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When the pilot with the long dark hair and determined eyes interrupts her, Rey is underneath the Falcon, her hands tangled in uncooperative wires as she listens to Chewie's replying groans from the cockpit. The old freighter took more than a slight beating during its skid-landing on Starkiller Base; they have to fix her up before she'll be ready for the voyage to Luke Skywalker.
In all of her life, the Falcon brings the number of complete, functioning ships Rey's had the pleasure of repairing up to a grand total of two.
At least the first one, she thinks, didn't require her to spend a miserable hour scrubbing her best friend's blood from its benches.
Still, if she overlooks the memory of Finn bleeding out behind her as she flew, and if she shoves down her grief for the ship's previous owner, the Falcon is a beauty, by far the most wonderful thing she's ever possessed. Not that it's strictly hers: Rey figures the ship belongs to either Chewie, or Leia, or maybe both—but the two of them are acting like it's a given that the Falcon will be the ship that takes Rey on her journey to Luke, and, well. Rey may be filled with so much gratitude that she fears she'll choke on the emotion, but that doesn't mean she's going to complain.
“Is it true you're going to find Skywalker?” the pilot demands. Her orange flight suit has dirt stains on the knees. She carries a helmet under one arm.
Rey extracts her hands from within the Falcon's workings, sitting up and examining the girl somewhat warily.
She says eventually, guardedly: “Yes.”
The pilot's jaw softens; her face relaxes. “That is so cool,” she says, sounding suddenly breathless. A grin widens her mouth and crinkles her eyes, making her cheeks look rounder and her face softer.
Rey blinks a few times. She thinks she likes this intrusive pilot better smiling, maybe. She's... still not entirely sure what to make of her.
“Oh,” Rey says. “I guess it is, yeah.” She presses her palms against the duracrete she's sitting on, unsure what to do with her hands. Her fingers itch nervously, anxious to get back to work: work is familiar territory.
Abruptly, the pilot thrusts out a hand. “I'm Pava,” she says. “Jess Pava.” She cocks her head. “Or Testor. Or Blue Three, if you want.” Her excited grin has faded, replaced by a crooked, close-lipped half smile. Rey's stomach does a weird flip.
She watches Jess Pava for a long moment, eyeing her extended hand, the muscled forearm exposed by the rolled up sleeve of her flight suit, the long, soft line of her braided hair falling down one shoulder.
“I'm Rey,” she says. Finally, she reaches up to grip Pava's offered hand—and finds herself pulled to her feet by a strong tug, suddenly viewing Pava's widening grin at eye-level instead of from below.
“I know,” Jess Pava says. “C'mon, Rey.” She turns, still with her helmet under one arm and her other hand gripping Rey's. Before she knows it, Rey, blinking, is being pulled along behind this small, assertive pilot.
The way Pava tugs her along by the hand is undeniably reminiscent of the way Finn yanked her to safety upon hearing the TIE fighters approaching their hiding spot on Jakku. Rey's steps falter slightly; she has to swallow hard. Finn will be okay, she tells herself fiercely. He will. The doctor told Rey he should be fine; Rey will feel better once he's out of that medically-induced coma and returning her smile.
“Dameron says we're not to let you spend all day alone with the Wookiee and the spaceship,” Jess tells Rey. “General Organa's orders.” She flashes a toothy grin over her shoulder. Something about the friendliness of the expression helps to ease the sudden tightness in Rey's chest. She takes a breath, and makes herself smile back, though Pava's already turned away once more. “So, I figured I should take you to the training room. Make sure your defenses stay sharp.”
It's not phrased like a suggestion, more as a definitive statement. Still, Rey believes she could decline the offer if she wanted to.
Jess's hand is small but calloused in Rey's. There's a bounce in each of her steps, her hips swaying under her bulky flight suit.
Rey doesn't think she wants to decline.
✩
Poe enters the padded-floored training room only after Rey has become well acquainted with said padded floor, as well as with Jessika Pava's quick fists, determined gaze, and startlingly bright laughter.
He raises an eyebrow.
Catching sight of him, Rey ducks away from a jab of Jess's hand and jogs back a few paces, out of Jess's range. Jess falters; she glances over her shoulder.
