Chapter Text
This is a part of the "Shatter Me" series.
***
“No,” Master Luke’s voice is sharp and strict, he never lost his inherit calm but that does not lessen the authority he exudes during her lessons, “Again. Focus, Rey.”
She is trying, truly, she is but the challenge of fulfilling her multiple tasks while trying to keep any memory, any flash of Kylo Ren stalking through her mind under tight wraps, is wearing her out. She can’t let Master Luke see any trace of her entanglement with his old student. If nothing else could rattle him, she was sure that him finding out about whatever it was that kept drawing his new Padawan to the man who had unraveled his entire life, killed his best friend and made him flee to a tiny planet into exile, would upset him.
She stares at the metal ball as it hovers a few centimetres above the ground. He wants her to let it hover higher, she is supposed to let it hang on the height of her chest but she can not hold the grip on it steady. Fear and anxiety, laced with guilt and shame is bubbling in the back of her head and it is making her grasp on the Force unstable.
“Focus,” he says again and annoyance is added to the mix of her raging emotions.
“I am trying,” she bites.
“What is the matter with you?” It is not a challenging question, his face is sincere and if anything, worried.
“Nothing,” she says, “but this isn’t easy for me. I’m not as gifted as you.”
“Rey,” he speaks calmly, “you know this isn’t true. I felt you coming here before you even entered the atmosphere. You possess a great deal of power, you only have to leave everything that is distracting you behind. Clear your head and let the Force work through you. For you.”
“I’m afraid of what comes through me along with the Force,” she says, truthfully and drops the ball.
“Fear is the pathway to darkness,” Master Luke says, as he would.
“I know,” she purses her lips, “but what if the darkness is already there?”
“Not in you,” he is so certain, her guilt bangs on the edges of her skull with a vengeance, “I have seen the darkness in a Padawan and your aura holds no trace of it.”
She understands and it lifts her spirits if only a bit. Kylo’s energy is a vibrating mess of contrasting emotions, a constant push and pull of dark and light mixed with anguish and uncertainty.
“He chose the darkness because it was easier for him to succumb to the temptations of it than it was withstanding them,” Master Luke says, his face fallen and tone somber, “you do not give in to temptations.”
If you only knew, she thinks. He looks at her as if he heard.
“Of course there is one very testing temptation, perhaps the most tempting of them all,” he looks old now, sad and knowing, “But the burden of this power we have access to, is that we’re too feeble beings to handle both that power and what comes with having a love. Love, in our world, brings only destruction.”
Rey wrinkles her face. She is not in love. Love has no place in whatever is happening to her. It can’t. But still. If she loved, it would not be Kylo. But someone else, maybe. Maybe Finn. He is a good man, steadfast and loyal. He would be easy to love. Why could she not love someone like that? Someone good.
“It takes up too much of you,” Master Luke answers her without her having said a word, “It disrupts your clarity and it brings nothing but pain in the long run.”
Rey cannot stand the sadness in his face and she is mildly annoyed with the contradiction between his words and the emotions she can feel him feel. He has love within him, and plenty of it. And compassion, affection, protectiveness. Is that not love?
“We are done for today,” Master Luke says, as if he knows her unrest is too grave to continue, “Rest now, we will continue in the morning at first light.”
He leaves her with this and to her own devices. Alone with her tall, dark demon. Kylo lurks in her shadows, as he does. He is waiting. Sometimes he sends her flashes of memories, of how he feels above her, his weight pushing her into a soft mattress, real and true and Ben. He beckons her and he is infuriating in his confidence. He is sure that she will come back to him, sure that as soon as she closes her eyes, she will say his name again and dissolve into his power. But she won’t. She will never fall prey to him again, never again. He snickers in the back of her head and she shuts him out. As long as she is awake, she can keep him at bay.
The day drags on and gnaws at her. When it gets dark and she has eaten, she retreats to her corner. She does not shy away from sleep now. She has found new conviction in spite. She will not bow to him, will not be defeated or tempted. So she closes her eyes, lays back and falls asleep. She does not enter the corridor where he waits for her. Instead, she opens up a green field, vast and free and she walks and breathes and drenches herself in light. There is no shade, no shadow for him to hide in.
“I am not hiding,” his voice is even, if not a bit cocky. She twirls around to him and sees him standing a little ways away. He looks thoroughly out of place in the peace of the sunny meadow. In this light she can see the bright scar on his face, the one she left him with in the woods of Star Killer base. It does not disrupt his features, he is still the same boy and it’s a softer shade of pink than his skin - so soft that she did not see it in the dark when they…
Her mind wanders back for the fraction of a second, to his nose brushing her cheek and she remembers that she could feel the scar, even if she did not see it. When he was kissing her - no. She catches herself but he has not missed the slip. He is smiling, over-confident and his eyes twinkle with mischief, with lust.
