AN: Post Throne Room Battle, pre-leaving the room. Thoughts on Rey's thoughts.
"There was a time when i had nothing to explain
oh, this mess i have made
but then things got complicated
my innocence has all but faded
oh, this mess i have made
and i don't believe in god
so i can't be saved
all alone as i've learned to be
in this mess i have made
but i don't believe in love
and i can't be changed."
- Mess, Ben Folds
As Rey's eyes flutter open, the physical pain hits first. Her shoulder, cut and bleeding. Then exhaustion, apparent on levels she never knew imaginable.
The emotional pain strikes next, an altogether different agony. The brief hope of turning Ben to the light, almost instantly extinguished by a plea for her to rule with him. And yet… Her eyes frantically search the rubble for Ben. As she attempts to sit up, surprising herself, her first thought was not of the broken lightsaber, nor of Snoke, but instead, if he is still breathing. Before she can stop herself, she limps to his side – narrowly avoiding the debris caused by their epic fight against the Praetorian Guard. She drops down, and placing her hand on his muscular thigh – the same one she had grabbed during their battle – and watches for the rise and fall of his substantial chest.
Once she sees he is drawing breath, she releases a sigh of her own. Is it relief? She cannot tell as she looks at his unconscious form. Had he done the same on the Stormkiller base? She had come awake to find herself in Kylo's presence, in another location entirely. What had transpired during that time? Here, at his most vulnerable, her instinct tells her to help him.
But there is no time to pause. Surely, there must be guards on the way. This much commotion would not go unnoticed and she needs to find a way back to Chewie and the Falcon.
She finds herself unable to move.
In repose, his face has a tinge of softness. There is the scar she gave him, of course, but a strange innocence she cannot tear away from. Her hand darts out. Gentle as a lover, she touches his face. Her fingers stroke his full red lips and large features. The contact with his bare skin jolts her and new visions pour into her mind. As before, they come fast and furious. She removes her hand, shaken by what she's seen.
Is it possible?
Redemption seems like the furthest possible outcome and yet the spark of it is present.
Dropping her head, she presses her lips against his, whispering a prayer, then rising to collect the broken remnants of Luke's lightsaber.
Where she is going, he cannot follow.
For now.
And when he awakes, he will have decisions. Choices she cannot make for him, but options that can lead to what she's just witnessed.