The mood in the cantina was turning ugly, fast.

"You're a cheat as well as a liar," the Killik snarled, its clawed hand clasped onto Finn's arm, preventing him from gathering up the pile of credits and hard currency that made up the pot he'd just won.

Finn looked around the Sabacc table at the rogues gallery of scowling faces; a collection of petty criminals, lowlifes and worse, sporting the most impressive collection of facial scars, bad haircuts and fearsome cosmetic enhancements (artificial tusks, always a bad sign) that he'd seen since the last time they ventured into the Outer Rim.

Threatening as they were, it wasn't the patrons of The Greasy Gungan that worried him most. It was the prospect of explaining to the Princess of Pissed that he'd blown their cover. Again. The situation wasn't lost though; it could still be turned around with a little finesse and charm.

"I didn't cheat," Finn corrected him calmly, removing the Killik's claw and sweeping the pot towards him. "Lando Calrissian himself taught me that play."

This produced another bout of incredulous groans, filthy looks and curses.

"You've got a nerve, son."

"Who is this guy?"

"Fuck disa bullshitter."

Ok, not quite the hoped-for reaction. Maybe he'd already overdone it on the name dropping, but a couple of drinks in him and damn, he loved to talk about the old days. He could tell those stories forever.

"So according to you," growled A'Gron, the massive Whiphid whose faded-gold, humanoid bulk dominated the table, tusks twitching in irritation. "You learned Sabacc from Calrissian."

"The master," Finn confirmed.

"Dejarik from Chewbacca."

"Master cheat."

"Flying from Dameron."

"Said I was a fast learner, though he might have been talking about something else."

"Iced Phasma."

"Toasted actually," he chuckled.

"Kicked Kylo Ren's ass."

"More or less."

"Blew up Starkiller with Solo..."

"All my idea. I take full responsibility."

"...and were best buds with General Organa."

"She ran a few things by me, you know."

A'Gron paused for a moment in confusion, his brow furrowing, reflecting the turmoil of the brain within as it struggled to process bullshit of such extravagance. "Next you'll be telling us you fucked Rose Tico."

"I was drunk!" Finn protested. "She took advantage of me."

This blasphemy caused the simmering tension in the mob to boil over into violence. Finn was aware of being struck hard from behind, and thrown forwards onto the table, covering his head to guard against the blows raining down. A'Gron growled something and Finn was grabbed by the shoulders, thrown back into his chair where he sprawled, gasping.

"Take that back now," rasped the furious Whiphid. "And don't ever - ever - spread filthy lies about Saint Tico again."

Finn fought to get his breath back, "I was kidding. Kidding." Fuck his head hurt. He'd forgotten for a moment how a conflation of her legend with her sister's had resulted in Rose being regarded as a holy entity by many in the Rim Worlds, a martyr resurrected from a fiery death in space to wreak vengeance on the First Order at the side of Leia Organa. A new cult worshipping her was spawned every few months. She lapped it up, even when she was sober.

"I would never disrespect Saint Tico," gasped Finn. "She's the best. Did I tell you she saved my life?"

"That's right, son. She saved all of us," confirmed an older, human, player.

Finn looked up at the grimy, blaster scarred ceiling and groaned. How the hell did he keep ending up in these situations? All he'd had to do was keep a low profile for an hour or two. But The Greasy Gungan was right next to their hotel - he could hear it from his room - and he could never resist a drink, or two, and a game.

And she knew that. The sickening realization hit him; she'd chosen the hotel, she'd planned this temptation and he'd fallen into the trap yet again. She was a Jedi Grand Master at her crappy mind games, playing him even more thoroughly than he was cleaning out this bunch of no-hopers.

"Kid, what's your name? Your real name," A'Gron regarded him with something more like pity than animosity.

"Finn."

"So, Finn, if you're so tight with the biggest legends in the galaxy, why have we never heard of you?"

"I never got my personal marketing together," Finn sighed, "I went cheap, paid a Kakoran 5 credits an hour, the content was weak, ripped off some celeb site, my logo was a template. My social media accounts got suspended for unapproved advertising." He held his head in his hands. "I survived Starkiller, Crait and Exegol only for some hack to kill my brand dead."

