Rey was fast.
She was zipping across the ground, her strides much longer than her normal ones, and was making short work of any pursuers with out breaking pace. Kylo was easily twice her size and yet the exercise of chasing after her was that of a child trying to beat a seasoned athlete. He watched with awe as she dodged blaster shots with spell binding economy of motion, wall ran the side of a transport hull, and force flipped over a stack of cargo containers.
He had known this when he had trained with her, when he had seen her fight countless times over the last months. Where he had often bested her in the various manifestations of the force—push, pull, mind reading, persuasion—her greatest strength lay in force body manipulation.
And right now, Rey—Kira—was tapping into it full throttle.
It didn't take long for her to disappear from his line of sight, but the trail of bodies left in her wake was telling enough. She hadn't drawn her weapons, but she hadn't needed to. A flip kick from her had sent one syndicate member to the ground with a sickening crack that had left his body imprint in the mud, and the man did not move again as Kylo passed him on foot.
Kira had been aiming for some kind of side door to the compound, and by the time Kylo had made it there the door had been ripped off its hinges and cast aside, the door knob crushed into crinkled metal.
The long dark corridor he shot into showed signs of altercation. Overturned boxes. Blood skid marks on the floor. A body, only their feet sticking out of the hall way, that he was forced to vault over.
Too soon came trouble—the first fork with no clear sign of passage. He skidded to a halt, looking down the dark corridor in both directions. Gritting his teeth, he slammed a fist again the wall. There was no reason to think so, but a sense of urgency filled him that told him he had to find her. An intuition.
A... force.
Something in his mind clicked into place, a connection. He stopped, panting, and then with effort, took a deep calming breath. He closed his eyes, feeling the world narrow to the confines of his body. The blood rushing through his veins, his uneven breath. The stitch working in his side.
When in doubt….trust the force.
Luke's meditation techniques, he threw out the window. They were not going to work; had never worked for him. He was not good at letting things go. But keeping things—good, bad, terrible—that he could do. Obsession, focus—those he had in spades.
Finding detachment and serenity, ungraspable and unconceivable for him.
But finding Rey….
His mind filled with her of it's own accord, as if a specter of her lived somewhere in the back of his mind, just waiting to be acknowledged. There were the physical things about her: the three knots of her hair, the crinkle of her nose and eyes when she grinned, her mouth always so red where she bit her lip. Her dark chocolate eyes filled with mischief and fire. The way she'd looked beneath him the night before, fragile and exposed and yet untamed.
But also other things too: the way she felt to him in the force, like a fountain of spring water in a barren wasteland; her pack rat tendencies to collect things and repurpose them, like the little junk scavenger she'd never grown out of; her uncompromising view of herself.
At least I am not ashamed of who I am.
The way she knew him even when he didn't want her to.
Her eyes soft under the moonlight coming through the window sill as she rolled her hips above him. He couldn't speak. She smiled and leaned down, her mouth a whisper against his skin. Ben.
When Kylo opened his eyes—he saw her.
Just a flicker. Like a silver mirage. She moved like liquid shadow, fighting some unseen force. She was Kira, he could see it so clearly now: flat face, dead eyes. He reached out a hand, felt something tug sharp in his chest, and then for a moment she jumped back, brow furrowed, her eyes darting up and meeting his—
Then she disappeared.
Kylo staggered against a wall, gasping for breath.
Not quite. He didn't see her…but he knew where she was.
A cold sweat broke across his skin. That…that had been no mere force trick. That had been more—and of what he had no idea. But he didn't have time to figure it out. Urgency had turned to high pitch fever in his veins. He would have to trust in this bond—whatever it was. He couldn't see her anymore, but he could still feel her somehow, like a fading echo. Like a candle nearly puttering to nothing.
He barreled down the left fork, doors and paths blurring in the periphery as he turned corners left and right, following that tenuous connection like a red string in the dark.
Then he turned a final corner, his breath coming in gasps, a stitch bright and painful in his side—and there she was. He had found her.
Kira was fighting in the middle of a room, bodies laying unconscious around her. He watched as the last man standing charged her with a blade and she assumed a fighting stance he had never seen before, palms up and arms loose.
Two quick kicks disarmed the man with ease. Her palms came up, movements so quick that he could hardly track them, and then the sound of bone crunching ricocheted sickeningly in the room and the man toppled to the floor, eyes sightless.
Kira stared at the man's face dispassionately, and Kylo frowned, moving to approach her when he stopped short at a new voice.
"So you do remember Teräs Käsi then." It came from a woman who stepped out of an adjacent room. An older woman, possibly in her fifties. Her hair was white, her lips painted red, her outfit sharp and clean lines of black. A Crimson Dawn necklace rested on her chest. She looked unruffled and in control, despite the number of dead subordinates at Kira's feet. Her hand rested lightly on a blaster holstered to her waist. "So nice to see traditions still being kept."
Kira straightened slowly from her crouch to face the woman. From his angle he could only see part of her face but it was enough. He watched as the person that was Kira crumbled, stripped away like a cast off mask. The person left standing before him was Rey.
