[ he doesn't mean it to hurt her, of course, but it does. it cuts like a knife. forces her to examine the nature of that friendship in the first place — that it had never been about her, but about poe needing to protect something. and if she doesn't need protecting … or further, doesn't want that protection, then she is … what? nothing to him too.
it's not that she hadn't gotten her friend hurt. it's that she'd never had him as a friend at all. just rey on her shit again, assigning significance to people who couldn't give a damn about her. in so many ways she remains that desperate, lonely child on jakku watching the skies and waiting for her parents to come back, assuming that she must mean something to them.
she blinks and the tears fall, but no new ones well up to replace them. she stares at him for a silent moment, processing this. it makes a terrible kind of sense, ben's interpretation. she has no reasonable counter.
nothing lost, then. at least there shouldn't be. it shouldn't feel like she failed. like she finally had something she'd wanted for so long and sabotaged it through her own efforts because it was never real to begin with.
that leaves only the other thing. the real reason she can't stay here. the real reason he'd never allow her to, if he knew. ]
He thinks I'm a monster. [ he hadn't said it, but the fear in her chest is real and present and overflowing. and with it, doubt. she's not sure he's wrong. ] He thinks we tortured that woman.
[ she closes her hand in a fist around the edge of her kimono skirt where it brushes up against her knees. she stares for a long moment's silence at ben, clearly on the verge of something else, but not sure she wants to say it. not sure how to. it's that fear again. growing bigger, stronger. she doesn't know anymore. ]
[It comes quick, without thought or consideration, a sort of puzzled tone in his voice. Torture? Surely not. She knew what torture was like -- she'd experienced it, in several different forms. What they'd done to that women couldn't possibly compare to any of that.]
We did not harm her. You were there with me, in her mind. Did that feel like torture? To you?
[It was all very black and white thinking, but something about Rey's voice asks a deeper question. Its not about what they did to that woman, its about her and whether or not she's a monster for engaging in her abilities.]
[ it's what she wants to hear, for the first time. she never gets to appreciate the sense of relief because it's gone as soon as it comes, drowned out by something else. she weighs her own estimation of the event, and it isn't hard for her to examine and judge. ]
No.
[ her tone thick and watery. pain contorts her features then, striking suddenly. layers of it. on the first, that her uncertainty was only extended. there was no clear answer as to whether this was right or wrong of her. the second, that there was no clear reason for poe to be doing what he was doing if she was not in the wrong for it — she was not being punished. not righteously, certainly.
and third, that the only conclusion therein is that she remains, as ever, easily discarded. she wants to believe in some more substantial reason, some blame within herself, because it means that she had wronged poe in some way. that she meant something.
she presses her lips together, screwing up her expression to try and fight back the tears, but they come in one heaving sob that rattles her body. she does not want to leave this room. if she were still welcome in it, she would stay. if she were anything. but … she's not. ]
[He doesn’t know what to do with Rey when she is crying. He is mostly devoid of empathy, but by the same token, he can also feel how much this is eating at her. And, in turn, it eats at him — somehow. He can’t put a word to it. Thinking about it in a manner that removes himself from the situation makes it easier to absorb it, rather than allowing it to absorb him.
If she happens to look up, she might notice Kylo Ren studying her in a way that belies confusion and curiosity rather than understanding. But there is an undeniable measure of interest, regardless. Even in wanting to seperate himself from this hot mess of emotion, he thirsts to understand its existance between them.]
He doesn’t want to understand.
[That is easy enough to offer up, because its true. It was easier to claim the moral high ground when you didn't ask for details.]
[ certainly it had been easier for her to assign blame to him before she had heard everything poe had to say on the matter. before she had understood that it wasn't just old wounds, but new ones, formed under the umbrella of a truce, which preoccupied him. the justification there still sticks like a thorn in her side, but something else stands out more.
his words harken back to her conversation with keith. was he lying? he had done it without hesitating. he had proposed it, even, as she floundered to figure out what to do.
no. thinking on that is just her searching for something poe had disappointed her on. she's so desperate for someone to give a damn about her that she's superimposing it over kylo ren. she's pathetic. desperate. and yet it still tugs at the back of her mind, insistent. maybe it's because she can feel his confusion and curiosity and her mind longs for something concrete to ascribe those emotions to.
she reaches up to push hair out of her face where stray strands cling to damn cheeks. ]
You took that blame for me.
[ and poe still doesn't know the extent of it. how much worse would it have been, had he known the truth? ]
[No. That isn’t what she’s asking. There is a knit in his brow that forms when he comes to the conclusion shortly after he replies. Before she can clarify, he does so himself.]
Because it caused you distress, to confront what you’d done.
[He didn’t really understand why it had caused her distress. If it had been what he’d done to Dameron on the Finalizer, perhaps. But this woman had been unconscious, and spent her day terrorizing the populace. He cannot understand her guilt over it.
He doesn’t even understand the implication of guarding her from that guilt. It simply felt — correct, after their previous agreements and arrangements regarding the bond and their working relationship.]
