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smirkingsolo · 5 years ago

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Orpheus: A Reylo Story (Chapter 3: Call Out My Name)

The World Between Worlds Reylo Fix it fic you’ve been craving since TROS ripped out your still beating heart and crushed it to death.

Canon-compliant, universe-plausible, multi-chapter

Beginning can be found here or over on my AO3 (Rinnagirl) at https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984730/chapters/52460923

Your comments, likes, reblogs, kudos, etc. mean the absolute world to me!

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3: Call Out My Name

Ben is crashing through the swamplands, the earth beneath rising to meet his boots just as his steps press down against it. The feeling spurs him on. He feels as he had the moment he landed on Exegol. His senses are too consumed with the urgency of reaching her to be bothered by the way the landscape fights to impede him.

Leia follows behind him and he knows she must be struggling to keep up with his eager pace. Ben looks back for a moment to his mother and she smiles, nodding. Go. I’m right behind you..

And he barrels on into the underbrush.

I’m coming.

The humidity is a hot, wet slap in the face, rushing at her as soon as the door of the Falcon lowers. Rey is no stranger to heat. She’s Jakku desert raised for kriff’s sake. But this heat is heavy, almost oppressively moist. The water in the air is violent for such a peaceful place, so intent it seems to be on suffocating her to death.

She pulls the ties from her buns, braiding her hair back more securely and twisting it into a bun at the nape of her neck. She removes her outermost robe, leaving her in a wrapped tunic, fashioned after her old desert wear. She stares at the Skywalker lightsabers and they stare back. A battle of wits, a dare to ignite them though she knows where that would lead. She tucks Leia’s into her belt and Luke’s into a hidden compartment on the Falcon. She grabs her pack, slings her staff across her shoulders, and sets off to face the wild.

She searches the Force for a direction, a hint of anything unusual, reaching out as Luke taught her. She senses a pull and she allows it to catch her in its tide, drawing her out into the swamp.

After roughly thirty minutes of scaling, wading, sweating, Rey can sense that she is drawing near to what calls her. It is unknown, unfamiliar, but it feels kind, helpful, and that is what she needs right now.

She pushes aside a wide-fanned fern and her eyes catch a small hut, tucked away like a secret. Her attention nearly skimmed over it. The fog of the swamp drapes across it like a shroud. It is a relic of a time she barely overlapped with and she wonders, momentarily, if it is even there at all.

The closer she gets, the more certain she is. This used to be Master Yoda’s home. It is long since abandoned, preserved like a fly in amber, held back from crumbling by a cage of tree roots. She creeps across a log to the bank, hesitating only a moment before dropping to her knees and crawling through the front door. There is a familiar anticipative feeling. A curious wonder, like encountering a new ship for the first time to scour for scrap.

She picks through the leavings inside the hut, reemerging into the damp of the swamp after a few moments. Strange places hold strange dangers and she thinks it best to scout the surrounding area before the sun sets. The fog already swirls thick around her. The eerie faded glow of light filtered through too many layers of mist and vine is all she has to go on. It’s not much and even that will disappear come nightfall. Overhead calls the rumble of a fast-approaching storm.

----

Ben’s arms sweep in front of him, carving a path through the plant life as easily as if his saber were in his hand. He smacks aside some large plant, stumbling into the open of a clearing. There is murky pond at his feet that he knows he should not disturb. On the far side of the pond is a dwelling of some sort, a pile of vine choked rocks with windows. He recognizes it from a distant memory that is not his own, a bedtime story on a cold night. He knows who one dwelled here.Besides, he muses, no one else would be crazy enough to live in a place like this.

He jumps when a figure crawls out of the doorway, someone wearing the mist of the swamp like a garment, and he reconsiders his previous sentiment.

The figure straightens up, the fog shifts, and suddenly Ben cannot breathe.

I found you.

He calls out her name, it bursts from his lips a shouted prayer, but the croaking of frogs is the only answer he hears. She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t startle. In fact, she doesn’t seem to hear him at all.

The pit in his stomach opens up again. He runs to her, stumbling gracelessly across a precarious log to the bank where she stands.

