Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Wait, I don't?

So, I promised Tragically Humorous a drabble and ended up writing close to 4,000 words of a multi-chapter fic. Yikes. Not entirely sure where this is going, but it's going somewhere...

The prompt: Everyone keeps doing the force bond plot with Kylo and Rey where an obsessed Kylo uses the bond to annoy/toy with Rey. I'd like to see the reverse where Rey is the one obsessed with Kylo and he is resistant.

Don't let this semi-serious opening fool you - I foresee this dissolving into, at the very least, borderline crack. There may also be time jumps. Rating will likely go up.

CHAPTER ONE

After the high comes the crash.

Rey sleeps for approximately 1.25 days following the destruction of Starkiller Base.

After collapsing into the nearest unclaimed bunk,

After the medical droid gives her the "It's not optional, Rey" once-over,

After refusing to leave Finn's side until she's forcibly evicted from the surgery,

After crying into General Organa's vest like a child,

After piloting the Millennium Falcon from a dead man's chair,

After the frozen forest splits into a gaping maw beneath her feet,

After nearly killing Kylo Ren,

Rey wakes up.

She's starving.

It's the first cognizant thought she has, but Rey's used to the feeling of hunger clawing at her gut. While it's not exactly comfortable, she's able to push it to the back of her mind for long enough to chug down the bottle of water that someone had thoughtfully left on the chair beside her bunk. Along with the water, there's a neatly folded pile of plain, utilitarian garments. She starts to pull them on automatically, but she stops when she gets a whiff of herself. She grimaces. She's filthy, and to put it politely, she smells like something rotting that's been left out in the sun for several days.

Not surprising, given the places she's been crawling around in lately. And no offense to anyone, but the Falcon is far from most sanitary location on that list.

She sets the clean clothes aside with regret and retrieves her dirty garments from where she'd left them in a heap on the floor before collapsing into bed. They're stiff with sweat and blood and stars know what else, but she's not going to ruin the new ones until she's cleaned herself up a bit. Food is going to have to wait.

Rey only has the vaguest sense of where anything is located in the Resistance base, but she manages to find a 'fresher a few doors down from her borrowed quarters. She washes efficiently; the novelty of a sonic shower instead of a pail of water or dry sand is something she can't bring herself to fully enjoy until she's gotten something into her belly. She finishes quickly and dresses. The clothes are a little big, but they're clean and of better make than anything she's owned in a long time. She shakes out her hair and detangles it as best she can with her fingers before re-sectioning it and twisting it up at the back of her head with deft, practiced motions. She spares half a second to check her appearance in the mirror before setting off in search of something to eat.

Still unsure of where she's going, Rey finds her feet retracing her steps back to the medbay. She wavers at the entrance. Her stomach growls painfully, but she presses her palm beneath her ribs and tells it to be quiet.

"You've gone a lot longer than this without eating," she mutters to herself out loud, the old habit of a lonely life with no one else to talk to. "Finn first."

Mind made up, Rey pushes through the doors into the sterile medical wing. It's busy, although there are less people and droids rushing about than before. No one stops her as she makes her way to where Finn rests, so she stands stock still by his bedside for a full twenty minutes before anyone notices her presence, just watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. She doesn't like seeing him like this. Finn has been all jittery energy since the moment he crashed into her life. Seeing him so still is…wrong.

"Rey?"

Rey's head snaps up. A dark-haired man stands in the doorway. He's got a good face, she thinks. Kind. Sincere. He steps forward, hand outstretched.

"You're Rey, right? I'm Poe. Poe Dameron."

Rey recognizes him. This is the man who helped Finn escape Starkiller Base – for the first time. "You're the X-wing pilot." She shakes his hand awkwardly, unused to the custom.

"Well, I'm not the only X-wing pilot," Poe says with a laugh, releasing her. "I hear you're quite the pilot yourself!"

Rey frowns, unable to think where he might have heard that from. Something of her thoughts must show on her face, because he shrugs sheepishly and explains, "Word gets around quickly here."

A series of excited chirps draw Rey's attention downwards. "Beebee-Ate!"

The little droid pushes past Poe's legs and rolls around Rey in a tight circle, whirring and beeping with enthusiasm.

"And this little guy is responsible for a fair share of the gossip," Poe says fondly. "Buddy, remember how we agreed that you'd wait for me outside?"

BB-8 chirps and bumps against Rey's calf.

"Yes, I know you like Rey, but you need to stay very quiet, okay? People are resting here."

A soft, inquisitive trill.

"Yes, like our friend, Finn."

Rey drops down into a crouch and rubs a hand affectionately over BB-8's dome. His antenna is crooked again. She straightens it absently. "He's going to be fine," she tells the droid seriously. "They're keeping him asleep for a little while so he can heal properly." She rises back to her full height and catches Poe looking at her with a funny, half-grin. "What?" she demands self-consciously.

