Star Wars: Division

Hey everyone. I just wanted to talk a bit about the story and how I'm structuring everything. There hasn't been a lot of romance, which I think is one of the highlights of a story like this - fans really want that Reylo. Haha. (I don't blame you.) But I'm writing the story from the perspective of a book; if Disney came to me and said, "Write us a book for the sequel!" this is kind of how I would have it go. Which is why - even though it's a Reylo story - it also has a lot of Star Wars history and backstory going on. I'm trying to keep it very true and authentic to the Star Wars universe so that the experience is that much more immersive and real for the fans. If that makes sense. *strokes beard* Anyway, I hope it hasn't been boring for you guys. Big thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story!

On a similar note, the story has nine (!) new followers! I appreciate it, everyone.

grlvct, NE8675309, tribolt2121, WigletsMom, Flach, Narifia-TheFallingStar, Shiranai Atsune, xoulblade, and tonipanda04 - who just joined today.

And the story is on the favorite(s) list of these lovely people: littleluny, ClumsyAme, Casmilla, uhhhhhhhhhhh, and jezie.

Really, truly - the biggest thank you to all the followers and comment-ers and favorite-rs. It's such a great feeling to open my e-mail and see an alert from FanFiction about something new in regards to the story. I can't express myself enough.

Thoughts, feelings, questions, concerns - always welcome.

Chapter 6

Aboard the Falcon, the air was electric. The crews of both ships were floating along somewhere on cloud nine as they savored their small victory against the First Order. Rey wasn't exactly sure how things were going on the TL, but if it was anything like the happenings of the Falcon, then a lot of drink was being passed around and a lot of whooping and cheering and toasting were being bounced off the walls in delight. She was happy for them, and the Resistance, and for herself, having achieved her first real test on the battlefield with her abilities. But every time she heard the sonorous call of Poe's X-Wing soaring overhead, blasting away at Kylo Ren - very nearly hitting - it made all the joy in her die. She had been so close - Poe had horrible timing! The one small grace of the situation was being unable to see the look of betrayal sliced across his face in rage because of his mask.

No, but this isn't right, Rey anguished in her head as she tightened her fingers around her drink and listened to her compatriots happily chit-chat their drunken way through an entire shelf full of alcohol thanks to some surplus at the Batuu cantina. She'd joined in and had a couple cups, but it was hard to keep up the facade she was ecstatic when her thoughts would wander places it shouldn't wander, and she'd only end up feeling dejected. It wasn't right, what she was doing, and yet she couldn't stop. It wasn't just the Force connecting them - they were connecting each other, or else they were letting the connection happen. Certainly, if they wanted, they could close the link, simple as that. Luke had cut himself off from the Force - surely they could do something similar, if they really wanted to. But they didn't want to, and she didn't know what to do with that.

Chewie was flying alone; she'd been banned from the cockpit in order to enjoy the festivities and get some much needed stress relief. Leia's orders. It had worked for the first couple hours - she really had enjoyed herself. But as soon as her buzz started to wear off the villain of reality came creeping into her thoughts and all of the fun had been lost. And she couldn't reclaim it. Not even after downing half of the drink she had in her hand. In fact, it seemed to make things worse.

Even with a small number of crew - the ten pilots assigned X-Wings were currently in them, flying alongside the transports, getting a thrill all their own - everyone else was having too much fun to notice their resigned, solemn Jedi hero - everyone had really taken to calling her Jedi and hero after Poe and Finn and Rose raved to anyone who'd listen about how she'd used her 'magical' Force abilities to beat Kylo Ren - who didn't feel like much of a hero. And often, on a much more worrying note, didn't feel like much of a Jedi. It wasn't just her sporadic penchant for darkness that would come rising up inside her like an animal that needed to feed; it was her continued lack of knowledge and belief in her own abilities. She did want a teacher. She needed one. And there was only one person in the entire Galaxy that could do the job.