[ her tears start to dry on her face, a sticky pale line down red, irritated cheeks. for a minute, she is terribly painstakingly still. even the tempest of her emotions goes quiet. there is peace.
she hadn't expected that. stars, she's not even entirely sure how to interpret that, or what it means, or— but those questions don't plague her just now. it's … reassuring. whatever it is. in part because she can feel him so clearly, and there's no hint of ulterior motive there. some confusion, perhaps, but …
he'd done it for her. plain and simple.
any question she asks will be too much, as it had been the night of the ambush. she understands now. he, like her, has no measure for this. no tools to equip them to process it or recognize it or even name it. for that reason, she is struck by a sudden speechlessness. anything she can think of to say is the wrong thing.
instead of risking destroying another relationship tonight, she slowly scoots off the edge of the bed. she's shaky still, simultaneously frayed and exhausted and yet still adrenaline high from all of this, but she makes her way over and sits beside him against the opposite wall. she doesn't touch him, though she ostensibly seeks that same sort of closeness as comfort.
she's tired of being alone. at least like this, she feels as though they are in one another's company, and not intruders on some private space. and when she folds her arms over her obi, tucked behind her bent knees, she almost thinks she can feel the warmth coming off of him. ]
[He watches her move, observant and still as confused as ever, doubling when she approaches him and opts to sit beside him. The entire process is done in silence, and even as she curls in on herself, he finds himself struggling to analyze exactly what was going on.
It hits him at all once, as he replays their conversations. Understanding. Yes, that was it. It was the same thing that had drawn them to their vision in the first place. Initially, he’d believed it a hungering curiosity on both ends but no. It was more than that. She was grieving the truth: that she had no family legacy waiting for her. He was also grieving the truth: that Snoke had merely been using his power, and would crush him the instant he was no longer useful.
It sits heavy in his stomach, and thickens the wall of silence. Was that the end of their conversation? Was reaffirmation all she had wanted out of him?
He doesn’t know what to do with this. But in backtracking their conversation, he remembers something. His gaze resets forward, to the door of the room, so he does not have to confront anything else.]
You said that he thought you were a monster.
[She isn’t. He is. There are things he would do that he is still not certain she would — she was still clinging to her past.]
[ she doesn't dress it up. discussing it seems to cause her less pain now. when she says it, she looks up at him, realizing with a frown that he isn't looking at her. he's somewhere else. but then, he always is. her fingers itch. she curls them tighter against the material of her sash instead of reaching out. ]
It was the way he talked about you.
[ and the way that it also applied to her. her breath, still heavy from her crying, slowly starts to even out as she accepts this. she doesn't feel afraid to admit this similarity to him, as she has in so many other contexts.
of course, kylo ren is a monster. and if she's like him … isn't she? she studies his face. he probably hopes so. he'd probably very much like for her to be the same kind of monster he is. ]
His head tilts then, as he mentally rolls her response around. Poe Dameron did not say anything ahout him that no one else would have said — even Rey herself would have said those things not so long ago, and he would not have argued. He still would not argue.]
I don’t understand.
[And he doesn’t, though maybe he hadn’t wanted to admit it as he quickly realizes. To vocalize it means to ask for clarification, and he isn’t certain he is ready to hear that right now, not so soon after the night of the ambush.
But he glances down anyway, as if expecting to find his answer in her expression.]
But you do not have to explain.
[He has to imagine she doesn’t want to explain as much as he doesn’t want to confront the reality of what they might be dealing with. Allies toward a common cause was one thing — Snoke’s downfall. But this feels like something else.
This feels like understanding, and that is a lot to process.]
[ that's the word for it. understanding. there, he can see it in her eyes. even if she cannot put a voice to it, it radiates off the soft edges of her expression. she sees something in him that resonates with something in herself. she always has. it used to scare her. now …
when he glances down at her, it feels like something flutters across the surface of her skin. she can feel his confusion — bordering now on unease — and she wonders, briefly, if he could then also feel that spark of something.
she's bolder than he is by a mile, but not that bold. she turns away from him, looking at her packed bag. the symbol of her acceptance that her place, wherever it was in the galaxy, was not among the likes of poe dameron. and if it wasn't beside or behind luke skywalker, either, then …
where was it? she's keenly aware of ben at her side in that moment. except she hasn't figured out yet if he's the shelter or the rain. ]
I think I'll go to Keith. [ she stretches her legs out, smooths down her kimono. she's still not used to the, err, airflow. ] I told him that I'd seen what you did. We're going to travel to the Sea Clan's territory together.
[Its there. Something undefinable. A spark of light that stings somewhere behind his shoulder blades and makes him itch. Her outline seems more solid — the bond was strengthening, perhaps?
Or perhaps, a warning. For him? For her?
He blinks hard and instead watches her movements and her reactions, finding himself frowning when she mentions Keith. He’d since warmed up to the younger man, but not quite as much as Rey probably would have liked. Still, his judgment of character was hardly relevant here. The fact that she is telling him at all —
Well, it was because he was there, he supposes. The fact that he had read minds was no longer a secret, and considering several people had told him that it was a good idea, he cannot really be angry.]
What is your plan, when you arrive? If they are hostile.
[Its easy to talk about the mission. He happens to agree with her decision, even though he already has his theory in mind.]
[ it's bald and fearless honesty. she's going to go in there and feel the situation out, just as she planned to do when she loaded up for the supremacy. it was the only way she would be sure of what she was doing — to have it staring her straight in the face.
(this too makes her think of thrawn, and the recounting of his arrival at the edge of the galactic civil war. was it not the same? she pushes the thoughts aside.) ]
And please, don't lecture me about that. Not now.
