Gravity

NotSoJollywood

Disclaimer: If I owned Star Wars, there would be a hell of a lot more Reylo smut in The Last Jedi, just saying.

Summary: She tried for five years to push him out, to forget about the connection that they had. Five years, and Rey had all but moved on to find her place in the galaxy, at the heart of the Resistance. But, like gravity, he kept pulling her back in.

Author's Note: Wow guys! Thank you for all of your kind words! The end of the year for me has been crazy, but as we approach the end of testing I'll be able to update even more. As always, I appreciate the kind feedback, and letting me know what you guys are looking forward to. I have to say, I was going to skip over the dinner scene entirely in a few of the versions of this chapter that I had written—I'm glad that I did.

As always, a huge thank you to my amazing beta shattered-quill!

Chapter 9

It was to the sounds of the faintest gentle tinkling from across the spacious apartment that Rey's eyes fluttered open. It was dark—the environmental control system had the ship's lighting dimmed to its evening settings. It cast an ethereal glow about the room, one that Rey would have found warm and welcoming in any other moment. But her eyes soon adjusted and were flooded with sights that were wholly foreign to her—this was not her bedroom on Naxos, this was most definitely not a Resistance vessel.

A wave of unbridled panic washed over her as her eyes took in the unfamiliar surroundings of a sumptuous strange room, one that did not belong to the Resistance. Where was she? Her hand immediately flew to her hip—an automatic reflex to reach for her beloved saberstaff—and she swallowed hard when she realized that there was nothing there. Her eyes began to dart frantically around the room—surely there had to be a way out— before memories of her current situation came flooding back to her.

She was on the Finalizer—a willing hostage of the First Order, and she had voluntarily given herself up to protect the Resistance. She had been the given luxurious rooms of a guest, instead of being thrown in a —

The gentle chimes in the other room grew louder, breaking Rey from her thoughts.

She wasn't alone.

Her heart, which hadn't fully calmed down from the panicked wake up call it had just received, hammered hard in her chest—she had no weapon with which to defend herself from a possible attack; both her saberstaff and blaster had been confiscated from her prior to her arrival, along with the archives she was attempting to smuggle out in the midst of the escape.

Gently, so as not to alert the intruder to her presence, Rey swung her feet off the side of the capacious bed. The soft leather of her worn out boots did not make a sound on the ship's cold floor as she quietly tip-toed behind the privacy screen that separated the bed and washing area from the rest of the room. Perhaps it was because she was so cognizant of every sound she was making, or perhaps because of her paranoia, but Rey could have sworn that every step she took was thunderous in the quiet of the apartment. Please, she found herself inexplicably pleading with the Force, please do not let whoever is out there have heard me.

She would meet the intruder head on to escape, if she needed, but she wanted a few moments to gather her all, she was alone and in enemy territory.

Rey held her breath for a few beats, as she strained to pick up any indication that the intruder had heard her. All she could hear, however, was the pounding of her own heart as adrenaline coursed through her. After a few moments, when she was certain that the only noise in the room was the faint chimes that had woken her, Rey let out a small, quiet exhale.

Peering out from behind the divider, Rey's mouth dropped as she saw Ben Solo standing before the dining table to the left of the room. His back was turned to her as he continually adjusted the silverware on the table—although, she could have sworn it had already been set to perfection when he had first brought her here. She blinked a few times as she watched him fuss with the chrome goblets on the table. Why would he be the one to do that?

It felt wrong for her to spy on him, but Rey allowed herself a few more moments to watch as Ben continued to adjust the place settings. As he was consumed with the different silverware and plates, Ben didn't even notice her presence through the Force. It was somewhat odd—the well-studied former Jedi letting his guard down so easily—but Rey took advantage of that fact and continued to silently watch him for a few more moments.

She reached out gently through the Force, hoping to gauge what kind of mood her nemesis would be in. Their heated exchange only hours before was not far from her thoughts. But as she grasped at the wisps of his Force signature, all she could feel was the prickling sense of nervous excitement radiating from him.

What—? Rey's own stomach fluttered at the new information, and her cheeks grew warm as intrusive thoughts of just what that could mean weaseled their way into her mind. No, Rey scolded herself as she pushed the annoying thoughts away, don't be daft. Refusing to give them any more credence, she turned her attention to what he was doing just a few meters in front of her.

He was dressed much more casually now, having shed the battle regalia from earlier in favor of a well-fitting, high collared tunic. The informality of his clothing, coupled with the incessant readjustment of the silverware, was enough to make Rey's lips curl upward in a smile. His dark hair fell gently over his calm face, shedding the last vestiges of formality in his appearance.

