Force Destiny

Rose's Confession

Finn was hopelessly lost in thought, chewing his lip anxiously as he studied the intricate carvings on the ceiling of the ancient temple. Rose had warned him that Rey would come back different from Jedi training. And she had, but when she embraced him as if no time had passed, it seemed like a good different. She had appeared hopeful, confident, and lighthearted; everything a new Jedi should be.

Every moment spent observing her since, however, convinced him otherwise. There was a... shadow eclipsing her personality, something sinister tormenting her. It tormented him in turn. At first, he had believed his new relationship with Rose – which he hadn't had time to explore since she'd awoken– had been affecting Rey. He had seen the truth, however, when he came face to face with the Force apparition of the monster himself, Kylo Ren, in her room with her. The thought of that creature anywhere near Rey sickened him. The creature was changing her, draining the brightness right out of her, and she seemed oblivious to it. He only hoped that now that he knew, he could help her.

"Finn!" The voice echoed off the wall of the vast underground hall. His stomach fluttered as he pivoted in search of the owner of that voice, knowing exactly whose eyes would meet his.

"Rose..." He said breathlessly, taking in how refreshed and alive she looked. Her wounds were healing well, and there was color to her cheeks again. Guilt rose like bile in his throat. He had stood vigil by her bed until she had awoken just before they landed on Barkhesh, but he had been actively avoiding her ever since. He scrambled to her side and guided her to a nearby altar. "You shouldn't be walking around like this. Do you feel dizzy?"

"I'm perfectly fine, thanks to you." Finn helped her down onto the stone altar. He couldn't help the thrill that shot through him when she grasped his hand for leverage. She smiled warmly up at him, making the whole galaxy disappear around them. Something reassuring in her eyes and smile made his fears melt away, which made him feel like wherever he was, as long as he was with her, he was right where he was supposed to be. They may not have understood each other right away, but once they did, there was an easiness – an intimacy – that he had never felt before. He almost forgot the war and the consequences they faced. Then he noticed the wound on her forehead. The galaxy might have seemed like it disappeared when he looked into her eyes, but it didn't, and that was the problem. Her smile faltered as she stared at him. Maybe it was the way he stiffened, or the fear that crossed his face, or the hesitant step he took away from her. He knew they had to have a conversation, but he wasn't ready for it. "Finn?"

"I'm sorry; I'm just... tired." It was a lie, but how could he explain the truth? Shrugging out of his jacket, he sank onto the stone altar next to her and wrapped the jacket around her. It was just a jacket and just the gentlemanly thing to do, but the hair on his arms bristled with pride in seeing her wear it.

"Thank you, for everything you did to me... for me," she huffed, smiling in chagrin. It was almost enough to thaw the cold hopelessness in his heart. He leaned forward, resting his elbows stiffly on his knees. His eyes were downcast as he stared at his clasped hands, trying to find the words to say. Han had told him that women always discovered the truth, but it never made it any easier to say. He refused to meet her gaze, terrified of what he would see in her eyes – and what she would see in return.

"It was... of course... I should be the one thanking you," he muttered.

"Well, I couldn't let you die." The words were spoken casually, but the near consequences of Crait were heavy in his mind. If he had died a martyr for a cause finally worth fighting for, then so be it, but he could not accept that she almost died. For him. How would he have lived with that?

"I don't know why you did that...for someone like me." His voice exposed more of his inner conflict than he had hoped. He craved to see the emotions in her eyes, the softness of her expression, the reassurance of her smile that would prove to him that everything would be okay. He needed her to vow that his fears were unfounded, that it would be different next time. The others had let him go; they had allowed him to make the sacrifice to save them all. He needed her to promise that she wouldn't die – especially not for him – but he knew it would be a comforting lie. They were at war.