Chapter Text
Over the next weeks, I’m plagued by dreams of Kylo Ren, cold and masked, kneeling before me with his Knights in a circle.
“All hail the Mother of the Knights of Ren.”
And then chaos and fire. Destruction and death. Images I don’t quite understand. I see my doppelgänger from the forest on Ajan Kloss cutting down my friends with a twist of her wrist. I see Rose, Finn, Poe, Kaydel, Chewie, and Mara broken on the ground, their eyes lifeless, necks contorted unnaturally as she stands over them, a twisted smile on her cruel face. Only, she’s not my doppelgänger—
She’s me.
With that horrible realization, I usually wake suddenly, parched and drenched in sweat.
Alternately, I dream of the beach. I see Ben and our children. And then something coming—something that fills me with dread.
I see my daughter in my reflection in the cave on Ach’To; she’s trying to warn me of something, but try as I might, I can’t understand her message….
I’m beyond restless. I feel I might go mad if I can’t escape—if only for a while. My legs practically quake with the urge to carry me deep into the woods, across muddy embankments into dark nooks previously unseen by intelligent life—but there are no woods here in Cloud City. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to escape my spiraling thoughts.
I awake early one morning to meditate after another night plagued by troubling dreams—when I actually managed to rest at all. Like most nights, I tossed and turned: I was too hot. My back ached. And I fretted.
When meditation fails to calm my nerves, I take my tea on my veranda. Perusing a baby name book downloaded from Cloud City’s expansive library, I watch the sun rise over the planet below. The sight is spectacular, the clouds every hue of pink and orange one might imagine, contrasted by the pure blue of the sky.
It’s peaceful. Almost exactly like the mural in my nursery that Winter has been kind enough to work on in her spare time.
I set aside my mostly cold tea and pick up my toast as I reposition myself on the lounge chair, pulling the chenille blanket higher around my chin. Once settled, datapad propped on my ridiculously swollen belly, I nibble the toast, making a conscious effort not to down the entire slice in three bites.
The jam is blumfruit, supplied by a local vendor on Bespin. The Smugglers’ Alliance just received a whole crate of the stuff, and I’m positively obsessed with it. “Maybe I should just name one of you Blumfruit,” I whisper, rubbing my belly absentmindedly with my thumb as I skim through the top one-thousand boy and girl names in the galaxy. “Much better than…Zhh’rahany?” My brow furrows as I attempt to pronounce the name on the datapad. “Yep. Definitely. Blumfruit Solo. Your daddy would love it. What d’ya think?”
As if in response, a sudden sharp jab causes the datapad to tumble from my lap; I chuckle as I catch it just before it lands on the floor. “Hate it, do you? All you had to do was say so.”
At that moment, I’m interrupted by a chiming from my wrist comm.
“This is Rey,” I answer, already knowing who it is even before I see Rose’s image on the tiny display screen.
“Turn on FOPB,” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Looks like our friend on the inside has a new advisor.”
I don’t respond; I simply pull myself to my feet, waddle my way into my living room, and switch on the viewscreen that adorns the wall in front of the sofa.
I don’t watch the “news” often. Intelligence keeps everyone updated on First Order goings-on, and I prefer not to see first-hand their indoctrination efforts, as it has a vomit-inducing effect on me.
When I switch it to the correct channel, I find myself staring at a pair of very familiar, intelligent red eyes gazing from an angular, blue-skinned face.
Thrawn.
And just over his left shoulder is Ben, arms crossed behind his erect back, his face expressionless. He’s flanked by his Knights, the odd number deeming Cardo’s absence notable, but my eyes seek out Vicrul.
I’m stunned by the sudden, strong surge of hatred the sight of his faceless mask stirs in me; I see him standing over Kaydel, one hand pressed to the top of her head as he raises his scythe high—
I promptly staunch the memory in its tracks, shaking off the stronger of my negative emotions as I attempt to focus on the fact that Thrawn seems to be in the middle of a speech on Ben’s behalf: something about how we’re stronger when we stand as one. Yet I’m having difficulty concentrating on his words because my attention is centered on Ben once more. It’s been months since I’ve lain eyes on him, but he looks exactly as I recall—if a bit tired, his skin gaunt with pronounced circles beneath his eyes as if he hasn’t been sleeping.
There’s a chime at my door, but I don’t look away from the screen as I tell the computer to let Rose and Finn inside.
“Hey, you okay?”