[ blah blah war inevitable blah blah. she's gotten all the highlights from poe and finn. she's not looking to start that fight again with someone else. she knows they'll all think that's the case. she doesn't expect vindication here. ]
You should make a better habit of thinking further ahead.
[What was that about not getting lectured? Maybe its because he isn’t actually talking about the mountain clan. These people don’t really mean anything to him. But if he wants the prize at the end of Hathaway’s game, then they needed to do this properly.]
To protect yourselves. Our awareness of the situation there is minimal
[ she definitely remembers saying no lectures, and there's a lecture. just slapping her in the face. she points a narrow gaze up at him, frowning just a little. it's a more casual peevishness than he usually sees in her. not weighty anger. just … begrudging. ]
Habits take time to build. On Jakku, thinking ahead was making sure you knew where your next meal was coming from. Not what you're going to do after traveling to another country and finding who-knows-what waiting.
[ yeah in case he thought this brazenness was a choice, it's actually deeply ingrained from a lifetime of starvation. but it's cool. kylo probably had to wait like two hours to finish training once before he went to the cafeteria on the next floor.
she sighs, letting some of the grumping fall away. ]
I'll try. Okay?
[ compromise. that's what she had asked of poe, right? she can try to think further ahead. and maybe he can try to … not kill people. that's fair, or something. ]
[He doesn’t quite understand, and he probably never would. There was never a moment he struggled for anything externally that he had not brought upon himself. He also doesn’t make much of an effort to understand, because she tells him what he wants to hear.
And frankly, he cares nothing for what Poe Dameron has to say on the matter. More importantly, in his idiocy, he appears to have driven Rey directly into his hands. He’ll take that victory, for whatever it was worth.]
I thought we already agreed that you weren't going to worry about me.
[ there's no good down that path of conversation and she knows it. the last time had hurt her. what do you want to be? maybe until she has an answer for that herself, she should just leave it alone entirely.
she backs off of that call-out, in the form of turning her head away. ]
Keith is talking to Loki about coming with. I was going to invite Kisuke-san, but — [ she sighs. ] Keith doesn't want to bring anyone who doesn't agree with our assessment that it's most likely just rogue agents of the Sea Clan. It's limiting our options.
[There is some clear irritation on the other end of the bond, like someone throwing wood on a fire. That had not been why he asked, of course — but the answer she gives after her call out answers it for him. His body language tightens and he goes too silent for someone still meant to be engaged in conversation. In the same breath that she looks away from him, he looks away from her.
There are things he wants to say, particularly about Keith’s notion about how to get a job done, and her choices in teammates. He’d been one step from offering to journey there himself, either to prove his own claims, or to find the true culprit of this nonsense, but it is easier to fall silent and let that particular thread of conversation die, lest he be accused of weakness again.
It leaves another awkward silence hanging heavy in the room. Kylo isn’t sure where to pick up the conversation again. Maybe if he just stays quiet long enough, the bond will pull them away from each other again.]
Ok.
[What else can he say? The bond is still there, forcing them to confront and endure the wall they can’t seem to pass between. Somewhere in the middle of the silence, he has started to tap one impatient finger on the side of his thigh.]
[ there are two options: talk, and allow it to reiterate the strangeness of their relationship, this paradox between the hyper-intimate and the uneasy; or go silent, and allow her awareness of his apparent physical presence to grow. the latter, she's sure, is his preference, and for that reason she allows the quiet to linger, glancing at him out of only the corner of her eye as though to make sure he is still there.
she wants him to still be there.
her mind races, and her heart with it. poe had accused her — twice — of being on 'his side.' she's not sure what that means, or if it's true, but … surely this exchange leaves her feeling like he is on hers. it's nice that someone is. but then, even that feels traitorous, as though it affirms poe's paranoia.
there is also the matter of the way this quiet makes her want to reach for him. her fists clench to stop her from doing it, but it's a dual purpose of also trying to recapture the warmth of his hand.
stars, she can't suffer the quiet anymore. it's frightening the self control it demands. ]
Thank you.
[ ?? ? ? this is what comes out. when she finally breaks the peace, she looks up at him, her eyes shifting everywhere over his face, and occasionally also to the starved and thin space between them.
should she really be thanking him for being here? or the force? there is her standing theory to consider when making that decision, though it remains entirely unproven and actually it's rather optimistic to try and apply any logic at all to the randomness of the universe, but here she is. the words are out.
her mouth feels dry as she explains. ]
I needed someone. And then you were here. So … thank you.
[ doesn't that sort of affirm the theory a little bit? had she been reaching out for him, without realizing it? ]
[That gets his attention. She says Thank you and his head swivels back around to glance downward at her, searching. He could not remember the last time anyone thanked him for anything, but he is more curious as to the why. She answers that question too, of course.
It should have made perfect sense. He’d seen how lonely she was when they had first met, along with Ahch-To and—
He swallows down the memory of Han Solo, and refocuses on his analysis. All Rey wanted was someone to share company with, and someone who understood how to navigate the Force. He could provide both, even though she had turned down such things in the past — he hadn’t forgotten how she turned that lesson on him, its evidence plain as day on his face. And to that, his brow knits further. Shouldn’t he understand, all of her lashing out? He had done the same, when he discovered that his parents had sent him to be executed at the hand of his uncle.
