Notes:

This is an Alternate Timeline story.

What would happen to the events in The Force Awakens if Kylo Ren had turned away from the Order on his own before the assault on Jakku? Abandoning his name, his life, his connections, he slips into the shadows, lost in ways even he cannot define, until the Force guides him to intercept another whose fate intertwines with his own.

The plot assumes certain things:

1. Some events are constant, and therefore aren't changed by character participation or lack thereof. The story will proceed relying on those events and the timing already set in motion.

2. Other things are influenced by the ripple effect. One character's choice can have profound influence on those around him or her. Some things are obvious, some more subtle.

3. Kylo Ren and Ben Solo are at war within the same mind. Ben won out before the story began, and is therefore more influential in how he interacts... meaning he's less sadistic and homicidal than in cannon proper. I am in awe of those who can accurately capture the raw emotions that make up the conflict within him. I, sadly, am still practicing my hand at it. (Also known as, I suck at writing full-on bad scary dudes.) This may make him appear calmer and slightly out of character. It's done intentionally. He's had a year to mull things over and come to terms with a few things.

A few key things to note:

- I have been writing fanfiction since the 90's, though this is my first cannon Star Wars fic. I wrote for my original wookiee a bit, but never anything as intense as this story. Apologies if anything is not quite accurate, or copies anyone else. While I've read a few fics on AO3 and , I've tried to make mine it's own entity not borrowing from anyone else. However, a lot of plots get thrown around and re-used repeatedly, so apologies if it resembles any other story, it's not intentional.

- This is a Kylo/Ben centered story. I like getting in his head. I love Rey dearly, but when considering the story I decided it would be too complicated if I tried to dive into her head as well as his, and it didn't have the depth I liked without going introspective on Ben. I'll give Rey her shot in another fic! On with the angst!

- Since Kylo never leads the attack for the map, and Hux is in charge, Finn was not present and therefore does not have his moment while on Jakku. Don't worry, he'll still get his screentime, but it will be a bit later. Likewise poor Poe is a guest of the Order longer than necessary, since they have to resort to ordinary interrogation techniques to make him break, instead of Kylo's mind techniques.

- Han and Chewie fall on hard times. Because early reunions ruin the fun.

- There is really only one romance taking center stage in the story, and I am purposely keeping it PG. Feel free to enjoy without needs for tags. I enjoy my sordid stories as much as the next gal, but there's no place for it in this tale. Any other relationships are solely interpreted on the behalf of you the reader, and not intentional. (aka feel free to fantasize, but don't read too much into it.)

- Rey's backstory remains elusive intentionally. Feel free to theorize, but you won't get answers quickly.

- This story is in three episodes following the three new movies. This is episode seven (obviously). The full arc will take 3 episodes to complete, so bear with the repetition of following the same events of TFA. I've tried not to make it too boring and predictable. And there is a serious divergence in the final climax of the Act.

And finally, I make no claim of ownership to anything, this is purely a honorary way to revel in the bliss that is Star Wars. My hat goes off to you, writers, directors and visionaries who helped create this wonderful universe and memorable characters. I am honored to try my hand at it.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: The Scavenger

The desert wind was hot, arid and smothering. Nonetheless, he found the open sands laid bare in the glaring sunlight to be a beautiful scene.

Something about the stark emptiness to the land that met with flawless blue sky made him feel small, not a feeling he was used to, especially in such a large galaxy as this. When one could easily move between planets in a mere flick of a switch, the ability to feel insignificant, powerless, was sometimes lost in the great expanse of creations and inventions.

But there were times when the Force pulled that away, stripped it bare. Where he could meditate alone with noone for miles about, and realize that he was adrift on a sea of light, with only himself to mar its flawless nature.

Well... himself and the ruined husk of the Star Destroyer looming behind him.

If there was one place Kylo Ren had ever thought he would ever visit, it certainly was not Jakku.

He had never been here before, but certainly knew OF it. After all, it had been a major deciding battle that had squashed the last remnants of the Empire, plunging the galaxy into a new era of relative calm. That had been well before his time, of course. And before that, the Emperor had a secret base of operations here, or so the rumors went. No one had ever found such a base, of course. But if one was to be found, it held a wealth of potential knowledge, and lost weaponry that might prove useful… or valuable.