I tear my gaze from the screen long enough to realize that Finn’s eyes are narrowed at me in concern. “What? Yes. Never better. What is this? Thrawn is his advisor now?”
Rose glances between me and the screen. “Looks like it. They say he’s a genius, but I thought he was a dead genius.”
Finn clears his throat. “Nope, guy’s not dead. And, yeah—they say he’s super smart, but I’d trust ‘im about as far as I can throw ‘im. Sure, he can help your guy gain support, but with people like that…there’s always a price. And you can bet your ass it’ll be a steep one.”
I look at him. “That’s basically what Leia said.”
“Smart woman, the general.”
“Looks like they’ve changed tactics,” Rose observes, indicating the viewscreen with a nod. “Offering extra rations and medical supplies in exchange for a truce from the resisting Systems….” She shakes her head. “People can’t be that stupid. As soon as they let their guard down, the Order will crush ‘em.”
“Maybe,” I whisper. “Maybe not. Ben’s trying to change the Order’s policies.”
“Yeah….” I can tell she’s trying not to sound dismissive. “Maybe. But it’s not just your boyfriend we’re dealing with now—or even Hux. It’s Thrawn.”
Finn shakes his head. “Can’t believe Ren could be that dumb—no offense—know he’s your—your Bondmate and your kids’ dad and all—but trusting Thrawn….”
“Maybe he doesn’t feel like he has a choice.”
“What do you mean?”
I chew on my lip, not quite sure what I mean. All I know is that something doesn’t sit well. “I’ll let you know when I know.”
oOo
In the following days, I try to push Thrawn and the implications of his alliance with Ben out of my mind. In the meantime, final preparations are made for the impending mission, coined “Operation Kick Hutt Butt” by Poe and which unfortunately seems to have stuck.
Regardless of the vapid name, we’ve been given the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: The Hutts are hosting their annual gala in two weeks’ time, and several Order guests will be in attendance, including one Allegiant General Wrenn Krassus. Who’s evidently the Krassus. As in, the key player needed to move the money.
It’s a perfect opportunity. With the Hutts and the Krassuses taken out, it might just be enough to cripple the Order. Especially since a more recent update from the Ajoxians revealed that three newly commissioned warships are well underway—and with the Order’s floundering control of the Galaxy, it’s only a matter of time before they sink completely.
Unfortunately, Operation Kick Hutt Butt is a little too convenient for my liking, and there are far too many variables that could go awry.
The plan is to send in a team to crash the party. Since the Hutts market in sex trafficking, Poe will render a diversion, playing the role of an independent contractor offering up Rose as his merchandise. Meanwhile, with a little luck and the Force, the others will get in under the guise of waitstaff. Threepio and Artoo will speak to the computer to locate the vault, and Ari—a friend of Rose’s who happens to be our best splicer—will get Finn into said vault while Mara works Krassus.
And then they escape the Hutts’ palace with sacks of credits concealed in catering carts—and one Allegiant General drugged and/or Force-manipulated out of his mind.
Right. Sounds solid. I, for one, can’t anticipate anything going wrong.
Actually, the more I run the plan through my head, the more foolish it seems. Especially since most the team is on the Order’s Most Wanted list, and the place will be crawling with Order officers.
I go over the plan as I’m shoved under an X-wing, which my growing belly renders increasingly difficult. As I lie in bed at night, desperate for sleep but unable to find a comfortable position due to my aching back. And as I have dinner, barely listening while Poe and Chewie bicker—sounding all the galaxy like an old married couple.
I try to shove everything that might go wrong out of my mind as I finish dressing one morning, a week until the team is to depart for Tatooine.
I begged Leia to allow me to be a part of the crew since I’m not due for more than a month; I promised I won’t leave the Fury or Chewie’s sight—but needless to say my efforts were a lost cause.
I can’t shake my anxiety as I tuck behind my ears the strands that have escaped my simple braid. The fact that I haven’t spoken to Ben compounded with Kaydel’s continued catatonic state—and this persistent feeling that I’m being watched—has served to put me on edge.
Not to mention the continued nightmares. Visions. Whatever they are.
I step back, appraising my appearance in the floor-length mirror. My breasts are notably heavier, my face fuller. Turning sideways, I cradle my substantial midsection that is now almost comically huge. And not to mention my arse—which is practically its own System. Not sure how I’m going to make it another month. I won’t be able to stand upright without toppling over, much less wield a lightsaber in battle should the need arise.
