35. Haven

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rey and Daja attempt to make an ally for their escape network.

The Devaronian glances at his cards.

He has two— an eight and a ten— cradled in both hands. They're slanted down so only he and his company can see them.

Daja sits to his right, her forearms resting on the table. She leans in, looking at the cards then at the silver-robed man sitting across from them.

He's smirking, like he's already won.

Rey sits to the left, scanning the table coolly. Everyone's out of the game except their host and this slimy-looking merchant, cropped white hair slicked back, blue eyes twinkling smugly.

Yet, just under the confidence is a twinge of fear and a kind of grating, like something's going up when it should be going down. It feels like a lie…

Rey starts to lean in.

But Daja beats her to the punch.

"He's bluffing," she whispers in their host's ear.

The Devaronian squints, red skin wrinkling around his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me." Daja's lips twist up. "I always know when someone's bluffing."

Their host stares at his cards. Then he nods, thick horns catching the light. He sits up, squaring his shoulders.

"I'll see your raise…" He reaches for a stack of chips, lifting it gingerly and casting it on the pile. "And I'll raise you fifty more." He slides another stack towards the pot, the chips cascading over it.

For a split second, the merchant twitches.

But he regains composure quickly, that smooth, angled face becoming blank. He stares coolly at their host.

Then he shoots forward, pushing the rest of his chips into the pot. He sneers, sitting back.

The Devaronian widens his eyes. He looks down at his own chips, calculating what's left. There's just enough… barely.

He glances from side to side, trying to decide what to do.

"Trust me," Daja whispers, placing a hand on his thigh. "I know this game, and I know when someone's lying. I can practically smell it." She nods to the merchant. "This guy's playing you, and it's time to call him on his shit."

The Devaronian sucks in a breath, drumming thick fingernails on the table. He stares at his remaining chips.

Finally, he pushes out an exhale.

"You better be right, girl," he mutters, sitting up.

"I'm always right." Daja flashes a smile.

Their host shakes his head, but his lips are turned up. He leans in, pushing his remaining chips into the pot.

"Alright, skinny man." The Devaronian leans back, crossing his arms. "Let's see what makes you so confident."

The silver-robed merchant glares, upper lip twitching. He stiffens, reaching for his cards. He turns one over slowly.

A ten.

Rey holds her breath, eyes fixed on the merchant.

He turns over another.

An eleven.

She feels a cold pang of fear rip through their host. She glances over and notices his hands are shaking.

But Daja looks completely relaxed, sitting back casually, smoothing the fabric of her purple gown.

The merchant turns over his last card. The entire table gasps the instant it's revealed.

A six.

Daja snickers, wiggling as she sits up. She winks at their host.

There's a swell in his chest now. He's smiling greedily, revealing rows of yellow teeth.

The merchant bombed out. He didn't just have a bad hand but a terrible one.

Their host reaches for his cards, turning both of them over with a flair. The table erupts in light clapping, the players nodding in approval.

"Good game." A short Sullustan bobs. "Good game."

"The Devaronian wins." The dealer announces, gesturing broadly to their host.

The merchant fumes, his face growing red.

"We'll take a short break, then resume in ten minutes." The dealer clasps her hands lightly. "Be sure to visit the bar for some refreshment."

The players begin shuffling, rising from the table in waves. The silver-robed man shoots out of his chair so fast it topples over. He doesn't bother picking it up, just whips around and stomps out of the casino.

The Devaronian chuckles as he leaves.

"My dear…" He turns to Daja. "You are a gem." He taps her nose with a long, curled fingernail. "Are you sure you can't stay? I could have use for a clever girl like you."

Daja grins, leaning forward. Their host stares shamelessly down the front of her dress.

"You know, I'd love to," Daja croons. "But I can't abandon the boss." She nods to Rey. "You're not the only one who needs clever girls."

"Hmm." The Devaronian slumps. "Well, I'll just have to make good use of you while I can, won't I?" He pinches Daja's cheek.

She giggles, jutting her chest out.

It's all Rey can do not to roll her eyes.

"I'd say that last round earned you the most expensive drink on Canto Bight." Their host pats the table. "Tell me, dear, have you ever had Ipellrilla firewater?"

"Ipell-what?" Daja tilts her head.

Rey can't stop herself this time, rolling her eyes so hard it hurts. She watched Daja down six cups of firewater not two weeks ago.

"Oh, you poor thing." The Devaronian shakes his head. "You haven't lived until you've had firewater. And this casino…" He rises from his chair. "Carries a rare stock of it— completely proprietary, no one else in the galaxy has it." He adjusts his dress coat, smiling. "Shall I order us both a glass?"

"To start." Daja winks.

Their host shakes his head, amused.

"Feeling adventurous, are we?"

Daja just grins, sticking the tip of her tongue out.

"Alright, my dear." He pats her shoulder. "Don't go anywhere." He begins walking to the bar.

But he halts after two steps. He turns back, eyes on Rey like he just realized she was there.

"Would you…?" He points to her awkwardly. "Like something as well?"

"No, thanks." She gives him a tight smile.

"Ah." He nods, a little uncomfortable. Then he turns, walking away. Daja shifts in her chair, watching him go.

"Hey Rey…" She leans back, eyeing their host. "Why don't you go back to the Falcon?"

"Huh?"

"Listen." She swings around. "You know I think of you like a sister, so it's coming from a place of love when I tell you…" She scrunches her face. "You're terrible at this."

Rey jerks back.

"Terrible at what?"

"Schmoozing." Daja widens her eyes. "Flirting, being charming, buttering someone up."

Rey sighs, crossing her arms.

"It's…" Daja grunts. "A good thing, really. You're just so honest. You can't be anyone but you. But right now, it's dragging us down, and we need this." She leans in. "You said it yourself. We have to get a safe house on Canto Bight if this escape network's ever gonna work, and this guy," she sticks a thumb to the bar, "Is our best shot."

Rey sucks in a breath.

"I don't like him." She shakes her head. "He's a weasel."

"Who owns half the storehouses on this planet." Daja makes a circular motion with a finger. "We need him, Rey. We need his space and we need his influence, and in order to get it, we have to play his little game. We have to let him take us out and flirt…" She shimmies her shoulders. "And bat our eyelashes and wear his stupid dresses." She flings the fabric of her gown.

Rey sighs, looking down at her own dress.

"I feel naked," she mutters.

"You look great." Daja pats her knee. "But you're being a downer, and I need you to get outta here, so I can lock this in."