His stride shortens, pace slowing as his worst fears crawl up his spine, whispering the truth he doesn’t want to face in his ear.

He steps around in front of her, but her eyes don’t focus, they still chase an imaginary horizon beyond the vines. One cautious hand reaches towards her shoulder, changing direction half-way. Instead he stretches his long fingers to brush against her face. But there is nothing but air. Where the warmth of her cheek should be is only cold. His hand passes through her as if she is the ghost, rather than him.

She cannot see you. To her, you are mist.

She steps forward, passing through him like a shadow, and he can’t stop himself from sinking to his knees. His chin quivers, mouth working as he struggles to choke back the quiet sob bubbling in the back of his throat.

Logically he’d expected it. He’d known that she wouldn’t be able to see, hear, or feel him any more than the scavengers he and Leia encountered in the village on Jakku. But some irrational part of him had clung to hope, and when he’d felt her in the Force, her signature so pure and clear and loud, calling out to him...he had run to her, ready to take her in his arms and hold her to him as he had on Exegol.

He can see his mother picking through the brush on the other side of the pond, just now catching up to him. Her eyes hold the same quiet spark of hope that his held moments before. Her face falls. Her eyes dart between the retreating form of Rey and her son’s empty expression.

He lets his head fall against his chest. Thunder rumbles softly above, a misty rain now coming down. There’s a drip from the tip of his nose. A raindrop or a tear.

----

The rain is falling steadily by the time she returns. She lights a small fire in the long abandoned firepit, the old ashes and damp wood fill the hut with smoke. She strips off her outermost layer of clothing, hanging her tunic near the fire to dry alongside her boots. Down to her upper bindings and her light leggings, she frees her hair from the braided bun and steps barefoot out into the rain. She tilts her head back for a moment letting the rain cool her skin and wash away the grime of her scouting trek. A peaceful smile settles on her face as she stretches her arms out, squelching her toes in the mud of the bank. There was something Rey loved about the rain. The storm had drained much of the unpleasant humidity from the swamp air, leaving it fresh and fragrant, smelling of wet earth and life. Jakku was never like this.

Striding back towards the hut, Rey settles at the edge of the doorway, just far enough back to shield her from the brunt of the storm. She assumes her meditation pose, legs folded, eyes closed, lungs full of the sweet scent of the rain. With deep breaths she synchronizes the beat of her heart to the steady rhythm of the rainfall. Behind her the fire crackles and she can feel the warmth of it drape over her back, evaporating the rain from her skin. Be with me. Be with me. Be with me.

---

Leia watches her son from behind a thick root cluster. She thinks it best to give him space after the look she saw on his face, though it pains her to do so.

Sitting on a large rock at the edge of the pond, his eyes have remained fixated on Rey from the moment she returned from scouting. There is a wistful longing about him as he stares at her and Leia can’t help but wonder what Rey had said to him during the times they connected through their Force bond. Ben hadn’t said much about it beyond the technicalities when she’d inquired how he’d come to know Rey so well. She sensed that there was something deeply private, something intimate about their bond that neither would be eager to share with others.

Rey emerge from the hut, layers stripped away so the rain can kiss her skin. Her arms stretch towards the sky, calling it to her open palms. Her head is tilted back, eyes closed, lips painted with a smile of peaceful bliss. But Leia’s eyes are on her son, studying his face as he takes Rey in. His lips are parted in wonder, pupils blown wide like he’s trying to take in all the stars in the galaxy at once. Ben is fascinated by her, watching her like one who’s lived underground his whole life witnessing the colors of sunrise for the first time. Something in his expression seeps in and warms her very bones, an incredible, reverent longing that Leia recognizes, remembers. Han Solo used to look at her with eyes like that. Yes, she knows that look and for the first time she understands wholly why he wishes to live again. It isn’t about redemption, it isn’t about living more years; it’s about her. Rey. His equal, his frustration, the hidden-most wish of his soul.