“Oh!” she says. “Poe!” Warm satisfaction bubbles in Rey's chest when she hears that Jessika is just as out of breath as herself. “I was just showing Rey the training room. She's wicked with a staff; did you know that? But I think we're a decent match hand-to-hand.”
Poe's dark eyebrow is still a sharp arch high above his eye. “Yeah?” he says.
Jessika nods.
Rey glances between the two of them, forcing her breaths into a slower rhythm. Jess's round cheeks are pink; loose strands of dark hair are stuck to her temples with sweat. Poe looks at her with his eyes narrowed but his mouth curved in a way that suggests he finds something amusing.
“It's funny,” he says slowly, thoughtfully. “When I headed out this morning, I was pretty sure I said someone should show Rey more of the base—”
“Yup! I've been taking care of it!” Jess says.
“—And I'm pretty sure I said I' didn't mind showing her around once I got back this afternoon,” Poe finishes. He looks at Jessika like he wants an explanation but already has an idea what she's going to say.
Rey does not. She watches curiously, eyes following the brushstroke of pink that swipes up Jess's neck.
“I... missed that part?” Jess tries.
Poe's eyebrow climbs higher.
Rey watches Jess's shoulders slump just an increment. “Fine,” she says. “Look, I heard she was going to find Skywalker, okay?” She turns in place so that she can speak more easily to Rey instead of facing away from her. “And is it true you found his lightsaber? Did it really call to you from the basement? I heard you could feel it as soon as you landed on the planet.”
Rey blinks several times, taken aback. Jess's dark eyes are sparkling with excitement, her stance full of energy. It's clear now that she's been holding back all her questions while they sparred, and now that she's started speaking they all seem ready to spill out of her at once, like a gas pipe that's suddenly sprung a leak.
“Pava?” Poe says. Jess turns her head. “You think you might give the girl a chance to breathe?”
“Oh,” Jess says. She glances at Rey. “Sorry.” She bites her lip. “It's just... No one's been able to find anything on Luke in years, you know? And now you're actually going to find him! And you've got his lightsaber! And you're going to fly the Millennium Falcon!”
“Pava,” Poe says sternly. He gives Rey one of his easy smiles, lopsided and apologetic. He's been nothing but kind to her while she's been on D'Qar: after their awkward first meeting and hug, she thanked him for helping Finn, and he brushed it off and offered to help her navigate the overwhelming bounty of the mess hall. If there are days when all she wants to do is throw herself into ship repairs and late nights when she spends long, silent hours beside Finn's care pod in the medical center, Poe takes it easily in stride and leaves her alone except to make sure that she eats at least a couple times a day.
Rey suspects the general has asked him to keep an eye on her. It makes warm gratitude needle painfully in her chest, sting at the backs of her eyes.
“Okay,” Jess sighs finally. She gives Rey a sheepish smile. “Hey, I'm sorry for hijacking you. But—you can come find me if you need anything, you know? I'm usually around.” She grins, wiping lingering sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm. “Okay,” she says. She turns, her braid swinging behind her, and exits the training room with a wave, her sweat-damp white t-shirt sticking to the small of her back.
Rey watches her go.
“You all right?” Poe asks her. His voice is gentle, his countenance concerned.
“Yeah,” Rey says distractedly. “Um, thanks for saving me from all the questions.” She hesitates. “The rest of the afternoon was... good, though. I mean, I should probably stay in shape, right? Keep learning how to fight without my staff?”
Poe eyes her thoughtfully, his eyes serious. The corner of his mouth twitches up, his face taking on the same knowing expression he'd given Jess.
Rey frowns at him. Whatever it is he thinks he knows, she's certainly still in the dark.
“Sure,” Poe says. “Yeah.” He claps her on the shoulder. “Staying ready for combat is an excellent plan.” He glances at his chronometer, eyes then returning to Rey. “In the meantime, we should get some food into you, huh?”
Rey does not expect a time will ever come when she will turn down the offer of food. She grins at him and, shutting off the lights, they leave the room.
