Star Wars: Division
xxGUSHINESSxx: Thanks so much for the great comments last week! I'm glad you found my story and you've been enjoying it.
IceFire Dragon Alchemist73: I know. :( It was really hard for me to deny Kylo the whole "I'm just going to yank that ship down and kill all of you" glory, but it had to be done. Because I have so many other things in mind.
onyxpass and jezie: Thank you thank you thank you.
AvalonTheLadyKiller: I couldn't keep myself from laughing when I read your comment. HAHA. You really seemed to have suffered through Chapter 17. Maybe this one will be better...?
Roacharoo: I knoooow~ That would've been a lot of fun to write, honestly, but it would screw up everything I've got planned. So - big "DENIED" for Kylo.
Rainbow24: Hello and welcome to my story! I definitely understand where you're coming from. I wrote this story to explore Kylo and Rey, though, and so omitting their dark sides, and making them too soft and too emotional would just not allow for a lot of that exploration to happen. Glad you appreciate it.
Sorry for the Friday update, but I lost a section of the chapter that I'd started on last week, and no matter where I looked - my phone, my tablet, my laptop - I couldn't find it. So, I had writer's depression for a few days. Haha. *M-Rating.
To all my readers: Enjoy!
Chapter Eighteen
"I don't give a damn what you have to do," he was stressing to his Knights as they stood at attention before him. "Or who you have to kill, or which planet needs to be blown up - you get me Carise Sindian's financial records or the transaction files leading to her involvement with the assassin." His Knights nodded their affirmative. "And get me the assassin, too," he said darkly; there were a few very choice things he'd like to do - personally - to whomever it was that'd laid their hands on Rey.
"Yes, Master," they intoned in unison.
"Don't bother returning until you have everything."
They didn't need to be told they were dismissed, they simply knew it was time to go based off how well they knew Kylo Ren and his mannerisms. As one, the Knights turned on their heels and exited the throne room. Loyal only to their Master, the Supreme Leader, to the once Ben Solo, his enemies were their enemies without question. They wanted to see the Senator pay for her backhanded dealings as much as he did.
Kylo Ren returned to his throne and sat down, back straight, arms on their appropriate armrests, and waited. He'd spent the last four days waiting impatiently for any kind of alert as to Rey's condition, but as she remained unconscious, the Force was unable to connect them. All he could do was sense her underlying memories of pain, explosions, yelling, and the lingering feelings of those close to her that she could sense. That damn pilot - he sensed his feelings; the confusion, the pain, the unbreakable, secret admiration. It wrenched at his gut as he tried to sleep at night. To think that imbecile thought he had some connection to her, when he would never understand her. All he had was hero worship. It hardly measured up to what Kylo Ren and Rey shared, even while locked in destinies that kept them light years apart. No, the pilot was a fool. And he would pay dearly for interfering.
A couple days later:
The ceiling was smooth and textureless, leaving Rey nothing worthwhile to count as she lay in bed. It had been one standard week since the events on Shu-Torun - or so she was told - and she'd spent that entire time bedridden in med bay. Five of those days she was unconscious, but she woke up almost two days ago. A warm welcome did not greet her, much to her initial confusion. Instead, Finn and Poe looked uncharacteristically upset, some kind of combination of disbelief, dumbfound, and angry. Rose lingered in the background, speechless. Leia hadn't come to visit her at all. She'd feared the worst, perhaps some devastating attack that had crippled the Fleet, or perhaps the entire operation on the mining planet had gone under, and she even considered that perhaps Leia had been killed. But none of those fears were reality. Instead, after the doctor aboard the Radiance explained the assassination attempt, the effects of the sword, and her recovery, he was asked to leave and she was informed by her - was it still accurate to say 'friends?' - friends, rather stiffly, about Kylo Ren's involvement in the situation, and the information he'd revealed. Then the trio left, left her alone for two days to sit and stew and, to be quite honest, panic, because she had no idea what this could mean for her future with the Resistance.
Or Kylo, she thought, despite herself. And yet, somehow, she didn't feel all that worried about where she stood with him. She hadn't lied and betrayed him, after all, just his mother and her entire force of good guys who wanted to restore the Republic. No big deal.