Rey furrows her eyebrows. She doesn't like the idea of leaving Daja alone…

"Rey," Daja says dryly. "I've got this guy wrapped around my little finger. Let me do this." She leans in. "Go back to the Falcon. You've had a long week, and you're only gonna hold me back if you stay."

Rey slumps, staring down.

"Ok." She starts to nod. "Ok." She looks up. "But be careful, will you?"

Daja snorts.

"You should tell him to be careful." She nods to the bar. "Once you get caught in my web, you don't get out." She squints with a glimmer.

Rey can't help but smile.

"Alright, alright." She shakes her head, rising from the chair. "Then, try to go easy on him."

"We'll see how I'm feeling." Daja sits back. "You know what firewater does to me."

"Your limit is two." Rey dips her chin.

"How about three?"

"How about one?"

The women stare at each other, unblinking.

Daja leans forward.

"Two and a half."

Rey rolls her eyes.

"Fine." She grabs her pouch hanging over the chair. "Do what you want." She brings the strap overhead. "But I'm not staying up to take care of you this time."

Daja scoffs.

"I don't need you to take care of me."

"Uh huh." Rey adjusts the strap. "Sure, you don't."

Daja looks away, a little sheepish. She straightens, turning to the table.

"Run along, now." She shoos her flippantly. "The adults are staying up late tonight."

Rey shakes her head.

"Not too late, ok?" She starts to turn.

But suddenly, she stops, shifting back.

Daja's leaning over the table now, arranging the Devaronian's chips into stacks.

"Good call, by the way."

Daja looks up.

"On the merchant." Rey tilts her head. "How did you know he was bluffing?"

She grunts.

"I always know." Daja turns back to the chips. "I've got gambler's genes. The only good thing my father gave me."

Rey purses her lips. She opens her mouth to say something but stops.

Daja's attention is fixed on the table. She appears focused, but Rey senses she's not, growing uncomfortable under her regard. There's something else too, something she can't quite put her finger on…

Rey watches for a moment.

Finally, she backs away.

"See you on the Falcon."

"See you." Daja barely looks up.

Rey turns, heading for the exit. She weaves around tables and chairs, dodging casino guests as they stumble around, sloshing their drinks.

Two women are whispering by the arched opening. One points to Rey and the other looks over, raising an eyebrow. She scans her appreciatively, lips twisting into a sly smile. She tries to catch her eye but Rey just ignores her, moving quickly to the deck.

Once outside, she sighs, looking down at herself.

This outfit's ridiculous. It barely counts as clothes. She could have died when the Devaronian gave it to her.

It's deep red and strapless, tight around the torso, flowing at the hips. The top part is see through except for at her bosom, wispy, gold designs crawling up the back and front. There's a long slit down the lower half, exposing her right leg. The worst part is that she didn't have any other shoes so she's still wearing her boots, brown and grungy.

She's felt self-conscious all night, desperately trying to cover her bare leg with the flimsy fabric.

She can't wait to get this thing off.

She picks up her pace, barreling down the steps to the next floor. She looks up at the night sky, stars twinkling across a black canopy covering the ocean. At least it's beautiful here… That's the one thing this place has going for it.

She sighs as she thinks back to the Devaronian, the way he wrinkled his nose at the slaves when he took them to visit the fathiers. And he's what counts as a humanitarian around here…

She rolls her eyes.

Her mind drifts to the Sabacc game, the money these people will throw away for fun while surrounded by some of the most destitute souls in the galaxy. She thinks about the size of the pot, the easy laughs as guests tossed in chips upon chips upon chips. She remembers the silver-robed merchant, the way he fumed when he lost everything.

And her thoughts shift to Daja.

Rey slows, meandering to the rail at the edge of the deck, extending a hand to run along its surface.

It was quite a call, catching the man's bluff. He was very good at hiding it, hardly showed the slightest sign of weakness.

She looks down, replaying the scene in her mind. She remembers what Daja said about having gambler's genes.

It's possible. Some people just seem to have a sixth sense. Finn's like that sometimes, so intuitive, one of the only people who can tell when she's putting on a front. Maybe Daja's like him, just has a natural way of reading what others work so hard to hide.

But there are other things…

Like the way she fights. Her reaction time is insanely fast, faster than anyone she trains with. It's like she can sense every move before her opponent makes it. There's only one other person Rey's fought who can do that…

She drums her fingers on the rail, then pushes away from it, picking up speed. She makes a mental note to ask Ben about this the next time she sees him. Surely there's some way to tell whether or not someone's Force-sensitive...

Her lips turn up.

And just like that, her mind is consumed with thoughts of Ben. She thinks about his handsome face, his kind eyes. She remembers the last time she saw him, just two days ago on Llanic, the way he grabbed her the moment Sylas left the room, how he couldn't seem to get enough of her.

They didn't have much of a debriefing this time. Not that they needed to. Things went off without a hitch— the bombs diffused, the rescues out of the mines before the battle ended. They've got a nice little system going. It's working well, quite well…

She surges with satisfaction, picturing the scene, curled up with Ben in his quarters. She recalls asking him about Starkiller, why he thinks he needs it. She remembers the look on his face, the feeling in his heart, when she challenged him to build his rule on respect rather than fear.

Her smile deepens.

She barrels down another flight of stairs, oblivious to the guests strolling around her. She moves quickly, a skip in her step.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

They're getting closer. She can feel it. He's starting to see, see what the bond's really about, that they're destined to end this war without shedding a drop of blood.

It's going to happen. It's been happening. His leadership has changed so much over the past year, his priorities, the way he makes decisions. He's transforming the First Order into something else, a government, less interested in war, more interested in diplomacy.

There are still problems, of course. But the Resistance can work with that. They can negotiate rather than destroy, get justice for the galaxy another way.

Suddenly, Rey darkens, her heart dropping. She pushes past a throng of guests on the way to the landing deck. She strides into an expansive lot, rows of ships stretching out before her. She walks swiftly between them, luxury models towering high.

She crosses her arms, pushing out an exhale.

She stopped by headquarters yesterday, finally got a chance to talk with Leia. She told her about the crystals, the vision, what she thinks it means, the prospect of finding a diplomatic solution to the war.

And… she didn't react how Rey expected.

She thought she'd be thrilled. Leia's a peacemaker at heart, and she's dying to see her son again. Rey assumed she'd jump at the chance to meet him at the negotiating table, find a way to end this conflict without destroying him and everything he's built.

And she was excited.

At first.

When Rey described the vision, Leia listened intently, that spark of hope in her chest, how much she yearns for reconciliation, for peace, not only for her son but for the galaxy.

