It's the gentle sweep of fingertips across her brow that wakes Rey. Once her mind becomes aware of it, she flinches from the unexpected touch; her body bracing. The fingers hesitate on the apex of her forehead, pausing as if waiting for a strike. She holds still, barely daring to breathe, until finally, with a quiver to their previous confidence, the fingertip resumes their stroke. Rey suspects they've been passing a figure-of-eight over her brow for some time.
For a short while, she allows herself to sink into the soft feather-like caress of warm skin against her own. The comfort of being cared for. She knows that as soon as she opens her eyes, it will end. As it's ending now - she already feels the complacency slip away as her mind turns to ask herself how. And why?
With eyes still closed, she knows she lies on a bunk that is not her own. She knows this because the mattress is too firm. Unlike her bed on the Falcon -which dips in the middle from decades of cushioning the bodies of those heavier than her own. Moreso, the thin pillow beneath her head is new. It's crisp, chemical scent transports her to a near-forgotten memory of the time she found a cargo crate of military bedding buried deep within the armour-clad underbelly of a star destroyer. It's contents so perfectly preserved, the items within still carried the sharp chemical tang of the process that made them. She remembers how the clean, neatly-pressed sheets felt like a luxury - a gift made for her unwrapping - amidst the sand and dust and slow decay of her surroundings.
It's this visceral memory that jolts Rey into full awakening. Her scalp prickles with rising apprehension. Her voice hones to a razor's edge as she demands, "why am I on your ship."
The touch upon her brow draws away. A part of her mourns its loss and longs to draw it back, even as she snaps open her eyes to meet the infallible gaze of Kylo Ren. He perches on the edge of the bunk, his body angled towards her. It's an awkward position - as if he was compelled to remain near her, even at his own discomfort.
They stare in silence, and she can see from the set of his face that he is now the one who braces for impact.
"Kylo, what have you done?"
She's angry. This is not how she wanted to begin this. Not after his touch upon her brow caused such delicious warmth to pool in her belly - like the contentment that comes of feeling full after being starved for so long. She wanted to say, don't stop. She wanted to say, more - please more. She did not want to say the five words that translated into what terrible thing has transpired to put me on your ship when I told you 'not yet'?
"The droid tried to kill you." The inscrutable veneer is ruined by something else that flitters across Kylo's face; the unexpectedly bashful tug of a half-smile as he sheepishly admits, "I guess you were right."
"Ah," she says after a beat; eyes grazing his face to search for a sign of a lie. A sliver of memory comes to her; of the gas that filled her lungs and knocked her out cold. The anger within declines. "I guess I was."
The hand that was removed from her forehead and sent into his lap now flutters slightly, as if it wishes to reach for her again. The motion sends a pang of regret into her belly. She doesn't want to ask her next question, but she has to.
"So where is it now?"
The look on his face tells her she's not going to like the answer.
"Rey, you have to understand, I had no choice. You've been unconscious for sixteen hours!"
Kylo trails after her as she leaps from the bed and steers herself towards the cockpit of his shuttle. The layout is simple, and she finds it with ease; sliding into the pilot seat as her eyes roam the control panel, trying to make sense of what lies before her.
"What are you trying to do?" He drops to one knee beside her. Humbling himself. He doesn't care. This woman's mind is awash with such fury, he can feel it through the Force, stirring the hairs of his arms like static. It's a fury not unlike the kind he has all but trademarked for himself, and it takes him by surprise. He half expects her to start breaking things. To tear apart his ship with the power of it. "Tell me, so I can help."
"Help?" Rey turns to him, eyes blazing, "now you want to help?" For several seconds she holds his gaze and he can see the maelstrom within her; how she fights to control it. One thing he himself has never mastered. "You scuttled my ship!"
"Rey, I didn't scuttle the Falcon." Speaking with more calm than he feels, Kylo lays a hand over the top of her own; stilling her as she roves the controls in search of a button or lever to fulfil whatever it is she's trying to achieve. "I did exactly what we talked of doing - I hid it in the asteroid field. With BB-9E's help. It'll be perfectly safe until we return. I promise."