It doesn’t sit quite right, but if he wants to preserve the future he had seen, then he supposes he needs to try and lean into it a little.
Without removing his eyes from her face, he lifts a bare hand from his lap and offers it to her. They had already agreed to make an effort to understand this thing the Force had thrust upon them. Maybe it was too soon, after she had been scolded for taking his side — but he doesn’t think about that. It was a clear segue from her acknowledgement of his timely appearance.]
[ rey's eyes widen as they drop to catch the movement in ben's lap. quickly her gaze returns to his face, searching his eyes for something. she's not sure what. but it's fear that makes her do it, fear that she's misunderstanding him somehow.
he had turned her away, after the ambush. surely he wasn't reaching for her now. but … he is, and that only makes her more confused.
she can hear poe in her head. why do you sound like you're on his side? a bitter, spiteful piece of her who resents poe for turning on her can't help but think this is why. poe had left. refused to be bothered having it out with her and reaching some kind of compromise, and ben—
he had hurt poe. out of the basest pettiness. that should be what she's thinking about, not about her role in all of this. about how this moment will ripple outward and affect the others. but she can't find purchase in that thought. it slips away from her, and leaves in its wake an ache for solace.
slow enough as to be deliberately and thoughtfully done, she unclenches her hands from around her middle, and with one of them reaches back. her pulse roars in her ears like the stirring ocean around the island on ahch-to in storm, but when she touches his hand, the rest of the world goes still and quiet.
heat spreads from where she settles her hand over his. contact comes first in the gentle brush of her fingertips up his palm as she moves her hand to mirror his. she spreads her fingers to match the splay of his, fingertips touching fingertips, warmth stirring between their palms.
the force seems to breathe with them, contracting and expanding in the space of that contact. but she doesn't see anything. it's different, this time. maybe because she has made her choice. she doesn't need to be shown anything to believe that this course, the one he stands at the end of, is the one the force intends for her.
her grip shifts, and her fingers curl into the open spaces. ]
[He isn't sure what he is expecting when she reaches back, but he can feel the way the room seems to expand when they make contact. Suddenly (like the last time), it doesn't feel like she's no longer sitting on the other side of a glass window, but solid and sitting beside him in the same room.
Vaguely, Kylo Ren can make out more of her surroundings. Unsurprisingly, he can feel that she is as alone as she claimed to be, in what appeared to be an inn in the commoner's district. There is a packed bag -- somewhere. He knows it because she knows it, and not because he can see it. He imagines it will not be different for her -- there is a bundle of dark clothes, swaddling his lightsaber out of view on the floor. On the side table sits a half-eaten meal made mostly of rice and meat. Otherwise, the room is empty, save for him.
He's very aware of how they breathe, and the sounds of the world outside of their own. They mix and mingle, until he has difficulty telling what is outside of his room and what is outside of her's. Distracted, he doesn't notice the act of her clasping his hand more firmly until it is done. And, to some surprise of his own, he finds that his hand has reflexively done the same, dwarfing her grip.
Something rises in his chest -- a warning, something that desperately seeks to save itself from the contact, in the same way that Rey finds doubt in trusting him (though, amplified). Its a very distinct awareness of his own two horribly torn selves, unable to reconcile with one another, and suddenly their measured breathing falls out of time as Kylo Ren starts to hold his breath.]
[ for one brief, instinctual moment, they cling to one another like they're holding onto the edge of the world, ready to fall off. he is warm and steady and a part of her, yet at the same time, awareness of him makes her skin crackle as though he puts out a current that now runs beneath it. a fire burns low in her gut.
there is suddenly more to the world. his, as well as hers, overlaid together. it's hard to focus on anything but him because the rest … the rest is almost like some liminal space that will not decide what it is. both abstract and overstimulating. ]
The shape of your room. But the colors are all running.
[ bleeding together with finn and poe's room. she finally wrenches her gaze away from him to try to take it in. she looks around. there's a shadow on the floor. clothes? she can feel his lightsaber there — no, he can feel it. it's a security blanket to him, just like luke's is for her, packed away in her bag. and beneath them, his bed.
it's like … being aware of his awareness. she has to focus on remembering to breathe, not to get swept up in what isn't real and present. or maybe … not to hold her breath with him.
she feels his pulse stir. his breathing break the rhythm of hers. concern flutters across her expression; something is wrong. he is retreating. but — she can't put her finger on what. it's a stark contrast, the weight of his doubts and hesitation, with her certainty. ]
No. Don't let go. [ she looks back at him. ] Breathe.
He doesn't. That's easy enough. Her grip feels like the only think keeping him sitting, in this war against both his curiosity and what little caution he possesses. The part of him that wants the belief Rey puts in him is desperate to hold on. Maybe he needs her help --
Breathe.
He tries, and his breath hitches. No. He can't. The part of him that refuses attachment, the part of him that fears being consumed by the things that make him weak and the vulnerabilities that promise to be his downfall, fights back. It wants to force separation from that part that desires to explore this connection, the part that causes him to desire Rey's company in any way. As an apprentice. As an equal.
Fear crackles down his spine, lances across his expression, etching the split in his soul even deeper. He looks for anything else to focus on, anything but her face or their hands entwined together. He has to do this, if only to make certain that she would not have control of the narrative if the Force opted to demand more from this connection than he wanted to give.
