9. Chapter 9: Jakku

9. Jakku

Hux's coup was swift, brutal, and nearly cost Kylo his life, despite his plans. Hux was smart – he knew even one Force user with a lightsaber could be deadly to his troops, so he surrounded Kylo with what seemed like three platoons of stormtroopers. If Kylo hadn't been expecting this, he would definitely have lost. As it was, he barely made it to the TIE fighter he was keeping his things in without being overrun.

Kylo had evaded the First Order fighters some time ago now, and set his destination coordinates in the TIE fighter systems. Now he sat in the cockpit, painstakingly peeling his clothes away from burning wounds. He wasn't sure what to do to take care of the injuries – he'd always had medical droids to help him recover. Now it was just him, and he didn't know what to do. He sighed and rubbed his face, trying to ignore the pain. If he was careful, the wounds shouldn't get infected – since blaster and saber injuries cauterized themselves, all he had to worry about was opening the wounds.

Rey had somehow blocked some of his pain. He wished she hadn't, although maybe he wouldn't have made it to the ship otherwise. He let himself think about it, about how scared she'd been. Scared for him. He didn't understand why she cared so much, but he realized she did. Why else would she help him like she had?

Maybe that was why he was going to Jakku.

He had told himself he was going so he could dump the TIE fighter for something less conspicuous, but he didn't have to pick the place where Rey used to live. And yet he did. He didn't overanalyze that yet, just accepted it.

He changed into the clothes he'd collected, and while he still didn't think he'd pass for normal, he at least wouldn't look like Kylo Ren. Which was the best he could do. He could imply he was a smuggler (he knew enough about the business) if asked about his injuries, and maybe that would be enough. Enough to get him far away from systems where the First Order could find him, far away from the Resistance.

When he arrived on Jakku, at Niima Outpost, he straightened his clothes, put his boots back on, and shoved his hair out of his face. He hated to leave behind his saber, but it was a dead giveaway. He'd retrieve it later, along with the rest of his things.

The hot desert air struck him like a fist as he stepped onto the sand, and he squinted against the blazing sun. He tried to seem purposeful, confident, sure of himself. An image of Han Solo rose unbidden to his mind, the way he used to saunter as if he didn't have a care in the world, as if no one could touch him. Kylo adopted that stride, although it was hard to pull off because he was limping and had to fight not grimace with each step.

He watched the people around him. Most of them were young men and women in loose, light-colored clothes like Rey's, all of them watching him with the same kind of wary ease. He fit in here, in a way – this was a place where the galaxy's rejects could come and go without questions asked.

Someone passed close to him, and he grabbed their arm. "Hey, who do I need to talk to about getting a ship?" he asked, finding himself also emulating Han's way of speaking: loose and careless.

They shook off his hand but gestured toward a cluster of decrepit stands and tents. "Unkar Plutt's the one to ask." They went on their way, and Kylo squared his shoulders and limped over that way.

Unkar Plutt was easy to spot. He looked like his name: huge, bulbous, and squint-eyed. He only had one arm, and he sat in a stand of sorts, eyeing everyone who passed as if he was calculating how much they were worth. Kylo decided to take a direct approach. He strode up to the stand, crossed his arms, and said, "I have a ship to sell."

"I saw," Unkar said, beady eyes flicking from him to his ship and back again. "A TIE fighter. Subtle."

"Yeah, no kidding. Interested?"

"I can offer you 15,000 credits."

Kylo was no expert, but he knew that that was vastly undervaluing the fighter, even though it was used. "It's worth a lot more than that," he said sharply. "Twenty-five thousand, at least."

Unkar laughed. "You give me a deal, boy, and you buy my silence as well. Here's a deal: I take that ship for 18,000 credits and a promise not to mention you to any First Order goons who come asking about you."

Kylo hesitated, then nodded. "Fair enough. Now do you have any freighters I can take?"

"I'm short on ships," Unkar said bluntly. "Had a great freighter stolen a while back, but I have one you could buy if you don't need space."

"Good shape?"

"Good enough to get you where you need to go. You can look it over, let me know. I'll want the whole eighteen thousand for it."