✩
Rey twists her torso out of the path of Jess's not-saber, skipping to the side and executing a stumbley approximation of a dodge. The tip of the blunt-ended metal rod that Jess wields as if it's a lightsaber still tickles Rey's ribs.
Rey blows out an immense breath. She jogs a few paces back, circling Pava, her own “saber” half raised.
“How are you so good at this?” she demands. “I thought pilots were only required to learn aerial combat.”
Jessika's mouth slides into a sly smile, her eyes bright. “True,” she says. “Lightsaber skills aren't technically on the exam.”
She jabs at Rey with her weapon, lunging into a deep crouch.
Rey jumps back; she curves her spine, feeling the rush of displaced air near her stomach but not quite feeling the scrape of durasteel.
She exhales heavily. “Damn it, Jess.”
When Rey says her name, Jess stills a moment, a smile twitching her mouth. Her eyes track Rey watchfully.
Rey feints right, then strikes at Jess's left side. Jess knocks Rey's fake saber away with ease. She dances back, her dark eyes glittering.
“I learned to fight with a saber just because I wanted to,” Jess tells Rey.
They're circling each other again. Rey eyes Jess's movements, alert for suddenly tensed muscles underneath her white shirt or casual pilot-orange work out pants. Her dark hair is in a long ponytail today, instead of braided as it often is.
Her hair is not what Rey should be paying attention to.
Her distraction costs her.
Jessika rushes in, countering Rey's attempt at a last-second slice to her abdomen easily. She presses Rey back. The padded floor gives slightly beneath Rey's shoes. With Jess pushing forward so hard, Rey has to backpedal quickly to avoid losing her balance.
Then her back hits the wall, and she finds she can backpedal no farther.
Jess has her pinned. Rey has to keep her weapon up, crossed with Jess's, to prevent the durasteel rod from touching her neck in imitation of a fatal blow.
Her body aches for familiarity: she's tempted to grip her rod at each end instead of only at the hilt, to use it like a staff and muscle her way back into a position of power. They're pretending these metal weapons are lightsabers, though, and of course grabbing a lightsaber by the blade would do her far more damage than good. Gritting her teeth, she restrains herself. But she can feel in her muscles how easy it would be.
Jess's eyes explore Rey's face, without a doubt noticing the sweat beading at her hairline, but also the determined set of her mouth. Rey sticks her chin out, meeting Jess's gaze. She puts on an air of calm, although they can both see her arms shaking with the effort of staving off Jess's saber.
“Skywalker fought with a lightsaber,” Jess explains. “When I was little, I never really pretended to fight with a blaster—but I was always using branches like sabers.”
She's leaning as much weight against Rey's thin durasteel rod as she can. Rey clenches her jaw, the muscles in her arms burning and threatening to give way.
From the ever-darkening pink shade of her face and the fine tremble of her arms, Jess is no more able to overpower her than Rey is to shove Jess away.
If the situation were different—if she were locked in combat with Kylo Ren, or scrapping with a Jakku Teedo trying to filch her day's work—Rey would be frustrated and scared by the match of their strength. As it is—safe at the Resistance base, well-fed for once, sparring with Jess, who's more likely to grin at her and give her a hand up than to kick her while she's down—their equality just sends a thrill of excited competitiveness shivering down Rey's spine.
Jess is close enough that Rey can see each wisp of sweat-curled hair loose from her ponytail, smell the faint tinge of oil that lingers on the skin of many pilots underneath the smell of standard issue soap.
In her lifetime, Rey has not spent much time at all in close proximity to any other being, humans and creatures alike. And yet... this is unlike the other moments of intimacy she's experienced so far. Standing so close to Jess is not quite like hugging Finn, nor like embracing Leia, or Poe Dameron. Standing this close to Jess makes something squirm weirdly in Rey's stomach, makes her palms feel sweaty gripping the durasteel rod, makes her lungs feel shallow and her heart pound like she's been guiding her speeder through flips it's not entirely equipped to manage.
Feeling bizarrely on-edge, Rey can't take it anymore. She relaxes her arms and ducks out of the way of Jess's saber, sliding her hands into a more familiar position on her own rod. As Jess follows her, she bats the attacks away easily, using the rod like a staff.
“You're cheating!” Jess accuses, her eyes alight and her smile broad.