The doors to her private room opened with a soft hiss, and she looked up. Poe, Finn, and Rose entered, grim and thin lipped. She swallowed, but then felt angry that she was getting nervous because she shouldn't have to plead her case to her friends. Why didn't they trust her? Why was she about to be interrogated like a criminal? They drew level with her bed, and she avoided their accusatory stares, her eyes set straight ahead on the steel wall in front of her. Her jaw was set.
"Rey," Poe said after a moment of the most uncomfortable of silences, "don't be defensive."
"What should I be," she huffed.
"Honest," Finn said roughly, bordering on aggression.
Her head snapped around so she could glare at him. "I've never lied to you - or anyone! It's ridiculous that you're all here treating me like some saboteur. I've never done anything to jeopardize the Resistance or its mission."
"How can we know that," Rose hissed through clamped shut teeth. "We've had a lot of close calls, lately, and it could all be because you're feeding them information."
"We got out of those close calls because of me," she fired back, finger pushed directly into the skin of her sternum.
"Yeah, we got into them because of you, and got out of them because of you so you wouldn't blow your cover," she nearly spat.
Poe moved between them. "All right, all right, tempers are high, but we all need to relax," and he gave Finn a pointed look as if to say including you. Finn didn't dignify Poe's attempts to pacify the situation with a response.
It was his anger that hurt Rey the most. She and Finn had begun this journey together as outcasts, two wayward souls trying to right their worlds after destiny had dealt them each a cruel, twisted fate. A scavenger and an ex-stormtrooper - what a pair they had made. And somehow, over the last weeks and weeks of fighting on zero sleep and food, daring missions that could've easily ended in death, and watching their comrades die in battle, the two of them were still standing side by side. Determined. Loyal. Until now. Everything was soured, now, somehow, because of one small revelation. It wasn't even a lie, just a veiled truth, and she'd only hidden it because - as they were proving right now - they wouldn't understand. How could they? They expected her to be a Jedi, be a hero, fight until the bitter end for the better cause, but they knew nothing of the Force, or the Jedi Order, or the Sith, for that matter, and they certainly didn't understand the confusing machinations of Kylo Ren's mind; she was still trying to figure all that out herself. So, how could they understand? They just wanted to take her for granted, order her around like a soldier, and if she thought for herself? If she tried to do something that went above and beyond the reach or vision of the Resistance? Suddenly, she was a traitor.
"Tell us, Rey," Poe began, as he entreated her with a semi-sympathetic look on his face, "what's going on?"
She eyed Finn and Rose in turn, neither of whom shared the same expression as the pilot. They were beginning to show just how stubbornly they were going to cling to this idea she was a liar and a backstabber, and she was getting the distinct feeling no matter what she said, it wasn't going to change their minds at all. But they were all standing around her, waiting impatiently for some kind of explanation - whether they wanted to hear it or believe it or not - so, she may as well come clean and try to make them understand her motives. At the very least, she hoped it wouldn't get her evicted from the Resistance.
She sighed, and unfolded her arms, and looked at Poe, who was the most receptive to her message. "Weeks ago, after I'd first arrived on Ahch'To to find Luke, the Force - " her mouth worked from side to side. How could she explain what the Force had done? It seemed like such a complicated, visceral thing. "The Force connected Kylo Ren and me. Don't ask me why, I don't know," she hurried to say when Poe opened his mouth to respond. "I don't know," she repeated, "but it did. And at first I didn't want to talk to him. I accused him, yelled at him for killing Han Solo, and was angry, but for some reason, somehow, things just… changed. He changed," she said, licking her top lip in thought. "I could see Ben Solo beyond Kylo Ren. I saw the good in him."
Finn tisked loudly. "The good in him? Are we talking about the same guy? The one who slaughtered everyone, including his parents' old friend on Jakku when he wanted to retrieve the map? The guy who boarded the Redeemer, annihilated its entire crew, and tortured one of them in front of the entire Resistance? Including his own mother? This is the guy with good in him," Finn's hands were tightly shaped fists, shaking at his sides as he berated her sarcastically - bitterly.
She eyed him sternly. "I don't expect any of you to understand, but through the Force I saw the good that remains inside him. I saw it," she stressed. "It's there."
Finn threw his hands up. "He killed his own father, Rey! Have you lost your mind?" He grabbed hold of the railing to her medical bed and began shaking it. "Are you seriously trying to argue for this mass murderer? For the First Order's leader? What has he done to you?"