Kylo sighed. "I'll look at it. Just let me get my things from the fighter."

He went back and bundled his clothes and lightsaber into a pack, which he slung over his shoulder. He planned to go directly back to Unkar's stand, but there was a feeling in the Force he hadn't noticed before, like the pull of a compass.

He knew what it was even as he went to "investigate" it. It felt familiar and warm, and he knew the Force was leading him to Rey's old home.

The AT-AT was almost out of sight of the buildings of Niima Outpost, half-buried in the sand. An abandoned speeder sat outside, also half-buried. Kylo stopped outside and looked. This, this forsaken piece of junk, had been Rey's home for years. He was afraid to go in, but he somehow felt he had to, so he did.

As he ducked in the improvised entrance, he felt the remnants of Rey's presence like a soft touch on his skin. Although sand had begun covering everything, there was still a deep pink flower wilting on top of an improvised shelf. One wall was covered in silvery scratches – he realized they would have been made by Rey, counting the days. This felt so private, being here, and he ran his fingers lightly over the scratches.

He caught sight of the doll Rey had told him about sitting comfortably next to the flowers and, impulsively, picked it up. It felt worn and soft, and he suddenly knew he had to give it back to Rey.

He sat down on the pallet on the floor and looked around. He couldn't believe she'd spent her whole life here. The little signs of her presence – the flower, the packets of food, the scratches on the walls – made him feel strangely sad for her, alone here. Somehow she'd created a home out of this hunk of rusty metal.

He got up to leave, but before he did, he guiltily rummaged through her supplies. She had about ten packages of food, a dusty knife, and, to his relief, a set of bandages and some needles and thread. He took all of those things and stuffed them into his pack, then gently set the pilot doll on top of all of it.

Unkar appeared annoyed about the time it took him to come back, but Kylo offered no apology and Unkar didn't seem to expect one. Kylo was glad, as he looked over the freighter, that he'd spent time in the Falcon with Han as a child. He knew what to look for to let him know if the ship was actually junk, but from what he could tell it was in good shape.

"Fine, I'll take it," he said, emerging from the freighter. "But I want to pay fifteen thousand. This isn't nearly as good as that fighter I'm selling you."

"Sixteen thousand five hundred," Unkar said smugly. "And you can have it."

"Fine." Then Kylo, impulsively, stepped closer to Unkar and said, quietly, "There was a scavenger that used to live here. I think her name was Rey. Do you know what happened to her?" He didn't know why he was asking, except he hoped to hear something about her life before this whole mess.

Unkar spit to one side, wide face curling in a sneer. "Yeah, I know. The bitch was one of my best workers until stole my ship, cheated me out of a droid, and when I tried to bring her to justice her kriffing bodyguard tore off my arm. Hope you don't consider herself a friend of hers, or I might reconsider doing business with you."

Kylo met his eyes and for a moment imagined choking Unkar within an inch of his life, watching his beady eyes go dull. But he stopped himself, because he needed this thing on his side and was willing to lie to him. Besides, if he had to guess, he'd say a certain Wookie had already dealt some justice of his own. Chewbacca had always had a flair for the dramatic. "Not exactly. She owes me money."

"Well, I hope you find her and make her pay," Unkar grumbled. And with that, he turned to go, stumping off back towards his stand. Kylo stared after him, quietly promising to come back someday and make him regret threatening Rey.

Then he sighed and got into the freighter. He wasn't totally sure where he was going next, only that he wanted to find somewhere in the Outer Rim to lay low.

And then what?

He pushed that question down. One thing at a time. He'd get out of here first, bandage his wounds, and go from there.

He couldn't help but feel that there was nowhere else to go – really, what was the point? He was just going to be alone again.

Alone with just himself. And he wasn't sure he could do that.

A/N: I'm a cruel person guys - I could have given you this chapter last night and spared you the suspense, but honestly I just wanted to see you freak out. Kylo is, of course, okay - just very shot up. I hope you don't mind this whole chapter without a Force bond scene - I kind of wanted to just have him go to Rey's house and it just be a chapter for him.

He's realized, at this point, that Rey cares way more about him than he'd even hoped - so that's going to be nice. No declarations of love though, sorry. :)