#desperately wishing i could draw this man in all manners of precarious positions

[brain-rot-central]

Astarion's waist makes me wanna act tf up

[elmidol]

Our Lives Are But a Tempest

Three Blind Tooke Part Two Precarious Harmony

Read on AO3

Warnings: None(?)

Three Blind Tooke

Part Two: Precarious Harmony

 Chapter Thirty-Five: Our Lives Are But a Tempest

 Green was washed away by the rainbow of flowers that were in bloom. You could see them through the windshield of the Command Shuttle. Kylo Ren, Rey, and you were standing; only the man was not holding onto the back of a seat to keep himself steady. He was familiar with this vessel, with the turbulence it could meet. Originally when you had set out, you had been seated in the chair that remained behind Kylo. It was his seat, however you were the only person there whose body threatened to fail at any given moment. This was once more been emphasized when the Command Shuttle had broken atmosphere. The punch to the gut feeling that had caused your legs to draw upwards towards the center of your body, that had forced you to grip the armrests with all of your strength to keep yourself from pitching forward. The fight with the Praetorian guards had taken too much from you. On top of that, the confusion and emotional turmoil that plagued you.

 You had recovered since then. Taking your place at Kylo Ren’s side had felt too natural. The clothing he wore, an echo of Naboo and Alderaanian styles. The dark red that had once been worn by his biological maternal grandmother. The style of his black cape similar to that of Bail Organa. It would have been easy to play a new game of make believe, to think of him as Ben Solo. Your right thumb skimmed along that name. For the first time in a while, you appreciated its presence. A reminder not of your torture, but of the fact that one’s past never fully disappeared. The young woman that you had once been, she was inside of you somewhere. It was her endurance that had aided you in surviving the torture. Just as it was the remnant of Ben Solo that had caused Kylo Ren pause before he had given into the dark ways taught to him by Snoke.

 Rey’s hope that Ben Solo could be returned to the Light did not derive any more skepticism from you. Instead you embraced the thought that part of you could return. Part of Ben could as well. Not that either of you would ever be the same again, though it was a lovely fantasy.

 Beside you, Rey sucked in air. A gasp of awe. You and Ren both looked to her, observing her expression as the sight enraptured her. She had lived on Jakku for so long, you reminded yourself. This young woman was able to appreciate the beauty of Jakku more than you ever could; it was nearly incomprehensible for you to think of that, given how much this return meant to you.

 Descending down the ramp of the Commander Shuttle, it struck you just how much its black form clashed with the world around it. The First Order did not belong here, you thought. These were words you could not speak aloud, words that would have no effect on the fact that they were here. You had spent too much time already denying reality. Rey’s presence also prevented you from speaking of the negativity that surrounded the situation. She flew down the ramp more quickly than you, and paused when her feet touched the ground. Kylo was behind the two of you. Stormtroopers ahead, their feet on the planet’s surface.

 Ren did not pay any heed to the beings in white armor. He set a hand on your lower back to steer you onward, forward. He knew where he was headed. Somehow, as though he had seen your father’s grave in the past. When you had first boarded the Command Shuttle and taken your seat in the chair that Kylo Ren normally occupied, the man had spoken to you, his voice soft. There was a headstone for your father, one that existed in a garden. You pictured the setting, a place that you knew from your childhood. The shuttle had touched down within walking distance of the garden. He had known that you would wish to go nowhere else until you had at long last been reunited, in some small way, with your father.

 Sweet scents marked your path, each blossom offering up an aroma that assaulted you with flashbacks. The memories you had put forth in your mind to hold off Kylo Ren from learning the secrets of the Resistance. This was a field of flowers you had run through as a child. The same field in which the boys had killed the tooke.

 “I named you tooke, because I knew that destroying you would kill the remainder of my humanity. I became a rancor, though I told myself that you were the monster.”

 Words he had whispered to you before the two of you had boarded the Command Shuttle to come to Naboo. Another admittance that he had known all along what he would commit himself to was wrong. A reiteration of another moment.