But after Rey finished, she grew quiet. She pictures the image in her mind, Leia sitting back in her chair, eyes dark with thought. She spent what felt like forever processing everything Rey told her, staring at the console, an index finger at her lip. And the more she thought, the more Rey sensed the shift, hope tempering to wariness.

Finally, she sat up, dropping her hand.

"Rey…" She started slowly. "Tell me." She pursed her lips. "When you imagine this diplomatic solution, what it will look like, what do you see?"

"I…" Rey's shoulders dropped. "I imagine a negotiation, both sides coming together to hash things out, find a middle ground."

"And…" Leia narrowed her eyes. "How long do you think that would take?"

"Uh…" Rey looked up. "A few months. Maybe a year."

"A year, huh?"

"You…" Rey shifted uncomfortably. "Think it would take longer?"

Leia tsked.

"I think…" She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. "That I've overseen a lot of negotiations in my time. A lot. Some between parties with bitter differences like those between the Resistance and the First Order. Do you know what they look like?"

Rey just stared, her hands in her lap.

"They're long." Leia widened her eyes. "They can take years. And they're hard. Things get ugly. More than once…" She sighed. "I've seen them end in violence. It's a little-known irony about negotiation." Her lips twisted grimly. "Sometimes all it does is highlight differences, harden the conviction that fighting is the only way to resolve them. Negotiation can hasten a war as easily as it can prevent one."

At this, Rey sunk in her chair.

"Rey." Leia leaned forward, her eyes gentle. "I'm not saying I don't think it's possible. I'm not saying I won't help you." She placed a hand on her knee. "You know I believe in you. You know I think you and my son are destined to play a crucial role in this war." Rey could feel Leia's pride, see it reflected in her eyes.

But soon, her face fell. She sat back, growing solemn.

"But if we're going explore the possibility of negotiating with the First Order rather than fighting them, I need you to think about the bigger picture."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that this war is about more than you and Ben." Leia dipped her chin. "It's about General Hux. It's about the rest of the First Order, how they're responding to my son's leadership. Based on our intel, he's in a delicate position right now. Opening negotiations with us might not be the wisest decision."

Rey looked down.

"And we have to think about people on our side too, hardliners like Poe and Madani who won't accept anything less than the total dismantling of the First Order." Leia leaned in. "There are many players on the board, Rey, and we have to consider how they'll react to our actions."

"But, we can convince them." Rey shot forward. "We can show them there's another way, a better one. If they could just see what the First Order is becoming, the kind of leader Ben can be, who he really is." She widened her eyes. "I can convince him to shut down Starkiller, I know I can."

"I'm happy to hear that." Leia nodded. "But even if you could, you know our qualms with the First Order extend far beyond Starkiller."

Rey sighed, crossing her arms.

"Even the so-called good things they're doing have another side the them. For example…" Leia paused. "Take what my son told you about why he's hoarding the galaxy's resources."

"To prevent future wars." Rey sat up. "It's a good idea, building a foundation for peace."

"True…" Leia said carefully. "But what do you think Madani would say to that?"

Rey pushed out an exhale.

"Probably…" She shifted a little. "Something about the dangers of monopolies."

"Exactly."

Rey twitched, tightening her arms.

"And what about the fact that the First Order is only in power because it destroyed the previous government along with billions of lives?" Leia raised an eyebrow. "No matter what good they do, they can't erase the past. People still want justice for Hosnian. They want the First Order to answer for their actions, and they're right to do so."

Rey bristles, cringing at the memory. She shakes her head, returning her focus to the present. She looks up and around, catching her bearings.

Ah. There it is. The Falcon's straight ahead, near the back of the deck.

It's not like it's hard to find. It sticks out like a sore thumb, a dinky, scraped-up freighter surrounded by luxury ships.

Rey reaches into her pouch, searching for the remote. She slows as she approaches, still scrounging. Finally, she finds it buried at the bottom. She presses the button as she pulls it out.

The Falcon creaks open, the ramp lowering to the ground. Rey grabs the strap of her pouch, bringing it overhead as she hops on the ramp. She ascends into the ship, closing it behind her and shoving the remote back in her pouch. She drops it on the floor, immediately turning to the lounge.

She sinks on the edge of the seat by the hologame table, bringing a boot up. She starts to untie it, her fingers moving quickly. She tries to focus on the moment, the comfort of the ship, the opportunity for some much-needed rest.

But she still hears Leia's voice in her head.

Rey jerks at the heel of her boot, pulling hard. She moves to the other one, her shoulders tense and rigid. She yanks it off, casting it to the side, not seeing where it lands. She pulls off her socks, then scoots back on the lounge, drawing her knees into her chest. She furrows her eyebrows, staring ahead.

For a minute, she doesn't move. She just stares, arms wrapped tightly around her legs.

Finally, she lets out an exhale. She shifts, propping her feet on the table, the slit of her dress falling open. She crosses her arms, resting against the lounge.

Part of her is angry, frustrated with Leia's response.

Couldn't she have been just a little more encouraging? This is about her son. Shouldn't she be willing to do anything to get him back?

But it seems she can't separate her feelings as a mother from her work with the Resistance. She considers everything in context of how it affects her leadership— her mission, her goals.

She's like Ben in this way.

Or he's like her.

Rey sighs, her arms falling to her side.

As much as she hates that Leia dumped cold water all over her hopes for the future…

She knows she's right. The more she thinks about it— Poe, Madani, Finn, everything they hate about the First Order, everything it still is even as it's becoming something else…

Trying to end this war through negotiation will be tough. Very tough.

It can be done. She knows it, feels it in her heart, that this is what breaking the mold means— showing the galaxy how to make peace even through the bitterest differences.

But, it'll be a process. A long one. And hard. Things will get worse before they get better…

Rey sinks, closing her eyes.

It's painful. The uncomfortable truth.

She'd been feeling so good since meeting Ben the kyber cave. They've never been closer— never more intimate, never more open, never more understanding. She felt like they were on the verge, just a few steps from the end, this close to achieving their destiny.

But after meeting with Leia, it feels far away again, this future where she and Ben become what they were meant to be.

Part of her wants to shove reality to the side, just focus on the happiness of the moment, how right it feels to be close to him. Can't she just let it all fall away, hide in the comfort of their connection, the way he makes her feel?

She squeezes her eyes shut. She wants this so badly it feels like her insides are burning.

Wait…

No.

That's something else.

Rey's eyes fly open.

