Ordered

Chapter 17 - In Which Ren Teases Rey

(Chapter Rating: T? Cursing)

Back at Luke's hovel, the game continued. Ren sat on the bed. Much to his disappointment, Rey had thrown a nicer robe and pair of skivvies at him. When he tried to explain he preferred the holey dark brown one to the nicer light grey one, she'd given him a murderous look. Obediently, he pulled the wet one off and recovered his flesh. He would make her happy. Even if the ridiculous thing made his skin look more pale and sickly.

Although he remained on the verge of complete wellness, Ren was prone to bouts of exhaustion. The more he tried to do, the stronger the wave of fatigue later. He was feeling it now. As always, Rey had fussed over the marks, spread suave over them in a controlled fury, and offered him another variety of stew from the tiny kitchen. It sat on a wobbly stool in front of him, along with a tumbler of water. She was a decent cook given the lack of exotic pantry staples. However, his heart had never been in his stomach. Away from civilization, he cared little for food. He was tired, but his fighting spirit and lust for her had rallied during the walk home. He wouldn't give up. Resolved, he wasn't finished heckling her for the day. He'd settle for negative attention if he could get it.

His shoulders sank on the bed. "You're not going to feed it to me?" He watched her reaction and wanted to smile at how quickly her hands could fly to her hips in anger. The passion, the intensity, it was so exciting. If only she'd apply it in the right way.

"You used to feed it to me," he repeated, faking his dejection.

Her eyes were wild with disbelief. "You seemed quite capable in the water! Walked all the way there and walked all the way back. Just fine."

Just fine? He allowed the phase to echo in his mind. With his face and body, she could still declare him fine. What a woman, that she could favor ability over appearance. He would prove to her what he was still capable of doing.

"Yes," he pursed, the tension purposefully showing in his lips. "But I'm tired now. Liable to be out like a light for hours."

She was staring at the bowl. Unmoving. Conflicted. It was a thousand wonders how far she would go to care for him, to keep Luke's guilt at bay and plans in order. Perhaps, right now, she really was considering if she should feed him by drawing the wooden spoon to his lips again and again. For Ren's part, it wasn't a lie. He was tired and shortly going to sleep. He watched as her eyes moved far away, as though asking the Force for guidance. Did he really have that sort of effect on her? That she needed the Force to mask her emotions? Her reflection was taking too long. He grew impatient. Why wouldn't she react?

"What will Skywalker think if you've allowed me to starve?"

Her eyes shot to his and he lingered inside her mind once more. He saw the painful imagines. Her endless days on Jakku with the thirst and hunger and little hope to silence both needs. Additionally, a different type of sorrow surfaced. Uncle was coughing up blood. The Jedi had been sick for some time. The revelation drained Ren's own strength. With tears forming in her eyes, Ren regretted saying anything at all.

He slipped away from her thoughts. What had he done? The pain of the past would get them nowhere. He felt like a cruel bastard. He'd hurt her in jest. If given a choice, he would always unknowingly pick the wrong one. All he wanted, was to leave the island, with her at his side.

The blood was troubling. But he would ask about Skywalker's condition later. Immediately, he had to make things right with her. Not caring about the pain, he flew from the bed and threw himself at her feet.

"Forgive me," he took her hand before she could react. He ran his fingers over hers again. "I never meant to hurt you."

She unknowingly burned him up by peering into his eyes through the tears. This close, he wanted wipe them away, to embrace her, to let her feel the folly of his foolishness and to make her forget everything. But her face was stone cold. Her wrath would kill him.

"Eat, go to bed," the energy was leaving her voice. She was still pained, but would offer him no other way of making amends. The way to her forgiveness, to her heart, it was a game he was playing blindly, never knowing if the pieces were moving forward or back.

Continuing to drain, he obeyed. He wasn't hungry but he pulled the food to his mouth robotically. Reclining on the bed, he felt her leave the dwelling. He'd make it right with her. Even if it was the last thing he did.