The Two Of Us (Reylo Fanfic)

Part 2: The loneliest child

As the image of her dream filled her mind, Rey groaned inwardly. With the image of the small boy, sitting on a narrow bed, came the same duality on consciousness that had plagued her before. This was not really her dream. Once more, somehow, she had been pulled into the mind of Kylo Ren. Rey tried to wake herself up. But it was useless. The dream had her in its grip and would not let go. She would have to see it to the end.

The boy could not have been much more than five or six years old. He was curled up, his bony knees drawn under his chin, the thin arms wrapping tightly around them, hugging his skinny legs to his chest. She could not see his face, the long dark waves of it covering his face. The skinny boy was slowly rocking himself to and fro on his bed. Rey watched, feeling the anger rolling off of the boy. The room around him was in utter chaos. Small toys were thrown about. Some of them were smashed to pieces. From under the pile of chaos a new toy lifted off of the ground, a yellow speeder. Slowly, the toy began to crumple, the bright yellow surface buckling and collapsing under pressure until it was no more than the size of a small ball. Then, the shattered toy fell, the pieces clattering to the floor.

Rey glanced over to the boy. He had stopped rocking. His head was up slightly. But the small dark eyes were not searching for her. He was listening intently, Rey realised, to the two voices shouting not far away.

"What are we going to do?!"

Rey blinked. She recognised the sound; it was the voice of Han Solo, afraid.

"Quiet! Do want him to hear!" the woman's voice was only slightly more hushed.

"Of course I don't! But he almost killed that other boy!"

"The Force is strong in him! He needs to train with Luke!" Leia's voice was insistent.

"Ahhh..." the sound from Han was dismissive.

"What?"

"The Force..."

"If he trains with Luke..." Leia began.

"So now we can't raise our own child?" Han cut in. "What about you?"

"Me?" Leia was credulous.

"Well, you're 'strong in the force'" Han's voice was sarcastic "...can't you train him to not kill people?"

"I know The Force, but I'm not a Jedi!"

"What? Not the expert of everything, Your Highness?"

"Oh, thank you, that is very helpful, Han." Leia's voice was now laced with sarcasm.

"Well he got this thing from your family, not from mine!"

"I am trying to find a solution!"

"Well he's nothing like me, is me?"

"He is the spitting image of you! But I'm forgetting, of course, you've never been impetuous, rash, arrogant or remotely prone to fits of anger. No, you are practically 'Father of the Year!' material."

"Well, I'm glad ya see it my way!"

"You taught him to fly a spaceship!"

"He was interested. That's what Dad's do, isn't it? Teach stuff to their kids?" Han was more defensive now.

"He isn't even six years old yet!"

"He's too much like his grandfather..."

The bickering was going on and on. Rey watched the small boy, tears streaking down his face, fall onto his side. A small hand snaked out and fumbled under the covers of the bed. Eventually, a fluffy toy was pulled out. As the boy cried silently, he hugged it tightly to him. Rey realised that the toy was in the shape of a Wookie. Eventually, Rey heard a door bang shut and the only sound that could be heard from next door was that of a woman crying quietly. In that moment, Rey could feel the little boy's despair and loneliness. One parent had left outright and the second was planning on sending him away.