She pushed him off the railing - hard. Harder than she meant to, to be honest, and judging by how far back he flailed she had probably put some Force strength into it, but at the moment she didn't care. She got out of bed, ignored Poe's protests to her left, and advanced on her friend. "He hasn't done anything. You know, I'm trying my damnedest for this organization. I've risked my life, I've given my all to this cause, and because of some connection I can't control, and he can't control, you're going to crucify me?" She stopped when they were face-to-face, tips of her toes touching the tips of his booted feet. "When this all began you wanted to run and hide on some outer-rim planet. You didn't care about what the Resistance was doing. Now you're what, its greatest defender?"
Finn took a very long, hard inhale through his nose, and his nostrils flared. They stood staring at each other, locked in place, for a good whole minute before - once again - Poe had to play mediator and moved between them. He gently pushed them apart.
"Let's remain calm, guys, come on," Poe pleaded, looking distraught. To see his two friends like this was agony. They were a team. And the team was being cleaved apart by suspicion and anger and hurt feelings, and he couldn't allow that. He looked at Rey. "You had your reasons, then, and maybe we can't understand them," he quickly turned to look at Finn, "but we can accept them."
"Like hell," Finn muttered under his breath.
Rey's temper flared. "I am trying to save him. You know, for all we've talked, he's never once asked me about the Resistance's plans or locations, and I've never brought them up. You really think I'd turn my back on you?"
Finn's bottom lip was quivering, whether in some kind of sorrow or in anger, she couldn't tell. "You've been communicating with the enemy for weeks because of some weird Force thing no one else can understand or see, and we just have to take your word for it that you haven't told him anything. That you haven't been working with him this whole time!"
"I'm asking you to trust me," she yelled back. "I'm asking you to trust me like I trusted you. All of you," she said, and turned to Rose, then Poe. "I had no idea asking my friends to have my back was too much to ask."
"All right, okay," Poe interjected, before either of them could say anything further that would only add fuel to the fire, or worse, continue to take the conversation in pointless circles. He looked at Rey. Frowned. "I get you had good intentions and you had your reasons, fine. But what happened on Shu-Torun? Why did you," he paused and looked at the ground. He raised his head back up quickly, "Why did you call out to him? You were lying there and you said his name." The pilot shifted from foot to foot looking entirely uncomfortable.
Ah, that. That had been a confusing moment for her, too, as initially she'd been unconscious, and wasn't aware she'd been speaking out loud prior to the brief moment in which she'd woken up. In her mind's eye she'd been seeing things - or rather, experiencing things, in the same way one dreams when they sleep, except it wasn't entirely a dream. Instead, she had seen distorted, flexible images, visions of lava, then of the mines, then of stormtroopers, then of X-Wings. It had been jumbled and incoherent, but then she had felt Kylo, no doubt through the Force, and sensed pain, terrible, horrible pain, that pierced through her awareness even as she lay there sedated. And then the sounds of blaster fire. Explosions. Death cries. Crashes. The sharp, ear-splitting screech of metal being ripped. Amongst all the noise, and all the colors, all she had been able to get a more concrete grasp on was Kylo Ren, enraged, yelling for her. And she thought he'd needed her help. She thought he'd been in trouble. She saw him bent forward, holding his lightsaber limply in hand, and grew afraid.
The trio was waiting for her response, and if they couldn't understand her connection to Kylo Ren, they certainly weren't going to understand any of that. The best she could do was keep it simple and to the point. "I thought he was in trouble," she said, a bit lamely, as that hardly had described all the turmoil that had gone on inside her head at the time. "I heard him calling for me, and thought he needed my help."
Rose rolled her eyes. "I've heard enough," she said tightly, and then turned around and left.
Finn watched her go, and then said, petty, "I'm about to leave, too. This is bullshit. Even if that were true, why would you want to help that bastard?"
"Haven't you been listening," she said, and her temper bristled once more. "If I can turn Kylo Ren away from the Dark Side, then the war is won. The First Order comes to an end. Everything stops, and Leia can re-build the Republic. I don't want him to die, I want to save him."
"If he's about to die," Finn said, and aggressively stepped toward her, "just let him die. And all our problems are solved, anyway."
