forged in the stars

He's a former solider. She's a former scavenger. Together, maybe they can build something new. / The Force Awakens speculation, spoilers. [Rey/Finn]

She can tell he's like her. It's not in their skin, nor eyes, or even political similarities. What does a soldier of the First Order have in common with a nameless scavenger? But still, she can see herself in him, in the way he carries himself. He's lost, he's alone.

If there's one thing beyond waiting that Rey knows, it's being alone. But she still doesn't know his name, even as they fly away from Jakku on a ship she's heard stories about her whole life, and she voices this.

"Finn." It's soft, with surprising steel behind it. She thinks it will come to suit him in time. "What's yours?"

It's not a question she's been asked often. More often is who are you? That's easier to answer. She's no one. She belongs to nothing and owns nothing. A scavenger scraping by on the outskirts. Yet now, she's in the middle of everything and her head is spinning faster than lightspeed. She needs to find something to ground her.

As she replies, "I'm Rey," her lips twitch upwards, and their eyes meet. She thinks maybe it can be him. Maybe they can be alone together.

Han is grouchier than the stories made him out to be. He says the Dark side, the Force, the Jedi, are real. Not just stories, or legends. Real.

It's clear afterwards that Finn hasn't heard as many stories as she has. She supposes whatever he has heard has been marred, filtered through the First Order agenda. He's quiet, purses his lips and nods, but there's no real remembrance in his eyes. She's surprised at how warm they seem, even when he's confused.

"Would you like to hear some?" Rey asks, her voice slightly rough from disuse. She isn't used to doing this much talking in such a short time, even if the Millennium Falcon is much cooler than the deserts of Jakku.

Finn licks his lips, eyes darting to her and then away again. "If it's not too much trouble," he says, looking at the floor.

She smiles softly. "Well, long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away..."

She's never thought of herself as a storyteller, but she sees stars in his eyes as he looks at her rapt attention and she feels a swell of pride, warmth spreading through her chest. It's much more pleasant than the sun, softer, more gentle. Rey decides she likes it. Likes him. It'd be nice to have a friend besides the droid BB-8.

When she's finally done, Finn grins at her. "You're quite the storyteller Rey..." he bites his lip, his grin faltering and he suddenly looks a little nervous. "I'd like to hear your story, if you don't mind."

Rey's eyes widen, and she can tell an apology is already on the tip of his tongue, when she smiles slightly. "In due time, Finn." She likes the way his name sounds in her mouth. Likes the way hers sounds in his, like it's safe. Like it's cared for. She's never really been cared for, but she figures it must feel something like this. Sharing stories, meals, smiles.

Fin's grin softens into something gentle and settles into her core, and she wants to make sure she remembers it. All the years on Jakku blurred together - lonely days and nights - but this, this is something she'll always remember. "I'll be happily waiting, then."

She knows what it's like to wait, and he does too. But now, maybe, they're a little less alone.

Rey has never known winter. Han describes the ice-planet of Hoth, but it doesn't make much sense to her, and nothing really sticks. Snow is a foreign concept, as is a bitter chill beyond the cool nights on Jakku, but even those were relief from the blaring hot sun throughout the day.

But ever since the Falcon's heater broke, she imagines winter is something like this, cold seeping into her bones, piling on extra layers. She wonders how people can stand it. Han is used to it, droids don't know the difference really, Chewbacca has his thick coat of fur, and Finn's been trained to survive any extreme weather conditions.

So she's cold, and irritated by the fact there's no one to voice her complaints to. It never bothered her before - before they were never any options - but she's used to sharing now. She's not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

"You cold?"

Finn's voice, laced with concern, breaks through the icy fog in her mind. Frowning, Rey grumbles, "Jakku was never cold." She never thought she'd miss anything about the planet, but here she is, shivering and pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She thinks Finn might be smiling at her, and shoots him a glare.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, and then shrugs off his pale brown jacket. She watches him, confused, and then understands as he holds it out to her. "Here, it'll help."

She doesn't take it. "But what about you?" Some part of her brain chides her for asking. In the desert you take what you need to survive and do whatever you have to, not worry about other people more than yourself. Yet, Han and Chewie and Finn have changed her, slowly. Especially Finn.

