Ordered

Chapter 15 - In Which Rey Tries To Keep Ren From Death's Door

(Chapter Rating: T)

The fever would take him. The blame hung on Rey's exhausted shoulders. She wrung the wet cloth again as though clearing her own conscious. For days, she'd struggled not to see him as the enemy, not to let him die. It was all in vain. The Force knew she wished him ill will, could not see the hope in him that Luke swore lived. The power, the goodness that bonded the universe together, was punishing her. The last, true padawan, equal parts Kylo Ren and Ben Solo, would die and Luke would be beside himself. Her creator's strength would not last forever. She was too unstable to take on the galaxy by herself.

Rey felt the hostility inside herself. She was more than capable of being patient, kind, and loyal. But she was quick to anger and judge. It was the reason Luke had not taught her more, the thread that started her failure as an apprentice. If she let Luke down now, she'd let everyone down.

She thought of his family. Han Solo had died for no purpose. The pain in his eyes, the plea for his son to return home, it had been for nothing. Ben would never have the chance to live the life his father imagined. And it was her fault. How would she break the news to General Organa? She wouldn't be capable of looking his mother in the eye with the story. Or the sad fact that Ben had called for his mother. It was too late now, to heal their past. The people who loved him most would be haunted by the regret and grief. Rey knew she would feel it, too.

Wife. Did that mean anything? She couldn't feel anything now, but she knew that she should. It hurt that she should. Although she'd been coerced into the blood contract by gunpoint, he'd agreed not to touch her. Promised. She'd been foolhardy to escape. Too impatient for the opportunity. She'd ignited a fire he smoldered for her inside. At a moment's word, she knew he would have stopped. But she hadn't wanted him to stop. The depth of the passion he held for her had enthralled her. It had reached her somehow. She had let him make love to her. He hadn't said the words. He didn't need to. She had felt it in his actions, the care, the touch, and grace he used with her. The emotion he had bottled up inside, he was languishing for her. In the heat of the moment, to be adored and desired by a man who wanted to be her husband, it had been delightful.

She pressed her lips to his. The softness, it remained, but he was too hot. The heat that radiated from him was almost painful. She started to cry.

"Please, Ben. We still need you. You can't die on me now."