She ought to leave it there as well. Half a dozen cutting remarks had come to mind in the space between meeting Vader and this moment, and yet none of them are what she chooses now. There's an air of resignation about her that wasn't there a moment ago. A certain sadness that she can't bring herself to name.
"He's... different than I thought," she settles upon at last, looking down at her forgotten book. She'd been incandescently angry when she'd confronted Vader, but he'd managed to surprise her all the same.
Any of those cutting remarks would have fallen precisely in the range of what he expects. She'd greeted him with accusation and by now had long returned to it. It was clear enough that she would think even less of his grandfather.
She shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak. She'd hurled accusations at Vader, of the harm he'd done to his children; she'd prepared herself to stand between them if he threatened either one. She hadn't considered that he might care. That he wouldn't seek to immediately twist either of them to his own ends.
Or that one might have good in them and still continue to choose the Dark.
"I'm sure he's very proud of you," she manages at last. It's not entirely the biting judgment she would have liked it to be. She doesn't dare lift her eyes to see his response, lest he note the faint wetness about her own.
He could easily imagine her spitting those words as a curse. That's not what this is. It's far more complicated.
"He is." If she had, then his tone back might have matched hers even if the words didn't change. As it stands, they carry all the wonder and relief he feels over having seen how highly his grandfather regards him.
She bites down on the inside of her lip until she tastes blood, until the sting is enough to stop the sob that wants to escape. This is why she's kept him out. Vader had surprised her, but he'd killed the last vestiges of a hope she didn't know she still held until it was gone.
There won't be any turning back now, not for Kylo. Not now that he's earned the approval of the only person that would ever matter. She'd been foolish to ever hope she could've been enough to sway him. And she knows, now, that she won't stop caring either. Right up to the day she has to kill him.
It's too much to bear, and a small choked sound escapes her in spite of her best efforts.
He isn't the only person who would ever matter. Rey could. She does, except that she's tried so hard to make herself utterly inaccessible to him. She had made him feel seen, briefly. She had given him the strength to kill Snoke. And then she had abandoned him for not being good enough, just like everyone else in his life.
She can't even guess at how many times he's cursed himself for still caring about her, but he does, even now.
He hears that sob. More importantly, he feels it, that painful sadness reverberating in the space between them. He doesn't understand it, but the urge to comfort is reflexive. It wouldn't be for anyone else, but it is for her. He reaches a hand out to gently rest on her shoulder before he has a chance to think about it.
She hates how easy it is to break her resolve after a year of building it up. She wants to pull away, to forcibly shut their bond down, to throw every wall back into place more firmly than ever. She should do that. It would be better for them both.
But just that light touch is enough to bring it all back into sharp focus; the way she'd felt the first time their hands had touched. The future that still felt solid and clear even now, even when it was no longer possible.
"Don't."
It's barely spoken aloud, and she immediately confuses the issue further by covering his hand with her own and clutching at it like he could stop her from flying entirely apart. Silent sobs shake her shoulders; she can't say anything more. She doesn't even know what she means. The twin desires to flee and to cling tighter leave her frozen in her misery, waiting for the bond to cut out and grant her a reprieve.
Had she simply said that, he would have pulled away. But she keeps him from it, holding his hand in place and leaving him as confused as she is, and also as conflicted. He can feel that simultaneous pull and push from her and he doesn't know how to respond to either.
He wonders what he would want, in her position, and flashes of memory rise in answer. Snoke, a year in the past, wiping a tear from his face and berating its existence. And Vader, only a few days ago, watching tears well in his eyes and making no comment at all on it at all save for a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He doesn't understand what this is. He's not sure whether he can forgive her for her betrayals, and he's sure she likewise hasn't forgiven him. But for right at this moment, he finds himself very quietly saying, "It's okay. You can cry."
