First time I've written for Star Wars fandom! Hope you enjoy.

(tw: major character deaths)


I've been waiting for you, Rey.

These are the words she longs to hear.

Rey waits her whole life for someone to find her.

Her eyes never fall from the sky, always watching the stars; always dissecting every new ship to see who disembarks. Her feet brace themselves in the sand, ready at a moment's notice to run toward the depot. Rey's mind scans the people's faces for any detail. The hope that she would know if any travelers were her parents, even if the pencil only hovers over the page with no images coming to her mind when she goes to draw them on scrape paper, is wearing thin.

She waits for a sign of them until the hope fades. Rey waits until she's old enough to give up on childhood dreams.

No one will come for her.

The hope lingers but soon enough the ache in her chest is too much. Rey knows she will never leave Jakku. It's this absolute that changes the dreams. Instead of her family coming to her, she dreams of strangers. They're nothing more than faceless bodies but they rush to her AT-AT. Her small table is filled with silence and her rations are shared between them, instead of going to the wrecks of old ships alone someone would be there among the old ghosts with her, and at night when the cold settles in, they can share their heat.

These wishes ground her. They can happen, she argues with herself when it looks like all other hope is lost. Rey knows she'll never leave this planet. It feels like she's somehow ingrained in the sand, or maybe, the sand is ingrained in her. The harsh weather turns her sour and more skeptical as the days pass. She waits as if there is nothing else to do. She survives on the fumes of this. But it's a harsh realization even those meager dreams are too much.

Rey turns twenty-five. The exact date of her birth is a mystery but as a child she chose one for herself. No one else knows there's anything different about today. Her birthday is a secret she keeps to herself. It's just another tick mark on her wall but still, she keeps her shoulders back a little straighter.

It's not ancient, she thinks. People who survive past childhood tend to cling to their lives on Jakku despite how each year added is more dangerous than the last. Their wills to spite the harsh planet ever at odds with the realities of life here.

Her self-proclaimed birthday is when everything changes and, like so many things, it doesn't really change anything at all in the grand scheme of things.

Rey throws a wrist over her eyes and tries to sleep for some minutes longer. Rest never comes with ease to her. With danger around every corner, she has to be alert and ready. Even as sleep comes to her, it's a struggle to survive whatever nightmares her subconscious dreams up.

Tonight, her legs move through smoke and fog so thick Rey can't see what's in front of her. The mist seeps into her lungs making the task of breathing a burden. Rey's running as fast as she can. She doesn't know why but it's an enormous effort not to stop. The dream urges her forward.

On and on she goes with muscles screaming in protest until, with an uncanny shift of the wind, the smoke shifts. It creeps toward the periphery. Bodies surround her. They pile in grotesque heaps every way she turns leaving no route to run. Still, the dream urges her forward. It's slow climbing over them. Bile rises in her throat at the sounds. The crunching stays with her during odd hours of the coming days.

She slides down a mountain of them, ignoring the way it feels like their hands grab at her. The dead don't move, she tells herself.

The view that greets her is the same and different. It's war that surrounds her. People in white and brown armor clash together. Red drips from every surface leaving no color untainted. War surrounds her, engulfs her in its endless barrage, but somehow, despite her walking further into the violence, nothing touches her. It's like she's physically away from it all. Like she's not real.

Cold sweeps through her limbs. Dreams should be different than real life in some way but this is frighteningly similar. That invisible feeling is familiar and though she wears it like an old cloak, a part of her hates the way the people of her planet's eyes go through her. And Rey hates how her solitude continues even in her dreams. How her isolation is so integral to her life that it follows her past reality.

Even so she moves in and out of the chaos. No blood or wounds mar her body; not a body hair is out of place. In the face of the falling bodies it feels hallow. The world blurs for a moment. She wipes a hand across her face to find tears dampening her cheeks. Every time her hand reaches forward to help one of the soldiers, it glides right through them. Every time, she thinks she can provide some help and is wrong. If she can just steady their fall to the ground, Rey thinks, but her hand passes through them.

Why is she here? Why can't she help?

Rey scans the crowds of people. Is there a purpose to these apparitions or is her destiny to watch with no alternative? The horrors through the room continue happening. Blood and cries for help and the stench of death rise up. Rey's about to turn around, to run in hopes of finding her way out, when she sees him.