He grimaced, and glanced down, away from the endless seas of sand to stare at his black-gloved hand. It was familiar, anchored him to who he was in this faceless place. He was just one man, a small dot of ink against a blank parchment, isolated from all else but his own churning thoughts to keep him company. And as always, he found it difficult to focus with his head so full. Haunting images of his past, of the man, of the boy, he once was still lingered in his mind during times like this. He had never excelled at meditation, he lacked the temperament and patience to focus. His method to cope typically ended with violent redecorating.

Dark umber eyes slowly lifted back to the desert laid bare before him, regarding the sand-swept dunes impassively. Perhaps that is why he found this place so calming. Anything written in the sand was wiped away clean in only a few hours, the wind sweeping his footsteps up and paving them over, filling them in, leaving no trace. It calmed him. Perhaps this is what the Force was meant to feel like, a clean slate, a balance between discord and harmony.

Odd that he had to come to Jakku to find what even began to resemble a bit of peace.

He sighed, wiping sweat from the bottom of his brow. Despite the thick thermal shielded black robes he had purchased off one of the wandering tribes native to this planet, he still found the heat smothering. He had never liked hot planets. His blood ran abnormally hot as it was, complimenting his notorious temper, and the heat only further encouraged his emotions to run rampant. He found himself scowling for no reason in particular, a common habit, despite the months that had distanced him from his former life. In an attempt to distract his thoughts from the dwelling darkness, he pulled the drape of black cloth free of his face, unscrewed the canteen from his belt, taking a swig of the warm water before resting his arm across his knee, leaning on it slightly. The shadows had crept up behind him, looming Star Destroyer sheltering him from the worst of the sun. During the heat of the day, this was the ideal spot to seek refuge, as cool air kept trapped within lowered the temperature by several degrees. A slight breeze drifted through the interior, bringing the distinct odor of stale fuel, exhaust lines, and burnt ozone from long-dead engines somewhere broken in pieces above him.

His gaze swept up into the dark depths looming above him. Somewhere above him was something that he wanted. Something that he had trudged all the way out here to find, specifically this wreck. Something that whispered to him in his mind, urging him to come here. He didn't know what it was, had no clue where to find it. But it called to him nonetheless.

Pulling the cloth back over his face once more to conceal it from the rest of the world, he rose to his feet and turned, preparing to make his ascent.

He promptly froze mid-step.

Another figure stood there, not more than a few feet away.

Clothed in white rough-spun fabric and discolored from time in the sand, it was obvious the scavenger had not anticipated encountering him either, as they both had stopped dead in their tracks. In one hand, the scavenger gripped a staff constructed of what appeared to be an old strut from the very wreckage they stood in, the other held a bag full of parts. Goggles reflected his own eyes back at him, revealing nothing of the other's face to analyze, but he could sense surprise and wariness radiating off the person standing before him.

How it was this scavenger managed to surprise me? The thought tickled in his mind, itching to be asked.

You are becoming weak.

His brow creased slightly irritated at his internal monologue. Slowly he straightened his shoulders from the relaxed hunch he was more comfortable with, bringing himself to his full height, which sadly seemed to dwarf the petite figure opposing him. He had no desire for a fight in this place. It was inconvenient to expend extra energy on a worthless desert rat. Besides, he was in one of his rare good moods in which he did not instinctively reach for the hilt of his lightsaber, pressing firmly against his belt where it was hidden within his robes.

Fortunately, it seeme the scavenger was as unwilling to start a conflict as he. "Tuk'vara nashra."

He blinked, startled. He had not been expecting a woman's voice. "What?"

There was a pause, then slowly one slim hand reached down to lift the goggles from her face, then tugged the cloth covering her mouth down below her chin, revealing a sun-kissed freckled face with vibrant hazel eyes watching him intently. "You know…" she spoke, her tone tinged with amusement though her face remained somber. "...if you're going to dress like the natives, you might want to pick up a few words."

Oh. Right.

