Rush Rush

The dark hole calls:

(Rush, Rush-it whispers)

In her dreams it speaks, a maw with long, bitter, ropy teeth

But not

Not what she remembered it to be.

The voice seductive and deep, begging her to hurry

(Come to me-it entreats)

The first time she was near the dark hole,

She slipped and fell,

seeking darkness,

To perhaps understand the deep connection she had

when she saw the beautiful dark one's loneliness

And crushing pain.

Now, she flies there to the dark hole again:

(Rush, Rush-it croons)

To the spot on the island

And slowly she creeps up on it.

It squats, round and scary

Inviting, pleading.

It is the same as it was.

Dark, calling her name, calling her to lean into it.

She does.

She slips again, ready this time, and engages her saber, bright and golden.

Her light source, her shine.

She lands again in the place of slick dark mirrors.

(Rush, Rush-it cries)

She listens to whispers and the echoing reechoing footsteps

Hers.

(Hurry-it begs)

The whispers are her boots and

Something else.

Something dark and wounded.

(Lover)

Something with bright blood and silver screaming

And then it stops.

The noise dampens.

The echoes this time are not hers.

(Rush, Rush-it roars)

Not her steps, but another's,

The leather scraping as someone, something, runs

It bangs and bangs against the other side.

The echoes of banging deafen her.

She screams and drops the saber.

It bounces and rolls, creating more cacophony.

Rey slaps hands over her ears

Jumps to grab her light as it slashes with every bump.

The noise stops suddenly,

(Russsssh-it ceases slowly)

Except for the echo of the buzzing saber.

Rey climbs back up to the reflective surface.

She sees the saber there

And herself holding it.

And something else in the darkness off to her left.

Its hands are spread out.

Or she thinks these two pale flaps are hands

They seem to have fingers, pressed against a glassy surface.

She steps in front of the hands and sees only herself.

Only the saber.

She cuts it off quickly, trying to peer in, behind the vision of her own gaze.

The hands move to her right.

(Rush, Ru-the sound begins-then stops)

She can only see the hands out of the corner of her eye

She perceives that she can't move with them or else

She sees nothing but herself.

A fist clenches and knocks against the dark surface.

It echoes loudly and the knuckles reflect a thousand times in her eyes.

A thousand dark figures with a thousand hands.

(Hurry-the hands pound)

She looks away, dizzy, nauseated at the sight of all the hands waving and knocking

A lighter blob appears above the hands.

A cheek, perhaps, a nose.

A forehead in profile.

A profile distorted, yet familiar.

A profile she saw with wings of black hair.

Lips, so full, so soft, whisper on the smoothness

(Rush-they murmur in her head, in front of her eyes, forming the word over and over)

She steps back with a gasp. Him.

He knocks again and without a thought, without a word, without a doubt,

She lights her yellow bright saber.

Her sun.

He's her dark moon, her planets, her galaxy.

She steps back once more,

waving the light experimentally, watching a thousand versions of herself

Holding a sunstick with blurred edges.

Her own face serious, determined, stares back,

The buzz mirrors a swarm of wild insects

Or damaged machinery

Or a lightning storm on an ocean.

She ignores the ear-screeching hum

Concentrates on carving into the surface of the stone

Backwards.

N E B

She misses the B and carves it wrong.

She sizzles it into another spot.

The knocking intensifies.

She wonders if she's right or if she will unleash something horrifying

From the Dark Side,

From the Force,

From a place she never meant to go

But found it all too fascinating, all too dark and lovely, all too much,

Her hideous heritage.

She slashes wildly at the slick surface.

The saber catches and hums afresh

Burns, howls, and bites into the stone,

Or whatever it is,

For it does not act like regular stone, not the usual rock that burns and falls away easily.

A chunk suddenly opens.

She smashes it with the butt of the saber to create a hole,

A conduit from one side to another.

The hand reaches through.

She takes it and knows.

(Hurry-he murmurs-lover)

He entwines his fingers with her bruised ones, gently, knowing she's in pain.

Then his face peeps through.

Ben.

Let me finish, she says breathless.

He nods and disappears. Again.

That searing moment she must ignore, that fear she must swallow.

He is not gone forever.

(Rush-she hears him say, perhaps in her mind, perhaps not)

She slices, feeling a deep vibration and a screaming under her hands.

The saber, almost knocked out of her slippery grip time and again,

But she cuts and cuts more

Ignoring the whining substance, jagged edges that emerge.

She needs to cut enough for him, his body to come through, if he can.

If he will.

He has nothing to help her.

She must bring him back by herself.

She feels him ram himself against the cracks, trying to bash them open.

The bond suddenly opens between them,

And she feels his pain each time he hits the surface.

(Rush-he moans softly)

She firmly pushes him aside to finish this task the universe gave her.

I can do this, she growls, teeth gritted, muscles aching, sweating.

One mighty, bone-searing, ear-piercing, saber-grinding slash:

She puts all the Force behind it.

She feels his dark warmth supporting, amplifying, channeling his power into hers.

Lightning crackles around her saber.

It screams in agony as she pushes more power into it.

And then.

It shatters.

The saber.

The wall.

Everything in the cave breaks into tiny prisms.

They float and then drop in bright tinkling rain all around.

He stands, bruised, bloodied, exhausted.

Hers.

(Come to me-he calls once more)

She throws the saber handle to the ground

Breathing hard.

She runs.

He catches her midair.

Lips to lips again, they meet.