[ 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. ]
[There's no resistance when she reaches to his cheek. His eyes are drawn to her's, and the extra contact forces him to acknowledge her presence. Don't be afraid. But he is. He's always been afraid. She saw it in him, in what feels like a different time.
It's just me. There is no just her. What they were doing here proved that. They circled one another like two predators sizing one another up, never quite crossing the entire length of the bridge between them because of fundamental differences in their moral centers. She was a threat to him, the same way he was a threat to her --
-- no. That's not quite right.
Something clicks into place. The vision. They were not threats to one another, they were a force to be reckoned with, if they could stand to find a commonality. And right now, they had several. Snoke. The bond. Hathaway.
Somewhere between all of this compartmentalization, he stops looking through her and sees her again. The concern in her expression, her own fear like a mirror. The next inhale she tries to force, he finds himself matching. Rapid blinking pulls everything back into focus, and the ice of his fear melts and crystallizes.
He swallows it down, and it drops like a stone in his stomach. Not gone, but no longer relevant to the present. What would have happened, if he had not found reasoning? Would the tide have consumed them? Would it have forced their separation?]
[ when his eyes find hers again, really find hers again, the fear that he might turn and run from her just like poe had dissipates. in its place, there is a certainty of purpose. no matter how cold and distant he acts, she has seen the truth of him now in more than just a vision across the galaxy. he's as trapped by the gravity of this terrible intimacy as she is.
had she really suspected him immune? she had begun to. dreaded another case of investing more of herself than anyone else ever would in her. but no.
her breath is ragged, labored, coming in and out through parted lips as she feels him come down from that precipice with her. her hand drags down his face, savoring the contact, but steadily recognizing that the need for it has passed. he's here with her. ]
No. [ they breathe together, in sync. is that why she suddenly feels like every inhale is a gasp to fill thirsty lungs? because he had been starving himself of oxygen in an effort to resist? she leaves her fingertips lingering on his jaw for just a moment before she pulls back.
she sits back on her heels, only then realizing she had turned her whole body when she grabbed his face. instead of sitting with her back to the wall in parallel to him, she kneels facing him. the bed is soft under her weight, yet she can feel the wooden floor has scraped her knees. the marks will tell her this wasn't real, but she knows it is.
she gains momentum when she speaks again, a fervid rhythm to her speech, impassioned with all the adrenaline that makes her pulse race. ] We're getting stronger.
[ not just the bond. the two of them, together, are strengthening it. perhaps a mere philosophical distinction, but one that feels … important. to her. she feels … powerful. alive. the weakness and woe brought on by poe's departure distant for the time being. ]
[It takes some time to find a steady rhythm of breathing again. He's felt like he's run a mile, with no chance to recover. There is some solace in seeing Rey struggle right alongside him.
Would that be how this ended? Completely in sync, with no ability to tell where Kylo Ren ended and Rey began? The idea isn't wholly unappealing, now that he's seen her willingness to reach for him. She'd found him after fleeing her friends, and the surety that she'd never turn starts to fade away.
He doesn't smile, but there is an undeniable sense of delight on the other side of the bond. Strength was easy for him to understand and covet, so when she reassigns their progress to them rather than the bond itself -- well, he can't help but agree. As he feels their pulse rise together, he nods, just to give somewhere for the adrenaline to go.]
We are.
[He basks in that revelation, mind struggling to catch up with what they could do beyond what they'd already done. But he realizes almost instantly that he has to back track a little, blocking out the sound of the streets on the other side of the window to his room.]
There was no vision this time. Was there?
[He didn't see anything, and he has the idea that they experience everything together, like this. How else could he explain this unfettered delight that felt apart of him and beyond him all at the same time? This sense of...purpose?
It seems undefinable, which stokes at the stone of fear sitting in his stomach.]
[ the emotions that pour through the link between them are like nothing she's associated with kylo ren before. pride, but with more levity. delight. it echoes back at him from her end — strongly enough that she has to wonder if it hasn't really come from her in the first place and fed back through in a loop.
it's overwhelming, watching the lines between them blur like this. she could lose herself in it. that dark shadow, staved off for now, could still seep in and she might not even think to stop it. but … it's comforting, too. ]
No.