"Qi'ra," Rey breathed and some how he knew she wasn't talking about herself.
Unable to stand back anymore, Kylo strode in to the room. The woman flicked her gaze at him, mouth ticking down. The hand on her blaster laxed entirely, then fell away, and he felt a pang of satisfaction. At least she was smart enough to know when she was outgunned.
Rey didn't turn to look at him, like she knew he had been there all along. He moved to stand beside her, close enough that their clothing brushed against each other.
The woman surveyed them curiously, eyes too inquisitive. Kylo didn't like the look in her eyes.
"Kira," he said lowly, meant for her ears alone. He didn't dare say her real name, not in front of this stranger.
To his chagrin, the woman must have either read his lips or heard him because her eyebrows raised abruptly and she flashed a look at Rey.
"Qi'ra?" She said. The accent was different, but the name was clearly the same. "Is that what you go by now, Rey?"
So she had already known then. Kylo's jaw clenched.
Rey's face betrayed nothing, thought she shifted ever so slightly. Behind her back, where the woman couldn't see, she extended her hand and ran her fingers along the edge of his cape. He got the sense that she was telling him things were fine. Obscured by her profile, he pinched the fabric of her cowl, and tugged ever so slightly.
"None of your business," Rey said.
"On the contrary…" The woman cocked her head. "Names have power and significance. Sounds to me like having my former protégé taking my name would be information that is very much my business."
Kylo stiffened, eyes flicking to Rey. This—this was her former master?
Snoke's words echoed to him from what felt like a lifetime ago: The burden of masters is to be what their students rise above.
This was her master. This was her Luke.
Kylo slowly straightened, feeling a strong sense of vertigo. No matter what strange bond had compelled him to rush to her side, he shouldn't be here with her for this. Especially not him. A host of undefined emotions bubbled in his chest that he didn't dare analyze in this moment, all centered somewhere in selfishness: selfish for her, selfish for himself. Selfish for himself about her.
Rey stepped back, her hand reaching for his wrist. The touch soothed him in a way that was almost chilling in its own right, even as she said, "You don't have the right to know about me anymore."
Qi'ra lifted her chin, and despite being shorter than both of them, gave off the impression she was looking down at them from a great distance. "If you are referencing what happened to you—I didn't have anything to do with it. I don't squander assets. It was the others that were afraid. Afraid they couldn't control you."
Rey glared. "Just because you didn't have a hand in it doesn't mean you aren't culpable. I know you better than that."
Qi'ra laughed low. It was rich and lovely. She was beautiful now—she must have been gorgeous when she was young. "Oh, Rey," she said, smiling, "I forgot how enjoyable it was to talk with you. Now a days I can hardly get more then fools with two brain cells in one room." She walked over to a desk on the far side of the room that had remained untouched by the fighting. She ran long blood red nails over the surface.
"I guess it should come as no surprise. Little by little, the Crimson Dawn's influence has slowly eroded away." She raised her hands to the ceiling, to a the Crimson Dawn banner that hung there. "Now look at the Dawn. Fractured into spiteful pieces when it had once been great." She dropped her hands, eyes cold and flinty as they settled on Rey. "He would have never let this happen."
Rey's expression flickered, though with what Kylo didn't know. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, "You hated him."
Qi'ra's mouth flattened. "I did. But he got results."
"He has been dead for thirty years. Get over it."
Qi'ra suddenly smiled. "But his legacy still lives, doesn't it?"
Rey stiffened. The hand on his wrist tightened almost painfully.
Qi'ra glanced slowly between Rey and him. The look of pleasure that suffused her face was familiar—he had seen the same look in Rey, when she was being most particularly aggravating. Like she knew something he didn't.
Qi'ra leaned back against the desk. "What a nice little chat we are having. A nice stroll down memory lane. Since, we're here…" she spread her hands out again. "What can I do for you? What does my little girl need."
Rey twitched. "I am not little. And I am not yours."
"No", she said. "Even when I owned you, you weren't mine. And now you are trying to rise above me, aren't you? Still trying to find your place, unable to accept the place you've been given. Should I help you?"
Rey stayed silent.
Qi'ra's eyes turned to him then, lips curling cruelly. "You know…you remind me of someone. Someone I knew long ago. What's your name?"
Rey twitched. "Leave him out of this."
"Why don't you let him decide for himself. Perhaps I can help him—"
The first signs of temper flared in Rey's eyes. She dropped his hand, taking a menacing step forward. "We don't need your help, not the kind you give."
Qi'ra raised her voice, fully addressing him now. "I wonder how much she's told you. Did you know she was nothing more than a starved street urchin when I bought her from her parents? A little thing, she could have been so easily crushed by the world we lived in. But she had her own dreams, didn't you Rey?" Her eyes flicked back to Rey, who's face was darkening with anger. "Counting the days on that sheet of metal, the days before she could return to parents that had already left her. Always so angry." Her lips pursed. "I see that hasn't changed at all."
"Nothing you've told me," Kylo said quietly, "I didn't all ready know."
Qi'ra looking at him, accessing how truthful he was being. Then her gaze fixed on Rey.