She can’t help but wonder how Rey feels about him. Their relationship is complicated, that much is obvious, even to the casual observer. Rey hated him once, hated him for killing Han, just as Ben hated himself. She thought him a monster until, suddenly, she didn’t. Rey left for Ahch-To certain that Kylo Ren was her greatest enemy, yet she returned changed. Leia could no longer sense anger when Rey spoke of Kylo Ren. Instead there was an incredible sorrow, a deep, personal hurt, as if she’d had to say goodbye to a friend. She could sense Rey’s care for him then, and she dearly hoped now that it was of the same ken as his.

Ben settle himself in front of Rey, mirroring her meditation pose, rain pouring down on him as he sits just beyond the reach of the roof. He doesn’t seem to mind. Unlike Rey his eyes remain open. They hold her face like gentle fingertips. There is a softness in his expression that makes Leia smile.

Leia turns to her brother as he reappears beside her, face washed in the pale blue of his Force spirit aura. She knows they can both feel her son’s emotions bleeding through the Force, radiating from him like ripples in a pond.

“Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Nothing crazy about it, Leia, he’s your son. Han’s son. If I didn’t know any better I might even call it predictable. You know Han would have died for you and that self-sacrificing Solo streak lives on in Ben now. As for her, she reminds me so much of you, Leia. It’s almost scary. I admit I feared the worst when I saw them, hands touching in that hut on Ahch-To.” He sounds almost ashamed, “I thought he might be using her. But it seems now that I couldn’t have been more wrong. I feel like I’m watching Han fall in love with you again.”

“Don’t say that.” Her voice is quiet and she struggles with her next words in a most un-Leialike way. “Han and I...we burned each other up. Burned each other out. At the price of our own child. We were so selfish. I want them to be different, Luke. But all he’s ever seen is a love like Han and mine, temperamental and ruinous. Luke, I don’t want him to think that’s all there is. You know how much Han and I loved one another and I don’t know that my son ever got to see that part of us.”

Luke’s voice is steady and sure. “Look at them, Leia. They will be just different enough. I know it.”

She nods and looking at them, at the way Ben leans forward, memorizing every line and freckle of Rey’s face as she sits unaware. She knows he’s right.

“I wish I could have been better for him. As good for him, as she has been.”

“I know, Leia. And I wish I could make it up to him but—”

A sudden rush of excitement, of urgency, grips her and she interrupts.

“Luke, you have to tell Rey. Appear to her, tell her Ben is here! Explain that he is trying to get back to her, explain that her life force isn’t her own and then mayb—”

“I can’t, Leia.” And he sounds even guiltier than before.

“You can’t? What do you mean you can’t? She has to know and while we may not be able to appear to her because we are in the World Between Worlds, you—”

“Leia.” He puts a hand up to stop her words and she knocks it away with a huff. “Father and I, we chose to appear to you and Ben, but I realize now that we are in the World Between Worlds with you. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but the World Between Worlds is a dimension of its own, one running parallel to the living world. Because we chose to appear to you in your dimension, we can only manifest here now.”

Leia is stunned.

“Luke...”

“Well you needed me so I—”

“How could you be so stupid?” He has the decency to look abashed. “Luke, you and father, how could you think that it was a good plan for both of you to come trap yourselves with us?!” She throws her arms up in the air. The Skywalker men all really do operate off of one braincell.

He cuts in as she begins to pace, her anger rising. “Leia, I didn’t know it would work like this! Besides, I’m sure it will be fine. After all, Obi-Wan and Master Yoda could appear and offer Rey guidance if necessary—”

Leia whirls around, she looks truly exasperated, eyes alight with something that makes Luke, an untouchable ghost, step back.

“Oh good. Obi-Wan who told you that Anakin Skywalker was dead, killed by Vader, when he was Vader all along and then had the audacity to call it a matter of “viewpoint!” And of course Master Yoda is wise but master of clarity and straightforwardness, he is not.”

Luke doesn’t want to laugh, knows he absolutely should not, given the circumstances, but Leia’s impression of Master Yoda is masterful to say the least, and a little exhale of a laugh escapes.

Her eyes narrow immediately and she moves to smack his arm, her hand passing straight through him, but the sentiment is there.

“Leia, I’m sure it will be okay. Like I said, he’s your son. There has to be some of your good sense in him. He will find a way, I know it. Ben has everything he needs, he just doesn’t know it yet. Most importantly, he has a reason to fight, to hope, and because of that he will not give up. I believe that persistence is something he inherited from his mother.”