[ it's an agreement — one she can only think to attribute to the notion that they must be on that same track, still. headed to the destination they need to go to. a destiny. for her, in him. wrapped up together. he had tried to tell her that, of course. on viridian sea: you have something better than bloodlines. only now does she truly believe it. only now can she feel it.
but his question spurs a hundred others in the back of her mind. chatter that starts to crowd the ambience. will this continue? if it doesn't, what will happen to the both of them? if poe hasn't already turned finn against her, will she be able to keep it from him? to make him understand, ever?
there's so much they still don't know. ]
Maybe it only happened then because we needed to see it. [ the implication, of course, that they don't now. the space between them was still there — compromises to be made, differences to be reconciled and detangled. but it seems smaller now. they have already been brought together. it would be harder, now, to separate them than anything else.
she knows she should release his hand, take her things, and go. she should make her way from this room and put it behind her while she can still ride the strength this has brought her. but again, separating feels … impossible. she looks down at their hands. ]
[The answer to -- what? He doesn't even remember asking a question, before they had reached for one another. But somehow, they had both encountered the same vision.
Following that train of thought threatens to drown him in his own mind. Fortunately, Rey's own distraction brings him back to the present, and his eyes follow her's. He can feel her desire to pull away, and the impossible weight sitting on their wrists that holds them together.
He doesn't thirst for the contact like she does. Its easier for him to untangle that knot. So he starts to unfurl his fingers, which feels like peeling peanut butter off the roof of his mouth.]
They will be back soon.
[He shares her desire for her to get away from them, for multiple reasons.]
[ when his hand starts slipping away, she realizes how desperate she is to cling to it. her pulse quickens, briefly, but only until she glances up to search his face. this isn't a retreat; he's not flinching away, curling back in on himself as he had after the ambush. it's … for now.
however reluctantly, she opens her hand. still she finds her fingers brushing against his hand as they pull back. she wants to savor that warmth. eventually it's just her knuckles brushing the heel of his hand, and then nothing. she presses her lips into a resolved line, accepting the necessity. ]
I will.
[ the room comes back into focus around her. she can no longer sense the movement outside his window. the light filters in differently. the nauseating feeling of double passes. she is herself again, and no one else. it's like coming up for air. ]
But before I do … I think we should try this again. I don't mean now. [ there's a fever in her voice. ] Just that we should keep trying to understand this and master it. I was able to find you during the festival. I could feel you, and follow that feeling. I wonder if we can't do the same thing to provoke this.
[ it's the best lead she has. latching onto that bleed-through she was feeling and chasing it. reaching out for him. ]
I think we should try. [ this time when she reiterates it, the words stand as a haphazard sort of invitation into her life. an open-ended welcome that's sure to be rocky as they sift through it, even assuming it winds up working. ] We should be the ones in control.
[The dark swims back into his vision, and he finds his breath regulating again, a dark calm sinking into his veins. He feels cold -- an unfamiliar cold that picks at his skin under the soft material of his more casual nightwear, and he exhales in an attempt to cleanse himself of the remnants of their most recent revelation.
Back into himself. Back to familiar crawlspaces, where he doesn't have to consider a perspective other than his own. For a second, it seems like he doesn't hear her proposal, focused instead on his lap and a distant pain in his knees that he doesn't know the origin of.]
I agree.
[We should be the ones in control. That's what he agrees with. Trying this again seems ... challenging, and potentially out of reach. But he understands the implication, that she had felt his fury from across the ambush. He'd felt the same when Anakin was still among them. His presence was clearer than anything else he could see and feel, at any time of the day. Now, he has been replaced by Rey, and he finds himself almost glad for it.
At least Rey pretended to be interested in his power and potential.
To ignore all of that and pretend it didn't exist would not only waste the potential of what they could do, but would harm them when the time came to confront their shared vision. This was the best course.]
