Conversations
- Part III -
"I suppose you're training as a Jedi now."
The sudden intrusion snaps Rey from her mediation. Irritation furrows her brow as she presses her lips into a stern line. She hadn't even sensed the bond opening.
"I'm training, yes." Her tone is curt. Enough so to dissuade any further commentary, she hopes.
"That didn't answer my question," he presses, unperturbed by the clear unwelcome.
"No. It didn't." She waits, eyes still closed, anticipating some kind of backlash. A verbal tirade. Something.
But her intruder holds his tongue. Wisely, she thinks. She's in no mood for an argument.
Ideally, she would have preferred him to hold his tongue until she'd at least finished her meditation, and she considers ignoring him until he fades away, just for spite. But the cold press of the dirt floor is making itself known, and a restless part of her is aching to stretch and move and brave the perpetual rain beyond her small hut. She supposes he'll be able to follow her if she leaves.
A resigned sigh starts to escape her as she opens her eyes - only for it to catch in throat as she meets Kylo's direct gaze.
He sits on the floor just a few feet away. His position almost identical. The Force bond caught him in the act of meditation too, she realises.
"Why are you here?" She asks suddenly, irritation whittling her voice into something fierce and demanding.
Kylo shifts his gaze to study his surroundings. "I'm in my personal suite, aboard my personal star destroyer, enjoying personal mediation in my own personal time. Why are you here?"
"I'm…" A frown wrinkles her brow, "I'm not telling you where I am."
"I didn't ask you to." He tilts his head as if listening to something, "you're on a planet. Not a ship."
"How can you -"
"One that has a forest biome, perhaps. I hear the rain." His gaze sweeps upwards, and Rey can't help but follow it, though all she can see is her own roof overhead. "You wouldn't be foolish enough to return to D'Qar. How about..."
Snapping his attention back to her, Kylo's voice lifts in triumph. "You're on Kashyyk. The Wookie's homeworld."
"Don't be ridiculous. You couldn't possibly know where I am." The words tumble from her mouth fast. Too fast. Rey grits her teeth, anger bursting in orange flares in her peripheral. The fact that he sits there so serenely with a half-smile warming his stupid face only deepens her rage.
"You're right. I couldn't possibly know. I just guessed." The Darksider leans in so that the fire in the hearth behind her seems to reflect off his eyes in dancing hues of gold and brown. "And correctly, it seems."
On impulse, Rey stretches out with the Force and calls Han's blaster to her hand. She wonders, as she aims it towards Kylo's head, if it'll pass through the wall of her hut this time. Or the back of his skull.
"I'm not here with the Resistance," she says shakily, hoping she won't have to find out, "I'm just here to bring Chewie home. He has a family here. And…" pausing to smudge a stupid angry tear from an eye, Rey takes a quick deep breath before continuing, "and…"
"It's his son's birthday." Kylo finishes, his voice soft.
"I… How did you know?" The blaster wavers in her grasp. Slowly Rey lowers it to her lap, keeping it in her hand. Ready.
"I've known that Wookie longer than you," Kylo leans back, taking the fire's reflection with him, "no matter where in the galaxy he is, Chewie always returns home for his son's birthday."
There's something wistful in the way he says it. For a moment Rey wonders if Han ever made the point of returning for his own son's birthday. She bristles at the traitorous turn of her thoughts. Han was a good man. Kylo's merely a snake trying to elect her sympathy.
"So what will you do?" she presses tersely, aware that his gaze has dropped to the blaster in her lap; his brow pursed in a sceptical frown.
"Do?" He flicks his attention back to her. Wide-eyed and innocent.
It's Rey's turn to lean in now. Fierce and protective and half-wondering why she hasn't just shot him already. "You know where I am. What are you going to do about it?"
"Ah. You want to know if I'm going to send a squadron to capture you. It's funny that you consider yourself so important," he pauses, chewing his lip thoughtfully, "and you're wondering if you should take the Falcon now. Before I have the chance to give the order. Even though you've promised the Wookie you'll stay for his son's celebration, and he's given up so much for you already…"
"What?" Rey prickles. He was right about everything. Except that last part. "What has Chewie given up for me?"
"Well, he gave up Han for starters."
"What? You killed Han!" She cries, jumping to her feet. "How does that have anything to do with me!"
Kylo stands to face her. The fire no longer reflects its warmth in his eyes. "Han wouldn't have been on Starkiller Base if it weren't for you."
In a heartbeat, Rey raises the blaster towards him again. Arm steady this time. Her finger begging to squeeze the trigger. She speaks through clenched teeth with the effort to resist, "Han wouldn't have been on Starkiller Base if it wasn't for you..."
A muscle spasm jerks beneath Kylo's left eye. He shifts his gaze to the blaster as if noticing it for the first time. "You're right," he agrees nonchalantly. Then he snaps out his hand and grabs her wrist, jerking it towards the roof so that the shot he forces her to take goes wild; punching through the thatch of the hut.
"Why would I send a squadron when I can just take you for myself?" Twisting her wrist so that the weapon drops uselessly from her fingers, Kylo yanks Rey towards him so that she's forced to throw up her free hand to stop herself from colliding square into his chest.
"What do you think will happen when the Force snaps the bond shut? Will you find yourself on my ship?"
"I think," Rey blinks through the rage and the smart of tears, "it will be you finding yourself trapped in an earthen hut. And then the question will be, who should you fear most; me, or the clan of angry Wookies waiting for you?"
"I think I'd fear you the most," he murmurs, his tone now shifting to a throaty husk that makes her skin flush. His eyes are wide, suitably frightened, even. Though not so much of her, she suspects. And not of the Wookies, either.
He loosens his hold, allowing her to shift herself, though it seems she's still trapped against him. Held in place by leather-clad fingers slipping softly along her arm. Electing goosebumps in their wake.
"What's happening, Ben?" Here? Now? In this room? Between them? She's not even sure what kind of question she's asking. Or what kind of answer she seeks.
A smile tugs at his lips. "You're still holding on."
She frowns, unsure of what he means. And then she's aware of the sounds of her surroundings wooshing back into existence. The cracking fire. The rain pattering in through the unexpected hole in her roof. The throaty wail of a Wookie at the door.
It's only when the last echo of his presence fades from the room, that Rey realises it's her own hands that are still clasping. At the fabric of a tunic that's no longer bunched between her fingers.
Chapter footnote: Am I going to regret uploading this so soon after jotting it down - without allowing time to come back in a week and proof-read with fresh eyes? Yes.
Am I going to hit the post button anyway? Also yes.
To anyone following Airstrike & Leap of Faith: I am definitely still working on them (sometimes simultaneously), I just had to get this sudden burst of inspiration out of my system. I have another two chapters of inspiration lined up for this fic, so any words of encouragement would be truly appreciated! Hell, words of discouragement would also be appreciated. Though perhaps not quite so enthusiastically. :p
(Kidding. Go on and tell me I made references to Kylo's eyes/gaze at least three times more than necessary. I can take it.)