It’s flattery, but she knows he is sincere.

------

Rey can feel the Force thrumming between the trees, in the rain, under the ground. The presence of it is stronger than she has experienced nearly in any other place. The weight of it is similar to how it was in the cave on Ahch-To. Something is focusing it, concentrating it. But it remains nothing more than energy. No visions, no spirits, nothing remarkable appears to her. Including him.

She can’t help but feel the creep of disappointment. He’s there, in the pit of her stomach where he always is, but she knows it’s just the memory of him. Yet, something else inside her feels different. Tendrils inside her reach outwards, feeling around, searching for something. And for a moment it is so strong that her meditative concentration breaks, eyes flying open, darting down to her tingling palms.

An odd sensation overtakes her, and for a moment she is a stranger in her own body. Removed, other. The tendrils stretch forward, towards what she cannot say, but she knows when they find it. Another feeling washes over her, her senses warm, sensitive with energy, collide with the something. It’s like seeing her own bed, putting on the clothes she brought from Jakku, hugging her friends, fixing a droid, flying the Falcon, twirling her staff...a feeling of familiarity and belonging. She feels empty, yet right, like something in her has found its rightful place, but is leaving her behind to do so. This reunion is happening outside her. She is an observer, not a participant and this belonging is not hers to claim. Suddenly, her mind is flooded with images of sabers and crystals and a thin flicker of understanding lights inside her. And then she hears it.

“Rey.”

----

Ben knows she can feel him, can feel something near her. Her concentration is ebbing in and out as the minutes pass. Yet, the longer he spends with her, the more whole he feels. At first he is sure it is just her presence that bears with it such a feeling, as it always had when they connected through their Force bond.

But this is different. There had been an emptiness in him after he healed Rey, transferring his life force to her body. He realizes now that the void inside him is reaching out to her, sensing the presence of his life force inside, longing to reunite with it.

The longer he is in the presence of his soul, the less empty and more solid her feels and he wonders. What if...maybe...

He concentrates on reaching out towards his own energy, drawing it closer to him. He can feel it coming nearer, and with a feeling like breaking the surface of water from below something connects. Caught up in the sensation of it, his mouth opens to react before he can catch up. Her name tumbles from his lips and she jerks in surprise, eyes snapping up in his direction, scanning, desperate, searching. He reaches for her hand, willing it to make contact before the connection slides away. But it passes through, just as before. Both of them chase the feeling to the edge as it disappears, fading back into the sea of Force energy around them.

But she heard him. She knows he is out there now. He can feel it, a surety that huddles in the marrow of his bones and refuses to be contradicted.

---

Rey stares into the darkness of the swamp, a crash of thunder echoes, the sound bouncing off the stone walls of the little hut. She jumps, every fiber of her senses on edge, still searching for the source of the voice.

It’s him. She can feel it. She knows his voice, knows the way he says her name, knows him.

Suddenly, a blue glow flares to life near the pond outside. She nearly knocks her head on the low ceiling as she hastens out the door, heart leaping to her throat in her excitement.

“Ben?!”

“Young Solo, I am not,” comes a new voice, nasal and gnarled, words tangling like the roots of the swamp trees.

#reylo #ben solo #ben x rey #tros fix it #tros spoilers #rey #reylo fic #reylo fic rec #my writing #orpheus: reylo #kylo ren #rey x #reylo fix it

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trexrambling · 8 years ago

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Until It’s Gone - Ch.4

Overview: Both brothers had loved and lost her. One night, Sam gets a phone call that changes everything.

Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader

Warnings: mentions of attempted assault, mild language

Word Count: 1,708

A/N: This is the fourth chapter in my newest ongoing series. Thanks to @wheresthekillswitch for being my letter checker! Feedback is always loved and appreciated!

Read (Ch.1) (Ch.2) (Ch.3)

My tags are way down below. Let me know if you want to be added to anything that I write :)

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in the shower for. You’d lost track of time the moment that the hot water had hit your aching muscles, slowly erasing all of the cold from your bones. You watched mud and grime wash off of your arms, the cuts where you had caught yourself when you fell stinging sharply. Your brain absentmindedly walked your limbs through your shower routine; remove the make-up, wash your hair, body, and face, shave the legs… And then you just stood there.