He can see her considering his words and he takes the risk of reaching through the Force - to impress upon her his sincerity. Eyes narrowing at his intrusion, she slams the bond shut and wrenches her hand out from under his so that his palm drops to the cold durasteel panel.
"You're still afraid of me." Kylo sinks back on his haunches. "After all this…"
"Why does this feel so convenient?" There's a catch to Rey's voice; a fine tremble that startles him even more than her wrath. "Your droid knocks me out long enough for you to hide the Falcon without my assistance, and now I'll never be able to find it without you. You've trapped me, Kylo. You've...bound me to you without my consent! You've taken away my autonomy…"
"I only did what I thought was best..."
"When has that ever been true!"
The words slam into him like a sucker punch. He reels back, nursing a wound that only exists inside his heart. "That's not fair," he begins. But it's not an argument he can maintain if he's honest with himself. "Okay. Maybe it is a little. But we've lost enough time already, and if we don't get the damn Holocron soon..."
He stops himself as her words sink in. "I can show you where the Falcon is on a chart. I had the droid map its location. You can send the co-ordinates to- " the name sticks on his tongue. He works it against the roof of his mouth to dislodge it, "Finn."
The effort is almost his undoing. He sinks into the copilot seat with a huff of resignation and stares at the ribbon of stars streaming beyond the transparisteel viewport. From the corner of his eye, he sees her face soften. He draws in a slow breath. "Please, Rey. Arguing with you is like arguing with myself in a mirror. Neither of us will ever win. Can't we just…"
"Call a ceasefire?" Rey finishes quietly.
"Yeah." Relief surges through him. The held breath is released. "Maybe give it half an hour before the next round?"
Without answering, Rey swings her seat (her seat now?) to assess the control panel before her. The vibrations that surround them have calmed. He marvels at how she can dissipate her rage so easily. Now a new expression alights her face. One that sucker punches him in a different way.
"Will you teach me how to fly this thing?"
An hour later and their ceasefire still holds. The Upsilon-class Command Shuttle may be an enemy ship, but Rey is hungry to learn all she can of the tech that's far more advanced than anything she's experienced on the Falcon or the flight sims she trained with, or any vessel within the Resistance's fleet.
As Kylo scrolls through screens that brim with military-grade information; walking her through the extensive upgrades of the nav computer and sensor suites, it's not long before she's eagerly quizzing him on the rest of the advancements his shuttle has to offer - from landing gear to shield arrays, sensor jammers to comm scanners, to the complexity of the swoop wing design.
"I'm going to have to keep you now, so you don't spill these secrets to the Resistance," Kylo jokes, once she's finished picking his brain for everything he can tell her off the top of his head.
Rey stiffens. The silence that falls between them is like a vacuum, sucking even the background hum of the sublight engines into oblivion.
"I hope you know I was joking," he says quietly.
Pulling her hands back from where they rest far too close to Kylo's own, Rey takes an involuntary step back. And then another. She knows he was only joking - she knows. But this knowledge doesn't stop her heart from picking up speed; beating like moth wings inside her chest. Because little does he know how these worries plague her. Etching at her conscience like a tally upon a wall; a daily reminder that the time will come when a line in the ground will need to be drawn, and they will be standing on opposite sides of it.
Rey opens her mouth to speak, and hopes words will form themselves promptly because he waits, head bowed, as if waiting for the executioner's strike, and she has no idea what to say to break this terrible silence.
And then it comes to her.
"We should give this ship a name."
"A name?" Kylo repeats, stunned, lifting his gaze to her own.
"Uh-huh." Rey plonks herself back in the pilot seat and waits, expectantly, for him to agree.
"A name." Kylo huffs once more. He's not sure whether to be relieved or mortified. "It's just a ship. One designed primarily to transport me between even larger ships."
Or land upon the planets I wish to subjugate, he thinks in the most guilty and tightly-shielded part of his head. And then aloud, "a name is just… pointless sentiment."
"Don't be ridiculous." Rey shoots forward in the seat as her enthusiasm takes hold. "All ships need a name. They run better that way."
"Right," Kylo raises a brow. This woman will never cease to confound him.