When I lift my tunic, bright red marks mar my once-smooth skin despite the salves gifted to me by well-meaning colleagues intended to prevent such a happenstance. The irony isn’t lost on me that Ben has now marked me.
“Hi, there,” I whisper as I experience a sharp jab followed by a fluttering sensation beneath my hand. “Don’t worry; we’ll eat soon.” I rub the spot below my rib soothingly. “We’re having breakfast with Uncle Finn and Auntie Rose. Just have to check on Auntie Kay first. How’s that sound?”
Sometimes I feel ridiculous, talking to my stomach. Yet in the Bond’s silence, I find it comforting knowing that part of Ben is always with me, growing and thriving inside me.
Reaching out on impulse, as I do periodically, I try to brush my mind against his but like usual encounter a wall. If I push hard enough, I can feel the tip of his frustration, anger, and despair. Feeling him there, at least, is a comfort—even if this Thrawn person might be threatening him in some way.
I try to shake this thought as I turn to head out the door, but it’s just another rung on my ladder of anxiety.
oOo
As much as she tries to hide it, I sense Mara’s distractability that evening during training. Or maybe she’s not trying to hide it at all. Perhaps it’s a deliberate choice so I know that she wishes to speak with me. Either way, I say goodnight to Finn and hang back at the conclusion of our session. I take it upon myself to sanitize the mats as I watch Finn and Mara chat for a few minutes before Finn departs with a final wave in my direction. I wave back, telling him not to look for me at breakfast because I plan on catching up on my sleep.
When he finally leaves, Mara and I are alone. The hour is late, the last of the gym-goers having abandoned the weight and cardio machines a while ago.
I feel unaccountably nervous as she approaches me once more, and I realize it’s because she’s nervous.
Strange.
My curiosity is certainly piqued.
“Are you done with those?” She nods toward my hands, amusement tingeing her words.
“What? Oh.” I totally forgot I was still holding the sanitizing wipes. I place them on the nearby bench and toss the used ones in the bin. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
She nods, taking a seat and turning toward me. “There is. Something I’ve put off too long already because I wasn’t sure how to broach it.” She takes a swig from her water bottle and flips her gray-streaked plait behind her shoulder. “But first, I sense there’s something you’ve wanted to ask me for a while.”
My brow furrows as I sink onto the bench next to her, trying to recall what I could have possibly—“Oh. Right.” I lick my chapped lips. “Well. It seems a bit trivial now, but…is it possible to have a vision of a possible past? Like how the Force shows possible futures?”
“I take it you’ve had a vision like that? Of an altered version of something that already happened?”
I nod, choosing not to elaborate. I do a fair job of not blushing as I recall my dream about the Supremacy, now seemingly a lifetime ago. Considering my very pregnant state, my embarrassment seems a bit redundant. “Or—or physical manifestations?” I add hastily, remembering the humiliating consequences of said dream and the fact that I had to wear high-collared tunics until Leia taught me about Force-healing.
“I don’t know about ‘physical manifestations,’ but…it’s certainly not out of the realm of possibility.” Mara bites her lip as she gets a faraway look in her eye. “This mission won’t be my first visit to the Hutts’ Palace,” she finally confesses. “You already know I was Palpatine’s assassin. ‘The Emperor’s Hand,’ they called me.”
When she pauses, it’s clear she’s not proud of this history. “I was there the day Luke and Leia came to rescue Han Solo from Jabba. I posed as a dancer and waitress. I tried to convince Jabba to let me on his barge. The Emperor had ordered me to kill Luke, you see. At the time, Palpatine felt that Vader’s son was a dangerous distraction.” She smiles grimly. “I failed. Obviously. For which I was severely punished. But years later—after Luke and I were married—he confessed to me that he dreamt of ‘a beautiful woman with red-gold hair’ on Jabba’s barge who called his lightsaber to herself at the moment Artoo ejected it from his hidden compartment, condemning him and his friends to the Sarlaac Pit. He had this dream after the event itself.”
“An altered past,” I whisper, “where you succeeded in killing him.”
“Him and Han, Chewie…Lando Calrissian. And who knows what might have become of Leia….” She shakes her head. “I play a game sometimes where I try to imagine what might have happened. History completely altered because of me. If Luke died, he wouldn’t have been there to turn Vader back to the Light. Vader never kills Palpatine.”
I smile grimly. “Maybe Leia still frees herself from Jabba. Maybe she eventually turns Vader. Palpatine still dies.”