She shoots up, snapping her feet from the table. She concentrates on her core, that warmth stretching out and into her limbs. She focuses for a moment, makes sure she's not fooling herself with wishful thinking.

Soon, her lips turn up.

She takes a deep breath, basking in the unmistakable.

She scoots to the edge of the lounge, searching, impatient for the sight of him. She looks left, then right.

Suddenly, the room is full of him, his feelings washing over her, excitement and eagerness intensifying her own. She snaps to the technical station to find him standing in front of it.

His eyes are on her, a smile on his lips.

She stands, turning to face him. The moment she does, his eyes widen.

At first, she knits her eyebrows, confused.

Then she remembers.

Oh right. She's still wearing that stupid dress.

"Don't say anything." She lifts a finger.

"I…" He turns his head. "Wouldn't dream of it." He steps forward, scanning her body.

She shakes her head, her cheeks growing warm.

He moves towards her, and she puts a hand on her hip, trying to catch his eye.

But he's still looking down.

"It's not like I would choose something like this." She gestures to herself. "I had to accept my host's hospitality, no matter how self-serving."

"Uh huh." He halts, staring down the front of her dress.

Her cheeks are on fire now. She tries not to smile, but the effort does nothing except make her face hurt.

"It's not like I have any use for it. I'll probably get rid of it after tonight."

"No, no." He slips a hand behind her waist. "I think you should keep it." He descends, pulling her close.

She can't stop smiling as his lips connect with hers. He grips her tightly, an arm around her back, a hand cupping the nape of her neck. She brushes away a lock of his hair, melting into him. They build heat quickly, their mouths opening into each other, his hands searching, moving along the curves of her body.

Suddenly, he pulls back and before she realizes his intention, she's off her feet and he's striding out of the lounge with her in his arms.

"Whoa." She clings to him. "Ben, do you even know where you're going?"

"Please." He grunts. "I know this ship like the back of my hand."

"Um…" She glances at the bunks as they pass. "It's kind of a mess back here."

"Well then." He follows the curve of the hall. "You're maintaining the tradition of keeping this place a shithole." He stops in front of the captain's quarter's, pressing the panel with an elbow. "Is there still Wookie hair on everything?"

"Not as much as there used to be." She looks around the room as he enters. "But there's a lot of Porg feathers in the circuits."

He knits his eyebrows but doesn't say anything, heading straight for the bed.

Rey glances around self-consciously, eyeing the twisted sheets, the dirty clothes flung every which-a-ways.

But Ben doesn't seem to notice. He throws her on the bed, then crawls on top of her, pulling her with him as he moves back. He has that hungry look as he pins both her arms, capturing her lips with his. For a moment, she just surrenders, melting into this feeling of being wanted so badly. He slides a hand down her arm to her chest, stopping at the bosom, feeling warm flesh covered by thin fabric.

She weaves her fingers through his hair, wrapping a leg around him, the slit of her dress falling open. He moves his hand over curves of her body, down to her hip, then her bare thigh. He grips the skin just under her backside, grinding against her.

She grips dark locks of his hair as he takes her hungrily, again and again, his hand sliding down the back of her thigh then up again. His lips start to travel, moving along the curve of her jaw to her neck, then her chest.

"You should definitely…" He kisses the tops of her breasts. "Definitely…" He runs his hand over sheer fabric hugging her torso. "Keep this dress."

Rey smiles, lifting her head.

"I guess it's not so bad."

He shoots forward, pinning her arms.

"It's sinful," he whispers in her ear. "You're a damn hazard. Just the sight of you could cause a galactic incident."

"I suppose I should stay here, then. Keep from causing trouble."

"Oh, you're not going anywhere." He pulls back, shaking his head. "I have you right where I want you." He presses her forearms to the mattress.

She juts her chin up as if to challenge this, but doesn't struggle. They both know she's right where she wants to be.

For a moment, he just stares at her, eyes softening. He moves a hand to her cheek, brushing aside a strand of her hair.

"I miss you." He caresses her skin. "It feels like it's been forever."

She stifles a laugh.

"You literally saw me two days ago."

"That long?" He tilts his head.

She giggles.

His lips turn up as he descends.

"I need to schedule more invasions." He kisses soft skin next to her ear. "Get you on the shuttle more often."

"Please don't." She widens her eyes. "I can barely keep up as it is."

He just grunts.

"By the way…" She sits up a little, wriggling her arm free.

He releases it, pulling back.

"I debriefed the team after we left, and guess what?"

"What?"

"Not a single person saw one of the troopers abuse the rescues." She smiles, propping on her elbows.

"Good." He nods, tracing the curve of her waist.

"It was a huge improvement from Kaddak. What did you do?"

"Made a new rule." He shrugs. "You get what you give."

"What does that mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," he says absently, eyes drifting over her body. "If a trooper hurts one of slaves, he gets the exact same thing done to him, with the punishment doled out by me." He descends, kissing her neck.

"That's… a bit extreme."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Hm." She narrows her eyes.

"Rey." He pulls up. "I don't want to talk about Llanic. I want to talk about this dress." He grips her hip, scanning her body. "And how you need more like it."

"Yes," she says dryly. "Because I have so many occasions to wear a dress."

"Is this not an occasion?"

"I suppose it is." She brushes his hair back, smiling.

"Good." He grips the flesh under her thigh. "Then, let's enjoy it." He captures her lips, pulling her up the bed.

Suddenly, she hisses, a sharp pain at her back.

"What's wrong?" He pulls away.

"Uh…" She lifts her shoulder, reaching behind it. She pulls one of Daja's hair pins from the sheets. "Nothing." She tosses the pin from the bed, then looks at Ben. "Now, where were we?" She wraps her arms around him.

But she immediately jerks back.

"Oh!" She moves her palms to his chest. "Before I forget, I need to ask you something."

"Right now?" He groans. "Can't it wait?"

"If I don't ask now, I won't remember later."

He rolls his eyes, descending to kiss her neckline.

"Come on," she whines. "It's just a quick, simple question."

"Rey." His lips move down. "I'm busy."

She shakes her head but can't help smiling.

"Ben…" She runs her fingers through his hair then grips a chunk of it, pulling up.

He sighs, shifting forward.

"Fine." He plants a forearm on the mattress, hovering over her. "What's your question?"

She takes a breath.

"How…?" She purses her lips. "Can you tell if someone's Force-sensitive?"

"Rey..." He twitches. "That is not a simple question."

"Then, just give me the short answer."

"I…" His eyes flit up. "I don't know. It's complicated. There are varying degrees of Force-sensitivity, and it's more prevalent in some races than others."