Why me?

It was a question that had been haunting you ever since you’d found refuge in the doorstep. You closed your eyes as the shower water cascaded around your body. You remembered the feel of his hands on you, the flushed excitement from the initial contact quickly turning to a sickening dread. You felt the harsh brick wall scrape across your back as he shoved you hard against it. You raised your fingers to delicately trace the cut on your cheek, feeling the sting as he’d hit you. You remembered running aimlessly. You remembered falling in despair. You remembered the cold of the rain and the emptiness in your chest.

Why me?

“Sam.”

His eyes slowly peeled open at her voice. Y/N was standing in front of him in sweatpants and her favorite worn, gray T-shirt. Her wet hair hung loosely around her face.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up from his sprawled out position on the couch, “you look like you feel better.” She nodded slightly as he stood up and gently took one of her forearms in his hands to examine the scraped skin. “Can I bandage these for you?” She nodded again, and he led her into the kitchen.

Sam grabbed the teapot off the stove and refilled it with water. “I made you tea earlier, but I’m pretty sure it’s cold now. Maybe I should call you little fish instead.” He smiled gently at her, trying to lighten the dim atmosphere with his words.

Y/N attempted a smile, and Sam quickly turned the stove eye on again before walking closer to her. He was careful to give her space, not really sure what she needed or wanted, but it was Y/N who closed the remaining gap between them and leaned hard against his chest. Her arms circling his waist, and Sam sighed and hugged her back, content to exist with her in the moment before she slowly let him go and took a step back.

“Thanks, Sam.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to thank me, chipmunk. Now, let’s get you patched up.”

Sam quickly pulled the first aid kit down from its resting place beneath the sink and set it on the counter. He only let himself hesitate for a short second before he grabbed on to Y/N’s waist and hoisted her up to sit on the countertop. She inhaled slightly in surprise, a sound that was barely audible to Sam’s ears. It wasn’t as if the contact was foreign to either of them – over the years, they’d grown accustomed to casual hugs, hands touching, Sam picking her up randomly – but for some reason…it felt different this time. And Sam proceeded with a newfound awkward apprehension as he positioned himself between her knees, very conscious of her thighs lightly touching his ribcage.

He cleared his throat. “But hey, in all seriousness, you were in the shower for a long time. I know you only do that when something’s wrong. And obviously something is wrong, I know that… but how are you doing?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly Sam, I don’t know. I just feel… empty right now.”

“I know the feeling,” Sam said softly.

It had been a particularly hard hunt. Dean had taken a bad hit to his side from the demon they had finally managed to exorcise, and Y/N was fussing over him like a mother hen. She shoved him back down in the chair for the third time and smacked his shoulder.

“Sit still, you idiot. I need to finish wrapping your ribs or they won’t heal right.”

Dean rolled his eyes at her and lifted his fingers to her face to trace the dark bruise that was still gaining color beneath her eye. “That bitch could throw a mean right hook.”

“Mine’s better,” Y/N teased, finishing the last wrap of the ace bandage and securing it firmly with two metal hook pins.

Dean stood up with a small groan before leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Damn right it is, sweetheart.” He brushed the stray hairs from her face and ran his hand down the side of her neck. “Let me get some ice for that eye.” He ducked down to kiss her softly on the lips before leaving the library to find an ice pack in the kitchen.

Y/N turned her attention to Sam then, who was stitching the deep gash on his forearm. “Need any help?” she asked as she walked over.

“Just finishing up,” Sam replied, dragging the needle through his flesh for the last time to tie off the knot. Y/N grabbed the scissors from the table and reached over to snip the excess dental floss. She set them back down and then placed her hand gently over his.

“Hey. What that demon said… You know none of that was true.” She squeezed his fingers and looked into his eyes earnestly. “You’re not alone, Sam. Dean’s here. I’m here. You’ve got us, and we’ve got you. And that’s never going to change.”

Sam smiled gently at her words, and Y/N’s face lit up in a smile of her own.