And when he comes to that conclusion, the room falls a little more into focus. He can hear her breathing again, instead of the pressing silence that threatened to cut them off, but the knot that sits in his chest hasn't untangled itself. He can feel his face growing hot from his refusal to take breath.
He can't breathe. He can't move. He's paralyzed by his own loop of thoughts -- and though he doesn't voice it, his fear stretches out like ice from his hand, bleeding into their surroundings.]
[ something presses down on her lungs. hers? no. his. an impatient need, but he's fighting it. but it makes her feel like she's suffocating with him.
a cold shadow spreads, creeping outward to swell in the room around them, in this liminal space that is hers and his and somewhere in the middle. she is sitting on soft mattress and hard floor at the same time and yet somehow also sitting on nothing at all. it curls under her skin, as if infecting her from the point where their hands touch.
he's still fighting it. she hadn't understood, the night of the ambush, why he had pushed her away in contradiction to the words he'd offered her in that hut on ahch-to, but now she sees it. the conflict runs through him like an open wound.
she has externalized all of it. tears of frustration. lashing out at poe, at keith. how foolish to think that because he was so stoic, so hard-faced, that it was easier for him to stomach.
it's a miracle he isn't screaming. ]
Look at me. [ she pulls at his hand, trying to draw his attention back to her.
his fear calls to her and something in her chest echoes the same sentiment back. dread. it is what the mission on the mothership had taught her to fear, what poe had reinforced. she clings tighter to his hand. it's like he's slipping away from her. like he's afraid of her. not in the same way as poe and keith, maybe, but in some way.
urgency makes her breath short. rey reaches up with her free hand to catch the side of his face. ]
Don't be afraid. It's just me.
[ please don't be afraid of me. poe thinks she is a monster, though he doesn't have the words or the proof yet, his opinion is steel. others will too. she won't be able to take it if ben is too. ]
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it's not that she hadn't gotten her friend hurt. it's that she'd never had him as a friend at all. just rey on her shit again, assigning significance to people who couldn't give a damn about her. in so many ways she remains that desperate, lonely child on jakku watching the skies and waiting for her parents to come back, assuming that she must mean something to them.
she blinks and the tears fall, but no new ones well up to replace them. she stares at him for a silent moment, processing this. it makes a terrible kind of sense, ben's interpretation. she has no reasonable counter.
nothing lost, then. at least there shouldn't be. it shouldn't feel like she failed. like she finally had something she'd wanted for so long and sabotaged it through her own efforts because it was never real to begin with.
that leaves only the other thing. the real reason she can't stay here. the real reason he'd never allow her to, if he knew. ]
He thinks I'm a monster. [ he hadn't said it, but the fear in her chest is real and present and overflowing. and with it, doubt. she's not sure he's wrong. ] He thinks we tortured that woman.
[ she closes her hand in a fist around the edge of her kimono skirt where it brushes up against her knees. she stares for a long moment's silence at ben, clearly on the verge of something else, but not sure she wants to say it. not sure how to. it's that fear again. growing bigger, stronger. she doesn't know anymore. ]
Did we?
no subject
[It comes quick, without thought or consideration, a sort of puzzled tone in his voice. Torture? Surely not. She knew what torture was like -- she'd experienced it, in several different forms. What they'd done to that women couldn't possibly compare to any of that.]
We did not harm her. You were there with me, in her mind. Did that feel like torture? To you?
[It was all very black and white thinking, but something about Rey's voice asks a deeper question. Its not about what they did to that woman, its about her and whether or not she's a monster for engaging in her abilities.]
no subject
No.
[ her tone thick and watery. pain contorts her features then, striking suddenly. layers of it. on the first, that her uncertainty was only extended. there was no clear answer as to whether this was right or wrong of her. the second, that there was no clear reason for poe to be doing what he was doing if she was not in the wrong for it — she was not being punished. not righteously, certainly.
and third, that the only conclusion therein is that she remains, as ever, easily discarded. she wants to believe in some more substantial reason, some blame within herself, because it means that she had wronged poe in some way. that she meant something.
she presses her lips together, screwing up her expression to try and fight back the tears, but they come in one heaving sob that rattles her body. she does not want to leave this room. if she were still welcome in it, she would stay. if she were anything. but … she's not. ]
no subject
If she happens to look up, she might notice Kylo Ren studying her in a way that belies confusion and curiosity rather than understanding. But there is an undeniable measure of interest, regardless. Even in wanting to seperate himself from this hot mess of emotion, he thirsts to understand its existance between them.]
He doesn’t want to understand.
[That is easy enough to offer up, because its true. It was easier to claim the moral high ground when you didn't ask for details.]
It is easier to assign blame to me.
no subject
his words harken back to her conversation with keith. was he lying? he had done it without hesitating. he had proposed it, even, as she floundered to figure out what to do.
no. thinking on that is just her searching for something poe had disappointed her on. she's so desperate for someone to give a damn about her that she's superimposing it over kylo ren. she's pathetic. desperate. and yet it still tugs at the back of her mind, insistent. maybe it's because she can feel his confusion and curiosity and her mind longs for something concrete to ascribe those emotions to.
she reaches up to push hair out of her face where stray strands cling to damn cheeks. ]
You took that blame for me.
[ and poe still doesn't know the extent of it. how much worse would it have been, had he known the truth? ]
Why did you do it?
no subject
[No. That isn’t what she’s asking. There is a knit in his brow that forms when he comes to the conclusion shortly after he replies. Before she can clarify, he does so himself.]