"But…" She sits up a little. "Is there something unique about Force-sensitives, like a kind of mark or a sign?"

"Yes," he deadpans. "They all have halos."

She rolls her eyes.

"I'm serious, Ben. Is there not some way to tell a Force-sensitive when you see one, something about their manner, their nature, or a feeling of some sort, like a particular energy?"

"Sure," he says dryly. "They carry the sense of the universe about them yet bask in their unimportance. Happy now?" He descends.

But Rey pushes him away, flying upright.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head. "Just some stupid limerick." He puts a hand on her shoulder, pushing her to the mattress.

But she grabs his wrist, flinging him from her and scooting to the edge of the bed.

"Rey…?"

She hops up and heads for the door.

"Rey…?"

She presses the panel, then walks into the hall.

"Rey, where are you going?"

She ignores him, charging to the lounge. She moves quickly, straight past the table to the technical station. She crouches in front of it, sliding a drawer open.

"Rey!" Ben calls from the hall, footsteps approaching. "What's going on?"

She reaches into the drawer, scooping up what she's come for in a single motion. She rises, turning around.

Ben enters the lounge, looking confused.

"Rey…?"

She doesn't answer, just charges straight to the table, dropping her load on top of it.

He tilts his head, suddenly very curious.

"What's this?" He reaches for the musty stack of books.

"These…" She places a hand on top of them. "Are the Jedi texts. And what you just said is in one of them."

"What!?" He instantly sits down, sliding across the seat. He stares at the books, transfixed. "Rey…" He reaches for the stack but seems hesitant to touch it. "Where did you get these?" He places his hands carefully on either side.

"Uh…" She shifts a little. "I borrowed them from the Jedi temple on Ahch-To."

He looks up, narrowing his eyes.

"Fine." She puts a hand on her hip. "I stole them. It's not like Skywalker was doing anything with them."

He grunts, sliding the texts towards him. He has that look in his eyes now, a boyish excitement like someone just gave him a new toy.

"These…" He places a hand on the stack. "Are extremely rare documents." He removes the book at the top, placing it on the table. "Where have you been keeping them?"

"Just…" She gestures to the technical station. "In that drawer over there."

He snaps up.

"You're kidding," he spits. "Rey, that is not the proper way to store documents like these. They're delicate. You should give them to the First Order."

"Oh, yeah?" She crosses her arms. "So, you can what? Burn them?"

"No." He jerks back. "So, we can preserve them, maintain them properly."

"But, why?" She knits her eyebrows. "I thought you hated the Jedi, wanted to wipe all evidence of their existence from the galaxy?"

"That..." He twitches. "Was Snoke. He's the one who hated the Jedi. I…" His jaw tightens. "I just…" He stares that the books, tense and rigid. "I just hated Skywalker."

Rey softens, uncrossing her arms.

"But he's dead now." He shakes his head. "And I don't see any reason not to study the Jedi, if only to learn from their mistakes." He slips a finger under the cover of the book, opening it.

"Well, good luck." She turns her head. "Those texts are complete nonsense."

"Yeah?" He looks up. "How so?"

She walks to the other side of the table, taking a seat on the lounge.

"For one…" She sidles next to him. "They're all written in different languages, some too old to translate."

"First Order archives could help with that."

"And for two…" She ignores him, extending a hand to the book. "What I have been able to translate is just…" She turns a page, wrinkling her nose. "I don't know. I thought they would have instructions of some sort, like how to do things through the Force, but instead it's like…" She flits her head. "Poetryor something."

He grunts like he's not surprised.

"For example, that passage you just quoted…" She reaches for the brown book in the middle of the stack.

He hastily removes the ones on top of it, setting them to the side.

She starts rifling through the pages, searching. She feels Ben's eyes on her, senses him growing anxious.

"Hey, Rey…" He looks over nervously. "Careful with those pages."

She sighs.

She withdraws her hand, straightening, then sticks out an index finger, barely touching the edge of the page as she turns it very slowly. She goes like this from page to page, taking several seconds to lift each one, then let it fall to the other side.

He's not bothered by this. In fact, he's seems perfectly fine with it.

She shakes her head, picking up her pace.

"Here." She stops when she gets to the right page. "This is the full passage. I translated it a little differently from the way you said it, but it's the same idea."

He leans in.

"It's something like…" She points at the page. "A master is forever a student. A leader is forever a follower. To be one with the Force is to accept its contradictions, to hold the universe in your hands yet revel in your nothingness."

Ben furrows his eyebrows.

"See?" She sits back. "Now, what's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, Rey." He shrugs. "I'm no Jedi."

"But you heard that phrase or something like it somewhere." She widens her eyes. "Where did you hear it? What was the context?"

He flinches, turning away.

"It's…" He stares down. "Something a friend of Skywalker's used to say."

"What friend?" She perks up.

He shifts uncomfortably. She feels his heart sink to his stomach. It's a familiar feeling, one she senses in him often…

Shame.

"Just…" He takes a breath. "Someone who's not around anymore. He wasn't even Force-sensitive, but worshipped the Jedi, always spouting their philosophy."

Rey observes silently, her hands in her lap. Part of her wants to press him, find out more about this man and why he quoted this particular line.

But she decides against it, her heart heavy with the weight of his guilt.

"Well, what about this one." She reaches for the book, flipping a couple of pages. She stops, pointing to a passage. "This one's strange. I translated it like this." She clears her throat. "All rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is never full. All trees grow, yet they never reach the sky. The wind is everywhere, yet can never be caught. To know wisdom is to accept these things and ponder them in your heart."

"So…" She leans against the lounge. "What's that? What does it mean?"

Ben's lips twist wryly.

"It means whoever wrote it spent too much time in practiced solitude in the middle of nowhere."

"I'm serious, Ben." She rolls her head against the seat. "You trained as a Jedi. Surely, you can tell me something."

"I can tell you one thing." He sits up. "The author of that passage intended for it to be obscure, to be something the reader would have to reflect on and figure out."

"But why?" She knits her eyebrows. "Isn't the whole point of recording these things to preserve Jedi knowledge and pass it on? Wouldn't the author want to be as clear and straightforward as possible?"

He snorts.

"You don't know the Jedi." He shakes his head. "They were never clear or straightforward. They spoke in riddles, almost like a code."

"A code?"

"Yes." He reaches for the open book, sliding it to him. "For the initiated, something only they can understand."

"You mean other Jedi?"

He nods, scanning the page.