"Nothing," Poe says, shaking his head. "You treat droids well, that's all."

Rey blinks at him, unsure of what he's getting at. She opens her mouth to ask outright, but she's interrupted by an embarrassingly loud rumble from her stomach.

Poe grins outright at that. "Come on," he tells her, nodding to the door. "Intrepid heroes must be fed. The cafeteria's probably serving dinner by now."

With one last glance over her shoulder at Finn's sleeping form, Rey follows Poe out of the medbay and through the twisting corridors of the Resistance base. She splits her attention between BB-8's continual chatter and committing landmarks to memory. Rey is a good navigator, but her survival instinct is second nature. Always know an escape route.

"Beebee-Ate's been clingy since you guys brought him back," Poe remarks after the third time the little droid doubles back to circle them before rolling ahead again. Rey feels like they're being herded. "He's been asking about you nonstop."

Rey is strangely touched. Then, something Poe said earlier catches up to her and she stops in the middle of the corridor. "Dinner?" she asks, disbelieving. "How long was I asleep? What day is it?"

"Eh, a little less than a week?"

"A week!" Rey exclaims, shocked. "How could I – I don't… " She catches sight of his expression and narrows her eyes. "Tell me the truth, Poe Dameron!"

"No, really – no one could wake you up, it was the strangest thing!" Poe insists, but he's having a hard time keeping a straight face, and Rey feels her own lips twitching with the effort not to smile at his ridiculous fib. She's never met anyone quite like Poe before. She wonders if –

Out of nowhere, something slams into her chest and knocks the breath clean out of her. She gasps soundlessly, crumpling in on herself, clutching at her ribs.

"Rey? Rey!" Poe crouches in front of her, one hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I was just kidding about it being a week, no need to go into dramatics!"

Rey sucks in a breath, pushing his hand away from where he's feeling the temperature of her forehead. "I'm okay." She struggles back to her feet and looks around for whatever hit her.

"Oomph, careful," Poe grunts when she stumbles and falls against him. His grip on her arm tightens like he's worried she's about to topple over. She might, actually. Rey breathes in and out a few more times, trying to calm her racing heartbeat.

Poe is still talking in her ear. "Okay, don't rush it. What happened? Are you injured?"

"No," Rey says. "I think something – " She scans the hallway over Poe's shoulder, but it's empty. Tenderly, she feels her ribs, but the blunt pain is already fading. She feels fine, if a little dizzy. "I'm okay," she repeats.

"I think we should go back to the medbay," Poe says anxiously.

"I'm fine," Rey enunciates clearly. She gives him what she hopes is a reassuring smile. He doesn't look entirely convinced. "I'm just hungry – must have been a dizzy spell."

She doesn't give him time to argue, just sets off again in the direction they'd been walking. The cafeteria is at the end of the hall. It's crowded: a mess of bright colors and raucous voices. Rey almost shrinks back again in alarm – after the quiet of the hallway, it is alarming – but Poe is right there behind her and he guides her forward with a light touch to her elbow.

"Everyone's still a little wired," he explains apologetically. "Some of these guys probably haven't even slept yet. Come on, food's this way."

He shows her where to get a tray and they load up their plates. Rey is suddenly uncertain again. There doesn't seem to be a limit on how much food she can take, and she doesn't know how to proceed. How much has she earned? She bites her lip, considering.

Poe solves her dilemma by handing her the plate he's just filled and grabs another one for himself. Then he leads her over to a couple of empty seats at one of the long tables and motions for her to dig in. Rey doesn't need to be told twice. She starts shoveling the food into her mouth with gusto, and only half-listens to the conversation around her. It's clear that Poe Dameron is a popular guy: practically everyone who passes their table stops to say hello, or clap him on the back, or ask who the new girl is. A couple of other pilots wander over to join their table, and Rey surfaces for long enough to be introduced around.

"Damn, woman, when was the last time you ate?" the woman across from Rey – a pilot named Jessika Pava – asks, impressed.

Rey considers. "I ate some fruit on Takodana. Before the First Order came."

"Try this," the man to Rey's left – "Snap" Wexley, although she suspects that isn't his real name – suggests, pushing a sticky-looking pastry on a small plate into her field of vision. "Chef really went all out today. The whole base is celebrating."

Rey picks up the dessert and licks it cautiously. It's very sweet. She takes a huge bite and chews happily, giving Snap a thumbs up with sticky fingers.

"We're breaking out the Corellian whiskey tonight, Dameron," Jessika remembers. "You in?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

"Did I hear someone say 'Corellian whiskey'?"

They all look up to see General Organa standing above them, tray in hand. She inclines her head in askance towards the empty seat beside Jessika. The pilot obligingly scoots over, and she joins them.

"You drink, General?"