“Maybe,” Rey allows. She fakes a blow to Jess's left. Then she jabs toward Jess's unprotected right, making her scramble to avoid the blow. “But I'm winning.”
Rey presses while Jess's balance is compromised, hooking one foot with her own and sending Jess's body to the padded floor with a solid thump.
Jess groans.
Rey grins, and sticks out a hand to help her up.
✩
Rey does not hear the footsteps that should've alerted her to the presence of a new arrival in med bay.
She's busy with her eyes shut and her forehead creased, her lips slightly parted in a frown of concentration.
This is stupid, she knows, but she feels she has to try. If she truly is Force-sensitive—and R'iia, is that still a bizarre thought: not only does the Force exist, but she has it? Rey, the orphan scavenger from Jakku?—then she owes it to Finn to try to use her strange power to help him. Surely the Force can—can help him heal, or at least allow her to communicate with him while he's comatose at the instruction of the doctors.
This is not the first time she has tried to reach out to him in the week they have been on D'Qar.
It is not the first time she has failed, either.
It is the first time that, before she has given up, slumping in her chair with an ache in her temples and a dull buzz of exhaustion in her brain, having felt nothing from Finn but the white static of the coma, a deep voice says, “Oh!”
Rey startles. Adrenaline floods through her system; she sits up straight with her heart pounding as hard is if she'd just run all the way from Niima Outpost to her home. Her muscles are tense, ready to grab for her staff, leap to her feet and defend herself, even though cognitively, she realizes she's safe here.
She blinks several times at Poe as he enters and stands beside her chair at Finn's side, breathing slowly as her heart rate begins to slow to a normal pace.
“I didn't realize anyone was here,” Poe says. His voice is throaty, but his face is as unconcerned as ever, the slightest hint of a smile adorning his mouth as he glances at Rey, then looks to Finn. “I'll just leave this, and you two can be alone.”
Rey hadn't paid attention to the article of clothing in Poe's hands. Now that she examines it, she sees that it's the jacket in which Finn had first met her, the one that caught BB- 8's attention.
It's the jacket Finn had been wearing when he met her—also the jacket he'd been wearing when he faced Kylo Ren. The jacket's back, Rey recalls, was as bloody and torn as Finn's.
She hadn't given any thought to what happened to the coat once it had been taken from Finn. Apparently Poe had repossessed it.
He grips the jacket by one shoulder and lifts it a little, letting it fall unfolded. Rey can see that the back, instead of being sliced in two, is now whole, mended by a distinct diagonal line of tiny stitches.
Now that she's looking, she also notices the hand that's holding up the jacket: specifically, she notices the white strips of bandage wrapped around a couple of Poe's fingertips.
“You mended it?” she asks, surprised.
One side of Poe's mouth lifts in half a grin. “Good as new,” he says. His eyes fall from the jacket to Finn, and the grin fades, then disappears.
“I don't mind if you stay,” Rey tells him, looking at Finn now, too. She feels Poe's eyes on her for a moment before he strides away to grab another chair from the corner of the room.
He sits beside her, jacket in his lap.
They are quiet.
Then Rey says, “How do you know if you have romantic feelings for someone?”
She feels Poe look at her. She continues to stare at Finn. She wishes he would wake up. She would talk to him about this, if she could, even though she's not sure he'd have any more idea than she does.
“Why do you ask?” Poe says.
Rey has spent the last four days doing ship repairs in the morning, pausing for lunch, then working out with Jessika before she spends her evenings back on ship-fixing duty and her nights at Finn's side. There is a warm, weird tingle in Rey's gut each time Jess pins her to the training room floor and her long hair falls forward to tickle Rey's skin.
She is beginning to think she may have an idea of why Poe looked so amused when she told him she thought it was probably wise to train with Jess in the interest of staying in shape. She wonders if it was not only in the interest of “staying in shape.” Poe probably wondered the same thing—he just may have noticed sooner than Rey herself did.
“Just answer the question,” Rey says.
She looks to Poe; he smiles.
“You know,” he tells her. His smile has that same hint of understanding that she has seen before. “You just do. It's—warm,” he says. “And you always want to be around them. You make excuses to be near them.”