He continued to play with the place settings, moving the aluminum goblet from the left side of the table to the right.

"Never send a damn human to do a protocol droid's job," Ben mumbled begrudgingly, his low voice carrying his complaint from across the quiet room.

His frustration over the most trivial of matters was enough to make Rey's pursed lips curl up into a lithe smile.

Emerging from behind the confines of the privacy screen, Rey piped up, "Are the cloth napkins not up to the First Order's standards?"

Her tone was lighthearted, and the comment was made in jest, but there was still the awkward tension that hung idly in the air as it left her lips. She recalled their strained exchange from only hours before, the heated words that passed between them and how the conversation turned so quickly from one moment to the next. Would it be the same now? Even though she hadn't sensed any animosity coming from him, she could never be sure with the man standing in front of her.

Another awkward beat passed before she had her answer.

"Perhaps not," Ben replied, his shoulders curling upward under the pretense of an indifferent shrug—as if he had not spent the last few minutes adjusting and re-adjusting the place settings. "But it's not as if a former scavenger would know the difference."

Rey knew she should probably have taken offense to that—or at least feigned it to preserve whatever was left of her dignity after this afternoon—but the lighthearted tone of the man across the room told her that this was his attempt at a joke. It was a poor one, no doubt, but Rey found that she no longer had the energy to take offense, and nor did she want to.

The constant tension was exhausting, and, given her current predicament, they would both be much better off without it.

It didn't help that in that very moment, his lips curved upward into the faintest of smiles. It wasn't much—very similar to the awkward smirk he had given her earlier in the day—but it was enough for any anger and rage to dissolve instantly. No, she definitely did not want to ruin that with another tense moment.

Rey opened her mouth to fire off another witty retort but a loud rumble from her stomach spoke for her.

Ben raised his brows at the thunderous noise erupting from her abdomen, and Rey desperately tried to hide the blush that arose in her cheeks. Would there be another sarcastic comment from him? Her eyes danced about the room—from the elegantly set table in front of them to the sparsely decorated living area—deliberately focusing on anything but Ben. But the damage was already done—Ben heard her stomach growl and motioned for her to sit across from him without another word. She obliged, the emptiness of her stomach winning out over any questions regarding the propriety of the situation at hand.

She was thankful that he had the tact to not say anything, at least.

Rey's eyes widened as she took her seat and noticed the intricate details of the dinner presentation before her. Directly in front of her was a steaming bowl of a green broth that Rey had never encountered before, but the aroma wafting through the air was enough to make her mouth water in anticipation. But it was not the delectable soup that caught Rey's eyes, rather, on each side of the steaming bowl were a series of utensils—both large and small—neatly laid out in size order over a finely laid white linen that had the faintest of gold lily's embroidered along its edges.

Now she knew why he was fussing so much.

Ben, sitting directly across from her, seemed to notice her shock at the ornate display of silverware before her. His lips curled slightly as he mused, "I'm sure that you're not used to such a formal setting."

His voice was calm and matter of fact; he wasn't teasing her anymore. Her shoulders collapsed as she finally felt able to relax—she hadn't realized how tense she'd been.

"I don't see how anyone could be," Rey breathed helplessly as she looked at the complicated display before her. She couldn't imagine why someone would need all of it. There were two separate goblets in front of her—one for water and the other for wine. At least that made sense. But why would someone need three separate spoons for one meal?

Ben shrugged as he picked up one of the utensils on his left and began to mindlessly swirl the steaming soup in front of him, "It was something that I had been raised on. Forced to take etiquette lessons from such a young age, preparing for state dinners at Leia Organa's side when I much would have rather been with H—"

Ben paused, staring at his soup as he continued to turn it over in his bowl. Steam erupted from the top of his bowl, dancing around his features as he struggled to find the words to finish his thought. His mouth abruptly snapped shut and as his dark brows knit together, Rey knew that he would not continue. He didn't have to—Rey knew immediately who he was referring to.

She couldn't help the expression of surprise that erupted on her face as Ben offered up the smallest of hints at his childhood. Her mind wandered back to earlier in the day, and the harsh words that passed between them. It seemed now, despite the awkwardness that hung in the air, that the previous exchange was all but forgotten and that Ben was making an attempt at civility.

In that same spirit of graciousness, Rey bit back the burning desire she had to tell him that she could so easily see that he still had good left in him—if he only tried to find it within himself. There would be time enough for that, she told herself. After all, she didn't know how long she would be here with him. Instead, she picked up one of the shining spoons on her left with every intention of digging in to the aromatic broth in front of her.