He's larger than any man she's seen and robed in black from head to foot. The dark panels lining his body move with him in perfect unison, spreading and flying behind him like a fallen angel's wings. The helmet adorning his head is the only aspect of his appearance not faultless. Splinters of it are cracked off and tilted back at an odd angle. On someone else it might look meager or proof of mistakes on the battle field. He wears it like a broken crown; like it is his birthright. All sharp pikes and menacing edges reach to the heavens, whether in exaltation or threat, she can't tell. Rey can barely make out the left side of his face. She sees a glimpse of an eye and a hint of a thick eyebrow through the crack but not enough to see him.

People surround him, swing at him, and try to hurt him. He is their target, if their formation, increasingly tight to him, is any indication. Still, outnumbered and alone, he fights on. There's something in the sheer wildness radiating from his body that reminds Rey of herself. Each swing is filled with such strength. Every snarl and harsh jab hold a fierce amount of life despite the encompassing death. She can't help but think of herself, fighting alone against the desert that is her home. They are the same in a way.

All of his opponents are brought down and he is alone atop a raised platform. The eye visible to her is alight with fury. Rey shivers at the fire held in it. His chin is pointed up as he stares down at all the other soldiers clambering up to replace the ones that fell before. Light shines on him from behind and he looks like a prince staring down at enemies invading his territory. The strong planes of his chest and sweeping arches of his arms only give power to him. He reaches down to his belt, unhooking something from his tight waist.

A beam of light coming from his clasped hands. Its size reminds her of her staff. As she watches the fight, Rey thinks she might be able to convert some of the moves he uses for herself. But the similarities stop there. This weapon is pure energy. It's as if the man conducts the heat from his soul into the blade, sharpening it into a blade powerful enough to kill. His swings are far reaching, using every muscle to their maximum potential. He makes no wasted energy or unnecessary movement. That confidence, the belief he is powerful enough to defeat anyone in his way, is magnetizing. Rey craves that feeling for herself; wants to soak in any excess coming off of him she can.

Her heart races at the sight of him.

She begins to make her way toward the platform, drawn to the eye of the battle. The process is slow as ducks and bends out of the way of the others fighting around her. She knows she doesn't have to but it alleviates the unnatural reminder of her transparency.

Her eyes are drawn to the man again and again. It's just to make sure he's still fighting; that he hasn't given up, she thinks. The place hidden in her chest pulses, almost pushing her forward onto the platform. A burning sensation fills her chest the closer she gets. Energy she's never felt before expands making it hard to breath under its breadth.

In the back of her mind, the future spins out of control. All the phantom guests at her kitchen table becomes this tall stranger. Her bed, just right for her before, becomes cramped and tight due to the body next to her. Her future so blank before opens wide as the desert and it hurts so wonderfully.

The battle rages on in screams and cries and blood until, without warning, everything stops. Silence presses against her; suffocating her body and mind. The desert closes before her. Rey gasps and her eyes turn toward to the platform automatically.

Life teaches her time and again there is no permanence to anything; nothing will be a part of her besides its ruthless heat and sand. She knows this but the wisp of a promise made her forget. The moment of her future slips away before it is anything but a dream. It makes it harder when his face, the portion of skin seeking light from behind the dark mask, drains of vitality. He staggers fighting against an unseen enemy. Rey can't help but cry out when he falls.

Her breath beats against her ribs, stuck and anxious like a bird trapped in a cage. But Rey is never one for stillness. Already she's running. Her arms pump at her sides urging her legs to move faster. She tries desperately not to think of the wide alarm in his expression.

Nothing touches her so she runs through anyone in her way. Does it mean Rey can't touch anything either? There's a grain of hope still left in her, buried at the back of her mind. Maybe the universe isn't fully against her. Maybe she can help.

A stray tear rolls down her face. If the situation were any less dire, if she had any time to think, there would be nothing but amazement at the salty liquid on her cheeks. So long has passed since Rey's cried that she was sure the sands had soaked up all her tears. But there's no time to reflect over the bittersweet miracle, she knows only that she must go forward.

Rey is oblivious to the bodies around her and the apparent change in them. Too focused on her goal, she doesn't see when they morph into something less. They lose their colors. The blood dripping onto the floor begins to drain of its pigmentation. Their clothes fade to the background and as she runs to the platform, the soldiers remaining on the battle field begin to turn to dust; still fighting as they leave the world.

The altar stands erect and imposing in front of her at last. She makes it in time to see the man grasping in wild jerks at his neck. It's so quick Rey thinks she might have imagined it but the gold collar behind him moves into the light for but a moment. Pale skin shines against the light revealing a glimpsed of the person who's hurting him. She moves to attack but the flesh and gold disappear so all that is left in whatever nightmare this is are her and him.

