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.:KYLO REN:.
Chapter Seven: The Value of Knowledge
The corridor was chilly, but being made of metal gave BB8 the advantage of being unbothered by this. Smooth floor rolled beneath his base, his scarred plating bumping against dips and dents in its surface. His optic watched with a mix of wide fascination and owlish confusion as closed doors blurred by, each number categorized, checked, and dismissed as incorrect.
If one knew how to read the expressions of a droid, they would have seen the nervous jitter of his antennae; the excited wriggle of his orblike body and the hopeful expectation in the glow of his humming systems.
BB8 was adorable, as droids went, but that fact did not occur to him as he rolled eagerly down the hall. Presently, his processors were occupied heavily with every floor plan available to him, and one name stood out clearly among the others: Poe Dameron.
His friend had managed to vanish again, and that made BB8 slightly concerned – not that he would have admitted it to R2D2… His clear optic darkened with a blush, and a certain tilt to his top portrayed the small droid's embarrassment as his thoughts tripped down a new, diverting path.
R2D2 was an impressive and inspiring droid, and BB8 was quite lucky to have gotten the chance to meet him. BB8 only wished he could apply for another chance sooner rather than later...
He rolled by a featureless, unremarkable door- or would have, if his proximity sensors had not suddenly wailed their protest. BB8 bleeped in surprise, skidding and tottering around in search of the cause – and then squealing mechanically with delight when he realized that his search was over.
A quick hack sent the door flinging aside with a wrenching hiss. BB8 barely cleared the narrow opening, so eager was his speed.
He saw Poe Dameron upon the human's cushioned resting place, accompanied by a strangely colored female. Both were 'naked', wide eyed and squawking strange exclamations he had not yet downloaded into his language files- he could only assume they shared his excitement. They were definitely energetic in their movements, both trying to scramble away from one another in their haste to welcome him.
"Damn you, BB8!" was not a common greeting, but he knew the pilot often cursed as a way to express affection.
It was a good day, the little droid thought to himself, wriggling and scrunching happily; optic squinched up in mimicry of Poe's usually smiling eyes. Definitely a good day.
The blasted rock hadn't so much as twitched, and Rey was certain it had been at least two hours.
Sweat dripped in itchy trickles down her skin, and her eyes ached from staring. She could smell herself, and she stank. Her fingers trembled, clenched tightly against her knees, and her teeth throbbed with the press of her clenched jaw. But none of these things surpassed the awful pain in her head; the terrible roll of strain and spasm as she desperately tried to think the stone into the air.
It was a relatively small rock, which only added to her frustration. Master Skywalker had given her a strange smirk when he'd brought it with them, and at the time she had been bemused and given him a thin smile in return.
If she'd known what he intended to make her do with it, she would have probably chucked it at his head instead.
A chuckle broke through her thoughts, and Rey gasped as she let her body fall limp, slumping forward against her crossed ankles. "What's so funny?" She snapped, managing to send a one-eyed glare the Jedi's way.
He had reverted to his elderly kindliness, eyes twinkling with a youthful spark. Rey didn't know how long it would last this time; if he would shrivel into the despairing thing she'd seen before, once she wasn't looking. But he hadn't yet, and they'd been together for two days now, simply eating and sleeping for the most part. They didn't speak much. Rey took it upon herself to lift the heavier cookingware or to scavenge food from the hills, and he hadn't contradicted her decision. Skywalker rarely asked for anything, and he rarely showed gratitude beyond a small, rough smile.
Even now he wore that expression: a mixture of somber regard and rugged humor. His words were almost swallowed into the warm breeze that whispered between them; soft and patient as the ocean itself.
"First, clear your mind. You must be calm in order to lift the stone." The icy blue eyes narrowed. "You did this once before. Aren't you curious as to how you drew my lightsaber to you, in your battle with young Solo? How now even this meager stone thwarts you?"
Rey snorted. At first she'd thought he was making a habit of reading her mind, but she'd soon realized that Skywalker had no need for mindreading. He was incredibly attentive, for a man who'd spent the majority of his life sulking on a far moon.
Rey lifted herself, easing the soreness from her bent knees and leaning back on her hands to face him. "You're right." She answered between breaths, unbothered by his accuracy at guessing her thoughts. "If I could use the Force on that lightsaber, why can't I use it on this rock just as easily?"
Luke gave another huffing chuckle. "It's not a question of fairness or constants, Padawan." The Jedi muttered, shifting himself into a more comfortable slouch against the mighty boulder he had chosen for his seat. "It's a question of attention; of focus and clarity."
"What sort of clarity did I have in the middle of a battle that I don't have on a peaceful hillside?" Rey asked dubiously, raising one eyebrow.