He felt a sudden wash of heat that had little to do with the scorching heat around them. He had been so absorbed with trying to figure out how thisgirl had snuck up on him, he'd forgotten his strange attire. A flash of anger, self-directed, lashed out before he snuffed it down quickly. It would not do to lose his temper here. It had been entirely his own fault for being distracted enough to forget his ruse. "I suppose you have a point." He murmured, deep voice grudgingly admitting his slip-up.

"And you might want to stick to their territory… The Na'tu don't come out this far east. They stick to the mountains." She had a strange way about her, along with a bold fearless attitude. It struck him as curious. The scavengers he had met on this planet up until now had been downright ruthless and cared nothing of small talk, let alone geographical advice.

"Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah." She faced him, promptly crossing her arms over her chest, a sharp look directed straight at him. "This is my turf. No one else comes out here, and there's not much left to pick over. Go find your own wreck." And with that, she promptly swept by, leaving him standing there.

He blinked, speechless, completely at a loss. There were very few times anyone had commanded him to do something and meant it. Few dared.

Begrudgingly, he found himself liking this girl.

Turning, he watched as she made her way across the wreck, out into the dwindling sun on the lee side. Despite his initial instinct to avoid people, he found his boots taking long steps to catch up to her, emerging into the sun to watch her load up a flat piece of leather with her find, sit down on it, and prepare to slide down the berm.

A thought occurred to him. "Wait."

She paused, glancing sharply over her shoulder. He slowly approached, coming to stop a few inches from her. Scanning her equipment, swiftly appraising it he realized that she was far better suited to do what he had intended to, scale the interior of the ship. She was clearly familiar with this wreck, and knew it well. In addition, she had tools he did not have, which would make the job take half as long. The speeder too was a distinct advantage, if he could barter for a ride to the nearest outpost it would save him three nights of walking through the open desert. Despite his better judgement, he found himself asking for her help.

"What if I knew a place where there was something worth salvaging." He saw interest percolate in her eyes instantly, but she did not speak. "I may not know this planet, but I know these ships. Have you searched the officers quarters?"

"Yeah." She responded warily. "Their rooms are way up there, hard to reach. Been there once, found nothing other than a few baubles."

"What if there was more, only hidden in compartments meant to deceive the eyes?"

It was clear he had her. Scavengers had superb instincts over what parts on a ship were valuable, but they didn't think like an Imperial Officer hiding contraband. They only saw what they could take, not what they could find. "And you know where to find these hidden spots, I take it?" She asked, obviously wary, as her gaze snapped up and down his frame, trying to determine if he was attempting to swindle her.

"I do." He said somberly, internally amused. "You have the tools I do not. Assist me, and I will split the finds with you. It would be more than worth your while."

She was silent, gauging him with those intense hazel eyes for what seemed to be a long breath of time. But he could read her like an open book. She was tempted by his offer. Perhaps even desperate. It occurred to him a scavenger such as she most likely lived find to find to make ends meet, and her lithe form did not speak of one with food to spare. Finds meant credits which translated into food and water for survival. His offer was more than tempting, it was common sense.

"Fine. On one condition." He remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate. "I go alone. You wait here. I'll find it, just tell me where."

His eyebrow arched beneath the cloth wrappings. He was tempted to inquire just why he would trust her with such a thing. They barely knew one another, and she was asking him to give away his trump card so she could theoretically reap the benefits.

Kill her, take the tools, the whispers of his mind urged. What possible reason could you have to keep her around? Annoyed, he clamped down on his thoughts, scowling at himself.

She couldn't go far without her speeder; the nearest outpost he'd been told was three days walk. That was three days in brutal searing heat, a feat even he dared not risk during daylight hours. By the looks of her, the garb she wore was light cloth, cheap and worn. She would not stand a chance on a trek through the desert. At night, the wildlife came out; he had seen the bones of those who dared to travel, scattered across the wastelands. If he stood sentinel over her speeder, she could not return without confronting him. And he could always take the vehicle himself, if it came down to needs.

So, he considered her proposition. There was a 'but' there somewhere, he felt. "And in exchange for this information, your cut is...?"

"Seventy-Thirty." She said firmly. "No less. I do the work, I get the bigger share."

"Sixty-Forty." He countered. "And you give me a ride to the outpost."