He is definitely talking about Jessika. Rey is torn between an embarrassed grin and an embarrassed glare. Her face lands somewhere in between.
Poe gives her a grin, one of his reassuring ones that she's already grown familiar with. Then his eyes skate back to Finn.
Rey glances at Finn, at Poe, at the jacket—and she is suddenly not sure that Poe was speaking only about Jessika Pava.
She stands, finding a soft smile on her face. “Thank you,” she says to Poe. She considers resting her hand on his shoulder; decides it would feel weird. “And—thank you for visiting Finn. Will you come to see him while I'm gone?”
“Sure,” Poe says, voice rough, eyes not moving. “I can do that for you. No problem.”
Mind buzzing and steps light, Rey leaves the med bay.
✩
“I wish I could take you flying,” Jess says. She skims her fingers through the rocky sand around them.
They're sitting on the bank of one of D'Qar's many bodies of water, the lake a dark steel blue in the dusky, fading sunlight.
The sand is barely sand, more dirt and rock—it is nothing at all like Jakku sand.
Rey decides she likes it.
She scoops some up and lets it fall through her fingers, feeling the varying size of the rocks, the ever so faint dampness of the sand. The smell of wet and green is unfamiliar and wonderful in her nose.
“That's okay,” Rey says. She means it—Jess has trained with her, shown her around the latest model of an X-Wing, introduced her to ale, and taught her the little she knows about D'Qar's plant-life.
“I heard you're really something,” Jess tells her. She gives Rey a small, secretive smile that makes a shiver zip up Rey's spine. They're sitting near enough to each other for Jess to lean over and bump their shoulders together.
“I had a lot of practice,” Rey admits. “I got lucky on a flight simulator a while back. There's not a whole lot else to do while you're trapped inside by the storm.”
Jess shakes her head. “Yeah, but simulators aren't the same. Not the same pressure.”
“I know,” Rey says, a little sadly. “They're nothing like the real thing.”
Jess looks at her, mouth drawn, eyes concerned. It's clear she didn't mean to remind Rey of all she'd lacked for so long. It's fine, really; Rey isn't that fazed. Still, apologetic, Jess reaches out and takes Rey's hand before Rey can wave her off.
And then Rey's heart is skittering and her mouth feels dry and she doesn't want to wave Jess's concern away, not anymore, not when Jess's sand-gritty fingers are gripping her hand.
“Another time,” Rey says. “You can take me flying another time.”
Jess nods, a smile widening quickly on her face. “Yeah. Once you go find Skywalker and stop the First Order and save the galaxy and it's safe to take the X-Wings out for fun, I'll take you flying.”
Rey smiles, though the enormity of the expectations that she knows rest on her sends a prick of anxiety through her. “Okay,” she says, keeping her voice light. “Deal.”
“Good,” Jess says, grinning. She leans over again, bumps their shoulders again. This time, she stays touching Rey.
Her eyes are warm, her cheeks a little pinked. Her hand still clasps Rey's lightly.
Rey suddenly feels very, very out of breath, and a little like her head is spinning.
Then Jessika kisses her, and she just feels dizzier.
Jess's lips are dry, warmer than the cool of the night air. She brings a hand up to draw Rey closer by the back of the neck, parting her lips and kissing Rey slowly. Rey is glad that the hand not captured by Jessika's is on the ground behind her for support.
Her whole body feels heated from the inside out, like she is filled with some sort of warm, swirling substance that tingles in her fingertips and buzzes in her lips, pressed to Jessika's, and flutters in her stomach. Her veins run fast and hot with nervous, excited energy.
When Jess pulls her mouth away, Rey makes a sound of startled disappointment.
Jess grins at her. Her full lips are a darker shade of pink than they were before; Rey stares in faint fascination.
“Um,” she says. She pulls her eyes from Jess's lips to her dark eyes, which manage to glint a little even though there's not much light to be caught. “I think I—like you,” she states. She nods, solidifying the statement.
Jess bites her bottom lip like she's trying to stop her grin from growing. “Well, good,” she says. “Since I like you, too.”
“Oh,” Rey says. A tingly, warm thrill goes through her. “You do?”
