I Am No One[Star Wars: The Force Awakens Fanfiction]

10

MASSIVE SHOUT-OUT to kardashianklub for the new cover! She said 'I Am No One' inspired her enough to make it for me. Again, let me send all my thanks to you, kardashianklub!

  "Where are we?" I quietly chant, staring out the cockpit viewport, not entirely expecting to receive an answer. A little of my anger still remains, bubbling under the rising pool of frustration inside me. Why do these people have to make everything so complicated for me? Why do I feel like things are complicated? What even is going on? And how could I let them bother me like this? "Where are we? Where are we? . . . Who am I?" I try to imitate the man from my store, practicing perfectly capturing that high-pitched, almost squeal of a tone. "Who am I? I am no one. I assure you, I have never been in a role of importance nor have I ever been someone. I am no one. I know nobody. And no one tells me anything. To ask who I am is a pointless question, for I am no one, sir. I. Am. No. One."

  "It doesn't matter how many times you say it," Captain Solo smiles, turning in his pilot's seat to face me. Another worn grin graces his lips in between words. "It's never going to be true."
  "Just because I am merely sitting in your ship or carrying a lightsaber means nothing," I am quick to retort. I don't want any of this to mean a thing. I am too scared to know what will happen, what I will find, what I will learn about myself if I go on any further. "All I wanted was to know something about it so I could sell it."

  "But, you weren't meant to sell it," he insists, taking it out from my pouch, holding it in a firm grip, showing it to me again. "You were meant to use it."

  "How could you say such? Captain, I am nobody, I assure you. I shouldn't even be here. This isn't m destiny to go out and be adventurous, to explore the Unknown Regions, or . . . or to even pretend like I matter in this world. I could be cut from time and no one would notice."
  "That's not true, Rey," Solo lowers his tone, his eyes looking me dead in mine, locked in a fierce battle, just staring for the longest time. "You have no idea how many people would be hurt if you were dead."
  "Why do you try?" I laugh, throwing my arms out to the sides, crossing the cockpit. Everyone else watches me, but, for some unknown reason, I don't mind. I've never attracted much of a crowd for any reason, but I am so upset now, so confused and lost. I wish somebody would just tell me why I was brought into this galaxy already. "I am lost, Captain Solo. I was raised by a village that eventually forgot about me. I don't know who my parents are, where I come from, what planets I bear in my blood. I know noting of me, therefore I . . . am . . . nothing."
  He turns away from me, leaning against the wall. Finn watches e with sadness while Skywalker looks guilty, remorseful. What does it even mean to this? A heavy silence hangs thick in the air, hanging in the dead silence, waiting for someone to break its fragile ties. But I can't. I don't have any more retorts or poetic phrases of nothingness. Like I have already told everyone, I am no one.
  "Corellian," I hear the star ship captain mutter under his breath, still standing in the same weary, defeated stance. "Excuse me?" I ask. "Corellian," he repeats, a tish louder as he slowly turns back to face me, tears streaming down his old, war-torn face. "You're fifty percent Corellian, fifty percent honorary Alderaanian. We don't know what she really is. All your grandparents are dead . . ." My head starts swimming, information overload, filling, gasping for breath, fighting for control, drowning in fear, confusion, chaos. He nears me, senses overload, circuit overheated, room running out of air, crowded, I've never been claustrophobic. Here I am, I realize, in every perfect detail he describes, somehow painting me. Who told him, I wonder, that he knows while I don't? Who does he think he is to withhold this information until now. Help me, lights bright, dark, going out, so confused, can't breathe. I am lost in a whirlpool of fear, fear is catching, do I even dare ask? Thoughts, jumbled, mixed, can't understand. I am destined to be a Jedi, a distant voice says. "You're a Skywalker," he says. "It's in your blood. We need you. I need you. You can't leave us now, Rey. You're our only hope." Cheesy heroic lines, looks of determination, trying to convince me to stay. You are no one, another voice says, but it's not time. It's dark, brooding, strong, intimidating, scary. But, I need you. We will finish what he started. He? He who? "Rey, I am your father." Darkness pulling me in, lights going out, screaming, me? No. Him? No. Me? I gasp for breath until all fades to black nothingness. And I am gone.

                                                                                                  OoO

  I wake up to shouting, arguing, the shooting of laser cannons beating on the Falcon's hull. I can make out figures running back and forth around the cockpit, hurrying about their tasks, in a mad rush. I slowly sit up, take in the rest of my surroundings. They left me lying in one of the seats behind those of the pilot and co-pilot, gently laid to sit perfectly in the seat, my head rested against the proper place and my arms over their rests. In front of me sits Captain Solo in the pilot's chair, yelling orders at Chewie while Finn and Luke hurry to the Falcon's belly turrets. Before I can process any more information, I force myself to remember what had happened before I passed out. I was still in the cockpit, talking to Captain Solo? What were we talking about, again? My family? My heritage? And what was it that he had said? Corellian. I'm half Corellian by blood, half Alderaanian through legal guardian grandparents. I feel like there was something about me being a Jedi somewhere in there, too. And then . . . "Rey," his voice had thundered in my ears despite the soft, gentle tone he had taken on. "I am your father."

  That's what had happened, why I had passed out. He's my father, my brain trips over itself just thinking the thought. Han Solo is my father. I am Han Solo's daughter. Wait, what? 

  "Rey," he shakes me by my shoulder, anxiously turning back to the cockpit viewport. "Rey, sweetie, come one. I need you up, kid."

  "What happened?" At the moment, I'm honestly not sure if I mean what happened while I passed out that everyone's freaking out or what happened when I was a child that I grew up without him. Either way, he prepares himself to provide an answer. When he looks to me, I can see grief in his eyes, pain collecting like a pool, trying to hide behind the shadows. And it hurts me. "I love you, sweetie. I really do. We didn't want this for you. We tried everything, but things were just better this way. I'm sorry, kid. Now, I need you to put your blood to use and help me get out of here."

  Staring back at him, peering deep into his dark, hazel eyes, I know he's not lying, that he means every word he says and I need to trust him for now. Right now, there is no option b. Trust now, questions later. "Okay. What happened?"