tw: talk of sexual trauma/assault

Rey

My eyes fluttered open and I groaned, kicking the blankets off to get out of bed. The frequent need to pee was definitely an unwelcome symptom, especially in the middle of the night. I walked to the bathroom and took care of my needs, then filled a glass with water from the sink. It was empty by the time I made it back to the bedroom and I put the glass down on the night table, then climbed back into bed.

Into his bed.

I rolled over onto my side and hugged the pillow to my face, deeply inhaling the smell of cedar and citrus. I'd also taken to sleeping in his shirts, curling up alone, but pretending that he was laying next to me in the dark just so I could fall asleep.

Nights were the worst. During the day, I was learning how to categorize my thoughts, suppress my memories, control my breathing and anchor to my physical surroundings. But at night, everything I tried to shove to the back of my mind snarled at me from the darkness.

Those blue eyes set in that unnervingly pale face crowned with long, multicolored hair. His voice, his scent, clinging to me long after he was done with me. I swallowed a gag, and pulled the collar of Kylo's shirt away from my throat, away from the angry scars now permanently etched into the skin of my neck. An ugly reminder of what I'd endured, and what I'd been saved from.

I rolled onto my back, angling my hips so that the weight of my growing belly wasn't squarely on my spine, and stared up at the white ceiling. No movement, which meant that even Ushar's shadows had settled for the night. I should have minded that they often watched me, but I didn't. It was oddly comforting, knowing that he was just a jump away.

I'd tried, when I was being held in the ports, to whisper to the shadows, to manifest some of my diminished power to leave a message for him, for Kylo. I'd known that he was looking for me, burning a patch of destruction through this galaxy to get to me. Even though I was dragged back and beaten every time, I tried to get to him, too. I never ran fast enough, especially after the pregnancy had me throwing up every morsel of food I put into my mouth.

I was able to eat now, thanks to the medication, but the nightmares and the flashbacks still had me emptying my stomach at least a few times a week. I had to chant to myself, over and over, that I was safe, that I was surrounded by the Knights, that he couldn't get to me, or to my baby, the precious secret I fought so hard to keep from him.

As if on cue, I felt a flutter under my belly button, and laid a hand over it. "Hey, there." I whispered, a small smile curling my lips. She always reminded me that she was with me. Even when everything had been taken from me, I had her, a vibrant, gentle hum of Kylo's darkness, reminding me of everything I had to get home to.

I sighed, heavily. Instead of coming home to the man I'd been taken from, I found someone who looked like him, but wasn't.

I'd known, the moment that I looked up at him in the desert, that he was different. Not just broken, we'd both been broken by this, but he'd been barely alive, sick with his guilt and grief and quickly drinking himself to death as a means to cope. A ghost of the man I married.

And now, though I was back, I was here, in his bed, his problem had manifested into a crippling addiction in my absence, and had its claws in too deep for him to just lay it down. I'd found exactly how bad it was when I found the bottles that he'd been hiding around the house and in the recycling. Id kept my distance because I missed him so much, loved him so much, that I may have willingly overlooked the glaringly obvious truth just to be with him. He needed help. Help I couldn't give. And, I couldn't ignore how badly he was struggling just because I wanted to be with him.

The door across the hall slammed and I startled, my heart immediately thundering in my chest. I hated how quickly I was scared, now. But, I got out of bed and walked toward my door, pulling it open just a crack.

The house was dark and quiet, only a sliver of buttery light coming from under Beau's door. I walked across the hall, and raised my fist to knock when the door leading to the roof opened and closed. I whirled, first seeing a pair of black boots and then the massive form of Kylo coming down the stairs.

He froze as soon as he looked up and saw me, his bloodshot eyes going wide.

The flutter under my navel flipped, like she was conscious of the fact that he was near us, like it made her happy. But, Kylo swayed, gripping the railing to keep upright. He was drunk, obviously, but there was something else, something worse.

"Kylo?" I called, and saw a shiver run through him. He didn't move.

"Kylo." I called again, taking a step toward him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Are you leaving me?" He asked, his voice thick and gravelly.

My forehead crinkled. "What?"

"Are you-" he stopped, and seemed to choke on the words. "Leaving me?"