"I'll be fine," he assures her, and she can't help but believe him. She's still hesitant to take the jacket, so he stands up and drapes it across her shoulders, lifting her lower bun out of the way gentle, his hands brief and light. He knows she isn't used to much physical contact, but somehow she doesn't mind his hands, his fingers brushing against her back. His warmth seems to bleed into hers.

"Better?" he asks, sitting down next to her.

She feels heat rise to her cheeks and pulls his jacket tighter around her so she doesn't have to look at him. Which is a mistake, because the collar presses against her nose and she catches a whiff of smoke, sand and some kind of aftershave, and she realizes it's what he smells like. Realizes how it's actually kind of nice. Her face is positively burning, but she manages to mumble out, "Yeah. Thanks."

Finn smiles, looking pleased with himself. "Good."

"You'll end up leaving me."

The fear escapes her lips before she can think it through properly. Thinking straight when she's tired has never been her forte, and the one memory she has of her parents replays often in her dreams, turning them into nightmares. Why didn't they want her? Why did they abandon her? She thinks after all these years, she'll never find out the answer. But maybe Finn will, and he'll leave her too.

His small room is right across from hers, and it was too tempting, too easy, to walk over and rap her knuckles across the door. She has a feeling he wasn't sleeping either.

And then, as soon as he asks, "What's wrong?" the words come spilling out of her because for some reason she trusts Finn. Maybe it's because they were thrown into this crazy situation together. Maybe it's because she genuinely likes him. Maybe some other reason, or all of the above. Liking people is a very confusing thing.

Finn frowns at her, and then gets out of his bed and walks over to her, and she's practically shaking. She can't bare to look at him, to see disappointment, or that she was right, in his eyes, so instead she stares at the floor.

"Rey," he says, and his voice is so gentle she wants to melt into it. "Why would you think that?"

"My parents left me. No one's ever stayed with me, why would you be any different?" she manages out. Her throat and eyes and heart burn and she hates it hates it hates it that she ever let someone get this close. Hold this much power over her. What happened to being independent? To being okay being lonely?

"Rey," he says again, this time his voice tinged with sadness. Not pity, she thinks gratefully, and she's shocked as he stoops low so she has to look him in the eye, but merely turns away again. She can feel his eyes on her, burning her with his gaze, and then his fingers are on her cheek, gently brushing her skin and turning her back towards him. His fingers are still on her cheek, soft and grounding, seemingly keeping her in his orbit. She can't turn away again. "I am not going to leave you."

"But-"

His thumb strokes her cheek and her words die in her throat. "I am not going to leave you," he repeats, this time as a promise, and she can feel the weight of it, only instead of weighing her down, it seems to lift her up. The lump in her throat is easier to swallow. "No matter what happens, I'll find my way back to you."

"Why?" she croaks.

"That's what a scavenger does, isn't it?" he says with a twitch of his lips, a corner of his mouth lifting. "They find and collect lost things. You've collected me, Rey, and I plan on keeping it that way."

Part of her wants to the touch his lips, her eyes following the way they curve upwards so effortlessly, but it feels too soon. She's not ready, and she has a feeling he's not quite ready either, but that's okay. Instead, Rey takes his fingers away from his cheek, and squeezes them, before stepping forwards. She tucks her body into his, and wraps her arms loosely around her torso. It's wide and warm and solid, and she rests her face against his chest, burying herself in that warmth, the steadiness. She needs it, even if she isn't ready to admit that maybe she needs him too. He wraps his arms loosely around her waist, obviously surprised but far from unpleased.

If he's her lost thing, maybe she's always been missing him. Maybe she's always been meant to be in his orbit.

The stars shine brighter in the morning, not nearly as bright as her smile as she greets him at breakfast. She has him. Despite the chaos, the war on the horizon, somehow, she believes things will be alright.

Rey knows he's like her, and she knows he's different, and she knows there's space in between she still hasn't discovered, but she wants to, and she hopes they'll have the time they deserve.

But, as she sits next to him, she's content not to think of the future - waiting for what may or may happen for once. Where she is right now, as Finn flashes her a smile, is pretty good.