General Organa's mouth turns up in a sly smile. "I've been known to imbibe on occasion. And I might just happen to have a dusty bottle or two to contribute to the cause. After the debrief, of course." She winks and then turns her attention to Rey. "How are you holding up?" she asks kindly. "I sent a droid to check on you this morning when you didn't turn up for breakfast, but it seemed best to let you sleep it off." She leans in conspiratorially, gesturing with her fork to the group at large. "What the adventure stories never tell you is that being a hero is exhausting."

Rey swallows the last of her pastry with difficulty. "I'm not a hero," she says, feeling her face flush.

Protests erupt from all sides.

"That's not true!" Poe says vehemently. "You and Finn got Beebee-Ate back to the Resistance. You completed my mission." He pauses, a gleam entering his eyes. "They told me about that crazy stunt you pulled with the Falcon on Jakku. Wish I'd been there to see flying like that."

"But I got captured," Rey points out.

"So did Dameron," Jessika shoots back. "Sorry, Poe."

"No, you make a fair point," Poe agrees. "I totally got my ass handed to me."

"Rey, take it from me," General Organa puts in, "getting captured is all in a day's work for rebel scum like us. It's escaping again that counts."

"And you got the shields down," Snap adds. "If you hadn't done that, even our Ace Shooter here wouldn't have been able to get a shot in."

"That wasn't really me," Rey insists. "I just got the doors open. Chewie and H-Han – " Rey stumbles a little over Han's name. She looks at the General, but the older woman just looks back at her calmly. " – they set the detonators. And I wouldn't have escaped at all if Chewie hadn't brought the Falcon around. And I nearly got Finn killed!"

And Han did get killed, she thinks, but doesn't say out loud.

"Excessive modesty is almost as unattractive as arrogance," General Organa tells her when she's finished. "The last person I met who gave me this much trouble over being called a 'hero' was my husband, and in the 35 years I knew Han, he never won that argument. So save yourself the trouble and bow to it gracefully now."

Rey takes a deep breath. She's not a hero, she knows that, but she doesn't want to argue with her new friends. "Thank you for the clothes," she says instead. "I'm not sure my old ones can be saved."

"It's the least we can do," Organa says dismissively. "You're a part of the Resistance now, Rey, should you choose to stay. We take care of our own." She reaches across the table and lays her hand briefly over Rey's. "I'm afraid flashy awards ceremonies are something of an Alliance relic – "

"Thank the stars," Poe mutters.

" – but if we had the time and means, I would award all of you medals for valor in the face of great adversity, excellent flying on all fronts, and a profound display of loyalty to your friends and the Republic, which often comes at great cost. Thank you."

She releases Rey's hand and stands, collecting her tray. "Don't forget –" she says, her tone sharper. "Debrief at nineteen-hundred hours. Spread the word."

"Well." Snap looks around the table after the general moves away. "That was…unexpected."

"She likes you," Jessika says to Rey, impressed. "Maybe even more than she likes Poe."

"Hey!"

"She didn't hold your hand."

"I wasn't the one she was trying to comfort!"

"Excuse me, I don't need comforting," Rey says, affronted.

"Forget it, Dameron, you're not her favorite anymore."

"Oh, shut up, all of you." Poe turns to Rey. "You finished? I can show you around the base before the big debrief. Unless – maybe you should go to the infirmary, now? Are you still dizzy?"

"Uh, no," Rey says, and it's not a lie. She'd completely forgotten about the incident in the corridor. She feels completely fine. Better than fine, actually – she's got a full belly, which is a rare enough occurrence in her life to warrant a mention. "I think it really was just from lack of food."

She's passed out from hunger or thirst before, and from the heat, and from exhaustion. It's not surprising she felt weak after waking up. Difficulty breathing is a common sign of a panic attack, too. She's been running on pure adrenaline for too long. Adrenaline and…the Force?

Rey pushes that line of thought from her mind. It's not the time to get introspective about the possibility that she has control over some mystical power that most of the galaxy doesn't even believe in anymore.

"A tour would be great," she tells Poe, standing up. "Lead the way."

They never make it to the official debrief. The General's golden protocol droid goes into a flurry of hysterics that eventually sort themselves out into a message: R2D2, Luke Skywalker's faithful astromech, has come online after years of subsisting in low power mode. More importantly: within the droid's backup memory is a map. A map with a piece missing. A very familiar piece.

Rey stares up at the completed projection with no small amount of awe. The excitement in the room is practically tangible, but for Rey it comes with a healthy sense of trepidation. The wheels are turning. Things long dormant are coming awake in the galaxy. She suppresses a shiver of anticipation as she traces the glowing map to the last Jedi with her eyes.

After that, the proceedings dissolve entirely into one big party. To Rey, it seems as if every able body on base joins together to celebrate their victory and salute their dead. She is, at once; ecstatically hopeful, incredibly overwhelmed, devastated, and anxious for what is to come.