"The Jedi were very protective of their knowledge." He turns carefully to the next one. "They were quite exclusive, especially in their later years."

"What does that mean?"

"It means…" He glances at her. "They were careful about who they accepted into their little club. Certain undesirables were kept out."

"Like dark siders?"

"Or anyone they thought would be susceptible to it." He turns another page. "Slaves, for example."

"What!?" She shoots up. "Why?"

"They were thought to be particularly vulnerable to fear and anger. The Jedi would accept them if they were very young, but anyone who was old enough to remember being captive…" He tsks, turning his head.

"But…" Rey sputters. "It's not their fault they were treated so badly. If anyone deserved a second chance, an opportunity to get away from it all, it would be them."

"I didn't say I agreed with it, Rey." His eyes are still on the book. "I just said it's what they did."

She pushes out an exhale, crossing her arms.

"They would've turned you away too, you know."

She snaps to him.

"They didn't train Force-sensitives after a certain age." He turns a page. "Maybe if you'd been found as a young child…"

She turns away, twitching. She leans against the lounge, eyebrows furrowed.

Ben grazes through the text, stopping every so often to examine a passage.

Rey stares ahead, lost in her own mind, consumed by a prickly feeling under her skin.

She sighs, uncrossing her arms.

"What?" He glances at her.

"It's just…" She sits up, eyeing the books. "The more I learn about the Jedi…" She scrunches her face. "The more I don't like them."

"Yes, well…" He flips a page. "They're gone now, victims of their own hubris. All that's left are remnants." He pats the book. "Not unlike the Sith."

She tilts her head.

"Were the Sith like the Jedi, exclusive, turning away slaves and such?"

"The Sith were even more exclusive." He widens his eyes. "For the longest time, only two of them were allowed to exist at once, the master and the apprentice."

She raises her eyebrows.

He keeps his focus on the book, hovering over a passage.

She leans against the lounge, crossing her legs and pulling the fabric of her dress over her thigh. She rolls her head back, staring at the ceiling.

For a minute, they're both silent, him studying the book, her staring into space.

"You know…" She sits up. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said in the kyber cave."

"Oh yeah?" He turns a page. "Which part?"

"Your interpretation of the vision, how you think we're supposed to build a new understanding of the Force."

He snaps up, giving her his full attention.

"I've been thinking about how we could do that." She shifts to face him. "Create something new, something different from the Sith or the Jedi."

"Like a new order?"

"Yes." She nods. "But only after we explore."

"What do you mean by explore?"

"Like…" She purses her lips. "Open a school? For Force-sensitives? Somewhere we can learn and grow and figure out what we want to be."

"Hm." He looks down. "Another academy, huh?"

"More like a haven." She rests her forearms on the table. "A safe place without expectations or judgement where people like us can connect and learn from each other."

He stares down, eyebrows furrowed. She senses his wariness.

"It wouldn't be anything like Skywalker's academy." She shakes her head. "Not if we don't want it to be. We'll be in charge, the ones who make the rules."

"That could be…" His lips turn up. "Interesting."

"And fun."

He looks at her, a glint in his eye.

"Imagine it, Ben." She scoots towards him. "A school run by us, a place where we can experiment, unrestrained, do all the things the Sith and Jedi never did."

He leans against the lounge, eyes flickering.

"We could build something completely different." She leans in. "No exclusivity, no obscure texts—"

"No trials." He sits up. "No murderous masters."

"And slaves would be welcomed." She widens her eyes. "Encouraged even."

"The Knights could be part of it, maybe." He brings a hand to his jaw. "I could re-train them."

"Yes!" She brightens. "You could show them a new way, no dark side—"

"No light side."

"Just the Force."

He drops his hand, nodding.

"I like the sound of that."

For a moment, he stares ahead, black eyes alive, visions of the future dancing across them. Then, he glances at her.

She squints with a glimmer.

He smiles, lifting a hand to her face and leaning in.

They connect softly.

"You know," he murmurs, tracing her jaw. "If we were to do this, we'd have to come together, live at the school."

"Well, of course." Her lips graze his. "We'd be running things, after all." She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

"We should keep it on the Supremacy, then."

"Or not." She pulls back, shooting him a look.

He sighs, withdrawing.

"We'll…" He shifts away. "Have to work out the details." He sits back. "It's not like we'll be doing this anytime soon." He crosses his arms, staring down.

Rey turns forward, bringing her hands to her lap.

For a minute, they sit in silence.

"Do you…?" She bows, closing her eyes. "Ever wish there was some way to jump through time, lightspeed to the part where we've finally figured everything out?"

"All the time." He articulates each word.

"Me too." She takes a breath. "I think about it more and more, imagining the future, what it might look like." She opens her eyes. "It's so much better than thinking about the present."

"Isn't that the truth," he mutters.

She purses her lips.

"How have things been for you, lately?" She nudges him. "With… Hux and everything?"

His jaw hardens.

"Same bullshit."

"So, things aren't getting any worse?"

"Rey." He twitches, uncrossing his arms. "I don't want to talk about this. I have to think about it enough as it is."

She nods, looking down. She senses him soften.

"What about you?"

She looks up.

"Are you more on top of things now, getting your network off the ground?"

"Not exactly." She stiffens.

He slides the open book in front of him to the side.

"Running into trouble?" He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"Yes." She looks down.

"Like what?"

"Like…" She sighs. "A couple of weeks ago, a merchant who was central to the escape route came to work to find her business burned to the ground."

His eyebrows shoot up.

"By a slaver?"

"Unconfirmed." She crosses her arms. "But almost certainly, yes."

"Can you find someone to replace her?"

"That's why we're here." She sits up. "Getting a safe house on Canto Bight would patch the gap, but…" She shakes her head. "Even if we did, it's only a matter of time before it happens again, before someone else loses everything because they're helping us." She sighs. "Then all the volunteers we've worked so hard to recruit will back out and the whole network will fall apart." She droops.

He watches silently. For a minute, he says nothing, just shares in her emotions, a heavy, defeated feeling.

But soon, she senses a shift.

She looks up.

His eyes are narrowed, something brewing in them.

"Have you…?" He purses his lips. "Considered a more aggressive strategy?"

She knits her eyebrows.

"I mean…" He straightens. "So far, your whole project has been about rescues, getting slaves away from their masters."

"Uh… yeah." She shrugs. "That's kind of the whole point."

"Well, have you thought about coming at it a different way?"

"What way?"

"Like instead of rescuing slaves, maybe you should go after the slavers."

"You mean attack them?" She jerks back.