She barely understands what this is, other than perhaps acknowledging the loss she'd felt when she'd left him a year ago. She hadn't been able to express it to anyone else; if anyone had noticed her sadness, they'd attributed it to the same losses they'd all suffered. Leia had seen a little more, but she never pressed, and so Rey had never cried for the hope that had shattered that day, save for the tears she shed in front of him.
It wasn't right that he should get so many of her tears, but who else? Who else could have known the depth of regret she felt? She hadn't made a secret of her hopes; that she was angry with him didn't mean she'd never wanted more.
And his offer now was so gentle, she couldn't help but allow her tears to fall freely, curling a little more tightly in on herself but not releasing his hand.
Does it hurt you, too?
The silent question goes unspoken, but perhaps he can pick it up in between her quietly hitching sobs.
He hears that question, in the way her thoughts are sometimes loud when her voice is silent. He wonders briefly what it means, whether there's any specific "it" in question. In the end, he realises it doesn't matter. What of anything that's passed between them hasn't been painful, in some way or another?
It's a while before she can gather herself together enough to speak, but she finally does, lifting her head to look at him and releasing the desperate grip she's kept on his hand.
"I'm sorry."
For falling apart on him. For shutting him out so completely even here. For rebuffing his attempts at simple conversation.
For walking away and leaving him behind on a burning ship.
For all the things this moment can't change going forward. They're not enemies here, but who's to say they won't be again? She knows, now, the danger of hope. She's not sure she can bear to allow him any closer when the reality is that one day they'll have to go back to opposing sides, but neither is she sure she can keep going on as she has been.
"I don't want us to keep hurting each other."
It's a tiny plea to this universe as much as it's an admission to him. Show me a way forward and I'll take it. Something had to be better than the way they've been going on.
He drops his hand from her shoulder after she releases it. He's hesitant to let go, but keeping it there longer feels awkward.
"I don't, either." He's not any more sure of a way forward than she is. They've already proved thoroughly enough that neither will give up their respective position for the other. But they aren't enemies here, and he doesn't want to be. He'll take a temporary truce if that's the best he can get for now.
Something in her chest constricts with the loss of contact, but she doesn't feel she ought to encourage it, either. It's already hard enough to be this close without wanting more. It's already going to hurt badly enough when they go home.
She swipes at the tear tracks on her cheeks with the back of her hand, quietly grateful that he'd let her cry out the hurt of the past year without further comment. Maybe it was only repayment for the way she'd tended to his injuries after the mission, but maybe it was enough that they didn't want the other to hurt.
"I'm glad you have your family here," she says at last. It's hard not to be a little bit angry and envious, given the circumstances. She would have traded nearly anything in her power for a moment with the parents that had thrown her away. To ask a single question -- why? But it's not something she'd truly deny him, not if there was a chance of something better for any one of them.
He, predictably, has mixed feelings about his family here. He'd rather never interact with Luke again, and his mother being a child here is awkward at best. But his meeting with his grandfather had surpassed any expectation he might have had.
"I don't understand why they're all here." It's not a complaint, just an observation. A slight shift in the conversation, because speculating on the meaning of their being here is an easier topic than any of his own feelings about it.
"Why would the Sylphid gather us all from different times? Not everyone here is even from our galaxy." Maybe it was to do with their abilities, but he'd seen enough to prove that there was significant power to be had in those other worlds, as well. As far as he's aware, no one from those other worlds had their whole family brought along--though he certainly hasn't met everyone, considering he'd missed Obi-Wan up to now. "If it was power they wanted, then there's no reason to take my mother so young."
"Maybe they don't have as much control over it as that. Maybe we could've been drawn here from any time at all, if all they wanted was access to our abilities."
Or maybe the Force still had a hand in things. Maybe it had gifted all of them with a second chance in the only way it could, by allowing them to be taken here for a time. Clearly the Force still existed in some form here. The fact that they're sitting here talking is proof of that.
"Do you think the Force has a will of its own?"