[ somehow his agreement still comes as a surprise to her. a wave of relief crashes over her almost violently. but it helps her suppress that impulse to cling to what little she felt she had. she nods in return, and for a moment, hovers there beside him. it takes her a few moments to realize that she must then budge and remove herself from the situation.
slowly, she picks herself up, and in dusting herself off, notices the lingering red marks on her knees, where the floor had scratched them. they're not bleeding freely, but they will scab. she rubs dirt away from the scratches and grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. then she takes her staff in hand. ]
When I see you again … I'll let you know what I've discovered.
[ she looks him in the eye then. does she look like he does? flushed and spent by their mental efforts? if she does, he doesn't seem to notice. she drops her gaze and turns, slipping out through the door.
she can still feel him behind her, but leaving him behind does the job of letting the bond fade, and eventually, she is alone in her mind again. but … maybe just a little less alone than she had been before. ]
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no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[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
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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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It's just me. There is no just her. What they were doing here proved that. They circled one another like two predators sizing one another up, never quite crossing the entire length of the bridge between them because of fundamental differences in their moral centers. She was a threat to him, the same way he was a threat to her --
-- no. That's not quite right.
Something clicks into place. The vision. They were not threats to one another, they were a force to be reckoned with, if they could stand to find a commonality. And right now, they had several. Snoke. The bond. Hathaway.
Somewhere between all of this compartmentalization, he stops looking through her and sees her again. The concern in her expression, her own fear like a mirror. The next inhale she tries to force, he finds himself matching. Rapid blinking pulls everything back into focus, and the ice of his fear melts and crystallizes.
He swallows it down, and it drops like a stone in his stomach. Not gone, but no longer relevant to the present. What would have happened, if he had not found reasoning? Would the tide have consumed them? Would it have forced their separation?]
It's getting stronger.
[Quiet, and breathless.]
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had she really suspected him immune? she had begun to. dreaded another case of investing more of herself than anyone else ever would in her. but no.
her breath is ragged, labored, coming in and out through parted lips as she feels him come down from that precipice with her. her hand drags down his face, savoring the contact, but steadily recognizing that the need for it has passed. he's here with her. ]
No. [ they breathe together, in sync. is that why she suddenly feels like every inhale is a gasp to fill thirsty lungs? because he had been starving himself of oxygen in an effort to resist? she leaves her fingertips lingering on his jaw for just a moment before she pulls back.
she sits back on her heels, only then realizing she had turned her whole body when she grabbed his face. instead of sitting with her back to the wall in parallel to him, she kneels facing him. the bed is soft under her weight, yet she can feel the wooden floor has scraped her knees. the marks will tell her this wasn't real, but she knows it is.
she gains momentum when she speaks again, a fervid rhythm to her speech, impassioned with all the adrenaline that makes her pulse race. ] We're getting stronger.
[ not just the bond. the two of them, together, are strengthening it. perhaps a mere philosophical distinction, but one that feels … important. to her. she feels … powerful. alive. the weakness and woe brought on by poe's departure distant for the time being. ]
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Would that be how this ended? Completely in sync, with no ability to tell where Kylo Ren ended and Rey began? The idea isn't wholly unappealing, now that he's seen her willingness to reach for him. She'd found him after fleeing her friends, and the surety that she'd never turn starts to fade away.
He doesn't smile, but there is an undeniable sense of delight on the other side of the bond. Strength was easy for him to understand and covet, so when she reassigns their progress to them rather than the bond itself -- well, he can't help but agree. As he feels their pulse rise together, he nods, just to give somewhere for the adrenaline to go.]
We are.
[He basks in that revelation, mind struggling to catch up with what they could do beyond what they'd already done. But he realizes almost instantly that he has to back track a little, blocking out the sound of the streets on the other side of the window to his room.]
There was no vision this time. Was there?
[He didn't see anything, and he has the idea that they experience everything together, like this. How else could he explain this unfettered delight that felt apart of him and beyond him all at the same time? This sense of...purpose?
It seems undefinable, which stokes at the stone of fear sitting in his stomach.]
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it's overwhelming, watching the lines between them blur like this. she could lose herself in it. that dark shadow, staved off for now, could still seep in and she might not even think to stop it. but … it's comforting, too. ]
No.
