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Rey might be strong in the Force, but after going four days without water and being locked behind a durasteel door weighing heavier than a luggabeast, she’s starting to think that the Force isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
“Come on,” she hisses through clenched teeth, arm outstretched towards the unforgiving door. “Just a little. Just move a little, and I can take it from there.” Her head aches and her mind feels fuzzy—after training with Luke for almost a year, she knows this means she’s losing energy.
Right as she’s about to give up and sleep, the door gives an angry creak and opens slowly, letting in a blinding stream of sunlight. Rey squints, eyes tender from days spent in darkness.
“It’s okay, take it slow, bǎobèi,” a familiar voice says, and Rey almost cries, she’s so relieved. In an instant, Jessika’s arms are wrapped around her, supporting her as she stands on unsteady legs. “I’m right here.”
“You really are,” Rey says, voice thick with emotion. She winds her arms around Jessika’s neck, holding her close. She only reserves such affection for Jessika and—
“Rey,” Finn says, panting heavily from just outside the door. He has a blaster in one hand and a comm unit in the other.
“You’re here,” Rey says, and this time, she really does cry. “You’re both here.”
“For you, nothing short of a battalion,” Jessika jokes, smiling sweetly before they kiss.
Even through the humor, Rey knows she’s telling the truth.