Is she ready for this? What is this? After years of tedious waiting on Jakku, her life is suddenly surging forward at an alarming pace. Everything she knows is changing before her very eyes.

"No brooding allowed," Jessika says firmly, pouring her a generous mug-full of the promised whiskey. "Drink up."

Rey eyes is curiously. She's never had whiskey before. She takes a large swallow, and nearly chokes when it hits her throat with a fire she doesn't expect. Jessika laughs, and whacks her on the back.

"Careful, this stuff'll knock you flat if you aren't careful!" Jessika drains her own cup and refills it. "It'll be nice, having another woman who can fly. There aren't enough of us, if you ask me. Misogynistic Imperials." She snorts derisively. "It takes a long time to eradicate bigotry," she tells Rey with a wry smile. "General Organa doesn't hold for it, of course."

"Is that why you joined the Resistance?" Rey asks curiously, taking another, smaller sip of her drink. It's not so bad in small quantities, she decides. She might even grow to like it.

To her surprise, Jessika blushes. "No, that, uh, wasn't the reason. I mean, it was part of the reason. I believed in what she was saying, that the First Order's a major threat, but what got me interested in combat flying in the first place was her brother, Luke."

"You've met him?" Rey asks, surprised.

"No, he disappeared long before I joined up. But he's legendary. The greatest starpilot in the galaxy." Jessica shrugs. "I've never been good at staying on the ground, and flying for the Resistance was an opportunity I couldn't pass up."

"You've never regretted it?"

Jessica pauses. "Sometimes," she admits slowly. "There are times…it's hard, when you lose people you care about. But that's war. I'd never be able to live with myself if I just sat by and watched from the sidelines. When I die, I won't go passively, on my knees. I'll go out fighting until my last breath." She grins suddenly, and slings an arm around Rey's shoulders. She puts a little too much force into it and they both sway on their feet. "On second thought, most of us joined the Resistance because we're completely crazy, idealistic adrenaline junkies."

"You're not completely crazy," Rey assures her, planting her feet to steady them.

"Not-completely-crazy," Jessika repeats. She raises her glass and clinks it against Rey's. "I'll drink to that!"

It's late by the time the party breaks up, but Rey's too wired to sleep. She retreats to her small bunk and tries to clear her mind. Now that she's not passing out from exhaustion, though, the unfamiliar ambient sounds of the base are distracting her. Amongst…other things.

Rey shifts onto her side, and almost as though magnetized, her eyes find the glint of her lightsaber hilt in the dark.

That thought makes her sit bolt upright in bed. It's not Rey's lightsaber; it's Luke's. No matter what Maz implied, Rey is just keeping it safe until it can be returned to its proper owner. No matter that it feels like it belongs to her, in a way nothing else in her life ever has before.

That lightsaber belongs to me!

Unbidden, the memory of the snowy forest on Starkiller fills Rey's mind. She'd still been on the ground when Kylo Ren had challenged Finn for the weapon, but his indignant anger had cut through the haze of pain as she struggled to stay conscious. And stronger still was his absolute disbelief and the stabbing feeling of betrayal when the lightsaber flew past his outstretched hand and into Rey's.

Rey swings her legs over the side of the mattress. She closes her eyes and reaches out her hand in the dark. She breathes in deeply, trying to access whatever power she'd been able to tap into before. She''ll be lying if she claims she isn't afraid, because this power terrifies her, but the pressing flood of panic-rage-despair she'd felt in the forest is hushed now, a quiet trickle of anxiety and grief in the back of her mind.

Rey exhales slowly, eyes still closed, searching, reaching…

The cool hilt of the lightsaber smacks into the fleshy meat of her palm.

Rey's eyes fly open, and she's torn between elation and astonishment. Carefully, she holds the hilt upright in front of her and ignites the blade. It zzzings to life and fills the room with an icy blue glow. But it's more than just plasma and crystal; as Rey holds the lightsaber aloft, she feels the swirling currents of energy she's come to realize are the Force. It's everywhere, surrounding every living thing, and holding the ignited blade, Rey's awareness of it is magnified. She lets out a gasping laugh. The feeling is incredible.

Excited, wide awake, and more than a little buzzed from the whiskey, Rey reaches out eagerly with her senses. She has no idea what she's doing, but she plows forward with abandon, latching on to whatever she can grasp. The Force is electrifying, it's glorious, it's –

Pain. Pain and anger. The palpable feeling of utter self-loathing. Loneliness and despair. Why didn't it work? Where did I go wrong? Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong WRONG!

Rey drops the lightsaber with a clatter and it sizzles out. She bites back a scream of anguish. Her heart pounds so fiercely in her chest that she thinks it might fall out. She slumps back, wide-eyed in the dark.

What was that?