Dean came back into the room then, ice pack in hand, and swiftly picked her up by the waist to settle her in the chair he had previously occupied. She flinched as he brought the ice pack to her eye.

“Don’t be a baby,” Dean teased, kissing her firmly on the forehead and tangling her fingers with his free ones. Y/N stuck her tongue out at him and made a bad ice pun that made her laugh and him shake his head in fake disgrace. But then he was squeezing her hand tightly and smiling at her, affection clear in his eyes.

Sam watched them for a bit before leaving the room, making an excuse over his shoulder about needing to sleep. Y/N’s words about him not being alone felt hollow inside of his chest as he walked to his room. And though he was safe, and though he knew Y/N had meant what she said, he just felt…empty.

Y/N sat still while Sam worked, his steady hands slowly rubbing ointment on her scrapes before wrapping them in gauze and securing the end with medical tape. Sam did his best to keep his focus on the task at hand, quickly finishing with her arms before bringing his gaze up to her cheek. He used one hand to gently tilt her chin up while the other brushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes at his touch, and for a few seconds the only thing he could focus on was the way her eyelashes curled and the small scar on her left temple. Sam swallowed hard and quickly grabbed the antibiotic ointment, cursing the small shake in his fingers as they rubbed the gel-like substance in and around the edges of the small, yet gaping cut before sealing the wound with a small butterfly bandage.

Sam’s now idle hands came to rest on both of Y/N’s knees. “I think you’re good to go.”

Her eyes opened and she glanced over his handiwork. “Thanks, Sam.”

He smiled. “I told you; no need to thank me.”

He backed away from the counter so she could slide off the edge. Her feet hit the ground just as the teapot whistled from the stove. Y/N took a step towards it, but Sam quickly moved to block her way and put his hands on her shoulders.

“You, couch. I’ll bring the tea.”

She didn’t argue or attempt to shoot back a sassy remark, just nodded her head and slowly plodded into the living room. Sam watched her leave with worried eyes before pulling the teapot away from the heat and making his second mug of tea for the night. He carried it into the room and set it beside the other mug before crouching down beside the couch. Y/N was cocooned in the blanket he’d set there, curled up on her side with the top of her head barely poking out of the fabric.

“Hey… how’s it going in there, chipmunk?” He couldn’t help himself from asking again. This quiet, sad Y/N wasn’t a version he had ever seen, and it was unsettling. He just wanted to help, and he wasn’t sure how.

She tilted her head so that her eyes were visible. “I’ll be better tomorrow, Sam. I just need to sleep.”

He nodded and settled his hand on top of the blanket pile, slowly rubbing large circles across the fabric. “Are you good if I stay here tonight?”

Y/N smiled an actual smile then, and it warmed Sam’s heart. “Of course, goose. You’re always welcome to stay here. You know that. And… “ she paused for a moment, steadied her voice- “…and I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it from his pocket. Dean had texted him.

Dropped your bag. Txt me plans tomorrow.

Sam put his phone back and squeezed the blanketed lump that was Y/N. “I’m going to take a shower and change. I’ll be right back.” She nodded, and he squeezed the pile one more time before rising to his feet and going back into the kitchen.

Sitting just inside the side door’s entryway was his duffle, and Sam quickly checked to make sure Dean had packed what he needed before zipping it closed again and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He locked the door and slipped the old chain latch into place for good measure. As he turned to head back to the bathroom, Sam’s eyes landed on the now-empty counter by the door.

The blue dress was gone.

- Read Ch.5 -

My Forever Lovelies: @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @ruprecht0420 @jotink78 @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @super-not-naturall @aiaranradnay @percywinchester27 @rosie-winchester @nanie5 @feelmyroarrrr @mogaruke

Until It’s Gone tags: @escabell @vinylwinchesters @oneshoeshort @smalltowndivajessica @tas898 @supernatural-fangirl13 @sleepdeprivedchildren @wayward-girl @sandlee44 @crowleys-niece @riversong-sam @winchesterprincessbride @queenquack @charliebradbury1104

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#until it's gone #spn fanfic #spn fanfic series #dean winchester #sam winchester #reader insert #supernatural #samxreader #deanxreader

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