She's not sure she does, or if she'd like it to. It's already hard to understand why an energy with some ability to actively influence things would choose as it had thus far.
Maybe. It's hard to say how much control the Sylphid have over any of the process. It could even be very little, though it seems unlikely for this gathering of so many related Force users to be a coincidence.
He shakes his head to the question. "No, not exactly." Maybe that's surprising, considering how much faith he has in it, but he's never seen it as something conscious in itself, making active decisions.
"It reveals the truth." The first time this happened, when he'd asked why the Force was connecting them, he didn't mean it as something the Force itself had chosen, but he thought there must be a reason for it happening, nonetheless. There must be a reason, too, for it to continue even in Snoke's absence, if he had told the truth about being the one to start this. Kylo isn't convinced he had been.
"Why do you think it's still connecting us, even here?"
She doesn't believe it had been Snoke's influence. Not anymore. Maybe he'd set things in motion, or maybe he'd lied, but it doesn't stand to reason that the strength of the connection would remain after all this time and distance, outside their own galaxy -- possibly universe. What truth could it have left to reveal?
"I'm not sure." Before all this happened, he'd been looking through Sith books that Palpatine had stashed away, but so far he hasn't found any sort of solid answer. He wishes he could have brought that collection with him--though he supposes his comment earlier about it being possible for them to turn up is just as true for those as it is for Rey's Jedi texts.
In the end, maybe it's as simple as there being something about the two of them that should be connected. Even after a year of that link being blocked and every antagonistic interaction they've had, neither of them could bring themself to truly give up on the other. The fact that they're talking right now is proof enough of that.
"Maybe studying the way tethers work here can give us some insight. It's not quite the same, but it's something the people here could teach us more about."
She's still conflicted about the necessity of tethering and the awkward potential of her own choice, but it hadn't been disruptive yet. It wasn't quite as strong or quite as random a bond, though she still wishes her thoughts and emotions could be entirely her own. But with so many Force users in one place that was never truly an option unless she meant to keep her guard up around the clock.
The mention of tethers puts a frown on his face. Maybe she's right that it could lead to some clues, but the whole idea of it rubs him the wrong way. He wouldn't mind the idea if she were of the opposite planet alignment, since they already have this bond between them anyway. But since she's not, he'd rather not consider allowing someone else extra insight into his thoughts.
"Do you think there's any truth to it? The imbalance sickness?"
Rey shrugs lightly. She hadn't given it a lot of thought, honestly, since she didn't think their hosts had any reason to lie to them. They'd seemed forthcoming and helpful thus far, though they also wanted something of them. Still, there didn't seem to be an outward reason to lie about it.
"I wasn't in a hurry to find out. I wouldn't want to have to choose someone out of desperation."
She realizes belatedly that she ought to have hedged a bit more, as now he'll naturally want to know who she's tethered to. This ought to go well.
Kylo still feels he doesn't know this place well enough to have a solid sense of what there might be a reason to lie about. And just because the reason isn't obvious doesn't mean there isn't one. The fighting, he's willing to follow along with until he finds a reason not to. Less so the part about giving someone else access to his psyche.
His eyes narrow at the words, searching her face. "You've done it already." That much isn't a question. "Who?"
Her cheeks flush with some emotion she can't quite name, and she looks back down at her book for a few moments, hoping perhaps the bond will cut out and spare them both.
When it doesn't happen, she takes a deep breath and braces for the end of whatever understanding they were about to come to.
"I thought it better if it were someone I knew. There weren't as many Tian-aligned people here, and if I waited it might've had to be a stranger."
She can't quite make herself look at him, or speak the name she knows will hurt.
She doesn't give a straight answer, but she gives him enough clues. There are very few people here who she had met before, and only one who he knows has the correct alignment to be of benefit to her. One he knew perfectly well that she had talked to about his future self. Her reticence seals it.
"Him." That's not a question, either. He doesn't know what to say beyond that, but he can't keep up just idly sitting next to her. He gets to his feet, needing to move. Needing to put an extra step between them.