Mara chuckles. “That’s just it. It’s all a what-if game. But perhaps there’s a lesson to be learned. When we question why things happen the way they do, we realize what might’ve happened had they gone another way. For instance, if Kylo Ren hadn’t come into being, do you think that would’ve stopped the Order from coming into power?”
“Of course not. Snoke was already gaining support.”
“Exactly. Ben’s done terrible things for the Order, but ultimately he saved us all. He chose to save us all. I spared Luke—not by my own choosing, mind you. But because of my failure, Luke was there to turn Vader. Vader kills Palpatine.”
“Luke creates a Temple to usher in a new era of the Jedi,” I add, “and is the unwitting catalyst for Kylo Ren’s creation. And Kylo Ren is subsequently put in a position to save the Resistance.”
“And you’re the catalyst for Kylo Ren’s progression back to the Light,” Mara says with a nod. “It’s all connected.”
“I spoke to Luke,” I confess suddenly, “a while back, shortly before I met you.”
She smiles gently. “Yes, I know.”
I meet her smile. Of course she does. “He suggested the Force is sentient. That it has some sort of grand plan. But sometimes trying to connect the dots feels so…daunting.” It’s also what Anakin Skywalker suggested with his talk of generations and prophecies, but I don’t tell her this.
Mara laughs. “Unfortunately, being a Jedi doesn’t come with a handbook. That’s why there’s a lot of meditation and self-reflection involved. Often, the Force is mirroring things about our psyche that we already know on some level. If it simply handed us the answer, we wouldn’t learn anything about ourselves.”
Her words trouble me; they bring to mind my recent dreams, which I suspect aren’t really dreams at all. I open my mouth, on the verge of telling her about them, but I can’t bring myself to speak about them.
I would never hurt my friends. Would I?
I’m too ashamed for Mara to know that even a dream version of me is capable of such evil—because doesn’t it mean that some part of me, some version of me, in fact, is?
I can’t say it aloud. I’m afraid that if I put a voice to my fears I might speak them into existence.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I find myself saying instead.
Mara looks at the floor. Back up at me. She meets my eyes and visibly swallows, and it’s clear that her nervousness has returned. “I know that Luke told you that we tried unsuccessfully for years to have a child,” she finally says. “I know he told you about…about our stillborn son. But I did have a living son. When I was very young—still a child myself.” The corners of her lips twitch as she says this. She’s effectively blocked off her feelings from me, but the conflicting emotions flit across her face. “He was forced upon me, but I loved him nonetheless. Maybe because I had nothing—no one else to love. He was…so tiny, so helpless when he was born.”
Her eyes squeeze shut before opening once more. She looks away from me, blinking back tears, her eyes focusing on the far wall, unseeing. “I wasn’t allowed to keep him. He didn’t like that I’d formed an attachment to my son so quickly, because he wanted to keep me cold. Emotionless. So I could only watch my baby boy from afar as he was reared by others. My son—his name was Dathan—wasn’t to know that I was his true mother.”
My face drains of color as she speaks, as it slowly dawns on me what she’s telling me. I don’t notice the single tear that’s found its way down my cheek. “Mara…. Was it…? Did he…?” I feel sickened; I don’t know how to ask her what I’m trying to ask her.
“Yes,” she finally answers my unfinished question, taking a shuddering breath as she looks back to me. “I was strong in the Force, and he desired a Force-strong heir. But it wasn’t—not like that. My son was created in a lab using our combined DNA,” she forces out. “I then carried and birthed him. I only thought of him as mine. I refused to acknowledge otherwise. To this day, that’s how I think of him.”
I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, somewhat relieved. I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure why she’s telling me this. “What happened to him?”
She smiles bitterly. “He grew up, set to replace Vader as Palpatine’s right hand—not that Vader was aware, of course. But things didn’t go according to plan.” She pauses. “It became evident early on that Dathan wasn’t the Force-strong heir the Emperor desired—so he sent him away.” Her eyes squeeze shut briefly once more. “A decade or so after Palpatine’s death and the fall of the Empire, I located Dathan. He was living with his adopted parents on a productive but inconsequential System, in his second year at university. They weren’t wealthy by any means, but they had everything they needed. I wanted to reach out to him, but when I saw how happy he seemed, I was afraid of disrupting his life.”