 “Something so unforgivable…” Kylo Ren removed his hand from your scar, the man drawing back so that you no longer felt his lips or breath along your shoulder. “Ultimately we are enemies, tooke…and that can never change.”

 You thought of those boys who had killed the tooke, and the manner in which you had compared their actions with that of Kylo Ren’s. Your eyes darted to the exact spot where you had seen that cruel act. Tearing your attention away from that area, you flicked your gaze to Kylo Ren’s face. He was staring at the place you had been. Re-experiencing the memory while on this planet’s surface. Rey, the young woman in your peripheral as she walked mere feet behind you and Ren, was watching the Darkside user. Her hair fluttered in the light breeze that was blowing. The same force that ruffled the cape Kylo wore. His brown eyes shifted onto your face.

 In the past, when you had worn attire from Naboo, Kylo Ren had taken you to his quarters on the Finalizer and done what he willed. Now that you wore them again, he acted much differently. His eyes were less lecherous. His expression more mild. As though he had stopped being the monster desperate to kill you, or the self-proclaimed hero battling the evil enchantress. You caught a glimpse of what could had been, if only things had been different.

 “I had another name for you. One that I never spoke aloud.”

 The memory of those whispered words brought on a shudder similar to the one that had assaulted you when they had first been spoken. You had asked what it was that he had called you, and Kylo Ren had merely lowered his gaze to the ground.

 He did the same here. Upon noticing that you were observing him in turn, the man averted his gaze and lengthened his strides so that his face was not in your line of sight. Rey claimed Ren’s former position at your side. She stopped walking, the same way you had, and stood in the silence. Her lips were parted. Questions had to be on the tip of her tongue, however she did not ask them. She had not changed from the outfit that she had worn while fighting with Snoke and the guards, although she had temporarily removed them to allow for cleaning. The darker colors, as with the Command Shuttle, caused her to stand out amongst the flowers.

 You offered her the briefest of smiles prior to scurrying forward. Kylo Ren had started to disappear around a turn where the stone path began. You did not wish to lose sight of him despite knowing approximately where the grave would be located. At the same time, you were at a loss for what you would say. It was not as though your father was there. He was dead.

 Swallowing thickly, you willed away the bile that threatened to rise in your throat. Being home made it more real to you. You had lost both of your parents; your father, after you had joined the Resistance. As for your mother, you still blamed General Hux for her death. He had known, even when using you for his own political gain, that your mother would be on Hosnian Prime when he activated the weapon on Starkiller Base. If he had wanted, he could have prevented her death. She did not have to die. But Hux did not care for her, for anyone other than—not the First Order, it was himself that he cared about. General Hux craved power. Meanwhile Kylo Ren, wrong as he was, committed acts so heinous because he truly believed that he was aiming to improve the galaxy. Though he did enjoy the power as well, it was strangely less corrupt when you compared him with the redhead.

 That was another thing you wished you could ask your father. You had never considered the possibility that you would face multiple monsters at once. What would he have done? What would he have told you to do?

 None of those questions included the added complication of Kylo Ren wishing to marry you.

 You touched a petal of the rominaria nearest to you, looked over your shoulder to ensure yourself that Rey was not being left behind, and then resumed catching up with Kylo. The reassuring smile that had been on the female Force user’s face gave you confidence. You could face this moment that was being held in your near future. The decision that you would make; the words you would say aloud. You caught up to the man before he reached your father’s grave. Seizing hold of his left wrist, you tugged at the limb and took a deep breath as he stopped walking.

 “Before I speak with my… Well, with the grave—” He chuckled, murmuring that you were speaking with your father’s spirit; the stone was but a medium, a physical symbol in the place of your father’s body. You shook your head, although not in disagreement. You relinquished your hold on his arm in order to lift your right hand to display the name Ben Solo. That one finger you encircled with your entire left hand. The name was now eclipsed by the script that read Kylo Ren. “Our past always sticks with us. You aren’t him anymore. I’m not… I am not the person you captured, but that does not change the things that I went through. That will always be with me.