"You've got to be joking." She snorted. "Seventy-Thirty, or I leave you here." She knew she had him. There was no loss if she turned and left right now, she would just come back later and scour the quarters on her own. He would be forced to walk to town, at risk at being mugged by the other scavengers that roamed the desert, or eaten by something far worse. He had to hand it to her. She was unafraid and knew how to hold her ground. Still, he knew a thing or two about haggling, and reached into his satchel, pulling out a tightly wrapped package and holding it up. "Sixty-Forty, and you get this now, and more afterwards." He tossed the package at her.

She caught it deftly and held it up, sniffing slightly before her eyes widened in astonishment. He barely had time to marvel at her speed, before the wrapping was torn apart, and she was stuffing the dry meat into her mouth in tight strips, barely taking time to breathe between bites. "Deal!"

It was all he could do NOT to smile.

Something about this girl…

A shadow passed over his face, as he suddenly felt severely uncomfortable. And he did not know why.

They didn't waste time. With the light swiftly fading, she only assembled a small supply of materials before ascending back into the darkness of the hold. He watched her as she danced between the rafters, weaving back and forth before finally vanishing. He took a seat at the base of her rope, crossing his legs in the sand and sighed softly as he relaxed, shutting his eyes and falling into a familiar meditative posture. Breathing in and out slowly, he let his feelings reach out, sensing her high above him, her innate curiosity tickling his senses, as he followed her progress from one floor to the next, searching.

This girl…

He found his mind wandering back to her face. There was something noble, something foreign to her, not worn by time and heat as most residents of this planet were… and something familiar that he could not quite place. Those eyes, so intense, so bold, so fierce, they held a fire that lit something deep within him, stirring his own thoughts.

A fragrant burst of flowers filled his nostrils, giggle rising on the wind.

He started, eyes opening unsure where that image had come from.

In the past year, he had kept to the shadows, as was his nature. Conflict, confusion had swayed his path away from people, leery of being recognized. No matter only a select few knew his face, and among them, even less could connect it to the two names that haunted his memories. Kylo Ren and Ben Solo are dead. He had allowed his skills to be employed by mercenary groups, cutthroats who earned coin and traveled to make a living, not his first choice of work, but it kept him mobile, and away from the questioning gaze of First Order battalions. A year spent avoiding the inevitable leer of dancing girls sidling up to him in bars, drawing annoyed looks from his companions when he turned them down. He could not afford attachments, and intimacy was the most dangerous of all. He knew he was viewed as odd, an outsider, but that was where he preferred to lurk... in the shadows, watching.

And shadows do not linger when daylight approaches.

He shook his head, eyes opening as he broke away from his thoughts. No. Not tonight. He frowned, self-loathing wrapping around his soul, chiding him for allowing his thoughts to drift. He would not give in to his weakness. He had no name, he was a ghost. And a ghost he would stay until he figured out where he belonged, which path he was to walk. The light, the dark, neither was correct. He was a child out of balance, floundering in a world where choices defined which side you fought for, how you walked through life.

He had no direction. He had lingered on both sides, and found each to be distasteful.

A sound broke him away from his thoughts, and he lifted his eyes upwards to spot the scavenger descending. Even from this far back, he could feel the pride rippling off of her like a beacon.

Good. She found it then.

Smoothly, he rose to his feet just as she hit the ground, grinning from ear to ear. "I had NO idea…" She gasped, showing him the bag. Glancing down, he felt some satisfaction at seeing the horde. Credit chips, datapads, some jewelry, spice bags, stims. All that was fine, enough to help him buy passage off of the planet. But the real find was the soft pale glow of the crystal nestled amidst the credit chips, fine white surface cut in sharp angles, color undefinable. "Do you know how much this is worth?" she asked breathlessly.

"I can imagine."

"Enough to buy my own ship! I've NEVER had this much in my whole life!"

He couldn't help but feel a burst of pity for her, something utterly out of character for him.

Poor girl… so naive.

She no doubt had never left the planet, never considered it. To be confronted with wealth beyond her dreams, to which amounted barely enough to pay a smuggler's wage was utterly sad.