She stands as well, though she doesn't pursue him. She hadn't done anything wrong; they weren't even speaking. And even if they had been -- well, he was the wrong alignment. He wouldn't have been an option immediately, anyway, even if they might've chosen it out of familiarity eventually.
"There weren't better options. He's not--"
She cuts herself off, inwardly cursing herself for even feeling as though she needs to defend her choice.
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"He's... different than I thought," she settles upon at last, looking down at her forgotten book. She'd been incandescently angry when she'd confronted Vader, but he'd managed to surprise her all the same.
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That reply, however, he doesn't expect. "Oh?"
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Or that one might have good in them and still continue to choose the Dark.
"I'm sure he's very proud of you," she manages at last. It's not entirely the biting judgment she would have liked it to be. She doesn't dare lift her eyes to see his response, lest he note the faint wetness about her own.
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"He is." If she had, then his tone back might have matched hers even if the words didn't change. As it stands, they carry all the wonder and relief he feels over having seen how highly his grandfather regards him.
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There won't be any turning back now, not for Kylo. Not now that he's earned the approval of the only person that would ever matter. She'd been foolish to ever hope she could've been enough to sway him. And she knows, now, that she won't stop caring either. Right up to the day she has to kill him.
It's too much to bear, and a small choked sound escapes her in spite of her best efforts.
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She can't even guess at how many times he's cursed himself for still caring about her, but he does, even now.
He hears that sob. More importantly, he feels it, that painful sadness reverberating in the space between them. He doesn't understand it, but the urge to comfort is reflexive. It wouldn't be for anyone else, but it is for her. He reaches a hand out to gently rest on her shoulder before he has a chance to think about it.
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But just that light touch is enough to bring it all back into sharp focus; the way she'd felt the first time their hands had touched. The future that still felt solid and clear even now, even when it was no longer possible.
"Don't."
It's barely spoken aloud, and she immediately confuses the issue further by covering his hand with her own and clutching at it like he could stop her from flying entirely apart. Silent sobs shake her shoulders; she can't say anything more. She doesn't even know what she means. The twin desires to flee and to cling tighter leave her frozen in her misery, waiting for the bond to cut out and grant her a reprieve.
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He wonders what he would want, in her position, and flashes of memory rise in answer. Snoke, a year in the past, wiping a tear from his face and berating its existence. And Vader, only a few days ago, watching tears well in his eyes and making no comment at all on it at all save for a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He doesn't understand what this is. He's not sure whether he can forgive her for her betrayals, and he's sure she likewise hasn't forgiven him. But for right at this moment, he finds himself very quietly saying, "It's okay. You can cry."
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It wasn't right that he should get so many of her tears, but who else? Who else could have known the depth of regret she felt? She hadn't made a secret of her hopes; that she was angry with him didn't mean she'd never wanted more.
And his offer now was so gentle, she couldn't help but allow her tears to fall freely, curling a little more tightly in on herself but not releasing his hand.
Does it hurt you, too?
The silent question goes unspoken, but perhaps he can pick it up in between her quietly hitching sobs.
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His reply is just as silent, and just as loud.
Yes, it does.
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"I'm sorry."
For falling apart on him. For shutting him out so completely even here. For rebuffing his attempts at simple conversation.
For walking away and leaving him behind on a burning ship.
For all the things this moment can't change going forward. They're not enemies here, but who's to say they won't be again? She knows, now, the danger of hope. She's not sure she can bear to allow him any closer when the reality is that one day they'll have to go back to opposing sides, but neither is she sure she can keep going on as she has been.
"I don't want us to keep hurting each other."
It's a tiny plea to this universe as much as it's an admission to him. Show me a way forward and I'll take it. Something had to be better than the way they've been going on.
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"I don't, either." He's not any more sure of a way forward than she is. They've already proved thoroughly enough that neither will give up their respective position for the other. But they aren't enemies here, and he doesn't want to be. He'll take a temporary truce if that's the best he can get for now.
