There's someone in her room.
Not someone. Him.
Rey's heart constricts in her chest and she keeps her eyes tightly closed. She has to push him away. That's her duty. What everyone expects. Kark, she's just so tired.
He isn't saying anything. Just standing there. Can he see her, too?
She gropes inside herself for bond to shut him out but questions are crowding up her throat. Why? Why did he do that? Where is he now? What are his plans? . . . does he feel like there's a hole inside him that will never be filled?
She doesn't say anything either.
The truth is, it hurts just a little less with him standing there and she's ashamed of her own weakness.
It doesn't occur to her to be afraid. If he wanted to hurt her there would be a lot more noise. He'd come in raging, swinging that awful lightsaber of his like a devil.
The still air of the room moves against her face and there's a feeling of pressure on the bed, like someone sitting just on the edge. Staying limp, she rolls just a little toward it. Like a piece of space trash pulled into a gravity well, she thinks. Space trash seems particularly accurate. She hears his voice in her head. Scavenger. Not part of the story. Nothing.
There is rustling sound and she stiffens for exactly the space of one breath as gentle fingers slide over her hair. He tucks a strand behind her ear. Repeats the caress. She relaxes under the touch. Rey stretches out her own hand, her fingers brush the fabric of his pants- his knee she thinks. Strong and bony under the fine weave. His skin is hot, feverish even, on her temple and under her hand. He pauses and so does she, each of them touching the other with just fingertips.
"I miss you," She breathes and sleep drags her under again.