And somehow, endearing.

"Right, well come on then." He blinked, noticing she had already begun walking away. She tossed the bag onto her makeshift sled and pushed off, sliding effortlessly down the sand.

Despite himself, he was impressed at her ingenuity, and resigned himself to following her the more difficult way, boots buried in the deep sand as he slid cautiously down the steep incline.

He met up with her as she finished lashing the find to the netting on the side of the speeder. She threw him a look before mounting the seat with an expert spring of her legs, starting the engine with an expert twist of her wrist, pulling her goggles down around her eyes in preparation for departure.

Then, she offered a hand down to him, fingers spread wide, inviting him to take hold.

Glancing up at her face, he was met with an open resolute expression of honesty. She fully intended to honor their agreement. She didn't have to, he knew. She easily could have gunned it and took off, and there would have been nothing he could have done to stop her without revealing his ruse. A simple twist of his hand could disable any part he chose, but he would have a hard time explaining it should she ask. Besides, he would still have had to walk to town unless he flat-out stole the speeder.

And even he was not so crude.

After a moment's hesitation, he accepted her hand, mentally noting how small her fragile flesh felt against the wide leather grip of his glove. He slung himself up behind her, taking care to tuck his robes close to his body to avoid being pulled in to the engine. There was little room to budge on the seat, and so he pressed close to her, feeling a slight tense to her body as his hands fell to her waist briefly, before he thought better of it, allowing them to shift to grasp the metal bindings behind him. His legs tightened reflexively as the speeder pulled forward, maintaining his balance and posture with minimal effort.

As they sped through the dunes, the sharp sting of sand against his exposed flesh caused him to wrap the black cloth closer, lowering his head so that it nearly rested on her shoulder before him.

He felt her tense even more, and became acutely aware he needed to control himself, lest he end up face-first in the sand with an elbow to his jaw.

He quickly focused his gaze on the horizon, taking in the expanse of azure sky kissing the undulating waves of sand spread out in all directions around them. It all appeared the same, minute after minute, hour after hour. How one was not driven to madness by the lack of changing scenery baffled him.

One thing did catch his attention, however.

Burning bright next to the moon, was something moving far too fast to be a star or even a satellite. Familiar with how ships appeared from the ground, he watched it intently. There was little chance he had been followed here. He had been quite careful in his ruse, using false names complete with forged identities. But there was no mistaking the shining spots in the sky. No small cargo vessels were large enough to show up to the naked eye. Those were massive ships, meant for something far more than hauling smuggled goods.

It was more than likely coincidence. After all, he had already experienced his fair share of run-ins with the First Order. And none of them had ended with anyone dismembered.

Yet. The cold laughter echoed in his mind.

He shook his head, locking down the cage which kept his thoughts locked behind his meticulously crafted walls. He would not be swayed. He had come too far to listen to the vestigial remnants of his alter ego goad him into making a mistake.

Nonetheless, the feeling nagged at him, persisted, and would not renege.

When finally the speeder began to slow, he returned his thoughts to the present. No lights shone nearby, the twilight having impressed itself down upon the setting sun. Frowning, he turned his attention instead towards a metal shape looming in the dusk before them, frame oddly familiar.

She must have sensed his confusion, half-turning her head as she approached the metal hull of what he now recognized to be the blasted out husk of an Imperial Walker. "We can't make Niima Outpost this late. They set the sensor grid after sundown, nothing in or out without setting off the alarms, and they don't take kindly to strangers showing up asking for favors when that happens. We'll have to go in the morning. You can stay here with me until then." She paused, following his stare. "It's not much. I don't have a spare bunk, so you'll have to settle for the ground. But if a sandstorm hits, you'll want the shelter. They can be brutal."

She is oddly trusting, for a scavenger. Foolish, girl.

He almost snarled aloud. This was becoming irksome. Never had his inner voice been so... persistent as of late.

Coming to a stop beside the walker, the two of them dismounted. She began unloading their loot from the netting, piling it onto the makeshift sled before heading over towards the walker. Halfway there, she paused, glancing back at him, her expression suddenly fierce again. "By the way. If you try anything, I'll ram my staff so far up your hull you'll be seeing stars without a hyperdrive."