She pauses again. Swallows hard. “As it turns out, I missed my chance, because a few years later, he was hunted down and executed by Imperial remnants. It was evidently one of Palpatine’s last commands that his ‘failed experiment’ be destroyed.” Mara’s voice quakes with bitterness. “But by this time, Dathan had fallen in love and married a woman named Miramir, and they had a child—a daughter extraordinarily gifted in the Force—whom they hid away—somewhere no one could find her. Not the Empire’s remnants. Not even me when I went looking for her. And I did look when I learned that Dathan had had a child. I promise you, Rey, I never stopped looking. It just happened that she found us.”
I feel suddenly dizzy as I process what she’s telling me.
Hunching over, I brace my hands on my knees as I wait for the room to right itself.
Mara’s hand presses against the small of my back as my stomach heaves.
“You—you’re telling me that Palpatine is—?” I reject the notion outright as I shake my head emphatically.
He can’t be.
Can he?
“With your combined bloodlines, you’ll bear powerful sons and daughters to be trained in the ways of Ren.”
“Rey, take a breath—You’re okay.”
I finally focus on Mara once more to realize she’s leaning over me, a concerned expression on her face. “How could you keep this from me?” I finally breathe, my tone accusatory.
I’m furious, I’m shocked, I’m—
I don’t know what I am, to be perfectly honest. A part of me actually thinks this checks out. As if on a certain level, I somehow knew this all along. And a very kriffed-up part of me is relieved to know that my parents didn’t abandon me—at least not willfully.
Better to have come from a monster than to have been abandoned and unloved. Thrown away like trash.
Mara bites her lip, looking appropriately repentant. “I wanted to tell you much sooner, but it never felt like the right time, and the longer I waited, the harder it became. But I thought—If I don’t come back from this mission—”
I shake my head again. “Don’t.”
She nods. “All right. You have every right to be angry. For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry, Rey. I know I should have told you a long time ago. You deserve the truth. But…I’m tainted, Rey. Spoiled. He ruined me. And I wanted to spare you the truth for as long as I could.”
I look at her. Really look at her for the first time. Observe the golden flecks in her bright green eyes. The light smattering of freckles along her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. Perhaps I’m looking for familial resemblance, but now that I know….
I swallow hard. “You’re my—my grandmother?”
The word feels strange on my tongue. Grandmother.
It’s surreal to think she’s been here for months. Over a year now. She’s not just my mentor; she’s my friend and confidante. I’ve trained under her, stayed up late many evenings just to talk to her, laugh with her, and all this time she’s kept such a momentous secret.
A secret directly concerning me.
“I am.”
I swallow again. “Does Leia know?”
“She does. I sensed who you were the moment I laid eyes on you. But don’t be angry with her. I asked her not to say anything. I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
I nod as I take this in. I replay our first meeting in my mind, trying to discern anything in her demeanor that might have given her away. Certainly, she took an interest in me, but I didn’t think much about it at the time.
“All those years of searching,” Mara whispers, “and there you were…. The Force-strong Jakku scavenger that Leia told me about—my husband’s last student—was Dathan’s daughter. I couldn’t believe it—yet you were unmistakable. Even if I didn’t sense the connection, you look so like him.”
My eyes squeeze shut as I recall glimpses of my father.
Daddy, where are we going?
But he’s mostly in shadows. Try as I might, I can’t remember his face. Just his voice.
“Did Luke know who I was? When I found him on Ach’To?”
“He sensed you were…someone. But, no, he didn’t know you were my grandchild I’d spent years searching for.”
I nod as I chew on my lip. I glance at her sideways. “Can it be genetic?” I finally ask her. “Evil, I mean.”
She studies me for almost a full thirty seconds. “No, Rey,” she finally answers. “But mental illness can be. I’m not an expert, but I’ve never seen a glimpse in you of the sickness that consumed him.” Him as in Palpatine. It’s as if we’ve entered an unspoken agreement not to speak his name.
“What if you’re wrong? What if it’s in me?”
“You have the power, Rey. The Emperor made a choice. Now it’s your turn. You get to decide who you want to be.”
“Is it really that simple?”
“A lot of the time, yes. I believe it is.”
“Ben makes doing the right thing sound complicated.”
“I think Ben is in a complicated position. But he’s trying.”
I nod, my arm sliding around to embrace my belly as I feel a gentle fluttering.
