Constellations

chapter four: the silence

"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."
―Federico García Lorca

They're up a few hours before the sun is. If things were cold before, this is frigid. Rey almost finds herself wishing for the sweltering sands of Jakku as she and Finn trudge out of their cave, and out into the snow. Going down the slope is much easier than going up, and they reach the hull of the Falcon in record time. By now, Rey's leg, however injured it had been, is healed, so all she has to watch out for is ice, and Wampas, whatever those may be. She thinks they'll be lucky if she doesn't have to find out, however.

"Has the First Order been here?" Rey asks, as she and Finn come upon the downed ship.

"Nah," Finn says, trudging through the thick carpet of snow collected on the Falcon's hull. "No footprints. And we would've seen them send some kind of pod or ship down anyway. The weather did its trick. They might not even know we crashed, actually. We should check the messaging system though, see if we got through or if the Resistance's noticed something's wrong."

Their hologram system emits a noise of static, fizzling in and out of intense and quiet. Nothing's come through from the Resistance either, but the Falcon's tracking light is still blinking, so that's a good sign. Once the Resistance gets worried, they'll know where to find them.

At the moment, Rey can't find it in her to be worried about anything than having to spend at least a week entirely in Finn's company. It's one thing to push him away when they're already systems apart. It's another thing entirely to have to do it when there's only a few feet in between, and even though he's not asking every question she knows he wants to, she can still feel them pressing on her. Clogging up her throat and making it harder to breathe.

Not that it's his fault. By the stars, none of this is his fault. It's hers. It's all hers.

The metal of the Falcon has grown slick with ice, and maybe it's because three years away can't get rid of fourteen years on a desert planet, but Rey really doesn't think about treading carefully as she walks. She takes two steps before she feels her heel slip and her weight is thrown off balance, and prepares herself for a cold, hard crash to the ground. Instead, she finds herself enveloped by steady warmth, Finn's arms lightly under hers and he lifts her back onto her feet.

"Careful, Rey." His voice is as warm as his body, as is the smile on his face. He looks somewhat proud of himself for catching her ―after all, the first two times they had been in danger, she had been the one saving him― and then a little confused, but pleased, when she doesn't pull away.

"Y-yeah." Rey curses herself for the pink colouring her cheeks as she steps away, but keeps less distance in between them then before. For safety purposes, obviously. Yeah, that's it.

"Once we get back to the cave, I should check your head injury," Finn tells her, as they trudge back through the snow, away from the fallen spaceship. "Just in case."

Rey remembers that Finn was in Sanitation on Starkiller Base, and that as part of his training he also learned quite a bit of first aid. She remembers he had told her it was important a Stormtrooper squad leader be able to administer any amount of first aid needed with minimal materials. But mostly she remembers laughing so hard her stomach hurt when he had made a face, telling her about having to work in the garbage disposal department in his first days on the ship.

She's missed him. There's no harm in admitting that, is there? (She ignores the part of her brain that says yes.)

Rey can't find it in her to admit it as the days crawl by. They spend most of their time managing their supplies, making sure they don't eat or drink too much. They sleep when they can and head out to the Falcon every other day. One day the see big, deep footprints in the show: Wampa tracks. They steer clear of the trail. They've spent another four days in the cave, and Rey can feel herself losing it. Even with the weather, she can reach out and tap into the ebb and flow of the Force, and it's keeping her somewhat sane.

The silence kills her, though. It stretches between them for hours. Sometimes Finn initiates conversation, but it's mostly reminiscing. Remember when it rained for the first time at the Resistance Base, and we ran out in played in it? Remember the first blanket fort we built? Remember when we stole cookies from the rations kitchen? Remember―

Rey doesn't need the reminders. She's never forgotten. Hearing him speak so enthusiastically makes her smile though, and she joins in, talking and laughing with him, just like in the old days, until the happiness becomes too heavy and she remembers everything that's happened since then. How is it possible a year and a half can change what she thought would always be permanent? She thought Finn would always be by her side. And he wants to be, and she wants him to be, too. It's all the more frustrating.

She remembers all the smaller moments, too. Her not liking the weird squishy peas and loving the cold, juicy berries, and Finn being the opposite, so they'd always trade at mealtimes. Her leaning heavily on him as they walked back inside the base, sopping wet with rain. Her teaching him how to be her co-pilot, him lending her his jacket whenever she was cold, which was often because the base didn't have very good heating, and Jakku nights had been cool, not cold. Finn's fingers warm around her wrist, his arms warm around her because she has found out that hugs are wonderful, beautiful things and he's been just as deprived as she is. Fighting back to back in battle, searching for him afterwards only for him, limping but alive, to find her first. Holding his hand and realizing that she never wants to let go.

But she has to.

Rey can hear Luke's voice perfectly in her head, and thinks maybe it's the Force, as it instructs, You must learn to control your emotions. Your attachments cannot burden you. But she also knows this isn't what he meant. That attachments are good. That they're what brought Anakin Skywalker back to the Light Side.

She's snapped out of her stupor by Finn's voice, quiet and curious. "Can you feel the lightsaber through the Force?"

Rey looks at him. "I can feel my own. But the one we're looking for...No. There's nothing, which is a little strange." No thrum or feeling in the Force. As much as she knows the weather might somehow be interfering, it's odd that there's nothing. "Although that might just be because it's ancient... Luke says that Stormtroopers used to be Clones. They fought alongside the Jedi."