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She swipes at the tear tracks on her cheeks with the back of her hand, quietly grateful that he'd let her cry out the hurt of the past year without further comment. Maybe it was only repayment for the way she'd tended to his injuries after the mission, but maybe it was enough that they didn't want the other to hurt.
"I'm glad you have your family here," she says at last. It's hard not to be a little bit angry and envious, given the circumstances. She would have traded nearly anything in her power for a moment with the parents that had thrown her away. To ask a single question -- why? But it's not something she'd truly deny him, not if there was a chance of something better for any one of them.
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"I don't understand why they're all here." It's not a complaint, just an observation. A slight shift in the conversation, because speculating on the meaning of their being here is an easier topic than any of his own feelings about it.
"Why would the Sylphid gather us all from different times? Not everyone here is even from our galaxy." Maybe it was to do with their abilities, but he'd seen enough to prove that there was significant power to be had in those other worlds, as well. As far as he's aware, no one from those other worlds had their whole family brought along--though he certainly hasn't met everyone, considering he'd missed Obi-Wan up to now. "If it was power they wanted, then there's no reason to take my mother so young."
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Or maybe the Force still had a hand in things. Maybe it had gifted all of them with a second chance in the only way it could, by allowing them to be taken here for a time. Clearly the Force still existed in some form here. The fact that they're sitting here talking is proof of that.
"Do you think the Force has a will of its own?"
She's not sure she does, or if she'd like it to. It's already hard to understand why an energy with some ability to actively influence things would choose as it had thus far.
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He shakes his head to the question. "No, not exactly." Maybe that's surprising, considering how much faith he has in it, but he's never seen it as something conscious in itself, making active decisions.
"It reveals the truth." The first time this happened, when he'd asked why the Force was connecting them, he didn't mean it as something the Force itself had chosen, but he thought there must be a reason for it happening, nonetheless. There must be a reason, too, for it to continue even in Snoke's absence, if he had told the truth about being the one to start this. Kylo isn't convinced he had been.
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She doesn't believe it had been Snoke's influence. Not anymore. Maybe he'd set things in motion, or maybe he'd lied, but it doesn't stand to reason that the strength of the connection would remain after all this time and distance, outside their own galaxy -- possibly universe. What truth could it have left to reveal?
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In the end, maybe it's as simple as there being something about the two of them that should be connected. Even after a year of that link being blocked and every antagonistic interaction they've had, neither of them could bring themself to truly give up on the other. The fact that they're talking right now is proof enough of that.
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She's still conflicted about the necessity of tethering and the awkward potential of her own choice, but it hadn't been disruptive yet. It wasn't quite as strong or quite as random a bond, though she still wishes her thoughts and emotions could be entirely her own. But with so many Force users in one place that was never truly an option unless she meant to keep her guard up around the clock.
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"Do you think there's any truth to it? The imbalance sickness?"
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"I wasn't in a hurry to find out. I wouldn't want to have to choose someone out of desperation."
She realizes belatedly that she ought to have hedged a bit more, as now he'll naturally want to know who she's tethered to. This ought to go well.
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His eyes narrow at the words, searching her face. "You've done it already." That much isn't a question. "Who?"
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When it doesn't happen, she takes a deep breath and braces for the end of whatever understanding they were about to come to.
"I thought it better if it were someone I knew. There weren't as many Tian-aligned people here, and if I waited it might've had to be a stranger."
She can't quite make herself look at him, or speak the name she knows will hurt.
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"Him." That's not a question, either. He doesn't know what to say beyond that, but he can't keep up just idly sitting next to her. He gets to his feet, needing to move. Needing to put an extra step between them.
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"There weren't better options. He's not--"
She cuts herself off, inwardly cursing herself for even feeling as though she needs to defend her choice.
"I didn't do it to hurt you."
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