I think of Thrawn and the recent FOPB footage. So far, the Order has made good on their word. They’ve honored their offer of supplies to Systems who have agreed to a ceasefire—but most of my colleagues agree this doesn’t sit right. It feels like a calm before the storm. As if the Order is waiting for the moment the galaxy has its guard down before striking.
More than ever, I long to speak to Ben. I want to know Thrawn’s endgame.
“Do you think he’ll come home?” I find myself asking, unwilling to voice my fears concerning Thrawn aloud—as if I might will them into existence.
I send out soothing thoughts to the twins. Even though they’re unaware of me, I’ve come to realize my emotions directly affect them.
Mara’s eyes land on my stomach. She smiles softly. “I think he will, yes. He’s got a lot going for him here.”
I nod. Bite my lip. “He lied to me, you know. He told me my parents were nobodies who sold me off for drinking money.” Absently, I swipe the tears in the corners of my eyes with my thumbs. “And I never questioned it….” I let out a bitter laugh. “I’m so naïve…. It never occurred to me to wonder how he came about that information, but I know now. He just…plucked it from my head. He played my own fears against me. I always feared my parents didn’t love me—that they willfully abandoned me—and he—he reinforced that fear—”
“Rey.” Reaching out hesitantly, she tucks my hair behind my ear, and I resist the urge to sob. “Ben isn’t known for making the best decisions, but like I said—he’s trying. Yes, lying to you was wrong, but if he somehow found out about your lineage, he might’ve believed he was protecting you.” She pauses. “Snoke was in his head for a very long time. Unfortunately, that kind of damage is going to be difficult to repair. If—when—he comes home, we might all have to show him quite a bit of patience.” The edges of her lips quirk. “Although, don’t let him use that as an excuse to be an arse. If I were you, I’d make him change all the number two nappies.”
I laugh. “The what?”
“You know—” She waves a hand airily. “All the shitty ones.”
I laugh again but find it dying quickly in my throat. “Do you think he’ll be forgiven?”
Mara shrugs. “Officially? Seems there’s a pretty a high likelihood. We wouldn’t still be here without his help. The upcoming mission wouldn’t be possible without him. Unofficially?” She grimaces. “Unfortunately, I think that might take some more time. It’s going to be difficult for him to shake Kylo Ren’s shadow. And as the mother of his children—especially if you plan on standing by him—you should be prepared to shoulder some of that burden. It’s not fair, my love, but that’s reality.”
Again, she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before allowing her hand to drop to her lap.
My love.
I’m unaccustomed to terms of endearment. Ben very occasionally called me sweetheart in our most private moments. It made me feel cared for. Loved. Even when he could never say the words, I love you.
I clear my throat. “So…what should I call you now?”
I don’t know how to keep the vulnerability out of my tone.
I’ve had my found-family for a while now, but knowing that my flesh-and-blood grandmother is right in front of me—and that she’s always wanted me—that she didn’t forget about me—well, it somehow changes things.
She laughs. “You can call me whatever you’d like, but ‘Mara’ is fine for now if you’re more comfortable with it.”
I nod. “Okay.” I’m just wondering whether I should hug her—I want to hug her—when I find myself being crushed in her arms.
And then I cry like I haven’t cried since that day in Finn’s arms after I woke up in the infirmary, now months ago.
Mara strokes my hair. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t shush me. She just…holds me and lets me get it all out. For the first time, I feel like I have a true mother. Leia has served as a surrogate mother figure, but she’s also my general and doesn’t hesitate to assert that authority when appropriate. I know she holds a genuine affection for me, but the dual role somehow makes it feel as if she’s always holding something back.
With Mara, the connection feels…organic. Natural.
“Mara?”
“Mm?”
My face is still pressed against the shoulder of her tunic; I know I’ve left a wet mess there, but she doesn’t seem to care as she continues to stroke my hair.
“You’re not spoiled,” I tell her. “He didn’t ruin you. The Emperor. I think you’re amazing—and my opinion’s the only one that matters, so….”
When she laughs and holds me tighter still, Maz’s words from what feel like an eternity ago sound unexpectedly in my head:
“The belonging you seek is not behind you…. It is ahead.”
oOo
I’m jolted awake, unsure at first of what’s roused me until the room is lit by a flash followed by a low rumble. A quick glance through the double doors to the veranda confirms a lightning storm in the distance.
I sit up in bed, my pulse still racing from the nightmare as the sweat cools on my brow—when I realize I’m not alone. Or, rather, it feels as if someone was just here. Standing in my bedroom.
I can still feel the intrusive presence.