"Exactly." There's a gleam in his eyes. "They're the root of the problem, aren't they?"

She looks down.

"And they're the ones who drew first blood, going after your allies. Maybe you should show them you don't take that sort of thing lightly."

"That…" She presses her lips together. "Could be a dangerous game. Violence invites violence, and I don't want to start a war."

"You don't have to kill anyone." He shakes his head. "You just have to hit them where it hurts."

She glances up.

"Their pockets." He leans in.

"Maybe…" She looks away, staring into space.

"It's just an idea." He slides his forearms from the table. "It's your project, your call."

She shifts in her seat, thinking. Soon, her eyes drift, scanning the Jedi texts strewn across the table.

"You could be right." She leans over, reaching for an open book. "Maybe it's time to take a different tact." She slides it towards her, studying the yellowed pages. "Let old things die." She snaps it closed.

"Don't give up on these just yet." He points to the texts. "There's centuries of philosophy in here." He taps the stack in front of him. "You never know what you might find."

"Look at you…" She squints teasingly. "Defending the Jedi."

He rolls his eyes, pushing the stack away.

She turns, scooting to the edge of the lounge.

"I think I'll just rely on my instincts for now." She rises. "I've learned a lot more doing that than I ever did from one of these." She starts gathering the books.

"You're not putting them back in that drawer, are you?" He shoots forward.

"Where else am I supposed to put them?"

"Don't you have a safe box or something?" He waves around the ship. "Something air tight, free of contaminates?"

"No." Her eyes flit up. "Why would I have something like that?"

"For storing valuables, like ancient, irreplaceable documents."

She sighs.

"Sorry." She picks up the books. "No safe boxes here. But if it makes you happy, I'll put them in one of the secret compartments."

"What would make me happy is getting them off this ship and into an archive."

She rolls her eyes, turning to the main hall.

"I'm serious, Rey." He calls as she walks away. "Those are delicate materials. They need to be kept safe, not shoved in a cargo hold and carted all over the damn galaxy."

"Uh huh." She shifts the books into the crook of her arm, crouching.

"Don't just throw them in there. Put them in a container or something."

"Of course." She lifts part of the floor and drops the books in the opening.

"Do you have any idea what's been in those compartments?" She hears him scoot across the seat. "I once opened one to find it full of paddy frogs, slimy, writhing—"

"Ben!" She groans, rising. She walks back into the lounge to find him perched on the edge of the seat, arms crossed.

"That was fast." He narrows his eyes.

"Yes, well…" She puts a hand on her hip. "Those compartments are practically empty."

He glares at her.

"You do know how disgusting this ship is, don't you?" He dips his chin. "Half the galaxy's scum tracked their grime all over it. No amount of cleaning can get rid of all the—"

"You know what I think?" She interrupts, striding towards him.

"What?" He twitches.

She stops just in front of him.

"I think…" She lifts a knee, sliding it across the seat beside him.

He glances at her bare thigh peeking through the slit of her dress.

"That you need a more positive association with this ship."

"Is that right?" He looks up.

"That's right." She crawls on top of him.

He widens his eyes, slipping his hands around her hips as she straddles him.

"What did you have mind?" He grips her flesh.

She just smiles, leaning in.

Her lips connect with his, soft and playful. She runs her fingers through his hair, squeezing gently with her thighs.

He pulls her in at the hips, his breath changing quickly, an even stream transforming to staccato exhales. Their blood rises, warm bodies pressed close, every subtle movement stoking that inner flame, the need to feel more, taste more.

They open their mouths into each other, their kisses growing hotter, hungrier. He slides a hand down her bare thigh then back up, slipping under the fabric of her dress.

Suddenly, he swings around, gripping her flesh and pulling down, pressing her groin to his. Her back is to the table now, the end of it just a few inches away. She scoots into him, gripping his hair as she kisses him passionately.

And just like that, everything starts to fall away, the ship, the crisp air, the tattered cover of the seat at her knees until there's nothing but their bodies, their breath, their blood.

They become lost in the language of passion, panting and hot, wet kisses, a tangle of limbs and searching hands. They're consumed in sensations, how much they crave the intimacy, how it seems to enclose them in a secret place, just for them.

Suddenly, she pulls back, moving a hand to his cheek. His eyes search hers, growing gentle as he reads her.

She leans in, wrapping her arms around him, her lips at his ear.

"I love you."

She closes her eyes as she whispers the words.

"I love you." He nuzzles her neck.

She squeezes her eyes shut, surrendering to every sensation, every nuance of closeness, emotional and physical.

Finally, she pulls back, sliding her palms to his chest.

For a moment, they just gaze at one another, lips turned up in knowing smiles, like a shared secret.

He tugs at her waist, starting to lean in.

"Wait!" She pushes against him.

He stops, knitting his eyebrows.

"Look around." She lifts a finger, making a circular motion.

He glances at the room.

"What?"

"From now on…" She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "Whenever you think about this ship, I want you to remember this moment."

He instantly rolls his eyes.

She bobs on top of him, grinning.

He just shakes his head, leaning in.

"You…" He murmurs between kisses. "Are a mess."

"You know you love it." Her lips graze his.

"I love you." He cups her cheek. "Not your mess."

"Yes, but the mess is part of me." She tilts her head. "It's the wonderful thing about love. It tricks you into loving things you otherwise wouldn't."

He doesn't respond, just curls his fingers behind her neck as he presses his lips to hers, warm and gentle. They start to lose themselves, one kiss blending into the next, then the next…

Suddenly, Rey snaps back.

"What?" He withdraws.

A second later, his face falls.

He senses her sadness, knows what it means.

She's getting better at recognizing it, what it feels like just before the bond ends. It's a kind of severing, like a piece of her just broke off and started to drift away.

She shifts off of him, settling on the seat. Both their hearts drop, filling with an ache they've come to know so well.

She gives him a reassuring smile.

"I'll see you." She lifts a hand to his face.

But he's gone by the time she gets there.

She drops her hand, staring at the space where he used to be. She leans forward, placing a palm on the seat, feeling traces of his warmth.

Then she sighs, closing her eyes.

She turns, sitting back against the lounge, her arms falling limply at her side. She hangs her head.

But the next instant, she snaps up.

She's learned how to deal with this, the loneliness that always follows the bond. Instead of wallowing in it, she reflects, remembers what happened, everything they said, everything they experienced.

She starts at the beginning, when she first felt his presence. What was it she was thinking about…?

That's right.

She was thinking about Leia, her warning about the road ahead, how she just wanted to shove it all to the side and focus on Ben, how close they're becoming.