She needed to let it go. She would have to teach herself, much like Luke had done after both Obi-Wan and Yoda had moved on in the Force. He had had some training with Yoda, yes, but surely not the kind that had given him the title of Master. For that, he had to study all on his own and navigate the ways of the Jedi Order through trial and error; she would do the same. Yes, she would do the same - just like her Master. Master Skywalker, she thought sadly. Why couldn't he have stayed just a bit longer? But of course, if he hadn't helped on Crait, then the Resistance would've been destroyed, including his own sister. Of course he'd sacrifice himself. Of course he would be the hero, one last time, while the chance was there. To do some good in his remaining hour.

But now she was so utterly alone. All the time.

She'd been alone her entire life.

The only times she didn't feel alone, anymore, were when he -

"Rey, come on," said Finn, bouncing over with his big, bright smile. "We're going to play sabacc, and Leia wants you as a partner. Come on," he said, hooking his arm through hers and giving her a yank from her seat.

A small smile came to her face, rescued from her dreary thoughts. "All right, all right, stop pulling me," she said with a laugh, and the two joined the remaining crew members circled around the table, the General already shuffling the deck with the eye of an experienced player about to fleece the room.

"What. Happened," hissed the red-head through grit teeth. The purpling effect occurring on Hux's face as he watched Kylo Ren's back did not complement his ginger hair at all. A vein in his neck bulged so badly it looked about ready to burst.

"It was the Jedi."

"Skywalker? But I thought - "

"The girl," he interrupted.

It's all Hux can do but laugh. "The girl? The untrained one? How is it this girl is able to continue to foil you, Ren? The First Order is becoming compromised because - "

Kylo Ren says nothing; words are unnecessary when his hand can do all the talking for him. Watching Hux's already colored face turn even more purple, with sickly yellowed blotches, provides a certain level of satisfaction - it's true. But it's the spittle that flies from his mouth as he gasps and struggles that gives Kylo Ren the real jolt of pleasure. The General's legs kick back and forth. He releases the cur, who falls limply to the ground, hacking and sputtering.

"I told you," Kylo Ren seethes, his left eye narrowing ever so slightly, like a half twitch, inside the confines of his helmet, "that finding the remnants of their group was key," he slams his hand down on top on the table for emphasis, "in finishing this war. Did you think it's because of the ex-stormtrooper or a Senator?" His voice slowly rose in volume the longer he went on, as the anger came up to the surface. "The Jedi found Skywalker. She's no longer entirely untrained. And the longer it takes you, General," he forced through his clenched teeth, "to find her location, the more adept she'll become!"

Hux was rubbing his throat, trying very hard not to completely collapse into fits of coughing and hacking, in order to save himself some face and dignity amongst the lower ranking officials present, but the effort kept his face a very livid red. "I told you, Supreme Leader," he said around painful swallows, "that finding such a small group across the expanse of the Galaxy was difficult. I assure you, the search parties I dispatched worked tirelessly in their efforts."

He would've relished in that moment to remind his old nemesis that the reason the girl had been able to reach Skywalker was because of Kylo Ren's own weaknesses. Oh, the enjoyment it would've given him to smirk, entirely smug, and watch his face tremble in silent agony at his own failure. But the way Kylo Ren stood with anger and power wrapped around him like a mantle, and the furious stare he bore upon his new subordinate - alight - knowing full well it was his own failure that had kept them from eliminating the Jedi, from even keeping her from Skywalker, - "Pull the division out. We have what we need" - Hux thought better of antagonizing him. It didn't mean he was submitting completely, but there was a time and place for insubordination. During his mutiny.