Nods and sympathetic comments around the table. No high fliers here; they knew all about the perils of cut price marketing and how it could dash the hopes of even the best planned criminal enterprise. Finn sensed he was winning them back to his side. Keep it going, kid.

"So you really were there, part of the Great Flight to Crait?" someone asked.

"Dude," Finn sighed and shook his head. He gazed into the distance, the memories of loss, betrayal and Fathier riding etched on his face, there for all to see. "I really, really don't want to talk about what happened between Starkiller and Crait."

"It must have been tough."

"It fucking sucked ass, man."

"You were at Exegol?"

"Sure, I was at Exegol. I took out the transmitter on the First Order flagship." He'd not told them this one, and it was a killer story. "I saved the Rebellion."

"You were flying with Dameron?"

"No, actually..."

"You were in the Falcon with Calrissian?"

"No, I was riding a... space horse. On top of the flagship. It wasn't quite in space though, luckily."

Stony faces all around the table.

"And I used the Force."

He looked around the cantina, his gaze met by looks of disbelief and disgust.

"Boy, you are fucking hilarious," A'Gron smiled.

"Thanks."

"But you are also a sad, deluded, cheating bag of shit." He rose to his full height and reached across the table to grab Finn's jacket in one massive fist, dragging him effortlessly from his chair until they were face to tusks.

"My money back, now, and maybe we don't beat you too bad," he spat.

"Chill. Take it easy," Finn implored him. "I'm with Rey Skywalker. She's going to be here any minute. Don't do something you'll regret." The entire Sabacc table and mob of onlookers exploded in laughter.

A'Gron was unmoved. "You just don't know when to quit, boy." His mouth twisted into a snarl, tusks flat against his leathery yellow skin as he drew back a fist the size of Finn's head, ready to deliver a skull pulverizing punch.

The double doors of the cantina slammed open, and all eyes went to the scowling black clad figure that strode into the room, long dark hair flowing behind her, a half sneer on her lips, a lightsaber on her hip.

Finn swallowed hard, trying to gauge whether his Femme of Fury's expression was the result of being actually pissed or just due to her case of almost terminally severe Resting Bitch Face.

He never got tired of the effect she had on people. Jaws dropped. Conversation stopped. The barman dropped a glass, paralyzed, gawping. All activity in The Greasy Gungan had stopped, silent, suspended in awe and fear of the legend made real. The patrons shrank back as she scanned the room with a homicidally intense disdain.

Her eyes met Finn's as he and A'Gron remained frozen in place, suspended over the table, the skull pulverizer poised and ready to be delivered by the now slack-jawed giant.

"Fucking knew it," Rey muttered.

"Finn, darling, team-talk," she called, waving him over. Finn peeled the Whiphid's fingers away from his jacket one-by-one, scooped up his winnings and walked over casually, straightening his jacket, dusting himself off.

She surveyed the scene again, and a realization hit her. "Were these scumbags fucking with you?"

"No, no problem. Just some banter," Finn assured her. Please, gods, let them get through the day without any severed limbs or Force Lightning. He looked back to see A'Gron and the rest of them now intently studying The Planet's Most Interesting Tabletop in silence.

"Good," she said. "Thought you'd got caught cheating at that stupid game again."

Finn heard the muffled curses behind him and kept on walking. Lando really had taught him that scam, so it was only half a lie. See ya suckers. Nothing short of a battalion of stormtroopers with air support was going to screw with him now.

"Let's get a drink," she said, moving to the bar.

"Sorry about not staying in the hotel," Finn explained. "I had a headache, had to get something for it, and these guys dragged me into a game. You know, Outer Rim Worlds, what can I tell you."

"Don't worry about it," she said dismissively, and pointed at the nervous looking barman. "Two of your best Regellian."

He scuttled quickly across to some pumps and poured two tall glasses of golden, slightly fizzing liquid and presented them to her. "On the house," he said with a timid smile.

"Fucking right it is," Rey replied.

Finn rolled his eyes and let out a breath of exasperation.

"I did save the galaxy," she sipped her brew. "That's got to be worth a free drink."

"You weren't the only one involved."

"Yeah, yeah, right."

