[ Unwittingly, the question summons up a slew of unpleasant hypotheticals to assault her senses—the flash of agonizing memory, made worse by the way Luke's saber had resurfaced it. A quad-jumper lifts out of the atmosphere while she tries to yank out of Unkar Plutt's grip. She shouts, wails as a child does. Rey closes her eyes and rubs the heels of her palm up against her forehead, back into her hair, then straightens her neck and lifts her head, leaving her fingers gathered at the base of it.
Her voice fails her for a moment, a croaked breath slipping out on her exhale before she can collect herself, and she lets it get swept up into the natural sounds of the moon, carried away into the basin below. ]
No. [ Carried in the word is a firm stubbornness that squashes any hint of the notion, punishing it by digging it into the ground. It's slow and patient and stern.
If she were going to leave him anywhere, the time was long past. Sometimes, she still thinks she should have left him there on Corellia instead of bringing him back to the Resistance: let the fire consume whatever humanity was left inside of him with the monster he'd made of himself. It's too late for that now. The human pieces of him are pieces of her too, they're little more than a single organism drawing breath in two bodies. The mine proved that. The pain in her leg where there is no injury reaffirms it.
She won't look at him, though. For all that they've been forced into this congress, into accommodating one another by circumstance or the will or the Force or whatever one might call it, she won't turn to look at him with her parents fresh in her mind. He has levied that abandonment against her as a weapon before, left open welts with its lash, and she is sure he would do it again. ] Don't be stupid. It wouldn't do either of us any good to go gallivanting off alone. [ She clears her throat. ] Just go to sleep.
no subject
Her voice fails her for a moment, a croaked breath slipping out on her exhale before she can collect herself, and she lets it get swept up into the natural sounds of the moon, carried away into the basin below. ]
No. [ Carried in the word is a firm stubbornness that squashes any hint of the notion, punishing it by digging it into the ground. It's slow and patient and stern.
If she were going to leave him anywhere, the time was long past. Sometimes, she still thinks she should have left him there on Corellia instead of bringing him back to the Resistance: let the fire consume whatever humanity was left inside of him with the monster he'd made of himself. It's too late for that now. The human pieces of him are pieces of her too, they're little more than a single organism drawing breath in two bodies. The mine proved that. The pain in her leg where there is no injury reaffirms it.
She won't look at him, though. For all that they've been forced into this congress, into accommodating one another by circumstance or the will or the Force or whatever one might call it, she won't turn to look at him with her parents fresh in her mind. He has levied that abandonment against her as a weapon before, left open welts with its lash, and she is sure he would do it again. ] Don't be stupid. It wouldn't do either of us any good to go gallivanting off alone. [ She clears her throat. ] Just go to sleep.