For Kylo Ren, this was it - the perfect moment in their adversarial relationship to begin sowing suspicions towards Hux's motives; he already knew Hux had officers loyal to him, more than they were to their newly minted Supreme Leader, but if he cast doubts upon good ole' Armitage Hux's dedication to the First Order and its Supreme Leader by suggesting he had hidden sympathies for the Resistance, those loyal may turn their backs on him. He'd be a traitor, and traitors are given capital punishment. To be associated with a known traitor was career suicide, not to mention they feared Kylo Ren killing them strictly out of guilt by association. Yes, he would begin the process of winning Hux's friends over to his side of the playing field.

"Perhaps," he said lowly, calmly, as he walked the catwalk that split the bridge down the middle. He clasped his hands behind his back ponderously, and gazed out at the twinkling black canvas that was outer space. "Perhaps you feel sorry for them." Within the confines of his helmet, the oddly calm, half-robotic voice was deep and menacing in a very unsettling way. The other officers on the bridge exchanged quick glances; this wasn't the sort of Kylo Ren they were accustomed to. He had always been menacing, yes, but before he was wild and violent and all one need do was stay out of his way until the rage burned itself out. Now? He seemed cold and vicious. Distant, like a maniacal tyrant of immeasurable mystery. No one knew just what to make of this new Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order.

"Maybe you're dragging your feet, General," he continued without moving. "Maybe you want to buy them some time." He didn't make any accusations, but he certainly implied them. Honestly, he would've rather just killed him than play games, but if he did it would only give those supporting Hux more reason to hate him and want him dead. If, instead, he painted Hux as a traitor with legitimate claims and then formally executed him, his supporters may feel Armitage got his comeuppance and there would be no need to seek revenge. If he was going to lead the Galaxy through all the changes he envisioned for it, he would need people to stop plotting against him, especially the officers on his own ship.

Of course, this kind of talk unnerved Hux, who had indeed been trying to stab the new Supreme Leader in the back through dastardly alliances forged in the shadows Kylo Ren thought safe. Apparently, he didn't think those shadows were safe, after all - he'd gone snooping. And now, with everyone's wary eyes darting to get a look at him under pressure, and then darting away when he caught them looking, he was beginning to see the situation for the dangerous one it was. It's not that he'd thought assassinating Kylo Ren, or usurping his position, would be easy - but he certainly didn't think it would be difficult. After all, he was just some fool.

But, standing in the spotlight of accusations for treason, Armitage Hux was starting to realize he was not as much a fool as he'd thought.

He ignored the two small beads of sweat collected on his right temple, and regained a bit of the composure in his posture. "I assure you, Supreme Leader, that I hold no sympathy for the rebels. It was I who had the honor of launching the attack that blasted the Hosnian System from the skies. The Resistance is vile and cunning, we all know that. They're able to hide like cowards," he added with a sneer.

"If that's truly how you feel, General," said the still disturbingly calm voice of their leader, "then bring me some results."

Did he dare breach this subject again? He had to, or else everyone assembled on the bridge was going to think he was an unprepared dolt. He needed to gain back some ground, perhaps even shift blame back to Ren, so at least the damage would be minimized. "I brought it to your attention, Supreme Leader," Hux said with a bit too much irony, "that we'd have a much easier time finding the Resistance scum if we had the Knights of Ren at our disposal. Surely, if we'd had them today on the battlefield, things would not have ended like this," he gestured widely with his hand before him.

Kylo Ren turned and advanced towards his General, all six feet, two inches of him - and then some. "And I told you, Hux," he said with the kind of danger in tone even an idiot could pick up on, "that the Knights are none of your concern." He paused with a tilt of his head. "Why are you so keen to remove them from their posts, General?" He took another long, ponderous pause that made Hux swallow. "You don't like that it means your underlings can't have open negotiations?" It was there, between the lies, the knowledge of imminent betrayal that implied Kylo Ren was well informed in matters of Hux's political affairs. It wasn't true, of course, but Hux didn't need to know that. All he needed to believe was Kylo Ren was on to his games - completely.

