Chapter Text
The dry, mountainous terrain of the Dantooine badlands stretched endlessly in every direction, giving one the sensation of being truly in the middle of nowhere. After their narrow escape from the First Order, the Falcon had flown from system to system in no particular order in an attempt to truly shake off their pursuers. After they were certain they were no longer being tracked, Leia had directed them to an old Rebel base on Dantooine. The remaining members of the resistance were relieved to finally settle somewhere, though when they finally landed at the base their relief turned once again to trepidation.
The base had been well and truly abandoned decades prior, and it seemed that it had not been used or even thought of since well before the fall of the Empire. It was still in decent condition, though the wildlife had settled in, and a thick blanket of dust covered every inch of the place. But what was most disheartening was the size; the base easily could have housed several hundred people and held plenty of ships, but they had but one ship and only a few dozen people. Their defeat weighed heavily on each of their hearts, and even the promise of safety couldn’t lighten the gloom.
General Leia had been particularly affected by the events of Crait. She had been so sure their allies would come to their aid, and their abandonment had struck her hard. On top of that, she had lost the last of her remaining family. Luke had implied there was still hope for her son at least, but after suffering loss after loss she was finding it increasingly difficult to have any hope at all. She would never admit it though, and she had put on a stony, apathetic expression to mask her suffering. The last thing the few people who remained needed was to see their leader crumble. But Rey could feel Leia’s despair pulsing out like shockwaves every time she was near, and it was heartbreaking.
Rey wasn’t much better off. For one brief, glorious moment she had been so sure that she had succeeded in bringing Ben back to the light. She couldn’t help but dwell on the memory of fighting side by side with him; it had been unlike anything she had ever experienced before. They had been so in sync, perfectly attuned to each other. There had been electricity between them it seemed, as if the Force itself was guiding their every move. She could still vividly recall the sensation, and it was driving her crazy that she couldn’t shake him from her mind.
She couldn’t figure out where they had gone wrong. She couldn’t help but find herself wishing she could ask him, but every time she had that longing she shoved it forcefully from her thoughts. He had chosen his path, and she had chosen hers. The connection between them was severed, and that was for the best. Yet she knew somewhere deep in her heart that they would always be connected, bonded by the Force. As much as she tried to deny it, she knew her fate was entwined with his.
Rey spent much of her free time pouring over the Jedi texts she had taken from Ahch-To, training, or trying in vain to repair Luke’s lightsaber. She was learning a lot from the texts, but she was having no luck with the saber. Every time she tried to fix it and failed, she found herself thinking of Ben again, and wondering if he could help her. She was stuck in an endless cycle of longing for him, then furiously hating herself for doing so. Her every waking thought seemed to be consumed by him, and she couldn’t escape him even in her dreams. It was maddening.
As the weeks turned to months, the Resistance began to grow. Those that had arrived originally had discovered that most of the Dantooine base’s systems were still operational, though in serious need of upgrades and repairs, so it wasn’t long before they had licked their wounds and redoubled their efforts towards rebuilding the Resistance. Small recruiting parties were sent out, looking for people to join their ranks. To their surprise, it was a rather easy task. Tales of the legendary Luke Skywalker’s last stand against the First Order had spread, leaving an overwhelming sense of hope across the galaxy. The First Order had been doubling their efforts to keep a firm hold on the galaxy in response, but people were not going down without a fight. So when the Resistance recruiters came, people flocked to them. Most of them had nothing left to lose anyway, and Luke’s sacrifice had instilled them with a desire to follow his example and fight for their freedom.
Slowly the base returned to working order and began filling with ships, droids, and people. It had gotten busy, and the general atmosphere seemed to have improved greatly. Even Leia‘s spirits had been lifted by the growing support, and she was throwing herself into her work with more vigor than ever before. The only person whose mood seemed unaffected was Rey, who had grown more and more sullen as their numbers expanded. Truthfully, she had been feeling more alone than ever. She took comfort in her friends, but almost everyone else seemed to revere her and she was finding it difficult to be around the prying eyes and low whispers. She was the last Jedi and the last beacon of hope for the Resistance, and it was far too much pressure. She had no direction or any idea how to lead or inspire these people, yet they all seemed to be waiting for her to do so. So she had taken to spending a great deal of time alone, which did not help the loneliness.
There were times when Rey could swear she had almost connected with Ben again, though she often assumed it was merely because he was consuming her thoughts. But try as she might to play these moments off as nothing, she couldn’t help but feel like void inside her had been momentarily filled each time she thought she saw a flash of his dark eyes or heard the sound of his voice as if carried to her on the wind. And she certainly couldn’t help (much to her dismay) the crushing disappointment when she looked for him, only to find nothing but empty space beside her. She couldn’t understand why she had kept feeling this longing ache for him in the pit of her stomach, or why she felt so hurt and betrayed by him. All she knew for sure was that she felt incomplete, and she hated that she felt that way.
XXXXX
Across the galaxy, Kylo Ren had spent the passing months struggling to live up to his new title. The First Order was on the brink of total domination over the galaxy, but pockets of rebellions had risen up nearly everywhere. They had also lost track of the Resistance, and though he knew they were rebuilding, they could not find out where they were located. He had become obsessed with finding them, despite the many times General Hux tried to talk him into letting it go. Hux kept trying to get Kylo to realize that they had more important issues at hand, and he was growing increasingly frustrated with the new Supreme Leader and his unwillingness to take suggestion. Hux already didn’t trust Kylo; his story about how Snoke died just didn’t add up. So his relentless pursuit of the remnants of the Resistance only served to solidify his hatred of Kylo Ren.