Leaning back against the headrest, he stares up at the cockpit's central support beam. The air stirs as Rey begins to pace. The Force itself seems to stir with the energy she evokes. He suspects her vibrancy is going to be the death of him. He suspects it might not be an altogether terrible way to go.
If he's honest with himself, a small part of him feels pride in her enthusiasm for his ship. An even smaller part of him wonders if she might choose to stay if she names it. Like the taming of a pet.
"And what would you name it?" he says finally. At least, it won't do any harm to play along.
"The Happabore?"
"Absolutely not," he snorts, regretting his compliance in an instant. "I wouldn't even insult an AT-AT with a name like that."
"Skittermouse?"
"Skitter… I don't know where you get these names from but," he squeezes the bridge of his nose, "please stop."
"They're creatures from Jakku," Rey says, indignant, "and they're the only type I know. Asides from Porgs. And some poor beast called a Thala-siren from which Master Skywalker drank green milk."
"He drank…." Kylo presses the back of his hand to his mouth, "actually, no. That doesn't surprise me in the least."
"Well, it surprised me," Rey blanches.
"Hmm." Rapping his fingers upon the dash, Kylo reflects on her other revelation. The one in which he discovers that beyond the dirt rock she grew up on, and the dirt rock Luke hid upon, she really knows little of the galaxy. "Well, remind me to take you to Ajan Kloss sometime."
He doesn't see Rey's reaction to his words, but he feels the tension thicken in the air. Of course, how could he forget that the Resistance has been holing up upon his familial planet since Crait?
"I wish you could take me there," she says softly, "your mother would love to see you again."
"Rey…" He groans her name into his palms as he folds over upon himself. But then a new thought occurs to him. A way to use this to his advantage.
"You know that I've known where the Resistance has been hiding for some time," he begins, "you said yourself that you trust me to keep the information from the First Order."
"Uh-huh," she hesitates, recoiling slightly as if fearing a trap.
"So if you trust me with that, you should trust me when I say I'll keep you safe - that I'll return you to the Falcon. That I won't let…" He stops. Levelling her with a stare. "You should trust me."
Poised on a knife's edge, he watches the emotions flit across Rey's face. The arguments she half-forms before discarding them. It occurs to him that if it were anyone else, he'd use this information more savagely. Blackmail for compliance, perhaps. But not with Rey. Never with Rey. Besides, he's snared her. He can see it in the resolution that sets itself upon her face.
"The Ripper Raptor," she says suddenly.
He blinks. "That's ridiculous." And then after a beat, "the Raptor will do."
He turns away then. Before the smile on her face undoes him. "Now, I've let you name the ship. I have one thing to ask in return."
From his peripheral, he sees her shoulders sag. It's like watching a flower wilt.
"What?" The drops from her like a weight. Dull. Bottomless. Borne of a breathless exhalation. He wonders just what it is she dreads him to ask.
"Do you know how to reprogram a droid?"
Chapter Endnote: Thank you for the support and feedback that has been coming through - you have no idea how much I appreciate it, and how it helps to keep the motivation flowing!
I'm 6 days out from having to hand in an essay I haven't started, and an original story assignment that I keep starting again. *cue nervous laughter* So... I probably won't have a new chapter of Conversations ready for next week. I am however still posting regular updates of The Enemy as that fic has a few pre-written chapters up its sleeve, so there'll be a mid-week chapter going up tomorrow as well as its regular Sunday uploads. Please check it out if you fancy a tale about post-TLJ Rey and Kylo stranded together on a hostile planet and forced to get along so they don't wind up decorating a Trandoshan trophy room!
Right. Now on with that essay. May the Force be with me. *existential crisis looms*
Oh wait, one last thing. If you're wondering how Kylo knows of the Resistance hiding out on Ajan Kloss, this was revealed back in chapter 12. Tbh I'd completely forgotten that and had written a scene where it was revealed here. Probably just as well I decided last minute to skim previous chapters... and found myself having to undo Chp16's reveal and manoeuvre it into something else. Urgh. (I'm so annoyed - because that reveal was gonna be good!)