Jess snorts. It's a genuine, uninhibited sound. Rey likes it.
“Yeah. That's why I kissed you.”
Rey blinks. “Oh,” she says. “Oh.” She takes her hand from Jess's just to reposition herself on the sand, sitting to face Jess fully. “So—can we do it again, then?”
Jessika laughs, her eyes scrunching, and nods. “Absolutely.” She gestures with both hands. “Come here. Kiss me.”
A strange mix of uncertainty and enthusiasm in her actions, Rey sits up on her knees, cups Jess's jaw in her hands, and leans forward slowly, her eyes tracking Jess's face for a sign she's doing something wrong.
She finds nothing discouraging.
They kiss, and they kiss again, and then they kiss some more—Rey could use the practice, after all. She's new to this.
They kiss, and the stars reflect off the night-black water of the lake, and for a while, the weight of the galaxy's expectations seems to be a few kilos lighter.
✩
Tomorrow, Rey will spend the day packing her belongings and triple-checking her work on the Falcon. The day after, she will leave.
Finn is still not awake.
Rey spent much of her evening beside his intensive care pod. It is actually, she is pretty sure, now well past evening and into the night.
Considering the hour and the fact that she's unaccustomed to receiving many late night visitors, Rey blinks when she encounters a figure reclining against the wall beside the door to the room in which she's been staying over the past weeks. She blinks. The figure has long dark hair, a full mouth, a beauty mark above her upper lip.
“Jess?” Rey says, keeping her voice quiet. The greenery that drapes itself along most of the hallway walls in the base absorbs some of the sound, keeping her voice from resounding too loudly.
Jess's eyes are closed; she appears to be asleep.
Rey hesitates, scanning Jessika's posture, taking in her loose sweats and t-shirt.
There's something in her hands: it's a closed container of some sort, appearing to be made of metal.
Rey frowns a little, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Jess?” she says again, a bit louder. When Jess still fails to respond, Rey crouches and grips her shoulder gently, giving it a soft shake.
Jess blinks awake, eyes wide, body tensing as she scrambles to get her feet underneath her before she's fully processed her situation.
“Oh,” she says, stilling with one leg bent and the other still extended forward. “Rey! Hi!” A frown appears on her mouth, along with a crease between her eyebrows. “Where were you?” She half lifts the metal container she's holding. “I showed up hours ago with a picnic dinner, but you weren't in your room. I figured I'd wait until you showed up.” She glances at the chrono on her wrist. When she looks back to Rey, she raises her eyebrows. “No wonder I fell asleep,” she says.
Rey makes a smile that's really more of a wince, rubbing at the back of her neck with one hand. She sighs. “I'm sorry,” she says. “I was—with Finn.”
Jess's expression softens. “Oh,” she says.
Rey nods. “You shouldn't have tried to wait for me,” she says, guilt suddenly trickling through her with the realization that if not for her, Jess would've eaten a warm meal in the mess hall, then gone to sleep in her own soft Resistance-provided bed, instead of sleeping here, on the floor.
Rey gets to her feet. “Do you want me to walk you to your room?” she offers. “I'm sorry I kept you up.”
Rising also, Jess waves her hand emphatically, a gesture that Rey has come to understand means she's not interested in hearing Rey's apologies. “It's okay!” she says brightly. On her feet, she hesitates, looking at Rey curiously. “Are you tired?” she asks. “If you're tired I can go, but—if you're not too wiped, I've got some decent Corellian brandy in here.” She wiggles the metal container and her eyebrows.
“I don't want to keep you from sleeping,” Rey says.
Jess shrugs. “I can sleep anytime. Drinks with my girlfriend before she goes off to find Luke Skywalker? Not an always-accessible thing.” She smiles brightly, and Rey feels her protests drop away from her skin like water.
“Well, then,” Rey says, Jess's smile making her chest vibrate with nervous, excited energy. “Come on in.”
Once she's closed the door behind them, Rey folds herself cross-legged onto her mattress, watching as Jess opens her container and sorts through a couple pieces of fruit and a thermos to find what appears to be a flask. She grins, then makes for the wall of Rey's small bunk that's made of cabinets. She locates two glasses that Rey wasn't even aware of on a shelf high enough that she has to stand on her tip-toes to reach it.