I sighed, and went to him, reaching my hands out. "Let's get you to bed."

"Answer me." He growled, through clenched teeth, and I flinched. He'd never taken that tone with me, not even close.

His face fell, and he let out a shuddering moan, devastation written clearly across his features. "I'm sorry, I didnt mean to scare you." His eyes watered. "Please don't be scared of me."

"I'm not." I assured him, not lowering my hands, my offer to help him still open.

He swallowed, and took the last few steps, and I slipped under his left arm, wrapping mine around his waist to steady him.

He pressed his face into my hair and inhaled deep, a strained groan rumbling out of his throat. "Fuck, I miss you." The ache in his tone hit hard, and I stopped, looking up at him. The eyes that looked back at me were the swirling depths of cognac and honey that I'd dreamed of every single day since I was taken.

I nodded, my own eyes filling with tears. "I miss you, too."

He brought his massive hand to cup the side of my face, the touch heartbreakingly tender. "Dont cry." He begged. "Please."

My throat thickened to the point of pain, and I put my hand over his. My heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding. "Let's get you to bed."

He was drunk as hell. As drunk, if not drunker than he was the night on Bespin. He was also exhausted, his broad shoulders slumped with the weight that they bore.

I steered him toward his bedroom and his comatose steps followed. With a few grunts, a couple of muttered curses, and a lot of effort, I was able to sit him down on the end of his bed. I stood, and moved toward the nightstand, to the empty glass I'd left there. He needed at least some water before he passed out.

His gentle grip on my wrist stopped me, and when I turned to look back at him, I found desperation in his haunted brown eyes. "Please tell me that I'm not too late." He pleaded. "That I can fix this."

I didn't think it was possible, but my heart swelled further. "That's not a conversation we need to have right now."

His face twisted in agony and he let go of my wrist to bury his face in his hands. I went to him, going to stand between his knees, and put my hands over his to peel them away.

"I'm not saying no." I told him. "I'm saying that you're obviously upset right now and it's not a good time for us to talk."

His breathing was quick, shallow, erratic, and he had to take a minute to catch his breath. "There is so much I have to tell you." So much that he couldn't, or wouldn't tell me when he was sober. I knew him well enough to know that.

"Alright." I relented, and waited for him to continue, still holding his hands in mine.

"When you were taken, when they took you from me, I -" His voice was in tatters, his eyes lowered in shame. "I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't even rest because if I did, I would have to feel. I would have to look around and not see you, or want to tell you something only to remember that you were gone. And my head was just this constant roar of where are you, who has you, are you hurt, are you scared, are you hungry or cold, over and over, but all I could focus on, all I could think about was how much I'd failed you."

My eyes stung, my vision going hazy with the tears that sprang to them.

He looked up, and his face wasn't that of a King, but of a man in torment. "I'm not making sense." He whispered, hoarsely.

I opened my mouth to speak but choked on the lump in my throat, and swallowed. "Yes, you are." My voice cracked.

"And Hux-" He was cut off by a violent dry heave and covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes bulging as he looked up at me. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's fine."

"Anytime I closed my eyes, that's what I saw, you under him on that desk-" He heaved again.

"Kylo, stop." I said, putting my hands on his shoulders. He was going to make himself sick.

"You have to understand." He insisted, his eyes pleading. "The more I tried to block it out, the more my head refused to let me, and every time I thought I'd finally found you and that the pain would stop, they were all just dead ends and it fucking killed me." He rubbed his hand over the middle of his chest where his heart lay beneath. "But I couldn't stop, I couldn't let you go, because if I did, that meant that I was accepting the fact that you weren't coming back." He shook his head, his chin quivering. "But, I couldn't stand it. I couldn't think or move or even breathe without this crippling panic of not knowing where you were or what was being done to you, and that I wasnt there to protect you."

His admission had my own tangled emotions surfacing. I'd never blamed him as he obviously blamed himself. He was just as much a victim in this mess as I was. We had both been violated, just in different ways, and we both needed to heal. I was angry, and bitter, and so ashamed of what had been done to me, but I didn't blame him.