Hux swallowed again, his throat still hurting from being choked so violently, and pulled at the neck of his tightly buttoned collar. With a deep breath, he tried to re-acquire some caricature of composure. "Not at all, Supreme Leader," he said conservatively, stampening down his emotions. "I'm merely suggesting their skill and prowess on the battlefield would be an immense help in our efforts."

"Yes, General, I suppose they would. But they have their own jobs to do. I suggest, for your sake and the sake of the First Order, that you stop worrying about theirs and focus on yours."

How badly he wanted to see his nemesis cut down - how badly he wanted to fire back with his own verbal jabs. But he had lost this encounter, there was no question. It was time to acquiesce the round or risk Kylo Ren's wrath. "Yes, Supreme Leader," he said deferentially.

With his hands behind his back, he looked to a nearby lieutenant. "Keep me apprised of the situation."

"Supreme Leader," the lieutenant said with a nod.

With that, their leader took his exit.

Everyone on the bridge was relieved to see him go.

Back in his private quarters, he let his mind wander, as it was wont to do when he was alone and freed from the role he'd been so determined to take. With a hiss of release, the front mechanism of his helmet lifted and he slipped it off his head. His helmet was useful for dealing with his underlings - it terrified them. But he liked to keep his face open when the chance of seeing her came about. He would be especially interested in seeing her now, after Batuu.

It had all been a distraction, he realized. The Resistance hadn't intended to fight or do damage, just keep the First Order delayed enough to secure their fighters and then escape. She had baited him - she wanted him to follow her. It had not been a slip up on her part when she touched his mind; she let herself be discovered. She had wanted him to feel it. She had wanted his attention. She knew that if she could lure him away from the main group of rebel fighters, minimal damage to their numbers would be done because trying to catch them with blaster fire through all the thick tree cover was highly unlikely. The gas was how he, Kylo Ren, had thought to counteract that fact, but she must've read his mind before, too. Before they'd even begun their attack. So, the first time she did it without his knowing to gain intel, and the second time she did it to pull his attention. She had manipulated him.

Had she meant anything she'd said? Or was bringing up his offer to teach her simply a ploy?

He could hear his old Master reproaching his weak behavior. "You were unbalanced, bested by a girl who had never held a lightsaber! You failed!" "Alas, you're no Vader. You're just a child… in a mask."

He snarled.

Without hesitation, he stomped his way to the brig, ignoring every petty officer and droid who stopped to salute him along the way. He had a singular purpose in mind. In the Finalizer's cells was one lone prisoner - a scummy smuggler who had passed the First Order bad information which had led to the debacle on the mining planet. A reconnaissance unit had gotten hold of him hours ago, when Kylo Ren was busy getting the army ready for Batuu. Now, the smuggler would get his dues.

Flouting his own protocols for formal execution, he entered the cell with the inmate and ignited his saber. The electric shock from his unbalanced blade reflected off the dark color of his eyes, making them glisten with a disturbing red glow. To the prisoner, who was suddenly staring down the tall, black figure of the First Order and reigning Dark Side wielder, he looked like a man possessed with fire striking hard as lightning in the backs of his eyes.

The figure approached, his footsteps impossibly heavy - how could they be so heavy? Sweating, frightened out of his mind, the prisoner held up his hands pathetically and stood, ready to fall to his knees to beg. "Please -" he began, his knees and bottom lip both shaking alike.

But Kylo Ren had no head for apologies - no room for mercy. With relish, he cleaved downward in a typical Djem So overhanded strike, and felt the give of bone and flesh as the man's skull split open from the will of his lightsaber. With such magnificent ease of motion, he pulled down until the man was completely halved - the left and right permanently separated. There was very little blood. The cauterizing effect of a lightsaber blade meant the two halves were sealed shut, keeping all the tissue and blood and soft, pliable organs all contained within. As if all the halves were now were sacks. Both pieces began to wobble, each one of the man's eyes locked in a different direction, staring perhaps with one eye on Life, and the other on Death, and then they toppled over, hitting the floor with quiet thuds.

