first, she thinks him a mirage.
Sitting outside her AT-AT, ignoring the hunger clawing at her stomach, she catches sight of a black figure wavering in the desert heat. It is as if she is seeing him through the glass of the cracked, warped hand mirror she found in a wreck once.
Mirage or not, he is getting closer.
Rey scrambles to her feet, letting her Rebel helmet fall to the sand. Again, that strange sensation invades her senses, setting her nerves on edge. He — if it even is a male beneath all that black armor — is tall, broad-shouldered and imposing as he stalks towards her. He wears a mask, black like his clothes, with silver lines around the eyes.
Why isn't she running? She should grab her staff, defend herself, do something —
He stops just before her. Rey can't help but stare, equally fascinated and terrified. Surely this is the creature that killed Plutt.
"Rey," the creature says, voice low and gravelly, distorted by the vocoder of his mask. How does he know her name? "I've been searching for you."
She knows that voice. Somehow, she knows this monster.
He reaches for her, but Rey steps to the side, allowing the open desert behind her as an escape. She does seem to know him, but that does not mean she trusts him.
"You're afraid," he murmurs, the words barely audible through the static of his mask.
Rey forces herself to stand tall. "That's what happens when you've been approached by a creature in a mask."
He tilts his head, considering her, then lifts gloved hands and releases the catches of the mask. Rey prepares herself, already half-flinching in anticipation of the gruesome face awaiting her.
Oh. He is strangely beautiful. Pale features, dark hair — and his eyes. They are mismatched in color, one brown, the other gold.
They stare at each other for several moments. At last, Rey forces herself to look away, swallowing hard. "You're…not a monster."
The man lets out a huff, almost a laugh, though his face shows no sign of amusement. "Not all monsters look like monsters, little Kira."
Rey scrunches her nose. "Kira?"
"Little Kira let her mind wander," the man recites. "Am I fonder of flowers, or droids, or dark tales of the Sith? No, what I love most, Kira said, is when I'm asleep in my bed — "
" — and Kylo Ren whispers sweet things in my head," Rey finishes. Her heart pounds. Kylo Ren. The phantom from her dreams.
So she has seen him before. All those nights, when she could barely sleep from the growling of her stomach and the dryness in her throat, he had been the one to lull her to sleep. Voice soft and dark, he spun her fairytales, promised to care for her and give her a better life. She thought that she had imagined him — that she had created him to chase away her loneliness. "You," she whispers.
He inclines his head.
"Why now?" Rey demands. She has been dreaming of him for years. What finally made him come to her?
"Even a monster has enemies." Kylo Ren lifts a gloved hand and brushes his fingers against her cheek. "I'll show you."
He presses his forehead to hers, eyes closed. Rey tries to pull away, but he grasps the back of her neck with a grip like iron, his other hand digging into her shoulder. Images race through her mind, memories that are not her own clouding her vision.
Helmeted men in black robes, heavy weapons in their hands. He cuts them down with ease.
A red-headed man, always sneering, always plotting. A little poison in his wine, and he is gone.
A true monster — old, scarred, ugly. Hands like claws reach for Kylo Ren, pet his hair, strike him. He knows of the dreams, sees the girl that has enraptured his student. He means to use her as he has used Kylo Ren. But Kylo Ren will not allow this. He tears the monster in two, freeing himself and saving her at the same time.
And now, Unkar Plutt, the source of so much of her agony the past fourteen years.
Kylo Ren releases her. Rey stumbles back, her head spinning, her stomach churning. Such violence. She is no stranger to the harsh realities of life, but she could not do what this man has done.
As if he has heard her thoughts, he explains, "For you. It was all for you, Rey." Pride gleams in his eyes. His voice is fervent, impassioned. "Now, nothing will stand in our way. We will be together, as we were meant to be."
Meant to be.
She can see how much he believes this.
Though Rey longs for a home — for belonging — she cannot simply go with her phantom. Not without looking back. "My parents — "
He shakes his head. "You know they are not coming. Come with me, Rey." He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading, and offers her his hand.
Rey takes it.