 “If you think that the only way things can happen is for me to forget everything that I went through… You are robbing me of everything that I am. Even the parts of me that I hate, that is me.” You drew your hands, one still clasped in the other, towards your heart. “You want me to forget because you hurt… You ache when you think about all that you let yourself do to me. You used me as some body when you were doubting Snoke’s teachings, doubting the lies you let yourself believe. Ren… You did this. You chose to do it all.” Now you held your hands side to side, displaying both Ben Solo and Kylo Ren. “They’re the same. I can show you either name, and that is the person who did this to me.”

 Kylo stepped closer to you. His hands were so much larger than yours, each cupping your fingers. Your mind summoned the memory of him breaking your fingers. It was strange, therefore, that you did not tremble at his touch. That treatment was in the past. Now he needed you, and he was not afraid to admit to that. Which was, in a way, perhaps more dangerous.

 “There was not supposed to be love between us,” he said. His jaw shifted after his mouth had closed. His eyes moved away from yours, and he turned his head to the side. “I chose to believe his lies, that you would remain my enemy. That I should nurture my hate and give into it. You are right. I knew that it was wrong.”

 Though Rey’s footsteps could be heard once more, which meant that she was undoubtedly listening to what was transpiring between the two of you, the moment was not broken. She was a part of you, through the Force and through the intimacy the two of you had shared as two human beings.

 “Tell me the truth, Kylo. Why is it that you want to marry me?”

 There was no hesitation in him answering you. “You know me best, tooke. I could never belong to anyone else.” The Force user released your hands and instead placed his own on either side of your face. “It will not be a marriage from the fairytales your mother told you as a child.” You had not expected it to be; you weren’t delusional.

 It had hit you on a deep, emotional level when you had once believed that Kylo Ren had been intimate with other women while with you. Ironic that—he had been your enemy, more than he was now. This was less about him wanting to own you than it was that he could not imagine allowing anyone else so close to him. Kylo Ren did trust Rey; he had a connection with her that was deep on many levels. That was different. You understood this now, knew why it was that Kylo Ren had desired to have Rey at his side when it came to ruling the galaxy. That was political, not romantic.

 Rey paused several feet from where the pair of you were standing. Some semblance of privacy. You could hear her take the first step backwards, and it was then that you turned to motion her forward with a wave.

 You walked around Kylo Ren, this time taking the lead to your father’s grave. It was located midway through the path. If you continued on, you would be able to see your house. That was not why you were there, or at least not yet. You lowered onto your knees at the headstone. The colorful trees and blossoms all around faded away in your mind. Your fingers were on the cold stone. You traced the letters of your father’s name. There were fresh flowers placed in front of the grave.

 Ryoo.

 You snorted while rolling your eyes. You thought of those who had referred to you as Ryoo-bud, remembered moments with your father, and squeezed your eyes closed to picture both. Without reopening your eyes, you touched the ground beside you and spoke Kylo Ren’s name. The soles of his boots hit the dirt. Material rustled; he was either crouching or kneeling next to you. You inhaled through your nostrils. After holding your breath, you demanded that he speak aloud all the things he had done to you.

 There was a strangled noise from Rey, a combination of a gasp and sob. You told her that she could leave; she did not need to hear all of the details. The young woman rejected the offer. She would be there for you.

 For his part, Kylo Ren did not argue with your demands though he delayed in obliging. How different it was, hearing everything spill from his mouth. The many invasions into your head, the countless violations of your body, and the numerous occasions he had slaughtered your allies. All of the times that he had stolen away your free will. Only now were you hearing the things that you had been forced to say to your mother. Every minute that had been stolen from you, you were offered a glimpse as to what you had done.

 Your eyes snapped open, and you stared at Kylo Ren in shock. “My mother thought...what?”

 “That you had married me,” he repeated. “My words were influencing you more than anyone else had been able to. I could not allow her to know that I was using the Force. She believed that this was why you seemed uncaring in regards to your father’s death.”

 “She died believing a lie.”

 There came no answer from the man, not immediately. He shifted once, as though unsure if he wished to remain squatting or if he would stand. He chose the latter, rising to his full height. You mimicked his actions. Confusion ate away at you, and you steadied yourself by placing a hand on the stone marker of your father’s grave. Kylo Ren covered his mouth with part of his hand. His eyes roamed along the features of your face. You stood there with your heart pounding in your chest.

