Chapter 1: A Spinebarrel in the Sand

The room is pitch black and silent.

Kylo Ren doesn't notice the low hum of the ship all around him. He's become so accustomed to it that it doesn't even register as noise. He's lying flat on his back on the mattress, uncovered except for a loose pair of pants. He sighs, turning to his side.

This is the worst part of his day. It always is.

Seconds become minutes, minutes become hours... sometimes he doesn't sleep at all. Sometimes he just stares into blackness all night, fighting unwanted thoughts.

Or giving in to them.

He shifts again, angry at himself, angry at his lack of self-control.

These idle minutes are like a minefield... He doesn't have to worry about it during the day, not since his responsibilities as Supreme Leader eliminated the concept of "free time."

But nothing can eliminate this, the agonizing period between work and sleep.

Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren. Supreme Leader of the First Order. A man with unparalleled power. A man equally worshipped and feared.

Now a man who can't seem to pass a minute alone without thinking about her.

The scenes play involuntarily in his mind. Her body stiffening, her back to him, the curve of her slender neck only just visible in the moonlight... "I'd rather not do this now." Her cheeks stained with tears as she asked him why he killed his father. Her eyes in the elevator... wide and burning with intensity. The way she confidently stepped towards him, the way her gaze locked onto his.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shifting angrily in his bed.

That's when it hits.

A warmth rising from within, a low, gentle burn starting at his core and stretching out into his limbs. It takes a second before he recognizes the feeling, but when he does, he tenses, bracing himself. For a moment, the sound around him mutes.

Then something unexpected happens.

The environment changes, the crisp coolness of his quarters replaced by an oppressively dry heat.

His eyes fly open.

Bright rays of sun pierce his pupils. He squints, adjusting to the light. He's lying on a sand dune, irritating granules sticking all over— to his hands, his back, his hair. He sits up, confused, brushing off his arms and shoulders. As he does, an unexpected gust blows sand in his eyes. He groans, annoyed, and rises to his feet. The hot grains burn him. The unforgiving rays bear down on his pale, uncovered skin.

He looks around and is greeted by endless miles of sand stretching out in all directions. Sand to the right. Sand to the left. Sand just ahead. And behind him...

Rey.

He freezes.

This is new. Being able to see her surroundings, feel them as if he were physically with her in this space. The bond is growing... Snoke might have engineered it, but now it seems beyond anyone's control.

She knows he's here, but she doesn't turn. She's sitting back on her calves a few paces away, shoulders hunched, head bowed.

She's ignoring him. Since Crait, this is how both of them deal with the bond. One can sense the other is there but simply doesn't engage. They just wait in silence, avoiding eye contact at all costs until the other fades away.

Why talk? There's nothing to say. She made her choice. He sensed her resolve, in the throne room and since. He's not going to waste his time on a lost cause. Just because the bond keeps bringing them together doesn't mean they have to actually to each other or even acknowledge the other's presence.

Of course, that was much easier when he was in his own surroundings and not hers.

He sighs, retaking a seat in the sand behind her. He straightens, closing his eyes, trying to meditate, shut out the world around him.

But instead, her emotions pour into him like a flood.

Pain. Disappointment. A gnawing loneliness so deep it makes him ache with a heavy, empty feeling.

She's found her parents. What's left of them, at least.

He twitches with a twist of regret as he recalls how he broke the news to her. Tact has never been his strong suit...

But it was something she needed to hear. She's spent a lifetime chasing ghosts when she should be forging a better future for herself.

. Clearly.

He offered her the galaxy. He offered her a chance to become something much more than a scavenger, a chance to achieve her potential.

But she rejected it in favor of a dead end.

He pushes out an exhale, hardening his jaw.

He just needs to maintain a modicum of equilibrium until the bond ends. Which it will. Any minute now.

He takes a breath, trying to clear his mind. He looks anywhere but at Rey.

And that's when he sees it.

At first, he thinks it's a mirage. It's too improbable he'd find something like this in such a barren, sand-choked wasteland. He pushes himself up and walks towards the faint image, just a small speck in a sea of tan-colored dunes. As he gets closer, he realizes that his eyes aren't fooling him... the image is real. He crouches down to inspect it.

A small flower grows, dusty pink with a think bud and wiry stem. A solitary sign of life, surrounded by nothing. Its existence, its ability to survive in these conditions is nothing short of a miracle.

He reaches out tentatively.

If sand sticks to him as though he's actually here, then he should be able to touch it...

His fingertips graze the petals. They feel tough and course. He slides his hand down the stem, then grips it tightly, pulling. The roots run deep, so he has to break the stem at the base. He rises, eyes fixed on the flower in his palm.

.

He can't help but wonder... if the flower is in his hand when the bond fades, could he take it with him? He burns with curiosity. The concept of a Force bond is nothing new, but this bond with Rey? It's already stronger than anything he's ever heard of. His instinct is to test its limits, see what he can do through it.

Yet there's another instinct. A deeper one.

He glances at Rey. She's still seated back on her calves, shoulders hunched, head bowed. He looks down at his hand.

His rational brain tells him not to move, to stay where he is.

But he turns in spite of himself. He turns and begins to walk towards her.

He can't say why. Maybe it's the situation. Maybe it's harder to ignore her in her own surroundings. Maybe it's just the way she feels right now. So lonely... So lost....

The sand crunches softy under his feet as he approaches. Rey stiffens as he gets closer, bracing herself. He stops beside her, looking down.

This isn't a grave. It's just bits of bone peeking out from the sand.

He crouches next to her. He's not sure if her eyes are closed or open. Her chin is tucked, her face turned down.

A minute passes. Neither of them move. Neither of them say anything.

Then, very slowly, he reaches out and places the flower among the human remains.

Rey lifts her head slightly. She extends a hand to the flower, taking it to bring it closer. He feels her change, that gnawing, empty feeling interrupted by the subtlest warmth. She brushes the petals with her fingertips.

Her face is visible now, soft and curious. She studies the flower, seeming lost in memories. She presses a petal between a thumb and index finger, feeling its thickness. Finally, she places the it back on the sand-swept bones.

She takes an uneven breath, a single tear forming in the corner of her eye. It slides down the curve of her cheek, lingering at her chin before dripping to the sand.

Suddenly, she looks up, catching him off guard.

For the first time since Crait, their eyes lock.

She has that same look from the elevator, the same intensity— focused and full of emotion. He loses himself in those clear, brown wells. A part of him wants to look away... but another part relishes the moment, this feeling so foreign he hardly recognizes it.

Humanity. Connection. An empathy so deep it aches.

His chest tightens.

It hurts... to want someone so much. To have her right before him— wisps of hair sticking to her forehead, soft, full cheeks, delicate features.

And yet to be worlds apart. In mind. In personality. In perspective. In everything but heart.

He blinks.

Or maybe she does.

Either way, he's no longer in the desert of Jakku. He back on Supremacy in his own quarters, shrouded in blackness.

He's crouching on his bed, motionless. He stays like this for a minute, readjusting to the surroundings.

Then, he sits back, stretching out his legs and lying on the mattress.

His skin feels hot from the sun. Granules of sand stick to his feet. He sees her in his mind's eye, looking up at him, cheeks wet with tears.

He sighs, rolling to his side as he accepts the inevitable.

Another sleepless night.