A/N: I do not own any of these characters. Also, the first line is a reference to Charlotte's Web, by E. B. White: "When your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it's always hard to sleep." Enjoy!
One miserable hour after her full mind and empty stomach jolted her awake, Rey gave up on sleeping.
She'd managed to keep the climate control in the downed AT-AT she had made her home fairly intact, but the sandstorm last week had damaged the thermal shielding and decreased the overall insulating capabilities. The profound lack of any water vapor (or anything reflective, really) in the sand-dry atmosphere of the desert world on which she took up space (not forever, they'll come back) meant that the sun's heat, so intense during the day, was readily radiated back out into the void whence it came.
Translation: she was really kriffing cold.
If she could just get her hands on some insulation tape, she could seal the breach, but to do that, she'd need to trade. To trade, she'd need portions.
She really didn't have any to spare.
Which led her to her next problem.
Unkar Plutt had given her one quarter portion for the day's haul. One quarter portion. It wasn't her best haul of all time, admittedly, but it should've been worth a full portion at least. She took a moment to soundly curse the slimy bastard in every language she knew, a considerable undertaking that both made her feel better and distracted her from the reason she'd woken up in the first place.
She'd been having the dreams again.
It had started out innocently enough. She was flying some sort of ship, hands dancing over the controls like she'd been born knowing them, even though she didn't recognize them from any of the schematics on her interface. Below, she could see a vast plain of blue, with dunes that rolled and crashed, somehow, unbelievably, made of water.
Ocean.
She knew the word. She'd heard it from an offworlder who'd gotten lost near Niima Outpost, years ago. An ocean of sand, they'd said.
What's an ocean? she'd asked, young and bubbling with curiosity, and the offworlder had told her, and she'd helped them find their way.
As they boarded their ship, they'd given her an appraising look. Where are your parents?
They're not here now. But they'll come back for me, someday.
The offworlder had stared. You mean, they're not with you? Are you alone here? They had paused. You could come with my wife and me, if you like. We have a daughter about your age-I think you'd get on well. They extended their hand. Please, don't stay here alone. Let us help you.
Rey had backed away. No. I'm fine. They'll be back any day now. I have to be here. I'll be alright. She looked the offworlder square in the eye. Thank you for telling me about the ocean. Now please go.
It was the first time she'd realized the blue in her dreams was water.
As the dream went on, she saw a speck of green up ahead.
Island. A little land in a lot of water. Somehow.
Closer. The ground was covered in green fur. Grass. Grey slabs of stone formed a rough ladder up the slope, leading to-
The dream shifted.
No more green. No more water. A young woman in a white robe was leaning over an R2 unit in the dimly lit corridors of what Rey recognized instantly as a Star Destroyer. She heard something, turned her head; there was fear in her eyes, but it was overshadowed by purpose.
Another shift.
A young man, about her age, standing on a ridge in a desert-but not Jakku. His clothes reminded Rey of her own. Over his shoulder, Rey could see two suns setting in the sky.
Another shift.
Nighttime. An orange and white BB unit was rolling through the sand as the glow of blaster bolts illuminated the sky and cries of anguish sounded in the distance. Pausing for a moment, it swiveled its dome to look behind, then continued on into the darkness.
Another shift.
A man was walking through the desert under the unwavering sun, dark skin glistening with sweat, wearing some sort of thin black clothing and a thoroughly incongruous leather jacket. He looked-lost, in every sense of the word.
Another shift.
It was night again. A different man was semi-sprawled in the sand, battered and bloody, surrounded by the detritus of an ejected fighter seat. He appeared to be holding a conversation with empty air-probably crazy from thirst or heatsickness, or maybe he'd hit his head in the crash. Still, his eyes were strangely focused.
Another shift.
Brief, dizzying glimpses rushed past, too quickly to see clearly, more impressions than images. Stripes of light and dark. The feeling of being trapped. Orange. Explosions in the sky. Blue. Moisture on her skin. Green. Falling, in the wrong direction. Red and blue. Panic.
Arms around her. Warmth. Safety. Light.
Of course, that's when her stomach decided to wake her up.
Unkar Plutt had definitely been stingier with the portions recently. She was lucky if she got a third of what she used to, and Plutt had never paid the full worth of her hauls anyway.
Maybe, Rey thought, he was trying to starve her into submission. She was useful to him as a good, compliant scavenger, but she'd gotten too independent, might have started challenging his authority. No matter how much she brought in, Force forbid he have given her more than the bare minimum needed to stay alive.
If Plutt kept all the scavengers on the edge of starvation, Rey knew, none of them would have the energy or the courage to stand up to the one who controlled the food.
She didn't have to put up with this. Didn't have to starve, didn't have to be achingly thirsty all the time, didn't have to freeze at night and roast during the day. She could have left. Traded work for transport with the next offworlder who came by, stolen one of Plutt's trashy ships and gotten it working in the air, stowed away on a freighter and waited to see where it took her.
For a long moment, Rey entertained the fantasy. Then, she looked over at the marks on the wall.
She'd lasted this long. She refused to be driven away now. She'd eat mummified happabore if she had to, but she would not leave this planet until her family came for her.
Rey took a deep breath. It was going to be a long night.