Well then...

He permitted a rare smile behind his dark robes, and inclined his head once, accepting her terms. He had no interest in taking advantage of her. Though, she wasn't entirely unpleasant to look at, and he liked her fire and spunk. In addition, those hazel eyes seemed to draw him in, unbidden...

No, stop right there. Rewind.

He ducked inside the hatch, glancing about the dim interior, taking stock of her refuge. It was crowded, junk everywhere, most of which appeared to be sentimental without much value. Some dried flowers in a clay vase with a brown ribbon tied around it, and a few empty bowls and tools sat scattered on varied surfaces. Rough spun pillows stuffed with grass were covered by a utilitarian military blanket, a second one folded neatly across the makeshift bed. He blinked. Is that a straw doll in a Rebellion flight suit? He honestly didn't want to ask.

He was distracted by a loud clatter as she dumped the hoard in the center of a low table, spreading it out so they could go through their find. "How did you know where to find all this stuff anyway?" Her hazel eyes lifted, meeting his with unbound curiosity. "You're not from Jakku, are you?"

"What gave it away?" he asked, amused.

"You walk too stiffly on the sand, like you don't expect it to move." She threw him a wry smirk. "The walk of someone used to city streets, not the desert. And anyone who's from Jakku knows how to walk the desert."

He had to hand it to her… she was observant, and she was right. "And clearly you have mastered walking the desert."

"I grew up here." She shrugged, then abruptly held out her hand. "Rey."

He paused, surprised at the sudden introduction. Instantly, his guard slammed up as he quickly sought a way to answer her. The best answer would be to reply with the alias he'd been using when he arrived, just in case he encountered any of the mercs he'd been working with. He found the irony to be rather thick, considering he had accumulated quite the collection of forged ID's since going rogue. However, a sense of disquiet shifted within him as he realized hearing her use a false name did not feel right, and he couldn't define the reason why. Perhaps it was because she had been so open and honest with him, he felt the need to reciprocate, even a little.

But there was one name he was not yet ready to use again. So, he settled on a compromise that was close enough. "Ren."

Greetings set aside, she turned and grabbed a bowl, handing it to him, then pouring some water inside before filling her own and drinking deeply. It gave him a moment to reflect, staring at the dingy water, acutely aware of just how little this girl Rey had to her name. He admitted, though he thought his life had not been easy, compared to hers a life of never having to wonder where your next meal came from was simple luxury. He forbade his thoughts from wandering far enough back to distract his focus, but considered the utilitarian meals of the New Order regiment. Nutritious, plain, and packed with everything a soldier needed to survive. It had been far from gourmet, but it had been functional.

Even that would seem like a feast to Rey.

She would have called him spoiled.

Well, perhaps he was.

He glanced at her back as she rummaged. If he was going to spend time with the scavenger, then the inevitable was to happen. He was not afraid of what she would see when he removed his trappings, but it had become such a force of habit to hide his face, that he found himself uncomfortable as he reached up and pulled the heavy weave of cloth away from his head, baring his pale face which stood starkly inappropriate for the desert planet. He felt the grit of sand clinging to his hairline, invading his mouth and crusting his eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face to clear it before taking a slow sip of the muddied water, tasting grit.

He really hated sand.

"Here… It's not…" Rey started to say, before trailing off abruptly. He glanced up to find what had disrupted her chain of thought, only to notice wide hazel eyes staring at him, her hand frozen where a chunk of dry-bread sat extended, waiting to be accepted.

Clearly, whatever she had envisioned shrouded behind his desert garb, the dark tousled curls, chiseled features and youthful appearance to match the deep voice had not been on the top of her list. He was amused to see a splash of color dot her cheeks. Nonetheless, the intense scrutiny made him highly uncomfortable, and he ducked his head, avoiding looking at her, focusing his attention on taking another sip of water.

The benefits of a mask. No one could see his discomfort. It was easy to hide behind.

He suddenly felt extremely self-conscious.

