Mourning

The moment that the loss of his mother shattered through the stillness of the force, Kylo felt a jolt in his connection with Rey.

She felt it too, he thought despondently. How could she not? Kylo would be surprised if it hadn't been felt by most force sensitives within this galaxy. Princess and General Leia Organa, a Skywalker, the daughter of a Sith and a trained Jedi in her own right. She had brought the downfall of an Empire and she had fought wars younger than he. His mother was a force to be reckoned with, and the absence of her being had not only shattered him.

It had left Rey absolutely heartbroken.

Kylo attempted to discern the frantic manner of her emotions while attempting to stay his torn hands from acquiring more damage against the panelling of his quarters.

He paced rapidly, though reached out to Rey reluctantly. Kylo longed to be in her presence, to attempt to calm her distraught actions just as he knew she could stay his, but he was hesitant in his reach.

Would she blame him for Leia's death, like she blamed him for Han's and Luke's? Kylo knew it was not his hand who dealt the blow, but despite his mother's forgiveness, he would never let go of the reality that it were his orders, his fleet, and his path that had led each of them to this point.

Tears welled in his eyes once more, and he attempted desperately to stay their descent. Kylo turned to throw his hands into the nearest panel, but stopped when he saw Rey's figure doubled over herself, violently shaking. A wail perforated the air and cut straight through Kylo's chest in such a way that left him winded.

His pain amplified by Rey's was so overwhelming that he almost made the subconscious decision to sever their connection, but the aching he felt deep within dictated his next movements.

Hesitation still lingered within his every move, from the steps he made to close the distance between himself and Rey, to his fingertips that outstretched to gently brush the bare skin of her forearm.

Rey flinched away from the contact, and Kylo almost regretted his actions, until she registered the identity of his presence. Jumping to her feet and spinning on her heel, he braced for the rage that he knew would pour from her being at Leia's death, building and breaking as a tidal wave in the climax of a storm...

But the storm did not build, and the wave did not break. Rey spent but one moment assessing his brimmed eyes through her bloodshot ones, before bridging the distance between them once more. Her quick strides and trembling lips dissolved as she collapsed into the arms and the heart that Kylo opened for only her.

Sobs wracked her entire being with a force so strong Kylo could not believe they emanated from such a small figure. It only strengthened his resolve and strengthened the arms he had wrapped around her, steadying her and protecting her from what he could. Kylo felt the pain from all fronts, an assault on every sense he held, and he could not stop the tears from breaking the floodgates.

Dropping his head to rest on hers, Kylo allowed tears to fall freely for the second time that night, and only the second time in his life. Never had he allowed himself to show weakness in his adult life; never had he allowed himself to feel weakness.

He had always been shown, whether directly or indirectly, that these kinds of emotions were nothing but a stain on one's being, a mark of not being strong enough.

Whether it had been through his father, who had lightly jested with Kylo as a toddler that crying was for babies, or through Snoke, who sensed any inkling of weakness in his resolve and actively and often aggressively attempted to quash it.

Those teachings seemed to have been dismantled by none other than a scavenger, well-versed in taking apart and destroying the old.

When had he let her change him in such a way? When did he allow this to occur? He questioned within his mind.

It was as Kylo focused on the way that Rey's fingers gripped his night clothes, and how her wild heart beat against his body, that he realised he didn't care.

He didn't care that his tears had dampened her hair, and that the sobs within his own chest were untempered and unashamed.

He didn't care that if his father could see him now, a laugh may slip past his lips, or that if Snoke were to bear witness, he would be subject to lashes against his bare skin.

He didn't care, because the relief he found in allowing himself to release these emotions, for perhaps the first time since his mother sent him away, felt like he had finally been able to take a deep breath of fresh air.

Kylo felt a glimpse of freedom in a way he thought he may never know.

They could have been entwined for minutes or hours, but Kylo could not tell. He did not want to leave this embrace, but as Rey's cries turned into worn hiccups, and Kylo's eyes lifted from where they had been closed against the crown of her head, he needed to move.

Before him, he saw he wasn't in his quarters. He was in an especially sterile room, all white and silver in colour, with several beds and shelves crammed with various vials and medical equipment. Those details faded into the distance as his eyes recognised the figure on the only occupied bed.

Mother.

Gently, he unravelled his long arms from around Rey, though the fingertips on his right hand did not, or could not, leave the small of her back, as though he may need the support now.

As though he were in a dream, his legs moved forward without his permission, dark boots shuffling along the bright tiles beneath.

Rey wiped her eyes and nose on the sleeve of her fabrics, and realisation barrelled down the force bond, overwhelming his already heightened state.

I'm a fool, Rey thought dejectedly. She was your mother first and foremost. Kylo shook his head in response, waving away her guilt at her immediate reaction, unable to focus completely on her concern for him.

It was all he could offer her as he stood next to the bed in which Leia lay. She looked so peaceful, as though she could be sleeping. Tears streamed soundlessly down his cheeks as he watched her intently, as though he may catch the rise and fall of her chest to tell him that she hadn't passed.

Rey moved to his side and took his hand within hers, squeezing it as tight as she dared with his current injuries. With his other hand, he took his mothers, and murmured again all the things he had been able to tell her in his sleep.

He wished that he could have said them a thousand times more.

Kylo felt a warmth emanating from the palm that held Leia's, and he almost called out in shock and joy that it had been a mistake, until a familiar blue light surrounded her physical form. His mind was filled with the image of his mother, young as she was when she fought the Empire, when her spirit visited him just prior to becoming one with the force.

Her body and her soul were both at peace.

The warmth spread from his fingers, through the nerves in his arm and into his chest, until it filled his whole body. Rey gasped from beside him as she saw and felt what he was feeling; Leia's body faded from view, her clothes and the fabrics surrounding her falling slowly to the mattress until she was no more.

The warmth that they had both felt begun to fade too, but instead of leaving Kylo feeling empty, he felt some level of contentment that he had only felt this night.

It was a peace in his chest, where grief and love swirled within each other, and there, he felt it again.

Grey.

Woweee, it's been a goddamn while. Rise of Skywalker has brought on ALL KINDS of Reylo feels, so my motivation to finish this has been rekindled. Let's see how I go!