"D'you think if we had been born back then...things would be different?" Finn meets her eyes.

"Some things," Rey gives him a small smile. "We'd still be friends." She realizes her slip a second too late.

"Still?" The single syllable is full of cautious hope, and some part of Rey's heart crashes and burns at the sound of it.

"Yeah," she says thickly, over the lump rising in her throat. "I―I know I haven't been acting like it, but I―I still think of you as my best friend, Finn." She drops his gaze and stares at her hands, which are clasped in her lap. She's on the edge of dangerous territory. "I miss you."

There's a slight rustle of cloth as Finn gets up from his sitting position on the other edge of the cave, and gets on his knees in front of her. "You don't have to." He's close, so very close, his gaze burning into her, trying to get her to look him in the eye. "You're my best friend, Rey. Why can't we go back to the way we were? We..." She feels tears build in her eyes as his voice breaks and then tightens to piece itself back together. "We were happy."

Rey feels his fingers curl under her jaw, and she lets him lift her head so she's looking him in the face. His eyes are full of so much affection and warmth, she can feel the chill that's seeped into her bones thaw for the first time since they had crash-landed on this planet. His hand moves gently to cup her cheek, and a tear leaks out and trickles down her cheek.

"Yeah," she manages out, her voice shaking as much as her hands. "We were."

Finn strokes his thumb gently over the curve of her cheek. "Why can't we go back to the way we were?" he pleads.

Rey swallows hard. "It's not that simple Finn―" he's close, far too close, and she can feel her resolve shaking. "I wish it was, I do―"

"I did something wrong, didn't I?" Finn says, and his voice cracks. Rey pries his hand away and shakes her head, closing her eyes. "This is my fault."

"No, no you didn't," she chokes out. "I swear you didn't―"

"Then why're you pushing me away?" Finn's reaching for her again, but Rey stands up and takes a few steps away from them, trying to get air back into her lungs and her heart back into control. "What am I supposed to think Rey?"

"You're supposed to trust me," she cries, keeping her back turned.

"Oh of course." Anger creeps into his voice. "Even though you don't trust me." His hand is on her shoulder, still gentle ―always gentle― but firmly towards her back towards him. His brow is furrowed in frustration, but there's a sadness in his eyes. "You ignore me and shut me out and I'm just supposed to trust that whatever the reason you have for it is good enough? That there's any reason we shouldn't be friends anymore? I can't believe that."

"This hurts me just as much as it hurts you," Rey snaps. "You think I like doing this? Why are you making it harder than it already is?" Every time his smile falters, or hurt flashes across his face when she's had to shut him down, again and again and again...it pierces her heart like an icicle. It hurts more than any wound she's ever received.

She wraps her arms around herself in a kind of sad, half-hearted hug, blinking back tears. She digs her fingers into her left side, wincing slightly from the pressure, even after the wound has been healed for over a year. Rey wonders if the scar on Finn's back from Kylo's lightsaber ―another snowy planet, only that time they had fought and fallen together, not stood up wounded but apart― hurts still, after three years.

"Rey..." His fingers, warm and soft, skim the slope of her palm, and the action is enough for her to unfold from herself. She looks at him, her throat tight. "I just want you back."

All the anger is gone, from both of them. Not for the first time, she wants to give in. Tell him the truth, all of it. Then at least he'd understand. But, she knows, he'd only push harder, and she wouldn't be able to resist anymore, and it wouldn't fix anything. Nothing beyond their hearts, maybe, but not their lives. Not the mess they're in.

"I just want my best friend back," Finn continues, his voice barely audible. He hesitantly takes her hand, and she lets him. "I'm not asking for anything else."

"I've told you, it's not that," Rey tells him miserably. He runs his thumb along the back of her hand.

"And I wish I could believe that," Finn says. "But all I know is you start pushing me away right after..." Rey knows what he's going to say next, feels the dread bury and build itself in her stomach. "Is it because I told you I loved you?"

Her heart lodges itself in her throat. She tries to speak, but no sound has come out, because there's no more room for plausible deniability. It's out there, not spoken in the med-bay, not in a place where she can run away again. They still have a few more days and she'll have to look at him, every hour, knowing that once upon a time he loved her. He loved her with everything he had, every beautiful part of him ―and she had to throw it away, and pretend it didn't matter.

But it does. It always will.

The silence that follows is suffocating, and Finn's nod of disappointed acceptance makes it even worse. "I wasn't asking you to feel the same way." She can't look at him, so she focuses on their hands, and tightly grips his.

I know.

"I just wanted you to know."

And I wanted to say it back. I did.

"Rey..." Finn sighs heavily. "I still love you."

She looks up at him, shock written all over her tear-stained face. "W-what―"

They both jump at the sound of a strangled cry that's more of a screech than a roar. Lurking outside the cave, at least 8 feet tall, is a big furry creature with a crude grey kind of face that Rey has never seen before. And there's two others behind it, growling. Finn unslings his blaster and Rey follows his lead, shoving her emotions down for the moment, and unclipping her sabre.

"And that's a wampa," Finn says irritatingly.

"Think we can handle three?"

"I guess we'll find out."

They charge together.