 “There is one final reason I brought you home, tooke. I allowed you to live a lie. One act of mercy for an enemy of the First Order.” You were shaking your head, unable to believe a word of what he was saying. Rey had also muttered out a what of disbelief. “I did not let you lose her. A secret neither Hux nor Snoke knew.”

 The world around you spun, each flower melding with another and swirling along the stone path on which Rey stood. There were five Reys then only one. Your knees collided with the ground. You were not sure if your clothes ripped; there was something cold on your leg.

 It hurt—fantastically, mercifully, agonizingly. She lived, and you had had to mourn her all this time. If General Hux had learned that she had survived, he would have killed her to break you down. Snoke would not have hesitated either. This was an act of compassion from his apprentice. Your body had always meant nothing to you in a way. Not that its violation did not plague you, had not torn you to pieces. But all of that had been something you could endure. Believing that your mother had perished, that had shattered you. That had been the moment, along with realizing that your father had died, that you had thought more fondly of death. You had wanted to join them.

 There was a voice speaking to you. Two voices. One male, the other female. They chanted the same word together. A single syllable. Breathe. Only as its meaning hit you did you realize that you were hyperventilating. Rey was on her knees, her hands on your shoulders. Kylo’s face blurred when you tilted back your head to look at him.

 He had not spoken the truth sooner; it may have influenced your decision, altered the way you reacted to his wanting to marry you. Kylo Ren had waited until you had been at your father’s grave. He had to have known that you had come to your conclusion. There was nothing to change your mind.

 “One of my knights remained with her following her capture. I sent him before the weapon could be fired to ensure that he delayed your mother’s trip to Hosnian Prime. The system was destroyed before she could be missed.” The ryoo recaptured your attention. You stared at those buds through your tears; they had not come from your family’s garden, which meant that she was staying elsewhere. Everyone believed her to be dead so that it could not be discovered by General Hux that she had survived. “Your reaction to your father’s death, when you used my body as something to hold onto… I could not allow them to take her from you. You had already lost everything else—I had taken most of it.”

 Rey had wrapped her arms around your trembling form. You subconsciously matched your breathing to hers so that it became more regulated. Faint whispers left her lips. They were soft puffs of air to your ears with syllables on the very edge of your hearing.

 “For so long, I hated that I cared for you. I thought you would make me weak. And then I used the hatred you started to feel towards me as a cover. Without it, Snoke would have ordered me to kill you. You knew that—you suggested it so often. Recently I hoped that you could forget the past. I can’t take back the things I did to you.” He paused, his lips not fully sealed. His eyes were half-lidded and trained on the ground. They lifted to your face when he began to speak again. “After killing Snoke, I knew that you could not let go of the past. I cannot. And Hux… I need your skills, tooke, as an LDS. I will marry you. I am a selfish monster, tooke. I do not want anyone else. But when this war is done…” He swallowed thickly. His hands were at his sides in fists. “You won’t belong to me.” Those words were so quiet, yet they pierced you more deeply than anything else he had said. “There is no going back. The person that you were is dead.” Shaking his head and taking a step forward. You pulled from Rey’s embrace to stand, shakily, before Kylo Ren. Rey rose to her feet as well, twisting around to also face Ren. “The mother that loved her—that loves you—is here.”

 “I’m not supposed to love you,” you sobbed out, clenching your hands. “After everything you did… How is it that I love a part of you?”

 “Because love is foolish.” You laughed, the sound pathetic even to your own ears. His lips twisted upwards into the ghost of a smirk. Beside you, Rey stared at Kylo Ren with an expression of mingled understanding and disbelief; with sorrow and joy. “We cannot play make believe anymore, tooke.”

 What happens after Kylo Ren is dead? was a question so many had asked you. You had never had a proper answer. Even when it had changed to include the possibility of him remaining alive. The constant what then? That question that you could never move past.