"And, nothing helped." He said. "Nothing. Even the drinking didn't help, not really. It just turned my head off long enough for me to sleep, or numbed me enough so that I could function, but barely. And, I didnt know what else to do so I just drank more. I drank until I forgot how bad it hurt to not have you." He brought his glistening eyes up to meet mine. "That's how it got this bad, Rey."

A chill crawled across me, and I shivered. "How bad is it?" I asked.

He hung his head in defeat. "I can't stop." He said brokenly, and I knew exactly how much that admission took from him. "I fucking hate it, because I should be able to just put it down, I should be strong enough, but I'm not."

I cupped his jaw and he leaned into my touch, bringing his hand up to cover mine. "Look at me." I said, and he obeyed, his eyes glassy. "You are strong enough." I assured him.

"Just tell me that I can save us." He begged. "I'll do anything I have to, just please, tell me the truth."

I frowned. "We can have this conversation when you're sober. Right now, you need to sleep it off." I knelt down and pulled off his boots, then stood, and went to the dresser for his sleep pants.

"You think I won't want you." He said, and I froze, even my blood turning to ice. "That when I find out what was done to you, what you had to do to survive, that I won't want you."

I had to force myself to breathe through the tightening in my chest. I shouldn't have been surprised that he knew, the Bond between us wasn't something that I understood, yet. But, hearing my worst fear, my biggest insecurity, especially from him, stripped me bare.

"But, you're wrong."

My heart stopped, sending another chill through me. I took a breath, and then another. "You know?"

His warm hand went over mine on top of the dresser, and I looked up, finding him beside me, his eyes ablaze. "Yes, I know." He said, his voice agonizingly soft.

My throat burned. He knew. Because if I knew what he was so desperate to hide, he knew what I'd been trying to keep from him, too.

"And, you still-" I swallowed. "Want me?"

"Yes."

Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked. "You haven't said….you've barely even touched me since I got back."

"I've been trying to give you the space you need." He explained, then shook his head. "But, you should know me well enough to know that I'm not going to expect anything from you. I never have and I never will."

I did know him well enough to know that. I'd have to tell him that I was ready, that I wanted him, before he would make a move. That was how our relationship had always been, on my terms. Why had I thought that it would be any different now?

He stepped forward, lacing our fingers together, and the full weight of his scent, his warmth, his power, invaded my senses. "Tell me we could still be us." His eyes were red, and rimmed with exhausted rings of purple, but filled with so much earnestness, so much yearning, so much…love that it made my knees wobble.

This was the man that I'd fallen in love with, the man that I married, and who id fought like hell to get back to.

This was Kylo.

"You have to get help." I conditioned, and he nodded his understanding. "And, I might need to go slow."

"I'll give you all the time you need." He promised.

I took in, and let out a breath. "Then, yes. We could still be us."

His shoulders sagged in relief and his head bowed, his forehead resting against mine. He breathed in, slow and deep. "Thank you."

I pulled away, just enough to look at him. "You need to go to bed."

He reached around me, and pulled his sleep pants out of the drawer, then gave me a half hearted smile. "Good night." And, moved toward the door. Toward the couch downstairs.

My heart clenched at the thought of him walking out, of trying to navigate the pitch black stairs without breaking his neck. "Wait." I said, stopping him. He looked back at me, his forehead creased into a deep v.

"Stay with me." I begged.

His eyes widened. He looked from me, to the bed, then back to me. "What are you saying?"

I stepped forward, and took his hand, reaching over with my other to flip the lights off, then pulled him to walk with me. He followed, stopping at the foot of the bed to take off his shirt and pants. I laid down onto my side, my heart thundering so loudly, I was sure he could hear it. In the dim light, I saw him tug on his sleep pants, then get into bed, laying on the edge.

I grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to me, rolling over onto my other side to put my back against his front. His arms banded around me, holding me against him, and I sighed, the tightness in my chest relaxing so that I could take a deep breath.

His breathing slowed and deepened, and I laid awake, feeling the flutter low in my belly.

Tomorrow, the hard part would start. Getting him sober wasn't going to be easy for any of us. But, tonight, I sank deeper into his arms as they tightened around me.

"I love you." I whispered, closing my eyes.

He lifted his head, and placed a soft kiss behind my ear. "Fifty-seven."