Because it caused you distress, to confront what you’d done.
[He didn’t really understand why it had caused her distress. If it had been what he’d done to Dameron on the Finalizer, perhaps. But this woman had been unconscious, and spent her day terrorizing the populace. He cannot understand her guilt over it.
He doesn’t even understand the implication of guarding her from that guilt. It simply felt — correct, after their previous agreements and arrangements regarding the bond and their working relationship.]
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she hadn't expected that. stars, she's not even entirely sure how to interpret that, or what it means, or— but those questions don't plague her just now. it's … reassuring. whatever it is. in part because she can feel him so clearly, and there's no hint of ulterior motive there. some confusion, perhaps, but …
he'd done it for her. plain and simple.
any question she asks will be too much, as it had been the night of the ambush. she understands now. he, like her, has no measure for this. no tools to equip them to process it or recognize it or even name it. for that reason, she is struck by a sudden speechlessness. anything she can think of to say is the wrong thing.
instead of risking destroying another relationship tonight, she slowly scoots off the edge of the bed. she's shaky still, simultaneously frayed and exhausted and yet still adrenaline high from all of this, but she makes her way over and sits beside him against the opposite wall. she doesn't touch him, though she ostensibly seeks that same sort of closeness as comfort.
she's tired of being alone. at least like this, she feels as though they are in one another's company, and not intruders on some private space. and when she folds her arms over her obi, tucked behind her bent knees, she almost thinks she can feel the warmth coming off of him. ]
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It hits him at all once, as he replays their conversations. Understanding. Yes, that was it. It was the same thing that had drawn them to their vision in the first place. Initially, he’d believed it a hungering curiosity on both ends but no. It was more than that. She was grieving the truth: that she had no family legacy waiting for her. He was also grieving the truth: that Snoke had merely been using his power, and would crush him the instant he was no longer useful.
It sits heavy in his stomach, and thickens the wall of silence. Was that the end of their conversation? Was reaffirmation all she had wanted out of him?
He doesn’t know what to do with this. But in backtracking their conversation, he remembers something. His gaze resets forward, to the door of the room, so he does not have to confront anything else.]
You said that he thought you were a monster.
[She isn’t. He is. There are things he would do that he is still not certain she would — she was still clinging to her past.]
Did you tell him?
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[ she doesn't dress it up. discussing it seems to cause her less pain now. when she says it, she looks up at him, realizing with a frown that he isn't looking at her. he's somewhere else. but then, he always is. her fingers itch. she curls them tighter against the material of her sash instead of reaching out. ]
It was the way he talked about you.
[ and the way that it also applied to her. her breath, still heavy from her crying, slowly starts to even out as she accepts this. she doesn't feel afraid to admit this similarity to him, as she has in so many other contexts.
of course, kylo ren is a monster. and if she's like him … isn't she? she studies his face. he probably hopes so. he'd probably very much like for her to be the same kind of monster he is. ]
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His head tilts then, as he mentally rolls her response around. Poe Dameron did not say anything ahout him that no one else would have said — even Rey herself would have said those things not so long ago, and he would not have argued. He still would not argue.]
I don’t understand.
[And he doesn’t, though maybe he hadn’t wanted to admit it as he quickly realizes. To vocalize it means to ask for clarification, and he isn’t certain he is ready to hear that right now, not so soon after the night of the ambush.
But he glances down anyway, as if expecting to find his answer in her expression.]
But you do not have to explain.
[He has to imagine she doesn’t want to explain as much as he doesn’t want to confront the reality of what they might be dealing with. Allies toward a common cause was one thing — Snoke’s downfall. But this feels like something else.
This feels like understanding, and that is a lot to process.]
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when he glances down at her, it feels like something flutters across the surface of her skin. she can feel his confusion — bordering now on unease — and she wonders, briefly, if he could then also feel that spark of something.
she's bolder than he is by a mile, but not that bold. she turns away from him, looking at her packed bag. the symbol of her acceptance that her place, wherever it was in the galaxy, was not among the likes of poe dameron. and if it wasn't beside or behind luke skywalker, either, then …
where was it? she's keenly aware of ben at her side in that moment. except she hasn't figured out yet if he's the shelter or the rain. ]
I think I'll go to Keith. [ she stretches her legs out, smooths down her kimono. she's still not used to the, err, airflow. ] I told him that I'd seen what you did. We're going to travel to the Sea Clan's territory together.
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Or perhaps, a warning. For him? For her?
He blinks hard and instead watches her movements and her reactions, finding himself frowning when she mentions Keith. He’d since warmed up to the younger man, but not quite as much as Rey probably would have liked. Still, his judgment of character was hardly relevant here. The fact that she is telling him at all —
Well, it was because he was there, he supposes. The fact that he had read minds was no longer a secret, and considering several people had told him that it was a good idea, he cannot really be angry.]
What is your plan, when you arrive? If they are hostile.
[Its easy to talk about the mission. He happens to agree with her decision, even though he already has his theory in mind.]
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[ it's bald and fearless honesty. she's going to go in there and feel the situation out, just as she planned to do when she loaded up for the supremacy. it was the only way she would be sure of what she was doing — to have it staring her straight in the face.