The man struggles to stand. His hands scratch at his chest. There should be some wound on his person - something to visualize the pain in his eyes to the world but she can't see anything besides his dark clothes.

After a breath, she doesn't know why but there's a ball of churning fear in her stomach, he falls to his knees. Rey is spurred into action. She snarls at whoever was standing behind him before moving to kneel. Her hands rise to hover over his chest. They tremble but she needs to do something – anything. Still, she holds back.

What if she can't touch him?

Maybe the universe is truly against her. The urgency forward tugs at her chest even know but her fear of not being able to do anything is just as strong.

What if her hand glides through his body?

What if she's not really here?

He coughs a ragged and distorted sound up as his body falls sideways onto the floor. It seems wrong at how vulnerable he looks in the movement. The mask, that fallen angel's crown, tips to the side on impact and rolls off the platform. It makes not a sound but she watches the regal spikes move along the ground until they too turn into dust and melt into fog. His face turns toward her and she sees him, unfettered and clear, for the first time.

Heartbeat racing in her chest, her eyes move to see everything, afraid he might disappear. No longer scratching to gain breath, his hands rest against his rapidly rising and falling chest. They aren't relaxed, though. Nothing about his posture is relaxed. There's something desperate at the way he's clutching at his heart. The way his hands are all tendons and strained muscles. Can he feel the strange knot she feels in her chest as well?

Her eyes travel to his wide shoulders, armored torso, and covered neck. Even lying down, he is taught with energy. The breadth of his chest nothing like the people she's seen on Jakku who are most wasting away into the sand. He is strong. He is strength. Not wanting to linger, her eyes come to rest on his face.

Has she ever seen him before?

His features, though, are unfamiliar at first glance. Rey takes in his dark eyebrows and full lips before noticing the smaller details. There's sweat clinging to his upper lip connecting with the deep flush lingering on his cheeks and arresting nose. His expression is, like the rest of him, not serene. The grimace in his eyebrows and mouth looks permanent. A lone tear releases from one of his closed eyes to curve down his cheek and fall into his curled hair.

Her chest burns at this show of weakness. She can't breathe. Everything about him screams loneliness. It hasn't escaped her notice he hasn't once cried out for help. His fighting style, all wide angles and moving so no one has a chance to sneak up behind him, tells everything she needs to know about how he has had to fight. No one is on the platform with him. No one is rushing to help. His breathing surges becoming more erratic and he still utters no sound.

Rey can't be the one to fail him. Not when she's waited her whole life to be there for someone and to have someone be there for her. The weariness and fear course through her blood. Her only hope is someone else comes; that someone better and more able comes to save him.

The fog grows closer to his prone body.

No one comes.

Slowly, Rey crawls closer. Her knees almost touch his waist. His eyes are closed against the lights blaring down on them. She realizes she never had the chance to see what color they are. Her hands move toward his face and mimic a caress to his cheek. He doesn't move, doesn't open his eyes but keeps his face upward but stares straight ahead at the ceiling. It looks as if he's waiting for something.

Rey can't stand it. The knot in her chest pushes against her ribs making it hard to breath. She's being a coward and that's something she knows she is not. Rey hasn't survived all these years to not move at this crucial moment. All the questions and doubts and hope have to be pushed aside in favor of action. That's all this world cares about anyway. Action is what gets things done. Action is how you survive, not through things like hope and fear.

Her hand falls to his cheek. It's so cold she gasps. His eyes snap open.

Oh.

Their eyes meet.

His eyes are brown.

Her world condenses to that one color and she wishes everything could be painted in it. Jakku would be a much warmer and welcoming place if it were filled with that deep tone. If only everyone can experience the utter peace and warmth coming from them. Rey feels the pull of a smile at her lips and the answering twitch to his lips sends her soaring. The hint of teeth peaking out leave butterflies in her stomach when his head rolls back away from her hand.

His hair hands limp on the floor, the curls loose and limp against the black, and his expression changes so suddenly. That tight, cautious strength turns unguarded in its stillness.

Rey croons. Her hand cups his head in order to turn his face back to her so she can see into his eyes again. Something in her wants to find out what he was waiting for.

Her hand goes through his body which lays, solitary and unprotected, on the tallest platform in a cold, fog-filled room.

And she's alone once again. Rey wakes in a sweat before the sun rises.

It's only her and Jakku.


Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think.