Confronting Fear

Scars

I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
My weakness is that I care too much
And our scars remind us that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel

Scars - Papa Roach

*** Smut warning. Part of the chapter is extra smutty bracketed by ******* No plot points missed if you skip it.

It was after dinner time when Ben returned to his room as evidenced by the one eaten meal and the one cold meal on the table. Rey wasn't in the bed, the sounds of gently sloshing water giving away her location in the refresher. He set the ancient books down on the bed, intending to check on her. She was reclined in the huge bathtub, frothy white bubbles hiding her body from his suddenly hungry eyes, the assassination attempt suddenly no where near as important as his desire to press his lips to the soft curve of Rey's neck.

Rey started as she realized he was there, instantly calming. Ben knelt next to the tub, brushing her wet hair back from her eyes. She leaned into the touch, nuzzling his large hand.

"Join me?"

Ben grinned as he removed his shirt. "Is that a request or an order Your Highness?"

"Both." Rey's eyes sparkled as she moved forward in the large tub to give him room as he slid his long legs around her. She settled back against him, her hair slick against his chest. He absent-mindedly stroked the side of her neck as he closed his eyes, truly relaxed for the first time in days.

He ran his finger along the soft curve of her neck to her hard shoulder, her wet skin like velvet against his calloused fingertips. He dimly noticed her shoulder was more pronounced than before. "You've lost weight again." he commented, the barest hint of disapproval in his voice.

"Have I? I've been training so much I haven't noticed. That must be it." She responded absent-mindedly.

Rey leaned forward to select a bottle of soap off the edge of the tub, her warm weight disappearing. Ben dragged his fingertips to her shoulder and then her spine, causing her to shiver despite the heat of the water. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood at the sight of the thick welts of scar tissue criss-crossing the skin.

Ben didn't mind scars, in fact he was something of an expert. He himself had plenty and he knew Rey did too. He'd been present when she received the one on her right bicep. He'd seen nicks and scratches on her forearms and a slice mark on her calf. Her right side, front and back was peppered with marks of varying sizes from the incident on Bracca, though Klendra's expert work had kept them minimal. He considered scars reminders of both lessons learned and a victory over whomever or whatever had given it to him. Even the one Rey had given him, the one she had somehow removed along with the venom, had meant that he'd survived her attempt to kill him. But these served no purpose, no lesson except for a young girl to submit to a coward to avoid being hurt.

He wasn't sure of Rey's exact age, he hadn't asked as one thing he had learned from his mother was it was rude to do so. It was possible even she didn't know but Klendra had guessed she was around twenty which seemed about right. Given the fade and size of the more recent looking ones, they were about four years old, meaning she would have been about sixteen when she received them... which meant that she was even younger when she received the others. He realized he was wrong about finding the would-be assassin. What he really wanted was to eviscerate the person or persons that had dared treat her that way - slowly and with as much pain as possible.

Rey's voice cut through his dark thoughts like a lightsaber. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Think like that." Rey settled in against him. "And for what it's worth, Chewy ripped his arm off."