But Kylo couldn’t help obsessing. His mind and soul had been utterly consumed by Rey, and her betrayal had broken something inside of him. He wanted to see her more than anything, and with the Force bond no longer connecting them, he had concluded that the only way to satisfy the ache in his heart was to track her down himself. Since their final encounter on Crait, he had become cold and hollow. He felt neither joy in their victories, nor any drive for anything other than finding Rey. He had to talk to her. He had to know why she refused him, and why he was so torn up about it. He felt like a piece of him had been torn away, and the rage and despair that he was left with threatened to tear him apart. He was so lost and so alone, more so than ever before, and the agony of it was suffocating him. He had no direction anymore. He had always had an end goal, but now he did not believe he could achieve it without her. He needed her.
As the months passed Kylo taught himself to command with a stoic indifference. He had always been known among the troops for his hot temper, but somehow the cold, unreleased fury he now projected was infinitely more frightening. He found himself alone most of the time, but that suited him just fine. Hux had slowly been stretching his influence across the First Order, and Kylo knew he was trying to prepare. Hux needed people on his side when he finally found an opportunity to overthrow him, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care about that. He knew he could choke the life out of Hux without a second thought, so he didn’t bother to trouble himself with the backstabbing rat. He couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by anybody.
Several months after the battle of Crait, Kylo sat at the head of the table in the war room of the new First Order flagship while his officers discussed tactics around him. He had hardly been listening to them; it was the same discussion over and over again. Another squadron had been attacked by a rebel group on such and such planet…. several casualties… rebels exterminated. It was always the same.
“This is getting out of control, Supreme Leader. The rebel attacks have now moved from the outer and mid rims and have been happening on core worlds. We are getting reports of attacks from nearly every planet we have squads stationed. We need to take action before we lose control entirely,” Armitage Hux said, turning a wary eye to their leader.
Kylo sighed heavily; annoyed that he was being pulled into the conversation. “And what action do you propose we take, exactly? The more we force them to submit, the more they rise up and fight back. If you have a suggestion that we have not already tried, I would love to hear it.”
Hux narrowed his eyes slightly, struggling to hide the contempt for his superior. The other officers in the room looked between the two men with trepidation; they all knew that Kylo and Hux had hated each other for ages, and none of them wanted to get caught in the crossfire when they finally came to blows.
“We need a show of force that will prove to them once and for all that resistance means death. We need to destroy their spirit and make them fear us,” Hux replied, slamming his fist on the table.
“They already fear us, General. That is not the problem. You can force someone to kneel, but you cannot force loyalty. I have learned this long ago,” Kylo replied with a pointed snarl at Hux. “They will continue to fight us because they are afraid.”
Hux scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You sound awfully sympathetic to the rebels. Perhaps it is your loyalty we should question.”
Kylo was on his feet immediately, his sudden movement causing everyone in the room to flinch. Hux ground his teeth in agitation, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. Kylo fixed his dark, penetrating gaze on the man he loathed deeply, saying nothing for a long moment. The room went silent, waiting with baited breath.
“To defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy. Get in their head and understand what they fight for. It is not sympathy, it is strategy, and if you took five minutes to figure that out, then perhaps you wouldn’t continue to fail time and time again,” he said, the calmness of his voice in stark contrast to the fury in his eyes. He glanced around at the other officers; none of them dared to speak. “We are done for today. Do not disturb me unless it is important.”
Kylo swept from the room without another word or backwards glance. They could argue ways to beat people down without him; he had long ago given up on trying to force people to be loyal. He had been betrayed far too many times by people he had trusted, so he definitely could sympathize with the people who were rising up to fight the First Order. Why should they trust a faction that had done nothing but abuse them? Yes, he could definitely sympathize.
He made his way to his room without hesitation, locking the door behind him as he entered. He unfastened his cloak and tossed it on the bed haphazardly, resisting the urge to ignite his lightsaber and destroy everything around him. He then closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, trying to ground himself. The entirety of the First Order had their eyes on him now, and he could not afford to keep losing his temper. He had already lost everything he cared about, the Order was all he had left. But suppressing the turmoil within him had not been easy.
For what seemed like the millionth time, his thoughts turned to Rey. Despite the hurt and betrayal he felt because of her, she seemed to be the only thing that could quell the storm inside him. As much as he hated to admit it, he actually missed her. He let out a heavy sigh, hating himself for thinking of her yet again, and then turned towards his bed. It was still early, but he felt exhausted. But as he turned, a familiar feeling came over him, dampening the sounds of the ship. Suddenly she was there, standing before him. He had sworn over the past months that he had seen flashes of her out of the corner of his eye, or briefly heard her voice, but he had just brushed it off as his imagination. But here she was now, in full clarity.
For the briefest of moments her face softened at the sight of him, as if he were an old friend she had been longing to see. But then her jawline tensed and her eyes hardened. Her eyes locked on his with a guarded expression. Kylo looked back at her, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. His hand twitched slightly, instinctively reaching out to her, but he let his hand remain limp at his side instead. He let out a small breath he hadn’t even been aware he had been holding, and he noticed with a pang of unexpected joy, that she had just done the same.
“Hello Rey.”