Joining Rey on the bed, she pours a finger of dark caramel liquid into each of the glasses and hands one to Rey, smiling.
Tipping her head back, Jess takes a drink. The line of her neck straightens; Rey watches her throat move as she swallows.
Cradling the half-empty glass in her lap, Jess watches Rey, tilting her head. “You ready for your big trip?” she asks. Her eyes sparkle; her lips seem ready to smile. “Ready to meet Skywalker?”
Right. She's leaving in two days. While Rey might not mind forgetting about her upcoming voyage (away from Finn; away from everyone she's ever been able to call friend and family), Jess has been reminding her at every turn, her excitement to find Luke overflowing.
Rey drops her eyes from Jess to the translucent liquid in her glass. She swirls it, watching the brandy spiral.
She opens her mouth, then hesitates. Closing her eyes, she gives her head a single shake and pushes the words from her lips.
“Jess?” she says. “That's not the only reason you like me, right?” Her voice comes out high, a little thin. The tight pitch of her voice emphasizes her accent. “Because I'm connected to Skywalker?”
She keeps her eyes closed. If Jess tells her she's right or if she's off-put by the question and Rey loses her, it will be better than continuing to wonder about the worry that's taken up residence in the back of her mind.
There is a beat of silence.
Jess says, finally, “Rey.”
Her voice is quiet. She sounds... sad.
Rey sets her jaw before she looks up, taking a deep breath against the anxiety balling in her chest.
Jess's dark eyes are sad. She extends a hand, placing it on Rey's forearm. Her palm is warm against Rey's skin. Rey doesn't allow herself to look away.
“Of course not,” Jess says, quiet but emphatic. “I like you because you're Rey; not because you're Rey the one who beat Kylo Ren and who's going to find Luke.”
Rey inspects Jessika's features for any sign that she's being untruthful.
Rey had thought once, briefly, that she had found two trustworthy companions. They could share her work and perhaps, she'd thought, more than that.
Not to much surprise, they had only appeared to be loyal friends and partners until the job of fixing up the crashed Ghtroc 690 Rey had discovered was complete; then, Rey's usefulness at an end, they'd left her on Jakku and taken her ship up and far, far away into the skies.
But there's nothing in Jess Pava's face to suggest that she's using Rey only for her knowledge or her skills or her connections. Of course, Rey doesn't want to find any reason to distrust her—but still, she has to look.
“Really?” Rey presses. She sounds vulnerable even to her own ears, but that's all right. She is vulnerable. She wants this nearly as much as she wants Finn to wake up and speak to her.
Her brow still tight with concern and her eyes still soft, Jess leans in, her hand moving from Rey's arm to gently cradle her jaw. She moves still closer, and Rey closes her eyes, thinking Jess is going to kiss her.
Instead, close enough that Rey can just feel Jess's lips move against her mouth, Jess whispers, “Really. I promise, Rey.”
Rey's eyes sting. She keeps them closed. Silently, she shifts her glass to one hand and lifts the other to cup Jess's neck, feeling the reassuring warmth of her skin.
They sit like that for several long moments. Rey can feel the soft skin of Jess's cheek against the tip of her nose. Around them, the air is filled with silence that's broken only by the gentle sounds of their breaths.
Then Rey inches forward, fingers pressing a little harder into Jess's neck, and presses her lips firmly to Jess's mouth.
Jess kisses her back, slowly. It is touch, simple and exploratory, touch just for the sake of touch. Jess's lips are warm and dry and just a little chapped. Kissing is a fascinating feeling. Rey has never experienced anything quite like it.
She likes it, she is discovering.
Just as she likes Jessika.
✩
A new chronometer adorns Rey's wrist, courtesy of General Organa. She checks the time and sees that morning is cresting into afternoon.
It is time to leave.
Past time, really. And Rey knows it.
The Falcon is flight-ready. Chewbacca's blaster injury has healed enough for him to be her co-pilot and trip companion. They have the complete map that will (hopefully) lead them to Skywalker. She has said her farewell to Finn.