[ it's an agreement — one she can only think to attribute to the notion that they must be on that same track, still. headed to the destination they need to go to. a destiny. for her, in him. wrapped up together. he had tried to tell her that, of course. on viridian sea: you have something better than bloodlines. only now does she truly believe it. only now can she feel it.
but his question spurs a hundred others in the back of her mind. chatter that starts to crowd the ambience. will this continue? if it doesn't, what will happen to the both of them? if poe hasn't already turned finn against her, will she be able to keep it from him? to make him understand, ever?
there's so much they still don't know. ]
Maybe it only happened then because we needed to see it. [ the implication, of course, that they don't now. the space between them was still there — compromises to be made, differences to be reconciled and detangled. but it seems smaller now. they have already been brought together. it would be harder, now, to separate them than anything else.
she knows she should release his hand, take her things, and go. she should make her way from this room and put it behind her while she can still ride the strength this has brought her. but again, separating feels … impossible. she looks down at their hands. ]
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[The answer to -- what? He doesn't even remember asking a question, before they had reached for one another. But somehow, they had both encountered the same vision.
Following that train of thought threatens to drown him in his own mind. Fortunately, Rey's own distraction brings him back to the present, and his eyes follow her's. He can feel her desire to pull away, and the impossible weight sitting on their wrists that holds them together.
He doesn't thirst for the contact like she does. Its easier for him to untangle that knot. So he starts to unfurl his fingers, which feels like peeling peanut butter off the roof of his mouth.]
They will be back soon.
[He shares her desire for her to get away from them, for multiple reasons.]
You should go.
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however reluctantly, she opens her hand. still she finds her fingers brushing against his hand as they pull back. she wants to savor that warmth. eventually it's just her knuckles brushing the heel of his hand, and then nothing. she presses her lips into a resolved line, accepting the necessity. ]
I will.
[ the room comes back into focus around her. she can no longer sense the movement outside his window. the light filters in differently. the nauseating feeling of double passes. she is herself again, and no one else. it's like coming up for air. ]
But before I do … I think we should try this again. I don't mean now. [ there's a fever in her voice. ] Just that we should keep trying to understand this and master it. I was able to find you during the festival. I could feel you, and follow that feeling. I wonder if we can't do the same thing to provoke this.
[ it's the best lead she has. latching onto that bleed-through she was feeling and chasing it. reaching out for him. ]
I think we should try. [ this time when she reiterates it, the words stand as a haphazard sort of invitation into her life. an open-ended welcome that's sure to be rocky as they sift through it, even assuming it winds up working. ] We should be the ones in control.
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Back into himself. Back to familiar crawlspaces, where he doesn't have to consider a perspective other than his own. For a second, it seems like he doesn't hear her proposal, focused instead on his lap and a distant pain in his knees that he doesn't know the origin of.]
I agree.
[We should be the ones in control. That's what he agrees with. Trying this again seems ... challenging, and potentially out of reach. But he understands the implication, that she had felt his fury from across the ambush. He'd felt the same when Anakin was still among them. His presence was clearer than anything else he could see and feel, at any time of the day. Now, he has been replaced by Rey, and he finds himself almost glad for it.
At least Rey pretended to be interested in his power and potential.
To ignore all of that and pretend it didn't exist would not only waste the potential of what they could do, but would harm them when the time came to confront their shared vision. This was the best course.]
When you go to the Sea Clan.
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slowly, she picks herself up, and in dusting herself off, notices the lingering red marks on her knees, where the floor had scratched them. they're not bleeding freely, but they will scab. she rubs dirt away from the scratches and grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. then she takes her staff in hand. ]
When I see you again … I'll let you know what I've discovered.
[ she looks him in the eye then. does she look like he does? flushed and spent by their mental efforts? if she does, he doesn't seem to notice. she drops her gaze and turns, slipping out through the door.
she can still feel him behind her, but leaving him behind does the job of letting the bond fade, and eventually, she is alone in her mind again. but … maybe just a little less alone than she had been before. ]