Chapter Text
Kneeling in front of his window, Kylo Ren gazes up to the moon. This moon is the angriest moon he’s ever seen, a bloodmoon. It’s the size of a sun, its red hue sticking out like an open wound in the nearly black, starless sky. The planet he’s on, Vjun, is permanently caught in a unique orbit between the planet’s moon and sun. The sun’s rays manage to leak through the planet’s atmosphere, giving the moon its color.
After Kylo defeated Snoke, he fled to this planet for various reasons. For one, few would rarely venture to this nearly dead planet with its deadly acid rainfall, giving him some time before the First Order regroups and starts hunting him down. Also, his grandfather, Darth Vader, studied the dark side of the force here, building Bast Castle during his stay. Kylo flees to that which is most familiar to him.
Kylo can bear the near darkness, even the acid rainfalls. It’s the silence that’s the most uncomfortable—the silence of dead, discarded bones. Even the ghosts of his past can’t reach him here, but that doesn’t mean they don’t affect him.
On nights like these, when the sins he’s committed weight down on his conscious too much, he looks to the moon, confessing to something larger than him. He used to speak to his grandfather’s mask, but it was lost after his failure at Starkiller base, all because of the scavenger and her companions. Unlike his grandfather’s mask, the moon calms his erratic mind, which is like a shuddering volcano, prone to erupt, and more than his body can contain.
“I tortured a man today for information on Rey’s whereabouts,” he says. “At that point, it would have been a mercy to kill him. He can never be the same now.” He didn’t feel guilty for torturing the man exactly—he’d do anything to get to Rey. He just knew she would be displeased with him.
No response from the moon, as typical. He wishes that the moon would notice him back, maybe chastise him, set him on the right path, or just drown him in moonlight, tarnish him.
Nights like these have been more common since he’d killed his father and discovered that it didn’t give him the strength that Snoke promised it would, nor tie him to the dark side. That was part of the reason for killing his former master. As was meeting the scavenger.
Since he’d entered her mind on Starkiller base, he’s been able to sense her from afar, not enough know exactly where she is—she’s rather good at hiding herself from him. But enough that he sees her in his dreams and sometimes even experiences her memories. One thing he cannot understand is how she’s managed to stay so good, so pure with the life she’s had: abandoned by her parents, forced to fend for herself, every morning waking up wondering if she would go to bed starving. She’s dark too but somehow the light within her always prevails.
Staring down at his hands, all he can see is red, even though he’s never used his bare hands to kill a man. He lets out a frustrated groan and runs his fingers through hair, his grip pulling too hard on the ends. Her light is getting to him, seeping between the cracks of his shattered being.
He gathers himself up and treads to his bed, slumping into it. Tossing and turning, it takes awhile for the blanket of sleep to fall over his head.
In his dreams tonight, he sees her.
He walks through the woods, those same woods on Takodana where he first met her.
The wind rustles through his hair and fallen leaves crackle with each step he takes, as if he’s set them aflame.
He comes to a steam and leans down to grab a handful of the water, never in his life has he been so thirsty. When he brings his head up after having his fill, he’s met with the sight of her, standing a few feet away from him, all luminous and lathered in moonlight. The moon hangs full and fertile in the starry, night sky above them, white, pristine and simple in its beauty.
A band of flowers sits atop Rey’s head, blooms of color: pink and purple and orange and yellow, reminds him of the sunset. She wears a white dress that reaches to her ankles, soaked to the bone, so that it clings to her, reminding him of milk and honey. He can see her naked body, each elegant curve as it delves and dips. Sights like these would usually arouse him, but he’s merely struck by her beauty. He wants to reach out to touch her, but he’s afraid she’ll turn to ash in his arms, just like everything’s he’s touched. Too holy, too divine, he thinks.
He opens his mouth instead, offers his words to her like an outreaching hand. “Join me,” he urges. “We can take back the night, the dark, together.” He clenches his fist and points to the moon above them.
“You’ve asked me this before, and my answer remains as it did back then.” She wrings out the water from her hair, the stream beneath them trickling. “I am not a creature of the dark.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve seen the darkness in your heart. You’re no Jedi, so stop trying to be one. Luke Skywalker did not teach you all that there is to the force. You barely even touched the surface with him.”