 Here, ironically, he had ensured that you had your answer. A place for you to go, be it after he died or even if he survived. This man had stolen so much from you. Now he offered you a means of moving forward.

 Kylo Ren did not linger in the garden by your father’s grave for much longer. You, on the other hand, knelt before the headstone. It hardly felt real. You found yourself waiting for your father to walk down the path from which Ren had disappeared mere minutes ago. Any footsteps you heard, however, belonged to Rey. She refused to leave your side. There was a sense of worry traveling through the bond. It wrapped around your heart, coiling only to expand. It was amazing, knowing how it felt on a physical level that there were unspoken questions.

 Her concern had to largely comprise of your future reactions to having listened to Kylo Ren confess his actions at your father’s grave. Namely when he had admitted that he had forced your body to react to his, had trained you as though you were an object, a toy, rather than a person. “It was less real when I could ensure she physically enjoyed it.” That was what he had said, and it was the part of his confession that had pierced through Rey’s sense of compassion for the man formerly known as Ben Solo. For you, you had known all along, on some level, that this was the reason that he had treated you as such.

 The silence was broken by the young woman uttering out the words: “I don’t understand.” You wondered if this was the first time she had said something to that effect in regards to the male Force user. You lifted an arm, your hand outstretched. She accepted, her hand sliding into yours as she knelt beside you. You laid your head on her upper arm. Words tumbled from your mouth, although they held no connection to the question she had asked. You instead spoke of things you did fully understand. You told Rey of Naboo, of the various fairy tales that your mother had read to you as a child. The stories that your father had shared, the ones with monsters and those without. The turmoil within the young woman was alleviated the more you told her.

 Chitterings from birds echoed in the garden. They interrupted your train of thought on more than a single occasion, which resulted in you backtracking in the tales you told. Rey was ever patient throughout. She laughed in the appropriate places. At times she asked questions; there were many things from your planet that were foreign to her.

 As the sun began to fade, you at last pulled away from Rey and stood. She rose mere seconds later prior to following you in the direction of the house you had grown up in. There were lights visible from two of the windows. You wondered what Kylo Ren had thought of your home, the one he had glimpsed from your memories. Had he explored all of the rooms? You planned on doing just that. On touching everything that you could to solidify the fact that this was real. You grasped Rey’s hand, tugging her along and through the front door. Her jaw had dropped immediately, and her eyes were exploring every surface that they could.

 Compared with others, your home was not the most extravagant on Naboo; yet it did have an air of nobility that bespoke of your mother’s political position. It was sad, you thought, that so many had believed that your extent of luxury would have kept you from joining the Resistance. Credits were nothing to you. The riches here, for you, were the memories of your childhood. The memories of your father and mother.

 “Rey, what if my mother doesn’t love the person I’ve become?” you asked when the pair of you had entered your parents’ room. Rey lingered in the doorway, although her head turned left then right as she explored the contents with her eyes. Those warm orbs landed on your face. Before she had a chance to speak the words, you knew what she was about to say. They still managed to warm your heart. She will.

 Hours later, when you were in her arms underneath the covers on your bed, she repeated those words to you. You traced the contours of her face with the very tips of your fingers. A small lamp in the room illuminated her features and kept the darkness from fully consuming the two of you. Ren had not left the study where you had seen him earlier. Your father’s study, which was littered with children’s books and old toys as well as boxes of his belongings. You had been unable to enter the room; Rey had pulled you away, ensuring that you did not break down into tears as reality threatened to overwhelm you. You thought of the study as she spoke to you. Your life and your father’s, shoved into boxes. Your room had remained somewhat intact. Your bed, your clothes inside of the closet—though they, too, were in boxes rather than properly put away. Your mother must have hated you, you thought. She had believed that you did not care about your father’s death. She had believed that she had lost both of you, in the same way you had feared you had lost both of your parents.

 A revelation you faced was that your anger towards General Hux did not lessen. He would have killed your mother without a care in the world. That she was alive only made the attack on Hosnian Prime less personal. It was, regardless, abhorrent. All of those lives lost in the blink of an eye. He was the destroyer of worlds.