Just as she was about to dip her spoon and begin ravaging the bowl in front of her, she noted the hint of an amused expression on Ben's face and paused. He was eyeing her carefully, and biting back that damned smile once more. His large brown eyes darted to the spoon in her hand and shook his head ever so slightly.

Rey sighed, putting the tiny spoon down. Reaching a gloved hand across the intimate table setting, he handed her the next spoon over. It was only slightly larger than the one in her hand, but Rey begrudgingly accepted the utensil. She resented her lack of social etiquette and class being pointed out to her. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment; this never happened with the Resistance. Plopping the spoon into her soup, she swallowed a mouthful before mumbling, "I don't see what the big deal is—a spoon is a spoon."

"This one is for soup," he nodded in the direction of the spoon in her hand, "the one you held before is specifically reserved for the dessert course."

"Dessert?" Rey's eyes lifted at Ben's words and she made no attempt to hide her hopeful tone. Ben only smiled at her response, and Rey felt any leftover resentment dissolve away in that moment.

The two enemies—were they even that now?— fell into another comfortable silence as they continued with their meal. Rey watched Ben has he effortlessly navigated the intricately set table. She followed suit when she could, overwhelmed by the needless display in front of her. Despite her hunger, she was relieved when the meal was finally over.

"I must ask, Rey," his voice hushed as he said her name, and it sent shivers running up her spine. Rey shifted in her seat as she waited for him to continue, "Why did you give yourself up so easily?"

Rey did her best to ignore the faint hint of hope in his question.

Instead, she gave her best nonchalant shrug as she reached for the previously untouched goblet of wine in front of her. It tasted stronger than anything had before, and she struggled to swallow the dry wine, "You had me surrounded."

Somewhere, out of the corner of her eye, Rey saw a flicker of movement. As Rey had been lost in their conversation, a cleaning droid had entered her apartments and began to clear the mess of plates and silverware in front of them. Ben, for his part, paid the machine no mind.

"But you didn't even put up a fight," he noted, ignoring the droid as it continued its work cleaning around them. "Five years ago, you never would have . . . "

What changed?

The unspoken question hung in the air between the two of them.

A lump had formed in her throat, and she tried to swallow it down with another sip of wine. "It wasn't—if I had tried to make a break for it, whatever ship that had come back for me would have taken a massive hit. They all would have died."

Somehow, even Rey was uncertain of her explanation.

She could feel a sense of smug satisfaction radiating through their bond; Ben didn't buy her vague explanation for a minute. His lips curled upward in a knowing smirk, and it only continued to grow as her cheeks grew hotter. She shifted uneasily under his gaze, needing to do something to break the obvious tension.

In a moment of pure impulse and frustration, Rey took the crumpled up napkin from her lap and haphazardly threw it in his direction. About a half of a second after she realized just what she had done—that sort of playfulness was usually reserved for Finn and Poe—her eyes widened.

Ben—whether due to the nature of their bond or Rey's own lack of stealth—anticipated the movement. When the soiled cloth was mere centimeters from his face, he waved his hand and it paused mid-air. A hard line formed in the place of his smug smile, and Rey swallowed. She tried to reach out, through their bond, to gauge what he was thinking but she found nothing. He was blocking her.

For an eternity—or mere seconds, Rey really was not quite sure—the crumpled napkin and tension hung in the air between them.

Rey opened her mouth, mentally preparing herself to apologize for her childishness. But before she could even get a word out, the napkin began to move once more—this time, however, flying across the table in the opposite direction. She hadn't even fully registered what was happening before the dirty cloth his her in face.

As it fell back on to her lap, Rey only blinked. Ben, on the other hand, let out a loud, uncharacteristic guffaw. Rey watched as he continued to laugh at the situation, playfulness dancing across his features. Through their bond, she could sense a levity surrounding him that had not been there in ages. Ben Solo, not Kylo Ren, was in the room with her that night.

Her cheeks grew flush once more, although this time she knew it was not from embarrassment.

A long, low tone woke broke Rey from blessed rest, and she groaned as the environmental lights brightened to mimic the morning sun. They were shining far too harshly for her delicate eyes, and she shut them just as quickly as she had opened them. Turning over in her bed and pulling the lush covers over her eyes, she tried to ignore the intrusive illumination and aggravating alarm as best as she could.

She did not last very long, however.

"If I am really a prisoner," Rey mumbled into her barbary bird feather pillow as the annoying tone continued to reverberate throughout the room, "then why not let me waste away in bed?"

But, as she had learned over the course of the last few days, the incessant alarm in her rooms would not silence until Rey made a movement to signal that she was finally awake.