(this too makes her think of thrawn, and the recounting of his arrival at the edge of the galactic civil war. was it not the same? she pushes the thoughts aside.) ]
And please, don't lecture me about that. Not now.
[ blah blah war inevitable blah blah. she's gotten all the highlights from poe and finn. she's not looking to start that fight again with someone else. she knows they'll all think that's the case. she doesn't expect vindication here. ]
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[What was that about not getting lectured? Maybe its because he isn’t actually talking about the mountain clan. These people don’t really mean anything to him. But if he wants the prize at the end of Hathaway’s game, then they needed to do this properly.]
To protect yourselves. Our awareness of the situation there is minimal
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Habits take time to build. On Jakku, thinking ahead was making sure you knew where your next meal was coming from. Not what you're going to do after traveling to another country and finding who-knows-what waiting.
[ yeah in case he thought this brazenness was a choice, it's actually deeply ingrained from a lifetime of starvation. but it's cool. kylo probably had to wait like two hours to finish training once before he went to the cafeteria on the next floor.
she sighs, letting some of the grumping fall away. ]
I'll try. Okay?
[ compromise. that's what she had asked of poe, right? she can try to think further ahead. and maybe he can try to … not kill people. that's fair, or something. ]
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And frankly, he cares nothing for what Poe Dameron has to say on the matter. More importantly, in his idiocy, he appears to have driven Rey directly into his hands. He’ll take that victory, for whatever it was worth.]
Just you and Keith?
[There is a critique in his question.]
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I thought we already agreed that you weren't going to worry about me.
[ there's no good down that path of conversation and she knows it. the last time had hurt her. what do you want to be? maybe until she has an answer for that herself, she should just leave it alone entirely.
she backs off of that call-out, in the form of turning her head away. ]
Keith is talking to Loki about coming with. I was going to invite Kisuke-san, but — [ she sighs. ] Keith doesn't want to bring anyone who doesn't agree with our assessment that it's most likely just rogue agents of the Sea Clan. It's limiting our options.
[ cooperating with other people is hard. ]
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There are things he wants to say, particularly about Keith’s notion about how to get a job done, and her choices in teammates. He’d been one step from offering to journey there himself, either to prove his own claims, or to find the true culprit of this nonsense, but it is easier to fall silent and let that particular thread of conversation die, lest he be accused of weakness again.
It leaves another awkward silence hanging heavy in the room. Kylo isn’t sure where to pick up the conversation again. Maybe if he just stays quiet long enough, the bond will pull them away from each other again.]
Ok.
[What else can he say? The bond is still there, forcing them to confront and endure the wall they can’t seem to pass between. Somewhere in the middle of the silence, he has started to tap one impatient finger on the side of his thigh.]
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she wants him to still be there.
her mind races, and her heart with it. poe had accused her — twice — of being on 'his side.' she's not sure what that means, or if it's true, but … surely this exchange leaves her feeling like he is on hers. it's nice that someone is. but then, even that feels traitorous, as though it affirms poe's paranoia.
there is also the matter of the way this quiet makes her want to reach for him. her fists clench to stop her from doing it, but it's a dual purpose of also trying to recapture the warmth of his hand.
stars, she can't suffer the quiet anymore. it's frightening the self control it demands. ]
Thank you.
[ ?? ? ? this is what comes out. when she finally breaks the peace, she looks up at him, her eyes shifting everywhere over his face, and occasionally also to the starved and thin space between them.
should she really be thanking him for being here? or the force? there is her standing theory to consider when making that decision, though it remains entirely unproven and actually it's rather optimistic to try and apply any logic at all to the randomness of the universe, but here she is. the words are out.
her mouth feels dry as she explains. ]
I needed someone. And then you were here. So … thank you.
[ doesn't that sort of affirm the theory a little bit? had she been reaching out for him, without realizing it? ]
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It should have made perfect sense. He’d seen how lonely she was when they had first met, along with Ahch-To and—
He swallows down the memory of Han Solo, and refocuses on his analysis. All Rey wanted was someone to share company with, and someone who understood how to navigate the Force. He could provide both, even though she had turned down such things in the past — he hadn’t forgotten how she turned that lesson on him, its evidence plain as day on his face. And to that, his brow knits further. Shouldn’t he understand, all of her lashing out? He had done the same, when he discovered that his parents had sent him to be executed at the hand of his uncle.
It doesn’t sit quite right, but if he wants to preserve the future he had seen, then he supposes he needs to try and lean into it a little.
Without removing his eyes from her face, he lifts a bare hand from his lap and offers it to her. They had already agreed to make an effort to understand this thing the Force had thrust upon them. Maybe it was too soon, after she had been scolded for taking his side — but he doesn’t think about that. It was a clear segue from her acknowledgement of his timely appearance.]