He took a deep breath. A long, deep breath through the nose. It was so satisfying, but so painful. Like the dead man before him, Kylo Ren was a man perpetually split in two.

"Bye, Finn. Bye, Rose" she said in a sing-song voice as she shut the door. Finn and Rose both waved enthusiastically before hooking arms, leaning against each other, and went off to where and to do what, Rey didn't know. But she was sure it'd be fun.

With a laugh still on her lips, she sat down on her bed and took off her boots, her arm guards and wraps, her socks - she was ready for bed. Alcohol had that effect most of the time, that wonderful talent of taking away stress and easing muscles and releasing inhibitions until eventually all the body feels like doing is taking a nice, deep sleep. A nap before dinner seemed like a great idea.

But before that, she wanted to get comfortable and look over the Jedi text she'd been studying, and all the notes Luke had stuffed between the pages.

A content, relaxed sound passed through her nose as she removed her vest and placed it carefully to the side with her other clothing. She decided to keep on the off-white tunic, but remove her bottoms because she was feeling a bit too warm from the alcohol. Just as she went to undo the fastenings, that dreadful vacuum sensation found its way to her, reaching between time and space, to connect two enemies that were more like rivals that, as it turned out, were mostly like friends.

There she stood; her bare shoulders, her bare arms, her hair was down, cheeks flushed, and yet she still looked the part of a warrior, just a warrior unfettered by physical weapons and armor, with nothing to fight for but her own beliefs, and nothing to protect her but her own strength. It was mesmerizing - like watching a flame take on human form. He had never known that kind of fire before. The Dark Side spoke of passion, but it was murky and full of hatred, inky and perilous like the darkest depths of the deepest secrets. That was a different kind of fire. Black. Rey's was pure. Reds, oranges, yellows, flickering in a dance across her face - inside her soul.

The spirit of a true Jedi, Snoke had said.

As she stood at the desk, she moved something around - papers? The Jedi texts? He could only catch small flashes of objects as they passed in and out of focus, depending on if she was holding them or not. It was aggravating not being able to see her surroundings, and not because he wanted to know her location. He would've liked to see how she lived; he would've liked to see her studies, and her work. Her thoughts on the Jedi teachings were of particular interest.

But it wasn't time for these thoughts. He shouldn't be so weak as to forget the unspoken words that hung between them thanks to the events on Batuu. She seemed frustrated, though he couldn't see how it was justified. He was the one who'd been played with like a toy. Luke, Snoke - he expected such tactics from the likes of them. But Rey?

"You used me."

She heard it in his voice. The very deep, very heated anger of a person who felt betrayed. Who was hurting.

What was she supposed to say? Yes, there was regret over the way they had parted; she had not wanted things to go that way. Without a doubt, there was every intention in her words when she brought up the topic of needing a teacher. He was the only one who could do it. He was the only one she had. So, yes, of course she'd meant it. But that didn't mean she would feel sorry for helping the Resistance evade the First Order. It didn't mean she'd feel sorry for helping them acquire ships and supplies and the people they so desperately needed in order to rebuild.

"I did what I had to do," she said unapologetically. "You would've killed them all."

He regarded her quietly, face like an impassable mountain.

"We're enemies, anyway," she said and turned away from him, gathering up the notes she'd spread across her desk top.

"I didn't know enemies confided in each other," he said lowly. His expression was still blank, and yet his eyes looked broken.

She sighed, the papers she'd been gathering up slipping from her fingers as she leaned into the chair. "No," she said, relenting, "you're right. But I won't apologize for helping the Resistance, and I won't abandon them."

He huffed through his nose. "They really mean more to you than the fate of the Galaxy?"

"They are the fate of the Galaxy," she insisted, finally turning towards him. "I can't support the First Order."

"I'm only asking you to support me."

Anguish clouded her face, made her brows squeeze together, her eyes sad, her mouth frown.