 Like Rey, you were more determined to temporarily work alongside Kylo Ren. There were enemies that were mutual between the Resistance and the First Order. On top of that, Rey becoming integrated with the Knights of Ren would assist her in growing as a Force user. That, along with the secret that she had whispered to you when she was certain that Kylo would not overhear. She had a connection with Master Skywalker. She could feel him in the Force, and reach out to him. The bond was much weaker than the one she shared with Kylo, and different than what she had with you. But it was there.

 You lowered your hand from her face, shifting the limb underneath the blanket and grabbing onto hers. Luke Skywalker would assist in keeping Rey from drowning in the darkness as she toed that line. She would not become one of the Jedi of old; not the ones that you had heard about at least. Apparently there had been dark and gray Jedi in the past. Fallen Jedi—not all Dark users were Sith. Which, you thought, you should have already known from your experiences with Snoke and Kylo Ren alone. Though he was hesitant to approve of it, Luke understood Rey’s reasoning for remaining with Kylo Ren. Not only that she had stayed for you, but that she was aware the First Order currently had the numbers to easily wipe out the remnant of the Resistance. Working inside, the two of you had a chance of helping your allies.

 You pressed your body against hers and fell asleep in her arms.

 At some point she had extricated herself from your embrace, dressed, and had joined Kylo Ren outdoors. They were visible from your bedroom window. It was there that you watched them, their lightsabers activated. Ren’s stance was passive, whereas Rey charged forward. The dark haired Force user ducked easily—though this was in part because neither were aiming to kill the other—and said something. His lips moved, and seconds later Rey altered the manner in which she rushed for him. Her actions now were more fluid. You wondered what weapons she had wielded prior to obtaining the lightsaber.

 You moved away from the window. The style of the clothing from the boxes in the closet no longer suited your tastes. With no alternative, save for the attire in which you had been dressed upon arriving on Naboo, you selected one of the more comfortable pieces. It was a loose garment though it complimented your shape. The material was softer than you remembered. You slipped your feet into shoes that matched, and at last exited your bedroom.

 The last time you had walked out of the front door, you had left Naboo and formally joined the Resistance. This time, you went to the marble bench that was situated by an empty bird feeder. You did not remember it being there. Had your father or mother set it up? You poked the bottom, smiled to yourself, and began to watch the two Force users train together.

 There was a story from your childhood that you remembered well. Though you would not learn until much later, it had spoken of the Jedi. Once hailed as heroes of the Republic, they later were demonized. The Empire had banned the children’s book, though your father had somehow kept a copy. It was your mother that had read it to you the first time, or at least the first time you could remember.

 And once upon a time,

Those monsters were heroes.

To sing, to laud—all in their name.

But darkness chases after light,

And the shadows of our judgment

Enshrouded the heroes, drowning them.

 You thought of how Kylo Ren viewed his parents. Hailed as heroes of the Rebellion, and now he viewed them as enemies. When had it changed? Had they ever been his heroes? Maker knew that numerous beings in the galaxy thought of General Organa as a warmonger. Luke Skywalker had many critics as well. Some even claimed that he had no Force capabilities, that he was a con artist. What tales would be told of Rey?

 Said female deactivated her lightsaber, holstered it, and waited while her—teacher?—while Kylo did the same. Neither had broken a sweat. You imagined that their more intense training would occur in the near future. Presumably when the Knights were available to observe.

 The new Supreme Leader of the First Order directed his attention on you.“There are officers in the First Order that had served the Emperor. Their loyalties and goals should be obvious.” You shared a look with Rey; there was a bud of hope growing in the both of you that Kylo Ren could be swayed, that the goals of the First Order that existed under his control would be less tyrannical than they had been under Snoke. “The mutual enemies of the First Order and Resistance—while the Master of the Knights of Ren ensures that they are dealt with, you will learn how to utilize the weapons each one specializes in. Their deaths cannot be traced back to you.”