"I'm up, I'm up," Rey groaned to no one in particular as she turned over to stare up at the bare ceiling. She sat up in the lush bed, resting her chin on her knees as she considered the events of last few days, the alarm finally quieting down.

Three long days had passed since Rey initially surrendered herself to the First Order, and time seemed to move slower and slower with each passing minute that she was confined in her luxurious cell. As she had learned her first full day aboard the Finalizer, she was not granted permission to leave the small apartments. What once had now seemed luxurious and refined now felt like a prison cell.

The days blended together in a sea of monotonous routines—callous wake up calls by unfeeling technology, perusing the outdated novels on a heavily restricted holo in the morning, followed by meditation for the majority of the afternoon—that were only broken up by her evening meals with Ben.

Rey was loathe to admit it, but she looked forward to the nightly intrusion on her confinement. By mid-afternoon on her first full day alone, she had taken up the habit of mumbling to herself—if only to break the eerie silence that plagued her as she spent the days alone. It was a practice she had not needed since her long days alone on Jakku. The ease in which she had fallen back into the habit worried her, and the hours spent in isolate provided little comfort to her.

It was only another few hours before gnawing paranoia set in.

"Was I just imagining some semblance of kindness last night?" Rey had wondered aloud on that first day.

When Ben appeared at her door, flanked by droids carrying trays of some of the most exotic and decadent foods she had ever seen, there was nothing Rey could do to hide the relief as it spread across her face. Their dinner that night had gone much the same as the first—an awkward lightness hung over them as they attempted to make conversation, sprinkled with unguarded moments of levity that made Rey forget the nature of her confinement.

It was tense—both of them walking on eggshells in order to not offend the other—but it was a welcome break from the hours she spent in solitude.

By the second day, Rey had almost completely forgotten the harsh exchange of words that occurred her first night aboard the Finalizer.

And now, by the third day, Rey had fallen in to a steady routine.

After the blasted alarm finally silenced and she was certain there was no hope of her falling back to sleep, Rey swung her legs over the bed and padded into the washroom. Turning on the fresher, she let the hot water run over for the second time in as many days. As much as she complained about her confinement—

"Now, this is a luxury," she murmured to no one in particular as she ran a fragrant rose shampoo through her hair. Even after her promotion to an officer, life in the Resistance was rugged to say the least. She hated to admit it, but this was an amenity that she could easily get used to.

Stepping out of the fresher, she quickly dressed to avoid the chill of the frigid space air. As she hurriedly slipped into the fitted grey tunic and leggings that had been stocked in her drawers, she saw a GG-class droid setting up her breakfast. She hurried over after running her fingers through her wet locks in a feeble attempt to detangle them, eager for the morning meal. But as she took her place at the lone seat at the table, she noticed that there was a feast before her.

"Excuse me," Rey's brow furrowed as she looked at the heaping plates before her, "there must be a mistake–there has to be enough food for two people here."

Her voice sounded much more hopeful than she intended it to.

"There is no mistake," the droid replied as it set a piping hot canister of caf in front of her. "Your meals are prepared based on your estimated caloric needs for the day."

"Estimated caloric needs?" Rey blinked, as she shoveled a forkful of Quor'sav egg into her mouth—all of the manners she learned the previous evenings were completely forgotten. "What do they expect me to do today—wrestle a Hutt?"

The droid lifted its mechanical shoulders to mimic a human shrug, as if to say don't ask me, I only deliver the food, and immediately resumed its task. It didn't offer any additional information, andRey was somewhat taken aback by the machine's non-answer, as she had only ever been accustomed to droids who were overly helpful. She could only imagine the short-circuit this machine's lack of manners would cause C3-PO.

The thought caused a sad smile to creep across her lips, as she looked at the steaming cup of caf in front of her. A pang of loneliness hit her square in the chest as she found herself wondering just what her friends in the Resistance were doing right now—were they drinking the same old synthetic caf as they poured over their reconstituted porridge in the mess? What were they discussing as they all huddled together?

Were they still in the midst of a large scale retreat?

Did they wonder about her?

Rey put her fork down, the thought of eating the fine delicacies in front of her as her friends went without was enough to cause her appetite to all but disappear. She stared at the fine food before her, and a wave of shame washed over her.

"Eat," the droid's mechanical voice echoed from across the room as it barked its order. The machine's sensory mechanism seemed to lock on to her.

Rey frowned, picking the fork back up. She pushed around the eggs on her plate, but couldn't bring herself to eat them. The aroma of it all was tempting, enticing her to have just another bite. But she resisted, guilt gnawing at her.

Rey wasn't sure it was possible, but the droid's eyes seemed to narrow at her as it repeated its initial command, "Eat."