Finn bit back a reply. Why did everything have to be about her? He'd been at the heart of the action at Starkiller, Crait and Exegol and she barely even acknowledged it. To hear her tell it, the only battle of Exegol that counted was between her and Palpatine, and everyone else was just dicking around in spaceships.

And Ben, of course. Bad boy Ben. Beautiful Ben.

Fuck that guy. And his Force ghost.

She was the most self-centered, arrogant, infuriating woman he'd ever met, and the Council owed him big time for this. He'd told them four missions only and he'd meant it. He was done with it after this one.

"Anyway, I know where they are, of course," she began. "Ruins of an ancient Sith temple. Different continent, half the world away."

"Ok, that's good." So she was in a good mood, which explained her casual dismissal of his screw up. It had been an RBF scowl after all. "But do you think they've got it?"

"Yes, I'm sure. We're close, at last. The Council thinks this is a big one, a major piece. They hope it's going to complete their understanding of the Tantalus Unification. That would open up new waylines into The New Glory."

What the hell was she talking about? "That's great," Finn replied. It really was. He was finished after this one. No more trailing her around the most burnt out, desolate systems in the galaxy, risking his life hunting down splinter groups of The Knights of Ren or Sith, retrieving antiques that they were assured were important in some mystical and entirely unexplained 'New Glory' grand plan. The past six months of alternating confusion, boredom and terror had pushed him to the limits. How could she have done this for 4 years and kept her sanity?

"In a Sith temple," she mused. "These guys are so predictable. Knights just can't resist that ancient Sith crap. They get really spiritual about it. I almost feel sorry for them." She took another sip of the bitter golden liquid and grimaced. "Almost. Anyway, they're fucked now. Finish your drink and let's get to the ship."

"We're going there now?" Finn asked, uneasily. Last time they charged in like this, it was very nearly the end of him. "We're not waiting for backup?"

"Seriously?" she downed the rest of her drink and shot him a scornful look. "I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, if they find out I'm here, they'll scatter and we could be weeks tracking them down."

"Ok," Finn agreed. "We don't want that." Weeks more of this would kill him.

"Finn, darling," she looked into his eyes. "You are ready for this, aren't you?"

"Sure," he said, indignant. There she goes with the 'Darling' again. It wasn't like he'd never told her how demeaning he found it. "You know me. When have I ever not been ready?"

"Ok," she considered this for a moment, not taking her eyes from his. "It was a bit close on Gand and I'm not exactly sure what we're up against here. I just don't want to be watching you when I should be focused on them."

Finn wasn't sure how to decipher the look she gave him. Why, after everything they had been through, did she still think he was some goof that needed looking after? She knew how to push his buttons.

"I'm ready," he said firmly. "I've got your back. You don't need to worry about me."

"Sure," she'd said, but he had watched a broken half-smile betray her lack of confidence. "Let's kick arse."

Were there any more? If there were, he was a dead man.

Finn put his back to a pillar, panting, and lifted his hand from his side to take a look at the wound, teeth gritted against the pain that pierced him through, leaving him light headed and nauseous. How bad was it? Hard to say; it was dark and he couldn't chance activating the saber to illuminate it, but it felt pretty bad. He couldn't get back to the ship now, and if he ran into another one of the splinter sect of Knights she'd tracked down to this Force-forsaken world of permanent gloom and rain, they'd slice him down. Shit. He started to shiver, but wasn't sure if it was shock or because one of the sudden, intermittent downpours had soaked him to the skin barely a minute ago.

He needed to get back to Rey. It had all gone wrong when they had separated. She was somewhere in these ruins of a Sith temple, a vast grid of ancient crumbling pillars that reduced his sight lines to narrow passages stretching off to infinity in four directions while it hid everything else. But if he called out to her, that would give his location away to everyone in the vicinity. Plus she'd never let him forget how she'd saved his ass again. Best to lay low and hope she took care of things.

The sound of lightsabers clashing off to his right, the fight cut short by a male voice crying out in pain, silenced abruptly. She was close. Finn didn't want to move; it was going to hurt, and he could feel his strength ebbing into the chill night air, carried away by the seconds, but he had to take the chance and get over there, quickly.