“That will never happen again,” she declares and straightens her spine. He merely tilts his head in response.
“We will see about that,” he tells her and her jaw clenches with anger in the face of his unwavering certainty.
“You won’t have power over me anymore,” she says, spitefully, “I am learning.”
“Sweet scavenger,” he laughs, it’s malicious and belittling at the same time, “I have years on you and I don’t take well to being denied.”
“You don’t say,” she scoffs and takes a step toward him, “I have seen your temper tantrums in your head. Like a little boy who doesn’t get the toy he wants. But I am not a toy.”
“Oh no,” he says, “that you surely aren’t.”
Rey is wary as he stands before her, unmoving, unrattled by her resolve.
“What is it that you want?”
“To teach you,” he says, “I already told you that I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help,” she reproaches, “nor do I want it.”
“Well, who says I am giving you a choice?” He takes a small step, securing his stance and in a flash of light, his lightsaber bursts to red, sizzling life at his side.
Rey shakes her head and takes a step back. She has no idea where her own weapon is, she did not dream it with her. Still, when she reflexively reaches for her belt, sure enough, it is there and she pushes a button to make it buzz to life.
Kylo grins wickedly as she raises it into a defensive position.
“Last time the only thing that saved you from me was the ground dissolving,” she says, “are you sure you want to get bested by me again?”
“Who says I’ve been idle with my own training since then?” He takes a few strides toward her, “I don’t spend all my time fantasising about your body wrapped around mine.”
“Hold on to that fantasy,” she says and takes two steps forward too, ignoring the surge of electricity cursing through her lower body, “it will be all you’ll have of me.”
Kylo huffs and closes the distance, waves his sword and clashes into hers, which is raised above her head.
“I’ll have all of you,” he whispers and swings his sword again, "You'll see."
They spar with the rigour of two people who know that all they have to lose is sleep. He is still better versed in the actual art of fighting, but she is smaller and more in tune with her weapon. She charges at him as often as she parries his attacks and he is out of breath when she brushes past him, her sword just barely missing his head. A strand of his jet black hair is singed and now she is the one laughing. His face is priceless. He seems somewhat piqued and vainly disgruntled by the loss of some of his precious hair, even if it's only happening in their heads.
There is a twist in his features and he pushes her by the shoulder until she loses her balance and falls down on her bottom. Rey clutches her lightsaber tightly and quickly gets back onto her feet.
“What? Are you afraid you won’t be pretty anymore?” She wants there to be more venom in her voice than there is, “Why does it matter to you anyway? No one sees you behind that mask of yours. And those minions you command don’t care for your hair.”
Kylo’s face darkens and he turns of his sword which is, in juxtaposition to everything, the most intimidating thing he has done so far. When he comes for her, he lunges and he first grabs her wrist, holds it above her head and twists it so her own weapon falls futile into the grass. Then, with his other hand, he grabs her back and draws her against his frame. He gives her no second of preparation but instantly catches her lips in a harsh and demanding kiss.
Rey wants to resist but his teeth graze her bottom lip and her mouth falls open for him all the same. He tilts his head, changing up the angle of the kiss and bending her over, dipping her a bit while his breath comes in deep huffs, his tongue ghosting around hers. Her whole body catches fire while he has his way with her.
And then, as quickly as he jumped her, he lets her go entirely and takes a couple of steps back, as if something had snapped him out of a diluted haze. The blush on his cheeks is in sharp contrast to the rage in his eyes. Still, this is more Ben than Kylo, more angry, humiliated boy than menacing would-be Sith.
Rey is petrified. He just took her, just like that and she let him and she wanted it. Everything she wants to be is betraying her because of him. Because of that pull he has. It’s like gravity and she can’t allow herself to fall into his orbit. So she turns and runs. She runs across the field, past the edge of the woods into the forest and on and on, twigs hitting her face and foliage falling to dust under her quick feet. Ben, Kylo, doesn’t follow her. She runs until she falls into the ruins of a spaceship on Jakku, runs until the desert sun burns her cheek and the sand coats her shins. She runs until she wakes up.
Her eyes fly open and she knows the sun is just about to go up. Rey bites her lip and forces herself not to cry, not to lose her head in the fury directed at herself and only herself. She needs to be better than this, to be in control. And so she reaches out, looks for the Force and she focuses on it, on the bright light surrounding her and she focuses until even the shadow of Kylo Ren is obliterated by it. She pushes him out, shuts him off from her and for the first time in weeks, she can breathe right. When Master Luke starts training her a short while later, she hits all her marks and the little metal ball soars high above both their heads. He is pleased.