Ordered

Chapter 19 - In Which Ren Learns One of Rey's Secrets

(Chapter Rating: T, Ren lightly mentions their wedding night)

At the surprisingly sound of his voice her back straightened. Rey turned and met his disapproving face. His good eye intensely bore down on her. The anger that boiled under his skin seemed volatile.

Perhaps he would fight her now. Each day, with Luke gone, felt increasingly more dangerous. Rey knew Ben was growing stronger. Sizing him up, she could probably still take him, if and only if, she managed hit him in the right spots.

She balled up a fist, leering back at him.

"Don't talk to me like that! Go back to bed."

"Answer me!" He sneered at her.

Rey took a step back. Her small blaster, a gift from Han Solo, was hidden in under the sink. If she ran now, she might beat him to the house, and reach it in time. But she didn't want to use it on him. Not after the tiresome struggle to keep him alive.

Ren groaned and covered his scarred face with his palm, "Dearest, shouldn't I have the right to know why I was awakened?"

She watched as he eased. Did she dare tell him?

"We can use these parts here," Rey said evenly, forcing herself to be nice and ignore his terms of endearment. "Everything in the kitchen breaks."

He uncovered his face, disbelieving her.

"And I suppose you think you can fix it," he smirked, doubting her ability.

Even damaged, the self-assured look was annoyingly attractive. Combined with the way the slight wind off the ocean lifted the long side of his hair, Rey's initial focus became lost. Her first impulse was to reach forward and tuck the hair into place behind his ear, to ensure he could see clearly from his good eye. A faulty habit she'd developed while caring for him.

She had held those smooth strands between her fingers. Knew its softness. Its smell. Knew way the fine threads knotted against the pillow during a restless night. She had washed it. Combed it. She knew it. Knew it better than the bold and sensitive man it was attached.

But the way he was looking at her. Cunning. Almost pleased. Although, in this moment, the delight was entirely with himself, Rey had experienced similar smoldering looks, of which she had been the cause.

In the interrogation room, there had been a change. True, she would never understand why he had revealed his face to her the first time. It was unimportant now. However, during her second capture, after days of endless questions about his uncle, and invasion of her personal thoughts and memories, he had softened towards her. She had felt an intense change in him.

The next day, he hadn't asked her about Skywalker at all. He seemed distracted somehow, staring at her for a long while. He had lunged into her mind, this time seeking the future, hopes and desires she'd never shared with anyone. In return, she had felt some of his internal pain, and a loneliness he only pretended didn't exist.

The times that followed, he became increasingly gentle. Pleading for the information with placid compassion.

"We're the same," he assured her, "You and I, we're the only ones in the galaxy. But you must help me. Please help me. They'll hurt you if you don't."

After that he had barged into the room, announcing their impending marriage.

In the present, Rey forced her eyes on the scrap metal inside the net, noticing the faint shine in the sunset. Now was not the time for attraction.