She considered the command, giving in to both the machine and the tempting aroma of the food, but Rey's stubborn streak won out—she only continued to push the food around on her plate.

"If you don't eat," the droid countered, and if Rey had not known any better she would have thought that there was an air of haughtiness in its voice, "then not only will you be punished for your insolence, but I will also be reprogrammed for sanitation."

"Punished?" Rey blinked, completely unconcerned for the droid's potential reprogramming.

"You don't want to be stuck inside this room forever."

Did the GG droid actually just sass her? Rey balked as she considered the machine's reasoning. Despite the droid's vague hints, she hadn't considered that she would be allowed out of the confines of her luxurious prison cell. Days of loneliness weighed on her just as much as the wave of guilt. The hope of an escape from the dull routine was enough for her appetite to resurge with full force, and she began to shovel food inside of her mouth, her manners long forgotten.

Rey spent the next two hours—after having fully digested the largest meal she had ever eaten— restlessly waiting in her room for the excitement that the GG serving droid had promised her. It hung over her head, teasing her like a child waiting for some special treat. She needed a distraction and spent her time attempting in vain to meditate, but the sense of restlessness and boredom hanging over her head gnawed at her.

She sat on the cold hard floor of her apartments, attempting to calm herself and break free of any further distraction. She crossed her legs, ignoring the chill from the unfeeling metal surface as it came into contact with her skin. Instead, she put her hands flat on each thigh and inhaled deeply. I am taking in serenity, peace, the Force. She closed her eyes and once again imagined all of the restlessness and anxiety flooding out of her as she ex—

The approach of a familiar presence outside of her apartment door broke Rey from her feeble attempt at meditation. Her eyes shot open in anticipation of the impending intrusion, and she immediately rose from her seated position. Instinctively, her hand flew to the top of her head to smooth down any stray locks. But as the realization of just what she was doing dawned on her, she dropped her hand in shame.

She was not about to act like a foolish child for Ben Solo—not after everything that had come to pass between them.

The doors to her apartment opened without any ceremony or ringing—Ben was not one to wait for her to answer the door; he always let himself in without so much as a warning. She didn't truly need one anyway, Rey thought, as the familiar wisps of his presence curled around her like a warm hu—

Rey pushed away the thought before it fully formed in her mind.

"Today you are going to be joining me in the training grounds," Ben, without any greeting or pleasantries, interrupted her thoughts.

"T-training?" Rey sputtered incredulously. She could picture the scenario in her mind rather easily—a mix of sweat, heavy breathing, and facst paced sparring as the two of them clashed repeatedly. A small rush of excitement welled inside of her gut as she pictured it, but in every imagined outcome, the pair would only end up at each other's throats—both literally and figuratively. The mere thought of it was enough to make her laugh like the foolish child she told herself that she would not be.

If Rey was going to be honest with herself, the idea of sparring with him did intrigue her.

His only response to her incoherent snorting was to look at her sharply, and Rey could feel her cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny. She found herself wondering just what was going through his mind as he looked at her so stoically. Despite their bond, he was becoming increasingly difficult to read. Did he regret making the offer? Did he regard her as less serious, perhaps wondering if it was better to keep her confined to the apartments? Her embarrassment soon subsided, however, only to be replaced by a crushing desire to prove herself. To wipe the skeptical expression off of his face.

Rey straightened her back, staring Ben down with her most determined glare.

Ben only raised his eyebrows, but seemingly accepted her newfound determination as he continued. "It would be a shame for you to continue here without some kind of routine, and to not use and improve your skills."

Rey nodded, already so thankful for the opportunity to go beyond the four walls that had confined her for the past few days.

"And perhaps," Ben continued, his voice becoming much more assured and sounding every bit like the Supreme Leader he claimed to be, "you will learn something that your rebel friends—and Luke Skywalker—could not teach you."

Rey bristled at the mention of Luke Skywalker, the Jedi who reluctantly trained her for only a few short days. It was true that most of her skills were entirely self-taught, but the implication that his dark side training was superior to her own did not sit well with her. A small part of her wanted to lash out, to defame his training under Snoke, but she bit back her anger—it would do her no good right now.

Instead, she squared her delicate shoulders and stood even taller. "You can train me all you want, but I will never join you."

Ben's lips pursed into a thin line and his eyes rose to meet her own challenge.

No words passed between them as they stared hard at one another, both refusing to back down. Had she rendered him speechless? After a few beats of silence, Rey wondered if she had actually won the small argument between them. But as soon as she had begun to inwardly celebrate her victory against Ben's attempt to throw her off, she could hear his deep baritone echo throughout her mind.

We shall see.