As he started to shuffle through the mud, the stinging rain exploded from the night sky again, the roar of the downpour hiding any sounds that might guide him, the pillars obscuring his objective. The mission had turned into a nightmare, just like the rest. There could be more acolytes, and he could stumble into one at any moment, and that would be the end of him, after all he'd survived, ended here, dying alone in the rain and the mud in this shitworld at the ass end of the galaxy, chasing ghosts, and only Princess Patronizing here to see it.

Keep going, Finn, keep going.

The downpour switched to a drizzle, the sudden quiet leaving Finn all too aware of the sound of his breathing - heavy, with a nasty rasp to it - as he stumbled through the mud between crumbling stone columns. The wound in his side felt strange now, the pain fading to a cool numbness that seeped into his ribs, creeping up to his chest. He needed the medbay back at the shuttle. Needed it fast.

Keep moving, Finn. Not much further. The lightsabers had been close.

He rounded a pillar and there she was.

Rey Skywalker stood in a clearing created by a number of fallen pillars, a furious defiance in her eyes, lips caught somewhere between a smile and a sneer, a fierce, unconquerable beauty wielding a blazing yellow saber. Thank the Force. He slumped onto a section of broken stone, unseen, and watched her face a hulking cyborg, one of the members of the sect, as they circled each other. Rey stepped over a fallen Adept, not taking her eyes from the dark bulk of the Knight as it shifted the balance of its weapon in massive metal hands, a dual-ended combination of lightsaber and vibro-scythe that was taller than the Jedi and crackled in the rain. The thing moved with a smooth, intimidating grace - what species had it been originally? - but Finn saw no fear in her face, just a woman in her element. He suspected she lived for these moments of blood and clarity.

"Betrayer," growled the cyborg in a voice like an earthquake. "Traitor to your bloodline."

"I was a big disappointment to Gramps," she agreed.

"Look at you," he snarled. "Look at what you've done. You're no Jedi. You're one of us."

Rey's eyes flicked to the body at her feet, a man, younger than her, just a boy really. They'd blundered into each other in the darkness, but she had been quicker and that had been the end of it. She was always quicker, always better and some poor bastard was always slower and dead.

"Fuck you," she shot back. "I'm going to skip over the part where I say I'll let you live if you give me the artifact, and get right to slicing you into pieces, because I'll get it anyway and I really don't give a shit."

Rey advanced across the clearing, and the Knight tensed, crouching slightly as she vaulted onto a chunk of fallen stone. As she dropped from the block, the cyborg took the initiative, springing at her to close the gap with cybernetically enhanced agility, feinting with the sabre to launch a sweeping, scything blow with the vibro-weapon that would cleave the Jedi in two, leave the pieces spinning in the air in a shower of blood. A fine attack and for an instant Finn forgot himself, the sudden speed and violence causing his heart to skip and stomach to tighten, but only for a moment; he knew how this ended. An arcing yellow blur, the head of the scythe detached from the weapon, flying into the night, the fatal blow never delivered, the creature unbalanced, overcommitted. Another flash of the sabre, and now its left arm was falling away from its body. An outstretched hand and the massive Knight was flung backwards against a pillar, the impact hard enough for Finn to feel it in his teeth, hard enough to topple the stone, leaving the cyborg lying propped up against it, struggling to take in rasping breaths. Rey watched the fallen colossus with a cool contempt that verged on disinterest. She had barely moved during the brief exchange.

The creature looked around for something, seemingly confused by the absence of its arm and the weapon still attached to it, as the woman in black walked casually towards it.

"Tantalus is ours," it gasped. "You have no right..."

Without breaking step or taking her gaze from the Knight, Rey flung the saber backhanded, for it to spin away in a long, looping arc, out between the pillars. Finn had seen this before; her signature coup-de-grace. The Knight's eyes met hers in a final, fleeting act of resigned defiance before the yellow blade returned to sweep its head from its body, and continue on until she plucked the hilt from the air. She was smiling now.

Rey reached the body and stood over it, making a motion with one hand that split the abdomen of the cyborg open, metal screeching and popping to unfurl like petals. From the ruined torso emerged a half-sphere, its polished surface etched with intricate patterns. The relic floated into her hand where she turned it around, a puzzled look on her face.