 You found yourself sucking in air, your lungs full, and holding perfectly still. He was assigning you the task of killing officers of the First Order. This was what you had done for the Resistance. It had been your goal. And now? You felt humbled, knowing that you would be useful to your allies though you had to trust this man, your former—current?—enemy to accomplish the task. Kylo had not lied to you. You would be serving the Resistance. He was not attempting to force you to kill your comrades, not mocking your beliefs as he had countless times in the past.

 “You marrying her,” Rey said, earning your full attention as well as Ren’s. “The Knights of Ren will accept me as Master, and her as your wife.” A slow nod. “You’re leaving her with me, aren’t you? Once you marry her…”

 Kylo Ren’s eyes flicked to your face. You had started to release a shaky breath, struggling with a sense of vertigo. “Temporarily while she learns. I cannot chance Hux or Phasma learning what skills she obtains. They are necessary for the time being. Following our marriage, you will remain behind under the pretense of health complications. I will send Urvno here to ensure he monitors your body as you train.”

 Your mind had not stopped reeling from the news that he would be leaving you. It was what you had thought about numerous times in the past. Being away from the Force user, resuming missions as an LDS. You were no longer convinced that this was not all a dream. You were on Naboo and your mother was alive—that couldn’t be real, as much as you wanted it to be.

 I could never belong to anyone else.

 Where he had tattooed your flesh, you had marked him in ways that could not be seen. His desperation to own you, for you to admit that you were his. Was that him projecting or deflecting his feelings? You tilted back your head and stared up at the gathering clouds. You knew how well that the man despised feeling weak, and how he believed that sentiment was a weakness. All of that denial.

 “Ren… One final time.” Kylo knit his eyebrows towards one another. “We have to play make believe one last time.”

 “For your mother,” he said. It caused your heart to flutter, to ache, that he knew you so well. “She won’t know.” You nodded. Beside Kylo, Rey pinched her lips together tightly and then visibly relaxed. “Are you ready to see her?”

 Soft, almost breathless: “Yes.”

[jackiesarch]

first

The fluorescent light in the bathroom hums loudly. The buzz is constant, grating, and as Rook closes her eyes and tilts her head back against the wall of the locked stall, it’s the only thing she can focus on.

She’s perched precariously on the closed toilet seat, curled up and hugging her knees close to her chest. Without her permission, her stomach flips, and she has to breathe deep to keep herself together.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat.

Her nerves are scraped raw. She doesn’t know how many minutes she’s spent in this tiny bathroom, but it’s been long enough that someone is going to come looking for her sooner rather than later if she doesn’t get back to her desk.

She should go, but she doesn’t move.

Memories she doesn’t want back filter through her head — the routine traffic stop, the man with the gun, her instinctive reaction to draw her own weapon and shoot to kill. The lack of hesitation as she pulled the trigger.

It’s been a week, and Rook still thinks she can smell the blood in the air. At night, in the quiet of her apartment, she’s sure she can hear the crackle of blood-filled lungs aching for breath.

She was trained for this, but she never knew it would be so hard.

Someone’s fist raps against the door to the women’s washroom. Rook has a feeling she knows who it is even before they speak, but she lets them announce themselves anyway.

“Hey, Rookie,” Staci says, his voice tentative. Rook can barely hear him over the humming of the light bulb. “Can I come in?”

She doesn’t say anything, so naturally Staci opens the bathroom door and lets it shut heavily behind him. Not for the first time, she wishes that the door locked – she doesn’t need anyone else to walk in and see her hiding, even if she is hiding behind a closed stall.

His footsteps echo of the tile walls and high ceiling. She watches the space between the stall door and the floor, and a few seconds later Staci’s boots appear in front of her.

Neither of them move for a moment. Rook stays put, her chin resting on her knees, and Staci doesn’t move from in front of the locked door.

“You okay?” Staci asks eventually, once enough time has passed without either of them saying anything. Rook keeps her mouth shut. She doesn’t know if anything would come out, even if she wanted it to.

She’s only known him a few months, but Rook has discovered that Staci is a creature of habit. She’s learned so many of his mannerisms: the way he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from arguing with Joey, how he chews his bottom lip unconsciously when he’s lost in thought.