Enough was enough. They weren't getting anywhere the way things were, and she was about to do something she'd sincerely regret when cooler heads prevailed. Unable to understand the Force, they were unable to truly understand what she felt and knew and sensed in Kylo Ren, and ultimately it just sounded like a lot of nonsense and desperation on her part, to be some kind of savior, to be the one to turn the rogue Force-user back to the Light. Of course, she didn't care about the glory, she cared about the man. And his future. She cared about the outcome of all this strife and what it would mean for the Galaxy. All Finn and Poe knew was that the First Order was evil, and Snoke was evil, and his apprentice - the new Supreme Leader - was evil, and their cause under Leia Organa's banner was just and pure, and the only way forward. Rigid, self-righteous thinking. She could see it. All those bitter anecdotes from the mouth of Kylo Ren, and here she was finally beginning to see what he meant. Even the good guys were imperfect; even the good guys could be heartless and uncaring.
"Just get out," she said, and waved her hand as she turned back to her bed.
"But, Rey, I - "
"Go, Poe. We're not accomplishing anything, here. You guys are hurt and paranoid and you don't want to listen to anything I have to say."
"You can't even admit some responsibility in all this," Finn said under his breath. "It's all just us being paranoid, huh? You didn't do anything wrong, here, Rey?"
She turned, straight as a board, and looked him in the eye. "No. But I might do something wrong in a second if you don't get the hell out."
That had decided it. Finn's dark expression got even darker, and then the ex-stormtrooper set his jaw and left.
"Leia is gonna' want to talk to you," Poe said, quietly, afraid to fall victim to her ire.
She sighed, and deflated. "I'm sure she is."
Poe saw how weary she looked - how utterly exhausted, and alone, and it pulled at his heart. This wasn't how he'd wanted their conversation to go; this wasn't how things should be between them. They were friends. Maybe Rey's explanation was hard to wrap his simpler mind around - he was a pilot, he knew planes and flying - but he still trusted her. Everything she'd done since joining the Resistance had been to further the cause, and he'd seen her put herself in harm's way to do it. There's no way she had secretly been dealing information to the enemy all this time. He'd never believe it.
On impulse, he pulled her into a hug. "Hey," he said gently in her ear, "Don't worry, okay? Everything will be okay. They're just upset right now, you know? It was really crazy on Shu-Torun, really stressful. But Finn will calm down." He ran a hand up and down her back soothingly. "He'll calm down and we can talk again. Okay?"
Rey rested her head on his shoulder, as every bit tired as she looked, and exhaled into his shirt. "Yeah," she mumbled against it, her eyes closed. "Yeah," she said again in an attempt to reassure herself. "Thanks Poe," she added, and then pulled up to flash him a smile. "I needed that."
He returned the smile; his gut did a flip. "No problem. Why don't you get freshened up? That'll probably help you feel better, too."
Her smile widened. "Good idea."
"I'll leave you to it," and then the pilot was gone.
Getting cleaned up did help improve her mood. There was something to be said about simple things, and standing under the warm water while she let her mind drift was a nice reprieve. Unfortunately, the tranquility was only as long as the shower, because once she stepped out and got dressed in clean clothes, she began running through the conversation. It's not that she didn't understand why they'd be angry, and it wasn't that she was trying to deny responsibility - hadn't she thought of herself as a traitor more than once since facing Kylo Ren through their connection? - but to completely turn their backs on her. That hurt. That took hold of her heart and gave it a nice twist. Poe had been willing to listen, at least, and had taken things well, considering, but Finn looked like he wanted nothing to do with her, as if she were tainted. Was working with the opposition so despicable that he'd just cut Rey from his life? And before she'd even had the chance to properly explain? Her head was a mess; she'd practically been in a coma for five days. Couldn't he just give her some time?
And Leia - how would that go? Would she kick Rey out of the Resistance, even though she herself had admitted to seeing Kylo Ren's good side, too? Even though she'd told Rey he had been unable to kill her, and that moment had given her a renewed sense of hope? But after the Redeemer, Leia lost faith, she thought sadly, chewing on her bottom lip. She remembered the look in the woman's eyes, the breakdown of all her good will and faith for her son, who she had wanted to believe in so much even after he'd killed his father. But the death of Han Solo, and the gutting of the Redeemer's crew were too much for her to look passed.