The goodbye felt inadequate. If it was better or worse than their goodbye on Takodana, she's having trouble deciding.
On the one hand, this time she knows that they are parting with the intent to see each other again. She fully believes that, even if Finn has awoken and dedicated himself to some task or another for the Resistance by the time she returns from her journey, their paths still will cross.
On the other hand, back on Takodana, at least Finn was awake. He'd told her to take care of herself, and he said it like he really meant it, like he cared what happened to her—which was novel, and deeply touching even as the moment devastated her, even as her first and only friend was about to turn tail and run.
Leaving Finn's side ranks below getting into another squabble with Rathtars on the list of things Rey wants to do. He saved her life. More than once. Beyond that, he was a friend to her.
And now she won't be beside him when he wakes.
But there are bigger things at stake than what Rey wants, she knows. There is a galaxy depending on her.
...Which is weird. Kind of wonderful, she thinks, but wonderful in a way that's accompanied by an anxiously swirling stomach and a constant nervous jitter in her bones.
In addition to the rest of the galaxy, Leia is depending upon Rey, too. She's been nothing but patient while Rey fixed up every real problem on the Falcon as well as a couple extra she invented in hopes that Finn would wake if she just gave him another day or two, but Rey has not been ignorant of the plea in the General's eyes each time she looks at Rey, of the longing behind her stoic facade every time Leia watches Rey and thinks of her brother.
With a disconcerting amount of fate possibly resting in her calloused hands and with the thought of Leia's sad eyes, Rey finishes sorting through the small pile of things she's accumulated while at the base.
Most of the possessions she's been given are already aboard the Falcon. Her new things are mostly clothing, but also consist of a blaster, a medical kit, and more meal portions than she really knows what to do with. (Chewie will help her there, she thinks.)
What remains in the small room in which she's been staying is nothing more than a small stack of borrowed clothes she's not taking with her. The stack sits neatly at the end of the made bed. The room is a standard Resistance cabin; its sparseness serves to make it feel even emptier now that her staff is not leaning against the wall and her boots are not sitting just inside the door.
No one bothers her as she makes her way through the hallways of the base, gray walls overgrown with the foliage that helps to conceal them from above. Everything about this place is opposite of Jakku: it is green where Jakku was brown, crowded where Jakku was desolate once you strayed outside of Niima Outpost.
And here, unlike on Jakku, she has those she calls friends. One of them runs after her now, calling her name.
Blinking, Rey turns. She tries to dredge up a smile for Jessika, but finds that she has trouble finding one within herself. She manages to partially lift one side of her mouth.
“Hello, Jess,” she says quietly.
Now that she's gotten Rey's attention, Jessika has fallen silent. Reaching Rey, she says nothing, just does away with all of the space between their bodies and wraps her arms tightly around Rey's thin shoulders.
Only then does she speak. “I'm going to miss you,” she says, into the skin of Rey's neck.
Hands infused with a faint tremble, Rey lifts her arms to hug Jess in return.
Jess pulls back just enough that she can look Rey in the eyes. “I mean, it's great that you're gonna find Skywalker, and all,” she says, “but I wish you could just stay here.”
Rey blinks hard, emotion pouring through her.
“You don't mean that,” she says, her voice cracking a little.
Jess latches onto her tighter, leaning in again to speak with lips just brushing Rey's ear. “Yeah,” she says. “I do. I'd take you over Luke Skywalker any day, Rey.”
Then she withdraws, gripping Rey with a hand on each of her shoulders. She leans in to brush her lips faintly over Rey's, then pulls away, smiling, and waggles her fingers in a wave goodbye.
“Come find me as soon as you get back, okay?” she says, her stern tone entirely invalidated by her grin. “I want to hear everything about Luke.”
Rey nods silently, not trusting herself to speak around the rock in her throat without crying. Her mouth feels as though she has gone too long without water, trying to conserve throughout a long, dry day of scavenging.
Jess turns with a final wave and heads away down the hall, and Rey swallows hard as her stomach drops.
She will be back soon, she tells herself. Back to Finn, and to Jess, and to all the other friends she has made.
She will be back just as soon as she finds Luke Skywalker.