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he had turned her away, after the ambush. surely he wasn't reaching for her now. but … he is, and that only makes her more confused.
she can hear poe in her head. why do you sound like you're on his side? a bitter, spiteful piece of her who resents poe for turning on her can't help but think this is why. poe had left. refused to be bothered having it out with her and reaching some kind of compromise, and ben—
he had hurt poe. out of the basest pettiness. that should be what she's thinking about, not about her role in all of this. about how this moment will ripple outward and affect the others. but she can't find purchase in that thought. it slips away from her, and leaves in its wake an ache for solace.
slow enough as to be deliberately and thoughtfully done, she unclenches her hands from around her middle, and with one of them reaches back. her pulse roars in her ears like the stirring ocean around the island on ahch-to in storm, but when she touches his hand, the rest of the world goes still and quiet.
heat spreads from where she settles her hand over his. contact comes first in the gentle brush of her fingertips up his palm as she moves her hand to mirror his. she spreads her fingers to match the splay of his, fingertips touching fingertips, warmth stirring between their palms.
the force seems to breathe with them, contracting and expanding in the space of that contact. but she doesn't see anything. it's different, this time. maybe because she has made her choice. she doesn't need to be shown anything to believe that this course, the one he stands at the end of, is the one the force intends for her.
her grip shifts, and her fingers curl into the open spaces. ]
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Vaguely, Kylo Ren can make out more of her surroundings. Unsurprisingly, he can feel that she is as alone as she claimed to be, in what appeared to be an inn in the commoner's district. There is a packed bag -- somewhere. He knows it because she knows it, and not because he can see it. He imagines it will not be different for her -- there is a bundle of dark clothes, swaddling his lightsaber out of view on the floor. On the side table sits a half-eaten meal made mostly of rice and meat. Otherwise, the room is empty, save for him.
He's very aware of how they breathe, and the sounds of the world outside of their own. They mix and mingle, until he has difficulty telling what is outside of his room and what is outside of her's. Distracted, he doesn't notice the act of her clasping his hand more firmly until it is done. And, to some surprise of his own, he finds that his hand has reflexively done the same, dwarfing her grip.
Something rises in his chest -- a warning, something that desperately seeks to save itself from the contact, in the same way that Rey finds doubt in trusting him (though, amplified). Its a very distinct awareness of his own two horribly torn selves, unable to reconcile with one another, and suddenly their measured breathing falls out of time as Kylo Ren starts to hold his breath.]
What do you see?
[He's desperate to get his focus off of it.]
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there is suddenly more to the world. his, as well as hers, overlaid together. it's hard to focus on anything but him because the rest … the rest is almost like some liminal space that will not decide what it is. both abstract and overstimulating. ]
The shape of your room. But the colors are all running.
[ bleeding together with finn and poe's room. she finally wrenches her gaze away from him to try to take it in. she looks around. there's a shadow on the floor. clothes? she can feel his lightsaber there — no, he can feel it. it's a security blanket to him, just like luke's is for her, packed away in her bag. and beneath them, his bed.
it's like … being aware of his awareness. she has to focus on remembering to breathe, not to get swept up in what isn't real and present. or maybe … not to hold her breath with him.
she feels his pulse stir. his breathing break the rhythm of hers. concern flutters across her expression; something is wrong. he is retreating. but — she can't put her finger on what. it's a stark contrast, the weight of his doubts and hesitation, with her certainty. ]
No. Don't let go. [ she looks back at him. ] Breathe.
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He doesn't. That's easy enough. Her grip feels like the only think keeping him sitting, in this war against both his curiosity and what little caution he possesses. The part of him that wants the belief Rey puts in him is desperate to hold on. Maybe he needs her help --
Breathe.
He tries, and his breath hitches. No. He can't. The part of him that refuses attachment, the part of him that fears being consumed by the things that make him weak and the vulnerabilities that promise to be his downfall, fights back. It wants to force separation from that part that desires to explore this connection, the part that causes him to desire Rey's company in any way. As an apprentice. As an equal.
Fear crackles down his spine, lances across his expression, etching the split in his soul even deeper. He looks for anything else to focus on, anything but her face or their hands entwined together. He has to do this, if only to make certain that she would not have control of the narrative if the Force opted to demand more from this connection than he wanted to give.
And when he comes to that conclusion, the room falls a little more into focus. He can hear her breathing again, instead of the pressing silence that threatened to cut them off, but the knot that sits in his chest hasn't untangled itself. He can feel his face growing hot from his refusal to take breath.
He can't breathe. He can't move. He's paralyzed by his own loop of thoughts -- and though he doesn't voice it, his fear stretches out like ice from his hand, bleeding into their surroundings.]
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a cold shadow spreads, creeping outward to swell in the room around them, in this liminal space that is hers and his and somewhere in the middle. she is sitting on soft mattress and hard floor at the same time and yet somehow also sitting on nothing at all. it curls under her skin, as if infecting her from the point where their hands touch.
he's still fighting it. she hadn't understood, the night of the ambush, why he had pushed her away in contradiction to the words he'd offered her in that hut on ahch-to, but now she sees it. the conflict runs through him like an open wound.
she has externalized all of it. tears of frustration. lashing out at poe, at keith. how foolish to think that because he was so stoic, so hard-faced, that it was easier for him to stomach.
it's a miracle he isn't screaming. ]
Look at me. [ she pulls at his hand, trying to draw his attention back to her.
his fear calls to her and something in her chest echoes the same sentiment back. dread. it is what the mission on the mothership had taught her to fear, what poe had reinforced. she clings tighter to his hand. it's like he's slipping away from her. like he's afraid of her. not in the same way as poe and keith, maybe, but in some way.
urgency makes her breath short. rey reaches up with her free hand to catch the side of his face. ]
Don't be afraid. It's just me.
[ please don't be afraid of me. poe thinks she is a monster, though he doesn't have the words or the proof yet, his opinion is steel. others will too. she won't be able to take it if ben is too. ]
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