Could she convince Leia otherwise? If she told Leia that Kylo Ren had been the one to kill Snoke, would she be able to understand - as Rey was - that his intentions for the Galaxy were rooted in good intentions? Yes, good intentions could lead to the worst of problems, or darkest of nights, but with guidance, with people that believed in him, those good intentions need never go astray. That's all he'd been asking her for, aboard the Supremacy - support, and guidance, and a partnership, so that the Galaxy could see a new era. Why had it taken her so long to puzzle it out? Because I was like Finn, then. I thought he was pure evil, and I listened to what the Resistance said. It wasn't that the Resistance wasn't right, but their propaganda campaigns were really no different than the First Order's. And they could be just as narrow-minded. Just as ignorant.
A medical droid entered as she lay in bed and pondered all this, eyes blankly fixed on the ceiling.
"How are you feeling, Miss Rey?"
"Fine," she said simply.
"Wonderful. I think one more day of observation will be in order, then - "
But Rey cut the droid off, and got out of the bed. "Actually, I'd like to rest in my room, if that's all right."
"Well, I think - " the poor droid began, trailing her to the door to her med bay unit.
"Great, thanks," she said, and she kept walking, without glancing back, until she'd reached her private room. As much as she wanted to curl up in her bed and fall asleep and wake up to a new reality, she knew her time would be better spent working. So, determined, she pulled out the sacred Jedi texts and began reading. Studying the Force, and understanding the Force, was her best option for having the knowledge and skill necessary to fix this situation; not the situation with Finn and Poe, but the big picture situation that was about to irrevocably tear the Galaxy in two.
She thought of Master Skywalker. Would he know? That was probably the worst possible outcome of the whole thing. Losing her friends would be terrible, and being forced out of the Resistance would break her heart, but losing Master Skywalker would end all of it, everything. She needed him to teach her the ways of the Jedi, something no one else could do. Kylo Ren could teach her things, yes, but not quite like Luke. His Jedi training as Ben Solo would forever be overshadowed by his rebirth as the darker, more reckless Kylo Ren, whether he adhered to being a Sith or forsook them. She needed someone who had, at the very least, died a Jedi.
Regardless of what her friends may think, Rey suffered no delusions that Kylo Ren was a hero; he led a ruthless group of killing machines called the Knights of Ren, he had experience with butchering entire villages, and was known throughout the Galaxy as a bird of prey among a field of mice, a predator brimming with a dark appetite. He walked like he held all the evils of the night, a figure cut in black against innocent backgrounds that shrieked in his wake. He held all the promise of nightmares, the fear and trembling and splashing of blood upon blood making rivers down streets. She knew what he was. The difference between her and everyone else: she also knew what he could be. And she was beginning to see his vision take shape in her mind, the purpose - the drive. It was no longer some misguided plan, but something of potential.
What if all he needed was someone to steady his hand? What if, as she'd pondered earlier, all he really needed was guidance? He certainly hadn't had much of that in life. She tapped on the corner of the page, thoughtful, and then returned to its teachings. If she were going to become a guiding light, she should be qualified for the job.
She was sitting down - he could see that. Based on her terrible posture, and the way her hands were resting on the desk, he guessed she was reading, and the only thing she'd be reading that intently were the sacred texts. A few wisps of hair hung around her temples and he marveled at how natural she looked, and how real, after a week's worth of not seeing her or knowing about her condition had nearly driven him to madness. But there she was, as persistent as ever, up working when she probably still needed to be in bed resting.
"You were allowed to bring the Jedi texts to med bay," he said with an amused eyebrow quirk.
"No," she said without lifting her head. "I left med bay. Too stuffy."
"I'm sure that went over well with your friends," he said, feigning disinterest.
Her fingers paused in their ministrations across the page. "I've been ostracized," she said with a bitter huff through her nose. "Labelled a traitor."
"Hm," he mused, and walked over to his own desk to sit down and observe her. He wanted her to look up at him, look his way, but she kept to the texts with some newfound intensity of determination. It wasn't because she was trying to give him the cold shoulder, but it pricked at him all the same. He wanted her attention.
Her finger paused at the end of the page, and she scribbled something down. Then, with a sigh, she put the piece of paper with her scribbled thoughts in the book to hold her place as a bookmarker, and sat back in her chair. She shrugged and rotated her head and shoulders; tension had built up, and he wondered just how long she'd been sitting there.