She shakes her head.
“Please,” he begs. “Just tell me where you are. I would never hurt you.”
“It’s not that which frightens me. And anyways, having me at your side will not wash away your sins.” She glances up towards the stars and then back to him. “I’m not the pretender here. You are.” She walks closer to him, creating ripples in the stream's surface. The ripples brush against his knees, making her presence known. “You deny it, but there is light in you.” She’s close enough to touch now, close enough that if he just leaned over he could brush his lips against hers. “You have to let the light in, Kylo.”
With her words, he feels like he’s being pulled apart from the center, cracking.
It’s her eyes that open, as he shouts her name just before she slips away. Lying on the plush bed, much too comfortable for her taste, Rey rolls over, emitting a groan.
The moon from last night’s dream reminds her of the night the moon stood so close to the rippling sands of Jakku, she thought she could reach out and touch it. A full moon. The next morning she woke up with blood between her legs and a clenching pain in her abdomen that nearly knocked her off her feet. I hear you, moon, she thought, while clutching her stomach, trying to hold herself together.
She’s over the moon and certainly doesn’t like what it’s supposed to do. On those sleepless nights when all she could think about was her family’s absence, she’d descend from her AT-AT walker and sit on the sand, gazing up at the moon, shivering into her jacket. All the moon ever made her feel was longing, hoping that her family was looking at the same moon or some other moon and thinking of her too. She’d heard from the older female scavengers that the moon was tied to a woman’s monthly cycle, supposed to ovulate you, menstruate you.
No, the moon was no good. It always meant that night was approaching when it was too cold and dark to scavenge, so all she could do was sit around and wait, wait for the next day, wait for her family. The sun always roused her, gave her purpose. She could handle the heat, even the blazing light, but she couldn’t handle the long, chilly nights. Sometimes the moon would disappear for nights on end, leaving the planet cloaked in utter darkness. On those nights, the sands would look like a black sea—Rey feared she would drown in those sands, in darkness. The sun never did that, rising every single day, so sure, strong and reliable.
Now, she isn’t on Jakku but inside a hotel on Spira, a popular resort world full of beautiful beaches. Yet the memory of Jakku is stitched in her memory. She wonders if she’ll ever shake the sand from her bones.
General Organa urged her to take a vacation after receiving news that her son killed Snoke, and the First Order was sent into chaos, temporarily disbanded. Urged was the wrong word, more like forced. Rey believes the Resistance needs her now more than ever. The First Order is at its weakest, and she’s spending her days sitting on the beach, sipping fruity, overly sweet drinks and gazing out to the endless sea.
A knot in her stomach, Rey stares up at the ceiling, utterly disturbed by the dream with Kylo or rather her actions in the dream: she actually wanted to help him. As of late, the dreams are becoming more frequent, and she even has what she can only describe as visions: where she’s suddenly yanked out of her reality and pulled into his memories, experiencing them firsthand. With the life he’s had, it isn’t surprising she’s begun to feel sympathy for the monster.
No, she thinks. He’s nothing but a monster. He killed his own father, tried to kill Finn, and would have killed me too on Starkiller base, if I hadn’t prevented it.
I was never trying to kill you, she hears his voice in her mind, causing it to tremble. The invasion. All my jabs were defensive. I was merely trying to prevent you from plunging a lightsaber through my chest.
Go away, she replies. Will I never have any peace? I see you in my dreams at night. Can the day not be my own?
There can be no peace with us, beloved.
I am not your beloved.
How long will you keep this up, Rey? I’m tired of chasing you around the galaxy. I swear it’s like chasing after the krifing moon.
Then, maybe you should stop and take a hint for once. I don’t want you.
Have you forgotten that night on Ahch-to, then? Or need I remind you.
She feels a jolt in the base of her spine, slithering all the way up to the nape of her neck, the reminiscence of a kiss that left her reeling. That night was a mistake, a lapse in judgment. She shoves him outside of her mind, shaking her head. It is not her job to fix him, put his broken pieces back together. He has to want it. What can he even offer her?
She sits down on the floor with her spine in perfect alignment and begins to meditate, trying to dispel his presence out of her.