Her lips turn up as she remembers his eyes widening when he saw her, the way he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. She remembers the tangled passion, Daja's pin at her back, asking him how to tell if someone's Force-sensitive.

She runs through all of it in her mind, every detail, every nuance, every touch, until she gets to the very end, those final seconds, lost in one another on the lounge seat.

Then, she compares the end to the beginning, what she was thinking about when she felt the bond, what they were doing when it closed.

"Hm." She shifts forward. She sits still for a minute.

Then she drums her fingers on the table.

She considers the future, where she and Ben are headed, what they'll have to get through on the way. Tough times are coming… very tough…

But instead of sinking, she smiles.

She sidles to the edge of the seat, then rises, turning to stroll to the captain's quarters.

There's still a smile on her lips when she gets there. She presses the panel and walks in, unzipping her dress as she heads straight to the closet. She pulls it off and starts rifling through to find a clean shirt and pants.

But she's only half paying attention. Her mind is still on the bond, on Ben and their future.

Things will get hard. They always do.

But no matter how bad it gets, they'll always have what they experienced tonight, their connection, a haven they can escape into and remember why it's all worth it.

Maybe that's why the bond brought them together this time. Maybe it was trying to show them how they'll survive the road ahead, how they'll make it through all the challenges and the headaches.

She grabs a shirt and pulls it on overhead.

Yes, that must be it.

She grabs a pair of pants, then turns, heading to the bed. She kicks aside Daja's jacket on the way, glancing around.

They really should clean up in here…

She starts pulling on her pants, her mind drifting to Daja and Devaronian.

She wrinkles her nose.

Poor thing. She can't believe Daja's as good as she is at flirting with that horrible man.

She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms.

And it'll all be for nothing, probably. Even if he agrees to help them tonight, he'll back out the moment he realizes what's at risk, everything he could lose.

She sucks in a breath.

What a waste.

A waste of their time, a waste of their energy…

She looks down, hardening. She stares at the floor for a minute, tense and rigid.

Then she narrows her eyes.

Suddenly, she shoots up and charges for the door. She presses the panel, scurrying down the hall to search for her boots.

Ah! There's one.

She retrieves it along with her socks, then looks for the other. She finds it quickly, settling on the lounge to pull her socks on, then her boots.

She tightens the laces, then rises, striding to her pouch. She scoops it up in a single motion, heading for the exit. She presses a panel and the ship creaks open, the ramp descending slowly. She starts down it before it touches the ground, hopping off as she scrounges through her pouch.

She presses the remote to close the ship, not bothering to look back as she charges between the rows of luxury liners. She brings the strap of her pouch overhead, eyes forward, mind fixed on her destination.

She needs to get Daja out of there. There's no reason for her to suffer for nothing…

They can't patch up the escape route until they deal with the real problem first.

The slavers.

Ben's right. She needs to send them a message, show them they're not the only ones who can retaliate.

They went after one of her allies. Now she's going after them.

She picks up her pace, moving quickly down the landing deck. She charges through the exit, turning sharply, so focused on the casino she doesn't notice the boy just below.

She runs right into him and he falls back, hands flying out to catch himself.

"I'm sorry!" She gasps, crouching.

He pushes up, a pang of fear shooting through him.

"It's ok." She reaches for him, but he steps back, eyes wide.

"I'm not going to hurt you." She drops her hand.

He continues back, then swings around, running away.

"Wait!" She rises.

The boy halts, stiffening.

Rey walks forward.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?"

He looks up, guarded.

"You were with the fathiers when we came to visit today, weren't you?" She stops beside him.

He just stares.

"That's a big job, taking care of animals like that."

He squints, confused, like he's trying to read her.

Soon, he softens.

Rey smiles, kneeling before him.

"What's your name?"

His eyes flicker. Now that he's in front of her, she can see him better, chubby cheeks, messy brown hair peeking out from a worn cap. He can't be a day older than ten…

He looks down, shuffling his feet.

"Boy," he finally answers.

"Boy?" She jerks back. "That's your name?"

He shrugs.

"We're all boy. Or girl."

Rey sinks, her heart filling with a mixture of compassion and anger.

They can't even bother to give them names…?

The boy's regarding her curiously now, brown eyes soft.

"Have you…?" She purses her lips. "Ever heard of Luke Skywalker?"

He immediately brightens.

"Everyone knows Luke Skywalker."

She lets out a laugh.

"I guess they do, don't they?" She studies the boy. "Well…" She leans in. "You look more like a Luke to me."

He perks up, a smile tugging his lips. He's clearly pleased by this…

"You…" She looks down. "You're a slave, aren't you?" She glances up.

His face falls. He nods once.

Her throat tightens. She lifts a hand, extending it tentatively.

The boy flinches but doesn't back away.

She touches his cheek, brushing away a bit of dirt.

"Will you do me a favor?"

He narrows his eyes.

"Will you remember me, remember what I look like?"

He looks confused but nods.

"Good." She smiles. "Because you're going to see me again." She keeps her eyes fixed on his. "And when you do, you won't be a slave anymore."

He jerks back, his confusion deepening.

But Rey feels something else too, something lurking beneath the surface…

Hope.

She stares at him, unflinching, surging with resolve.

And that spark of hope in the boy's chest grows a little stronger.

Her lips turn up.

She winks at him. Then, she rises.

"It's nice to meet you." She extends a hand.

He takes it.

"I'll look forward to meeting you again." She shakes once, then releases. "In the meantime…" She leans down. "Never stop hoping, ok?"

He stares up, eyes wide, not sure what to make of this.

She reaches for his shoulder, squeezing gently. Then she straightens, stepping around the boy and heading to the stairs leading to the casino.

"See you around, Luke," she calls back, tossing him a glance over her shoulder.

He just stands, gaping as she walks away.

She barrels up the stairs, reaching the top with a spring in her step. She glides down the open deck, stars twinkling above, casino guests laughing as they stroll by.

Rey hardly notices them.

She's too lost in her own mind, planning. Something tells her she'll be up late tonight… She wants to talk things through with Daja, get some ideas.

She'll be on board, of course. Daja loves a good fight. So many on her team do…

She runs through a catalogue of faces, the ones who will be best for this sort of thing.

She barrels up another flight of stairs.

Yes, she'll have no trouble putting together a task force. Good thing, too. She wants to move on this quickly, strike before one of the slavers goes after another ally.

She juts her chin up, striding forward.

The slavers think they've got her figured out, backed into a corner.

But she's about to change the game.