"I guess you know about the assassination attempt," she said heavily, and hung her head in exhaustion. It only made sense he would've felt something, or noticed something was off, given their connection.
He didn't say anything, because she already knew the answer. "No one really told me anything about it, but then I guess it's because no one is really sure why someone would have me assassinated."
"Really? You don't think The Last Jedi would have a lot of enemies?"
She half-chuckled, a black, sour sound, as she ruminated on exactly what that meant. It shouldn't be surprising to anyone that certain dregs of the Galaxy would want the last of the Jedi Order to be killed, effectively ending an organization that had for eons been a beacon of goodness and hope. To snuff something like that out would be a powerful message to anyone that relied on that goodness and hope. Of course, he knew that wasn't the source of this attempt in particular, only that it would be a possibility for as long as she lived. But did she know that? Did she have any idea how big of a target there was painted on her back? Isn't that something Leia should make her aware of - or Luke? The Skywalker siblings always did have a penchant for keeping people in the dark; they liked to covet their information to keep themselves at the top of the food chain.
She looked up at him, suddenly, and the dark amusement died on her lips. Her face was serious, impassable. "You know something." In those three words he felt all the weight of her accusation.
There was silence as the two watched each other, locked in some odd stand-off. Finally, "I have enemies," he said, and leaned back in his chair, rubbed his hand across his eyes in exhaustion. "In the First Order," he elaborated, when he opened his eyes again and saw the perplexed look on Rey's face.
"What do you mean," she said, brows furrowed.
Rey wasn't naive, of course, she just wasn't informed of how things ran in the First Order, and she certainly didn't know of his history with Armitage Hux. Perhaps it was part of the reason she couldn't understand why he was unable to leave the First Order when the chance had come up. If he had gone with her, Armitage Hux would've assumed the mantle of Supreme Leader, and in his stead the Galaxy would've assuredly become a mirror image of its days under Darth Sidious. He wanted to prevent that. Another Empire wouldn't solve anyone's problems, though he also believed another Republic wouldn't, either. If he could just get Rey to understand, the two of them could bridge that gap together, and take the Galaxy in a direction the likes of which were yet unseen.
"I mean, there are some that want to depose me. Some that want to hurt me." His eyes went to the datapad sitting atop his desk as it repeatedly ran on a loop through the data he'd been reviewing. "Some that will hurt you, in order to hurt me." He couldn't meet her eyes, and he wasn't sure why. It's not as if they didn't know about each other's feelings, or what they each desired. But there hadn't been intimacy between them in a while; it almost felt alien.
"The assassin was sent by one of your enemies?"
"Yes," he confirmed, still unable to meet her eyes.
"One of your enemies that isn't from the Resistance?"
"Yes," he said again.
She huffed a breathy, half-chuckle. "You have a lot of enemies."
"Mmm," he said in contemplation. Did he? Had it always been this way, or was it a new development because of his leadership role? Then again, even if he hadn't been plagued by a retinue of enemies his whole life, he still had never had many friends. He had always been so distant from everyone, so different and far away and unreachable.
"You know who did it, don't you? The person who sent the assassin after me?"
He didn't need to answer; she knew the answer already. The questions had been to break the silence, not to get an answer.
"Tell me."
This was something he'd wanted desperately to avoid; she couldn't go tearing off across the Galaxy in search of the assassin or the people who had placed the hit on her. Not that the idea of her exacting her own revenge without his - or anyone else's - help hadn't pleased him (he knew all too well how sweet vengeance could be, and he wouldn't normally deprive her of it), but she wasn't knowledgeable enough in the Galaxy, or her abilities, yet, to go off on a rogue mission. Likely, she'd end up hurt again, or dead, and neither of those were particularly appealing for the dark Force-user. She'd just pulled out of being poisoned; it wouldn't do to have her missing a limb, next.
"I don't need your permission," she almost snarled, sensing his conflicted, roiling thoughts.
He did look up at her, then. "You don't need my permission," he agreed, "and honestly, I would never withhold it. But Rey - you're still learning. They're my enemies, anyway," he added, brooding. "Let me handle it. It's my problem."
"And nearly being killed doesn't make it mine," she shot back.