"I'll admit, I'm surprised. But you never did know everything." That cruel glint in her eyes, so like the Kira he had known before he met Rey. "Tell me, girl….Do you want to know why your father sold you?"
Rey started violently. "Don't you dare talk about him to me," Rey hissed. "My father was—"
Qi'ra's face hardened. "The worst kind of man. The kind who couldn't even acknowledge what a coward he was." Rey flinched as she continued, "Giving you to us was the only thing he ever did right by you. He would have gotten you killed out of sheer stupidity, just to save his own pride." She paused. "Like he did to your mother."
Rey's face drained of color. She looked stunned. Then barely a whisper, "No. Shut up."
Qi'ra studied the younger woman's face, and then suddenly she sighed. For the first time, the older woman looked tired. "I see. You still haven't lost that part of you that believes that people are better than they really are. I told you you should have cut it away, long ago. Now look where we are. You can't even let go of me."
A long, heavy silence. The hatred that filled Rey's eyes was almost startling in it's ferocity. "I can kill you."
Qi'ra nodded. "You can." Then a humorless smile. "But could you?"
Rey grit her teeth, hands falling to the light saber sheaths at her side—
An explosion rocked the building, and then an ominous hum that seemed to come directly from the earth. The ceiling shuddered, chunks of debris falling around them as the ground under their feet began to ripple and slide. Rey stumbled backwards, barely dodging a steel beam that toppled to the ground, and Kylo caught her in his arms.
By the time they looked up, Qi'ra was standing in the doorway of the room she had come from, waiting. Her eyes locked with Rey's. She gave a two fingered salute— and then dashed through the door.
Something like a scream ripped from Rey's throat. She shoved him away, vaulting over tumbling boxes. Her lightsabers flew into her hands and she ignited them, blood red blades. "Qi'ra!" she shouted, eyes red and wet, and then she too had disappeared through the door.
Cursing, Kylo charged forward, flinging his arm to redirect a large steel rack that would surely have crushed him. He made it to the door, only for him to run into Rey standing stock still in the middle of the room. He got a mouthful of her hair, as he staggered into her. This was the second time in less than an hour. She was going to have to desist this terrible habit. "Rey, what are you doing," he hissed, glancing behind them. The walls looked like they were vibrating. "We've got to—" he stopped, finally seeing what Rey was staring at.
There, huddled against the far wall, clearly cowering away from Rey and her glowing red lightsabers, was a group of children.
There were six of them, all under the age of seven or eight. The oldest, a young boy, was holding a toddler in his arms. The others, two boys and two girls, cowered in terror behind him, whimpering.
The red glow of the slave chokers was visible even in the dim light.
The older boy's eyes flicked to Kylo, then back to Rey, who still had her lightsabers on. She seemed to come to her senses, immediately powering them down, and took a step forward.
One of the children screamed. The boy whipped his hand out, eyes fierce. "Bata, cheeka goola!" He spit on the ground at her feet.
Kylo's Huttese was poor on the best of days, never mind when the building they were in was coming down around their ears. Rey, on the other hand, went white as a sheet. Her hands started to shake.
The ground rocked beneath them, a ticking time bomb.
"Rey." Kylo strode forward, ignoring the whimpers of the kids, as he grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around. "We don't have time for this. What do you want to do?
She opened her mouth, eyes unfocused— and he shook her just a little. "Rey, look at me." She did so. The wounded look in her eyes made his jaw clench, but he needed her to focus or they were all going to die. He would slap her, if he had to. "We can take them with us, but we have to go now. I don't know much about slave collars. Can they leave without getting hurt?"
She took a breath. "I—" she swallowed, then shook herself. It was a relief to see her eyes were clear again. "Yes. The red light means the location sensors has been disengaged. They can come with us."
So someone — Qi'ra — must have deactivated them. An act of pity, save for the fact that she hadn't taken them herself.
Maybe she had known that Rey would. Rey, who would understand from personal experience what the collars meant.
Grimacing, Kylo let go of her shoulders and took a step towards the children. One of the kids whimpered. The young boy holding the little one to his chest bared his teeth. "Hagwa pushee, ootmian—"
"If you don't leave with us now you will die." Kylo said frankly, holding out his hand. Even if he didn't understand the words, the gesture was universal. "And not from us."
The boy froze. A moment of silence, distrust warring with increasing fear as what sounded like another building collapsed nearby. The sounds were drawing closer. Then he nodded, throat bobbing.
"Boska," the boy said and the frightened kids sprung into motion.
"Quickly now," Kylo said as a little girl ran to him, arms outstretched. He scooped her up in one arm, then a small boy in the other. Rey had sheathed her sabers and had grabbed hold of the two other children's hands. She looked much steadier now, though something hunted still reflected in her eyes. She nodded at him, the relief in her face palpable.
He looked at them all, then motioned to the door, mouth grim. "Run."
x
Author's Note: Huttese from various websites again:
Hagwa pushee, ootmian - Don't move, foreigner
Bata, cheeka goola! - Back, bad woman!
Boska - Let's go