It lasted only a moment. She recovered, blinking and shaking her head, sinking into a comfortable cross-legged position on the floor across the makeshift table. He accepted the bread as she offered it to him, noticing it was spongy and of low-quality instant yeast. It was edible, that much he admitted as he took a bite into it, and did his best to hide the disgust that filled his senses. Tasteless, packed with nutrients; the perfect rations for someone who had nothing. He could only stomach one bite, before he set it down in the bowl, aware that her portion was half-gone.

Without hesitation, he reached into his satchel and pulled out two bundles of the same meat he had given her earlier, one he placed before her, the other he took for himself and began to pull strips off the salted rind. A second rummage produced a few dried fruits that he had kept wrapped in a rough cloth, to which he offered her, before bringing out a second canteen, dumping the water in the bowl out on the sand, before filling it with a strongly fruit-smelling liquid that tingled the senses the moment he poured. He didn't inquire, but merely took her bowl and repeated the process, assuming she would not protest to having a taste of alien wine.

The wonder on her face was almost painful.

He sipped slowly, enjoying the dancing tang on his tongue, the burn in his stomach as it settled comfortably there. He didn't often imbibe, but felt given the circumstances, it didn't hurt tonight.

She was sniffing the liquid in her bowl experimentally, tilting it to and fro to watch the color bleed onto the clay surface. "What... is this?"

"Corellian Wine." He offered. "Not the best quality. I think the heat soured it slightly."

He didn't miss the look of fascination on her face. "Never had spirits before. Smells funny." She took another sniff then set it down, obviously wary. No doubt she was used to drunkards from the local bars getting into raucous fights, and decided she would rather not risk it. Instead, she tore into the meat, more than happy to indulge in the special treat of salted rind.

Her eyes lifted, glittering with curiosity. "So what's it like?"

Somehow he didn't think she was talking about the food. He stared at her, expression blank, but his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he tried to discern what she meant.

"Out there." Her hand waved towards the stars. "I've always wanted to go! See the galaxy." She leaned forward, lowering her voice almost conspiringly, green eyes sparkling with unhidden excitement. "Have you seen many worlds?"

If only she knew. He slowly sat back, tugging the gloves off his hand, flexing his fingers to dry them of excess sweat. "Many."

"It must be wonderful... What's it like, space travel?" She leaned forward, eyes ever so eager. "Do you feel the acceleration in space? What's light-speed REALLY feel like? A bothan trader told me it was like having your molecules disassembled and put back together, but then I might have misunderstood, his accent was quite thick."

The questions were so rapid fire, he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Yet, she continued to stare at him expectantly, real hope in her eyes at the idea of learning something that had quite obviously been out of her reach for so long. The idea of this young girl being so isolated as to not know basic things such as star travel… A strange impression of his old Master flashed before his mind, a memory flickering to life, though the details evaded him through layers of denial at opening his soul to that forgotten portion of himself. He forced his mind to turn away from that diversion, focusing back on the moment.

"You feel acceleration, depending on the ship. Larger ships you hardly notice, small ships you do. And that trader was clearly lying to you. Traveling that fast does not scramble your molecules."

A wide grin split her face at that, and a wistful expression crossed over her face. "I'd like to try it one day."

"So why don't you?" It was the obvious question. Surely one as resourceful as she would have found a way off the planet by now, if she so chose.

Apparently, that had been the wrong question to ask. Her expression shifted from one of wistful thinking, to resigned reluctance. "...I can't. I have to stay here."

He didn't ask why. Somehow, he didn't have to. The expression of longing she wore spoke millions. He had seen that expression before… on his mother's face when waiting for his father to return.

Ah, no. That was not intentional.

He lowered his gaze, focusing on the wine as he buried that thought quickly, grip tightening on the bowl as a brief flash of anger rose to the surface at the memory. Since when had he started thinking about THEM? The cold dark recesses of his mind roiled, furious.

Instead, he distracted himself by picking up one of the datapads, turning it over as it flickered to life, then died. The battery was fried. More than a few were in similar state, a couple were broken or cracked, but the parts would fetch a decent price. The credits amounted to just shy of 20,000, the baubles just shy of that. All in all, she had enough from her share to cover several years of rations. She would be living in relative comfort, with no need to scavenge at all.

And then, her fingers found the last item wedged at the bottom of the pile.