Yes, it did - of course it did, but he feared admitting it out loud would only make her more driven to settle matters with her own hands. So, he said nothing. Again, the silence came between them, much like space, his parents, and Fate sat between them, always, like an impenetrable fog that could only be circumnavigated by the power of the Force. There was fear between them, and uncertainty, as Rey tried to come to terms with what nearly dying had helped her realize, somewhere behind the secret doors of her heart, and he tried to wrestle with the what-ifs of a world without her, which nearly losing her had made him face. And did she blame him? After everything else that had gone on between them - the Redeemer, Vrogas Vas, now this - had she finally reached the end of her interest in him? Was it only hatred, now?
And after rejecting him over and over, had he finally given up on her? Was she a lost cause, now, just a thorn in his side? A constant, ugly reminder of what could've been - what they could've had?
Between them, the tension pitched painfully, heightened by the Force.
Underneath the uncertainty, and the fears, was the tug of destiny, making them as one.
"Why did you call for me," she asked, barely above a whisper. Her chest swelled with emotion.
Shu-Torun, came the memories across his mind, the raging and screaming and yelling for her as he watched the smug pilot's face take off into the atmosphere. "You know why," he said, his voice like ink, adrift on the air between them, swirling and coalescing like mist.
"Say it," she said, and her voice reached out like a black tendril and met his own somewhere in the space between them, bridged in these moments saturated with secrecy, and emotion, and needs.
But there were many reasons why he'd called out for her. How could he list and explain them all? He rubbed his hand across his eyes, rubbing and rubbing and rubbing. Even with their connection, sometimes things needed to be said aloud, released into the air to be manifested and made real. "I missed you," he said, his hand still over his eyes. Tired - he was so tired.
He felt her arms encircle his shoulders, her body close, so close, and everything else was inconsequential. With a sigh, he let his head fall against her chest, and she rested her chin on top of it, and he put his arms around her middle and squeezed. Things were a hopeless mess, but it still hadn't changed either of their feelings, and if it had to be a mess and they had to be attached to one other, then at least they should be able to enjoy a quiet moment, like this, in each other's embrace, free from the trappings of the outside world. He pressed his face into her, as if he could hide from reality forever in the clean linen of her shirt. And for some very long, luxurious moments that were few and far between for the star-crossed lovers, they just were, existing in the arms of the one person who knew them, and who they trusted.
Then, Rey pulled back and he lifted his face to her, looking and searching his eyes. She put her fingers under his chin and tilted it upwards, then lowered her mouth to his. It was a languid, easy kiss, as her tongue licked at his upper lip and moved slowly against him, with just the stirrings of passion, just a touch of feeling and fire. He rose from the chair and pulled her to him, and she reached up and put her arms around his neck. He felt her fingers in his hair, dancing along the nape of his neck. The composure was slowly dissolving as the sensations of their bodies ignited emotions that had long lay dormant in their bellies, but which they'd had very little chance to act on.
"Touch me," she murmured against his mouth. "Take me." He heard the desire and want under the breathlessness of her words, like the body of an iceberg lurking just below the surface of the water. It made his head spin.
He wasn't about to let this opportunity pass them by. He steered her until the backs of her calves hit his bed, and she pulled out of the kiss, startled. "Careful," he murmured against her lips, and then helped lower her down until she was lying across his bed. It was a sight, to say the least. She sat up, briefly, to pull off her cotton shirt, and her breasts were bared, completely unbound. He remembered how they felt in his hands, soft and pliable, and the way she arched her back when he gently squeezed. Her mouth - her pretty, pink mouth - was open as she watched him with anticipation. Eager. He removed the garments from his torso, too, and moved on top of her, just as eager. This had been a long time coming between them.
Just as inviting as her mouth, her nipples were a similar shade of pink. They reminded him of candy from his childhood, little pink gumdrops that he'd suck on for hours while his mother practiced her Senatorial speeches. He could suck on these for hours, too, made ever sweeter by the way her chest rose and fell beneath his attentions, and her moans filled the room. He cupped between her legs and felt her hips respond, pressed up against his palm, needy and wanting. They circled against it, stimulating her, and when he brought his teeth together to nibble the end of her breast, she jolted and made a sharp sound of pleasure. He slipped his hands down the hem of her pants, and back in between her legs, which she spread further apart when she felt his fingers searching. He slowly pushed two fingers into her, and it was hot and wet and luscious, and it made him crazy with desire, to think she was in his bed and beneath him and more than ready to accept him. He pressed his palm back into the skin of her pelvis, and she rotated her hips against it while his fingers moved in and out; the sounds she vocalized made him light-headed. Arousal and lust and some primal, instinctual need made them both drunk.