Finn breathed a sigh of relief. Please gods let that be the artifact they'd come here for. He was unable to get to his feet now. "Rey!" he called, but she didn't respond; her attention was on the body of the young male Acolyte on the opposite side of the clearing. No, not the boy; there was someone crouching by his side now. A girl, dressed in the long dark layers favored by the followers of Ren, bowed and silent. She raised her head to glare at Rey, black eyes full of tears.

"Why?" the girl called, "Why couldn't you just leave us alone?"

"There's another half to this," Rey advanced towards the Acolyte. "Where is it?"

"You don't even know what it is," the girl's grief turned to anger. "You don't know what we were doing here, Betrayer."

The Jedi reached out, and the girl stiffened and twisted, gasping for breath, locked in place.

"Where is it?"

"I'm not giving you anything."

"We'll see"

Rey broke her gaze from the girl's eyes, the words taking her to another time, years ago, a naive girl and her tormentor, alone in the dark, a place of pain and violation.

The girl's eyes darted to the boy's saber in the mud by her side; her means of escape. She reached for it and the hilt leapt up from where it had fallen, igniting the red blade that extended to pierce her body. She gasped, eyes wide, and shuddered.

"Aran..." she exhaled, her face slackening, body becoming limp. The saber deactivated and fell to the ground.

"No!" the word burst out of Rey unbidden, shock on her face for a pained second before it turned to anguish and anger. The girl's body lifted from the mud, hanging limp, suspended in the rain, her face white and small and peaceful above the billowing dirty black folds of her cloaks. The dark Jedi reached out at her, despair turning to anger, turning to a fury that came as easily as it ever had despite all her efforts to tame it. The body twisted, a cracking, popping sound coming from within as Rey cried a roar of rage and so many failures, so many disappointments.

"Rey!" Finn called.

Streams of droplets of scarlet drifted upwards from the crushed body of the girl that hung in the night.

"Rey!" he screamed, though he didn't have the strength to spare. "What the fuck are you doing?" his voice breaking. He was so, so fucking done with watching her do this. He couldn't take it. He had to get away from this, away from her. It was unbearable. What had happened to the girl from Jakku that had flown to the stars with him?

Rey gasped, and the bundle of black rags, blood and bone that had been a girl dropped to the ground. She closed her eyes to leave the sight behind and lifted her face to the night sky and the rain, so it might wash away bitter tears, for them to join the rivers of raindrops in the mud to be taken far away, gone and forgotten, cleansed.

"Are there any more?" Finn called.

"Maybe. I don't know if I care," she replied, calm and quiet.

"Did you get it?"

"Yes. Kind of."

"Then let's get out of here, now."

"But there's always another one," she'd not heard him. "Another piece of the puzzle. Twenty thousand years of lore and secrets and mysteries broken into a million relics and gods knows what. The light and the dark. It never ends. It never fucking ends."

"Rey. I need to get back to the ship. Now."

Her gaze snapped to him, horror on her face. "You're hurt." She rushed over to where he was propped up against the broken pillar. "Shit. No, no..." she held her hand over the wound, eyes closed, focused, brow furrowed with effort, but the anguish still visible on her face.

Finn lay there, powerless to do anything but watch her distress turn to anger. "I knew it," she snapped. "When did this happen?"

"Right after we split. Ran into some guy with one of those vibro weapons. Got him though," he could feel the wound closing, strength returning.

"You were lucky, again," she said, "Finn, you can't do this anymore, I can't take..." she faltered, breathing deeply as the effort of the healing started to drain her.

Finn knew what she was going to say anyway. She'd as much as said it before. Why should the legendary Rey Skywalker have to waste time and effort taking care of hangers-on. Mere mortals just held her back.

She looked away, took back her hand and collected herself. "That should do it for now. Let's get you back to the ship."

Finn struggled to his feet as she put a helping arm around him. "Did I see an expensively stocked drinks cabinet on that thing?"

"You did," she sighed. "Free drinks for saviors of the galaxy, remember."

"In that case, mine's a large one." Finn stumbled slowly through the mud, as the rain fell on the dead and the living alike.