Dread pooling in my stomach, I reach over and touch the base of the lamp, and the shadows in the corners are penetrated by soft lighting. When my palm closes over the comforting, cool familiarity of Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber next to the lamp, I’m immediately relieved—although my anxiety is only somewhat tempered. “It’s okay,” I whisper, reaching out and attempting to soothe the twins, who as usual have picked up on my mood.
My free arm cradles my belly as I swing my legs out of bed and rise to my feet; the lightsaber ignites with a snap-hiss.
It occurs to me that not since I was a small child have I felt this vulnerable. I’m physically vulnerable, and I have two tiny, helpless beings entirely dependent on me for their protection.
I walk around the room. I peer out onto the veranda, watching as it begins to rain, heavy droplets plunking against the invisible force field. I check the ‘fresher and the nursery. I’m just making my way out into the living room when a crack of thunder has me jumping about clean out of my skin.
I laugh aloud at my own absurdity, clamping a hand to my chest as I stop in the middle of the room. I’ve about convinced myself I’m being paranoid—that I’ve likely gone completely mental and should be locked up straight away—when a crack of lightning lights up the room once more, and I catch a glimpse of what looks like a small, alien hand snaking around the side of the bar that separates the kitchenette from the living room.
I don’t think; I bound to that side of the room—as quickly as I can, given my hugely pregnant state—lightsaber poised to strike as I round the bar—
There’s nothing there.
Quickly, I reach over and flip the switch on the panel, but even when the room is bathed in the warm glow of the overhead lamps, there’s nothing.
Reaching out through the Force, I yank open the cabinet doors of the kitchenette, sending pots and pans flying—but there are no small beings in sight. Nothing to account for the hand I saw.
I spin around, searching for other possible hiding places. When I find nothing, I’m confused and left wondering if I’m going mad after all—
“Rey.”
I whip back around so fast it’s surprising I don’t lose my balance. I’m so startled all I can do is blink as I try to gauge whether I’m hallucinating—
Ben is standing in the middle of my living room, looking exactly as he did when I saw him on FOPB. He’s dressed in his standard uniform, and as I noted when I saw the news broadcast, there are defined circles beneath his eyes. He’s also paler than I recall—and seems exhausted. As if he hasn’t slept an entire night in months. And he’s staring back at me intently, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, absorbing me as I am him.
I’m completely astounded by his sudden appearance after all this time.
I was so preoccupied with my imaginary intruder that I didn’t even notice the change in the air—a change that began like a ringing in my ears, followed by a muffling of the rain outside.
Unthinkingly, I deactivate the saber and allow it to clamor to the floor. As I walk slowly toward him, his eyes drop below my face to latch onto my stomach, and he stares.
And stares.
I feel suddenly self-conscious, and I fight the urge to hug my enormous belly.
How do I appear to him? Is my physical state truly such a shock? I wish I knew what he was thinking right now. “Hi, Ben,” I whisper, stopping several feet before him.
This seems to rouse him. He blinks. His Adams’ apple bobs as he swallows hard. I watch him glance around as if gauging whether he’s alone. “Rey,” he repeats. His voice comes out hoarse.
And then he slowly closes the remaining distance between us and stops when he’s standing before me. He stares at me a moment longer, eyes flickering between my face and belly. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but promptly closes it once more.
Reaching up, I press my palm to his face, my thumb tracing his scar, and he leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Rey,” he repeats. It’s like a prayer. “I don’t have a lot of time.” He licks his lips as his eyes open once more. “I wish I could stay here with you, but it’s taking…everything to keep the Bond open.”
My hand slides from his face to rest on his chest. “Ben, what—?”
He takes my free hand, and I realize he’s pressing something into it. “Please, Rey. Just…. Please come.” His dark eyes bore into mine.
I nod. I have no idea what I’m agreeing to. Maybe it’s the desperation in his eyes and voice, but in this moment I would do anything he asked. I would follow him beyond the edge of the galaxy. “Okay, Ben. Anything.” Just as I lean up to kiss him, the connection severs.
I’m left shaken by his sudden disappearance; it’s somehow even more jarring than his appearance was. A sudden clash of thunder jolts me back to reality, and I glance about the room, confirming I’m indeed alone. No sign of my imaginary intruder, which had completely slipped my mind until now.
I raise my wrist comm to my lips, on the verge of calling security when I remember the item that Ben pressed into my hand.
Opening my palm, I find a data chip.