Rook can’t see him right now, but she knows he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. He’ll trail his hand down his face next, will run his palm over the stubble of his jaw until his fingers rest against his lips. It’s what he does whenever he doesn’t know where to begin.

“Look, I—I get it, you know?” Staci says quietly. “It’s not easy to kill someone.”

A laugh startles its way out of her. To her own ears, it sounds a little hysterical. Rook can only imagine what it must sound like to him.

“That’s putting it mildly,” she says. They’re the first four words she’s spoken in as many hours, and her throat is so dry it feels like she’s swallowing sandpaper. She lets go of her knees and grips the denim of her jeans so her hands don’t shake.

“Yeah, well,” Staci sounds resigned. “Hiding in the bathroom isn’t going to make it any easier. At least in my experience.”

Rook scrubs her hands down her face. Her eyes are burning. She’s not sure how much longer she can go without actual, restful sleep.

“Then what does?” she asks quietly. Rook sets her feet on the ground and stretches out the muscles behind her knees. She’s been sitting in the same position too long. “I can’t sleep, Staci. I keep having—“

“Nightmares,” Staci finishes for her. There’s a thud against the door, like he’s pressed the palm of his hand up against it. “Yeah. I know.”

A familiar tingling has been creeping up the bridge of her nose ever since he walked into the bathroom. Now it spreads lower, moves from her nostrils to the corners of her eyes. Tears blur the edges of her vision, and Rook realizes with an embarrassed sort of surprise that she’s going to cry.

“Fuck,” she hisses under her breath, reaching up to swipe at the first wave of traitorous tears with the back of her hand.

Rook has to wonder — was this what it was like the first time he killed someone? Did he retreat to the bathroom with his hands shaking and his stomach in knots?

How long did the nightmares last?

She sniffs, squeezing her eyes shut tight to stop the flow of tears, but the memories she’s been trying so hard to fight off are burned into the space behind her eyelids.

“Do they ever go away?” Rook asks quietly.

Staci pauses. Eventually, he sighs, and Rook can see the way he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“No. Not completely,” he says. Rook’s heart twists painfully in her chest. “But they get better. I know that’s probably not what you wanna hear, but it’s the truth.”

“How long?”

If she could see him, Rook knows he would be hiking his shoulder up in a weak shrug.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not you choose to get help when you need it.”

Rook is quiet for a moment. She opens her eyes, salty tracks running down her cheeks, and wipes her runny nose on the sleeve of her shirt. The beige paint on the door of the stall is starting to peel; she reaches forward and picks at it.

“I can’t stop wondering whether I did the right thing,” she says after a while. She’s not crying anymore, but her eyes sting. The skin underneath is red and swollen. “I didn’t have to shoot him.”

“It’s not that easy, Rookie,” Staci murmurs. “You did what you had to do to keep yourself safe. Tearing yourself up over it isn’t gonna help.”

He’s right, but that doesn’t mean she feels any better about the whole thing. Rook takes a shaky breath and leans forward to unlock the stall door. She was right about Staci having his hand on it — it swings open under the weight and slams against the wall with a thud.

Staci’s hands drop to his sides, and his expression softens considerably. In any other situation, Rook thinks she would give him shit for staring at her with such obvious pity in his eyes. Instead, she stands from her spot on the closed toilet lid and throws her arms around his neck in a tight hug. He’s warm and solid, and he falters for a moment with his arms at his sides before his hands settle on her back.

“You can always talk to me,” Staci says. Rook feels his breath against the crown of her head as he speaks. “We gotta have each other’s backs, you know? Part of the job.”

Moving all the way to Hope County was never first on Rook’s bucket list — she had planned to stay in the city, maybe settle down, start a family. Instead, she’d been hurtled into this small town with its tiny police station and odd inhabitants, trying desperately to make a home in a place she didn’t feel she belonged.

There are things about this place that she loves, and there are things about this place that she hates; Staci, she is learning, is thankfully the former. As she stands there tangled around him, tear tracks drying on her cheeks, something unfurls in her chest and grabs hold of her heart. She squeezes him tightly.

“Thanks, Staci.”