Of course, he knew what it was. How could he not. Though he was at a loss on how an Imperial Officer had one.

Rey was fascinated, turning the crystal over in her hand, watching the colors flicker. Unbidden, he found himself idly wondering something he had not considered for years. Just what color would it be if he were to claim it as his own?

Synthetic crystals were easier to come by. His own saber had one imbedded in the hilt, cracked, flawed, but functional. It fit him, his wild personality, unstable nature, so too did the crystal refract it. He felt a special bond in the first weapon he had crafted on his own. Prior to that, he had held one other, but it had been lost to him... and he had not crafted it. The crystals were rare enough in the galaxy following the Empires' downfall that to find one amounted to a virtual treasure. If Rey was to sell it, she could buy her own armada.

Of course, that crystal is ours, seethed the voice in his mind. After all, we sent her to fetch it, knowing it was there, feeling it's call all the way from Niimu the Hutt's palace...

But that wasn't the reason he couldn't tear his eyes from it.

There was something else...

Rey seemed to sense his fascination, and held the crystal out to him, completely oblivious to the tumult of thoughts raging in his mind. Hesitating for a moment, he reached for it then stopped, fingers coming inches away from its multi-faceted surface. An itch in the base of his skull tickled at him, and he felt a sudden sharp impression of wariness, curling his fingers back and not touching it.

"What is it?"

He wanted to answer her, but his words stuck in his throat. How could he explain such a thing to her? She had no possible knowledge of the kyber crystal's history, of the painful legacy that followed the desperate hunt that spanned systems. Junkers would not appreciate it's value, even rare traders would not be aware of it's properties. So few were left, any who knew could be considered enemies to be reckoned with, none of which he felt they would encounter on Jakku. "I don't know." The lie came strangely easy to his tongue, though it tasted sour. It felt unfair to take advantage of her ignorance. On the other hand, that crystal was all he had come here for.

On the other hand, it wouldn't buy his way off this rock.

He shook his head. "We can't sell it on Jakku. I doubt you'd get anywhere near it's true value. Such things are not found naturally here. It's clearly from another world."

"Yeah." She agreed, brow furrowing in thought. Abruptly she held it out to him. "You take it."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"If it's worth that much, I can't take it. It wouldn't be fair. It was your idea to look for the hidden compartments, and you knew we would find things there. So it's yours."

He almost laughed. Almost. Here he had considered swindling her, and she was offering him what had to be the most valuable item on the planet.

He felt slightly dirty as he stared at the crystal as she slid it across the table towards him.

"Lets's see what tomorrow brings." He decided after a moment, carefully scooping the crystal up, it's weight settling into his palm, colors ever-shifting as he wrapped it in a piece of cloth, sliding it into his satchel. "We can decide then."

"Fair enough."

The night was late, and the wine dulled his senses. Rey had not accepted the offered drink, so he finished off her bowl, then politely excused himself as he noticed her eyelids begin to drop with exhaustion. Slipping outside, he settled himself down in the shadow of the walker, staring up at the night sky, the wine warming his insides as the desert air cooled around him.

Why had he agreed to consider the crystals' fate?

Because it was the honorable thing to do.

Honor. Since when does Kylo Ren think about honor?

Since when does Ben Solo dismiss it?

Another scowl graced his face, as he stared out into the dark confines of the desert sky.

Needless to say, he did not sleep well that night. And it had nothing to do with the sand beneath his back.

Notes:

And there you have it, first chapter.

I enjoy reviews and comments, but please don't nitpick my grammar or spelling, it's a pet peeve. I'm only human, I write how I feel, which sometimes isn't perfect, I know. However, I'm fully open to any thoughts, theories, or appraisals as to your opinions on the story and characters. I thrive on making others writhe in torment waiting for the next chapter.

On a side note... I'm searching for a roleplay partner. It's been some time since I've had good solid story writing to stoke my creative fires, and I can't get enough of it! If my writing style appeals to you, and you'd like to try and partner with me, don't be shy! Be aware my OTP is Rey and Ben/Kylo, especially the struggle for two opposites of the force trying to unite as one. But I am open to ideas. Hit me up if interested!

Next Chapter: The Flight