"Kiss me," she demanded, so he brought his mouth to hers, and let her tongue slide into his mouth.
Foreplay was fine, but Rey was impatient. How many nights had she thought about what they'd been denied because of the voice over the intercom? How many times had she let her physical attraction and desire for him seize her in the night, as she lay on her bed or on a cot, twisting with needy sexual urges that could be momentarily reduced, but never satisfied. There was always something so incomplete about self-pleasure, especially when the person she'd rather have pleasing her was built and muscled and dark and powerful, and always gave her whatever she wanted. And what she wanted now was to feel his cock filling her to the brim, and she wasn't ashamed of that. She'd waited long enough.
But she was preoccupied by the ministrations of his hand, and the way she could work her hips against the firm plane of his palm, and how every circular motion was giving her a spike of sensation that ran up from her clit to the rest of her fidgety body. He kissed her jaw and the corners of her mouth with some kind of unholy reverence, and then moved to her neck and put his teeth to use in places other than her overly sensitive nipples. He bit down into the skin below her ear and she cried out, felt the new wave of lubrication seep out from between her legs. She'd never been so wet in her life; it was astounding.
She couldn't stand it. When he lifted his head and their eyes met, and she saw his pouty lips swollen and red from his affections on her body, she couldn't stop herself from nearly begging, "Fuck me."
A hooded gleam shone in his eye. He pressed his mouth to the base of her throat, kissing gently, belying the thick, heavy way he murmured, "Say that again."
She groaned, and licked her lips. "Fuck me," and it wasn't the kind of breathy, sensual entreaty another woman might make, no, this was aggressive, like a command. "I don't want to play any more games. Fuck me until we both lose our minds."
They both took a frenzied moment to finish stripping down to fully nude. When he was finally naked, he came back to the bed, his erection hard as stone, throbbing as wildly as her clit and lips. As he settled between her knees, her legs shook uncontrollably. It was the anticipation and the excitement, and the thrumming of sensations moving through her body that it couldn't contain. So hot, and so smooth, with her insides on fire, everything seemed so surreal. The tip of his cock moved up and down between her folds, and she groaned, but she made another sound entirely - an erotically charged outcry that strained her voice - when his cock thrusted into her, and stretched her, and worked her body with the entirety of its length. He pulled her legs up onto his shoulders, and leaned in, and began ramming into her so recklessly there was no doubt he had lost whatever semblance of control he'd managed to hold on to. It had been such a long time coming, that she was overly-sensitive to his every movement, and sound, and her own hot, flushed skin that was leaving her dazed.
He was pounding Rey's body so hard the headboard of the the bed was hitting the wall with a distinctly metallic clank. Every muscle in her clenched and released and tightened and loosened, reacting to his cock and his thrusts, and every single inch of his girth. She flattened her hands against the headboard for leverage, and then moved her hips in time to his thrusts, creating a steady, passionate rhyme. Every thrust went deeper and deeper, until the sound of their skin slapping frantically together joined their labored breathing, and Rey's whimpered mewls of cresting ecstasy. A quivering, vibrating mess, all she could do was call out his name, "Kylo, Kylo," as her body built to its most sinful of peaks. She couldn't hold on any longer, and there was no point in trying; she relaxed into the sensations and let them completely flood her and take over, and when the sharp prickle of arousal pitched between her legs, rushing from her clit downward, she gave her body to the feeling and orgasmed, waves and waves rolling through her every inch. It was too good; it felt too good, like a dream.
With Rey flushed, and swollen, and throbbing around him, pulling him in and clenching, and then experiencing the rapid tighten and release of her orgasm, he couldn't possibly keep himself together much longer. When he came, it was with an uncharacteristically loud outcry of his own, overwhelmed by the intensity of his own body, and emotions, and the release of so many pent up desires.
She collapsed, and he collapsed, and they panted like crazy in the sudden silence. When he'd recovered some of his senses, he drew closer to her and pressed kisses into the still warm skin of her shoulder. She put her fingers under his chin and brought him closer and kissed him, her tongue hotter than lava inside his mouth.