"You are the Order, now," she whispered desperately. "I want to support Ben Solo, but before me is Kylo Ren."

"Why do the two need to be mutually exclusive? Why can't they want the same things?"

She shook her head and jabbed at the air in the direction of his chest with her finger. "No, no. You are not going to seduce me to the Dark Side."

For a brief moment his mouth quirked, almost as if he were going to grin. "I don't need to seduce you, Rey. There's already darkness inside you."

You went straight to the Dark, rang Luke's voice in her head. She shook it, face scrunched. No - no! It was an accident. I'd only wanted to see my parents.

"The Darkness has touched you," he said lowly, drawing nearer. "How will you become a true Jedi with a mark upon you?"

"Stop," she growled. His eyes, his words, came flying at her like blaster fire, and she had no protection.

"Stop what?"

His words were a taunt.

Silence passed between them as they stood, staring at one another. She huffed, as usual, while he stood and watched her. Then, a sudden thought came to her - he'd known. She hadn't realized it before, but staring a him then, the epiphany finally revealed itself: he had known the Resistance was on Batuu. He had arrived for a surprise attack. Had he seen the forest when she'd been going up the Falcon's ramp to organize her things? When he'd feigned he had no clue? "How did you know," she asked quietly. She swallowed. Her throat was dry. Had she put the entire Resistance in jeopardy by holding on to him? Was she putting them in jeopardy at that very moment?

"Know what?"

"About Batuu." She licked her dry lips. She couldn't look at him, shame winding its way up her body, through her stomach, making her feel weightless and disconnected.

He could look at her. In fact, he wouldn't look away.

Ah, she was worried he'd seen her surroundings, after all. She was thinking they'd need to stop meeting in order for her to protect them. Should he tell the truth and ease her mind? Or lie to play with her a bit?

"I don't know why you're so angry. Your forces escaped completely unharmed. Only my men died." He paused to let those words sink in. "Two of them were killed by you." Did he sound excited?

She huffed, snorted, unconcerned. "They were just some brainless First Order soldiers. They're better off dead than living under your thumb. I don't regret what I did. I don't regret any of them dying."

In the Force he felt it - the Darkness spreading its greedy hands across her heart, rising up like muck and sludge to devour her.

"Careful," he warned, his voice low and deep, but vicious.

"I didn't," she began in distress, but then stopped with a look of pure horror on her face. "I didn't mean that," she whispered sadly. "Really, it just slipped out. I-I would never mean something like that. I'm just tired and s-s-stressed." She wrapped her arms around herself for comfort and shook like a blade of grass in the breeze. To think she could say something so awful. Finn had once been one of those "brainless First Order soldiers," and he was her best friend.

"But you don't regret it," he pressed.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Yes, yes, of course she did.

"No," he said lowly, drawing nearer. "You regret admitting it. You regret saying words that can't be unsaid. You regret you feel no remorse. But for their deaths, you feel nothing."

She looked up at him, furious - he was wrong! "No," she yelled, "no! That's not true!"

"Embrace it, Rey," he said, finally upon her, their faces only inches apart. "Embrace what you feel."

She couldn't - that was a precarious slope.

The tips of his fingers gripped her chin. Then his hand wrapped around her cheek, his palm warm against her jawline. "We can embrace it together."

Sometimes, in moments such as these, Rey could imagine his voice was silk. Impenetrable, raven silk, wrapping around her senses to ensnare her. And if she let it? Would she lose herself - or find herself?

To hell with it.

As before, she flung her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to meet her. As before, there was a great deal of warmth already sitting upon their lips; it was the heat of expectation and wanting. And though his shoulders were broad and hard, and his chest unyielding, the way his mouth was so supple and needy against her own made her blood flare uncontrollably. The constant needing and dreaming about what it would be like to touch him; their first kiss had only piqued her curiosity, only made her want more. He must feel the same - he had to. Or else his tongue wouldn't be rubbing against her own with such intensity.