His eyes slid sidelong and pinned her in that piercing way that meant she had asked the right question. "You had the benefit of desperation in that battle. You could not afford to be distracted. Here, in the calm of a summer's day, you think of everything but the one thing you consider a chore: lifting the rock."
Rey frowned, eyes narrowing as she considered this. "I was thinking a million thoughts in battle," She disagreed. "I was far from focused, then."
"On the contrary, you were thinking of nothing but saving your friend; of that I can assure you, though I was not there." He looked smug and confident, but not offensively so. "Let me describe the moment – the nature of your thoughts and how they must have flowed. If I am wrong, you may correct me."
Rey nodded, curious of his guess and eager to have a moment of freedom from the rock. With a grunt, she settled back to listen.
For a moment, Skywalker only watched her. She frowned a little self-consciously, but he soon relieved her by speaking.
If only he had stayed silent.
The air had chilled, but she would never have noticed if he had not said those three perfectly correct words.
"You were afraid."
They fell like thick ice between Master and Padawan; Rey blinked, staring unerringly into those clever blue eyes. Her fingers tightened unconsciously on her tunic's hem, fisting into the material.
"I was." She agreed firmly, attempting to shake aside the steadily growing chill of memory that stirred with every cut and stroke of Skywalker's searching gaze. She would not be cowed by remembered fear any less than she had been defeated by it in that moment – that awful moment of terror first gripping her heart.
But Skywalker spoke on, and her determination wavered as a shudder dug into her spine, sending her clenched fingers trembling.
"You are a wise child, Rey. You know there is no such thing as a benevolent world; as nature assisting those with kind hearts or loving souls. Goodness must be protected, or…" He paused, and Rey realized she had stiffened too much to breath. "Or it will be destroyed by those who love Evil."
"Kylo Ren." The name slipped out without thought on her part, and Skywalker's gaze turned into liquid pain.
"Yes. In that moment when your friend was about to die at the hand of evil, Rey of Jakku, you knew there was only one thing that would save him."
She swallowed thickly, turning aside to watch the dark grass waver in the breeze. It distracted her from the memory of snow, ice, and blood.
There was no merciful halt in the narrative. The deep voice sounded on, unrelenting and agonizing in its accuracy.
"You were his last hope, and you pursued that goal without pity. You shouldn't feel guilty. You were justice; an instrument of the Light in that moment, and there is no mercy in justice."…
…Snow sizzled against her skin like droplets of acid. It matched her rage and spurred her fear. Like a rearing stallion that terror gripped her, binding thin, vice-like fingers around her pounding heart. She felt the ragged edges of her wounds stretch as she heaved herself to her feet; felt the cold bite and snap at her flesh, ripping her clothes aside with the jaws of a north wind and swallowing them down a howling throat. The ice crunched beneath her boots, white powder dusting her and wetting her skin with pitiless freezing droplets. Rey's breath came from cracked lips in pained, rasping gasps; her lungs burned from the cold.
Ahead of her stood the creature – the thing that had murdered its own father…. that now loomed above her closest friend; bloody-colored saber raised high - the air sizzling with heat around that crackling blade.
Kylo Ren was a thing of nightmare. His height was towering, and his visage watched the world with terrifying intensity, the black slit of his mask turning its gaze heavily upon all and any that surrounded him. But most terrifying of all was the face beneath; so human and so young, but empty and pitiless.
Dark eyes were narrowed in rage – she could see them and knew their direction: Finn. White teeth bared in a savage snarl as the Sith Apprentice readied himself to strike, fists trembling around the handle of his wild, spitting weapon.
Instinctively, desperate and resolved, Rey threw out her numb hand, fingers spread wide. With that movement, time resumed again.
Silver jittered on the ground before whipping through the air into her palm. The cold cylinder of Luke Skywalker's Lightsaber stung against her skin and burned like fire, but she did not feel it. She snarled as she raised it up – as she lighted its blade and leveled it at her enemy.
Finn would not die this night…. even if she had to kill to save him.
…"Padawan…"
Rey started, staring stupidly into sharp blue eyes, her lips parting with surprise.
"I…I…" She stuttered. Her hands were numb, clenched tightly into her tunic. With a shudder, she strove to control herself. "You were right in your guess." She rasped, turning sharply aside and desperately seeking distraction from the phantom echoes of her memory.
Skywalker remained silent, still seated and calmly relaxed against his boulder.
Rey could not think of anything else to say.
They sat in the dying sunlight together, silent and watchful; lost in thoughts best kept to themselves. Finally, the old Jedi broke the silence.
"Scars are teachers, Rey of Jakku. If you do not accept and learn from them, they will never fade."