They separated briefly, gasping for air, but she kept her arms around his neck, and his arms stayed around her middle, and they held their foreheads together as they breathed.

His unfathomable eyes, with all their emotions and secrets, stared into her. "Do you trust me," he asked quietly in the small space between them.

She rested her head against his chest. "Yes," she breathed.

"Follow me. Don't be afraid," he said in her ear, and reached up to take one of her hands. He entwined their fingers, and then began walking backwards, taking her somewhere she couldn't see because in actuality they were millions of miles apart.

And then he sat and pulled her down into his awaiting lap, and pressed kisses to her neck. Her thighs squeezed around his middle as she straddled him, hands messily tangled in his thick hair. He started licking, and then he started biting - a line up her collar bone to the round of her shoulder. It was bliss. She groaned and urged her hips into him, thighs still tight around him. Every time she squeezed with pleasure, he'd groan onto her skin.

He pulled back and moved them - she had no idea along what; she had no clue what they were on. But once he laid himself down, looking up at her, she realized it must be a bed - only a bed was big enough to hold them like this. She braced herself by pressing her hands to his chest, which rose and fell to match the quick pace of his heart beat. He was enjoying it. He was enjoying her. Slowly, her hips moved against him; she felt him tremble beneath her. She felt in control, when so much had been out of her hands, lately. She felt powerful, after feeling untrained and clueless. This was right.

She didn't know what came over her.

Lowering her gaze, her hand moved up his chest slowly, and when it reached his neck her thumb moved over his Adam's apple. Her hand spread across his throat and came to rest with her thumb and small finger directly under the joints of his jaw. He did not look afraid as he looked up, his chin tilted towards the ceiling, as her hand tightened and eased against his windpipe. From her core came the inky tendrils of an inner demon, experimenting with its first chance to rear its ugly head. Kylo Ren would give her the chance to explore that inner demon and all its frenzied - but fragile - wants.

He moaned so loud it echoed. She'd never heard him make that sound before. Why was it so deep and strong, and so vulnerable?

Her other hand pushed its way underneath his clothing to the bare skin of his chest, which she recalled from memory. Now, touching that skin, she felt the thrill go through her, reaching higher and higher. Her other hand gently constricting. His moans like wine across her senses. He was in her power, at her command. She marvelled at her own strength - she marvelled at his.

She leaned down and kissed his open mouth. His tongue rose to meet her lips.

She kissed along the curve of his jawline.

She kissed the scar from her own hand that he wore like a badge.

"Rey?"

The link between them broke, and she was just kneeling on the floor, her hands splayed out in front of her.

"You all right," said Rose's voice behind her. The last time she'd seen Rose, her and Finn had been cheerful and slightly buzzed. Now, even with the redness still in her cheeks, she looked worried.

"Yeah," she breathed heavily. Panted. Why did her chest feel so tight? Why was she gasping for air? "I was just," she swallowed with dry lips. "I was just meditating."

Rose didn't know much about Jedi meditation practices, but she wondered if it was always so intense they looked like they'd just run a mile. "Did something happen?"

Rey wiped at the single bead of sweat that trailed down her hairline. "A-a-a," she stuttered shakily, "a vision, just a vision."

She didn't want to intrude on whatever her friend may have seen, so she simply nodded. "Well, come eat. Dinner's ready. You look like you need a break, anyway. You can't wear yourself out. We need you." Rose had said it lightly, but the words felt more like an accusation.

"Of course. Let me just steady myself and I'll be right there."

Rose smiled and left.

Yes, the Resistance needed The Last Jedi to be their savior. What would they think if they knew their savor had just pushed Kylo Ren to submission under the grip of her hand so she could press her mouth to his skin - his lips, or the scar she'd sliced down his face that had felt, in those dark moments of stirring sexuality, like a mark of possession.

She hung her head. She couldn't stop shaking.