Fallen Light, part II
Part One, A Scarred Homecoming (previously)
Part Two, Crossed Paths (you're here)
Part Three, A Smuggler's Gambit (coming soon!)
Pairing: Rey Skywalker x Slight OC, Male Reader (friendship established); Finn x Rey Skywalker (eventual love triangle)
Word Count: 5.9 k+
Content Warning: This chapter contains scenes of violence, physical confrontation, intense emotional distress, the threat of death, and themes of abandonment, jealousy, and fear.
Summary: After a tense morning, Kaelen and Rey head to Niima Outpost with their new droid companion, BB-8. While Kaelen sells his scavenged goods, a disturbing conversation about a First Order attack and a hunted droid reaches his ears. His attempts to warn Rey are complicated by the sudden appearance of a mysterious stranger whose connection to BB-8, and Rey's immediate fascination, ignite Kaelen's bitter jealousy. Their personal conflicts are brutally cut short when First Order stormtroopers arrive, forcing the trio into a desperate fight for survival.
Authorâs Note: Apologies for the long wait on this one! Work and college have completely swallowed my time lately â that's been "fun" in its own way. But despite the delays, part two is finally here! I confess, I initially aimed for this mini-series to be just three parts, but finishing this section, I realized I'm still only about thirty minutes into the film's timeline. So, yeah⌠we might be here for a bit longer! Your thoughts mean a lot, so please do let me know what you think. I'll do my best to get part three out more quickly, but no firm promises just yet. Enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction work. I do not own the Star Wars universe, its characters, or any associated intellectual property. All rights belong to George Lucas, Lucasfilm, and Disney. This story is written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. The story image is AI-generated.
Spoiler Warning: The following story contains spoilers for Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015).
Original Post: July 27, 2025
The soft glow of Jakkuâs twin suns crept beyond the horizon, their rays ever so slowly stretching light across the lands, warming the sands, and bringing a new day. The pre-dawn chill seeped into Kaelenâs bones, causing him to unconsciously draw his limbs closer to his core, a stark contrast to the distant, faint glow painting the eastern skies. He shifted on his worn blanket, the sand underneath compacted and contouring to his form. It was hard and uncomfortable, but this was an uncomfortable life.
From inside the AT-AT, the clang and thumps of metal against metal echoed, slowly drawing him away from his sleep. It was painfully obvious it was intentional, and Kaelen had to let out a steady breath to keep his patience. Rey had started early, either because she could not sleep or because she was eager to send BB-8 on his way.
With his eyes closed, Kaelen could hear the hatch open, obnoxiously, her phantom silhouette wrestling with a pile of scavenged parts Kaelen had brought home. Her speeder, battered and sun-bleached, sat half-loaded, its cargo net bulging in the dim light.
A few feet from the walker, BB-8 too had awoken, assessing the situation before understanding it was time. Zipping back and forth, its excited beeps and chirps are a bright, insistent counterpoint to the quiet tension that still hung heavy between the two humans. Rey didn't spare Kaelen a glance, her movements economical and precise as she focused on the task at hand. The previous night's argument and her stubborn resolve to stay on Jakku still festered between them. The droid, however, seemed oblivious, its presence a new, unwelcome variable in their strained morning routine.
Kaelen squeezed his eyes shut, trying to sink deeper into the sand. "Five more minutes," he mumbled into his blanket, barely audible.
A frustrated sigh huffed from somewhere behind him. "Five more minutes and Unkar will have scavenged our salvage before we even get there! Get up, Kaelen! The sun is almost up!"
BB-8 let out a series of enthusiastic whistles, as if cheering Rey on. Kaelen groaned, pulling the blanket higher. "He's not a morning person, is he?" he grumbled, more to the droid than to Rey.
"Neither are you, apparently," Rey retorted, her voice edged with annoyance, but a hint of a familiar exasperation. "Now move it. We're going to the outpost, whether you like it or not."
With one last ounce of dread, Kaelen mustered his strength to open his eyes. From where he was facing, his back towards the hatch of the walker, Kaelen could see that the sun was halfway across the horizon, and he could feel the temperature rise with it. Glancing at his small fire, he could see the ashes had turned grey, and the slightest stream of smoke rose from what remained.
Rising from his makeshift bed, propping himself up on one elbow, Kaelen squinted at Rey. She had changed into a set of clean desert robes, a simple, light-colored tunic crafted from a thick yet breathable fabric that promised protection from the elements. It was cinched at her waist by a worn leather belt, heavy with the practical weight of pouches and small scavenging tools. Two long, crisscrossing lengths of tattered, beige cloth were wrapped tightly around her torso, not just securing her gear but also shielding her from the relentless bite of the sand and the harsh glare of the sun. Her durable trousers were tucked into sturdy, sand-worn boots, each scuff and crease telling a silent story of countless miles traversed across the dunes. She had even taken the time to comb and re-do her signature hairstyle, the familiar three buns now neater, with soft tendrils of longer hair framing either side of her freshly cleaned face.
Kaelen caught himself, his gaze lingering on the soft curve of her cheek. Sometime during the night, while he'd slept under the open sky, she had washed. Her skin, now free of the ever-present sand dust and oil streaks, seemed to glow in the nascent light. Clean water was a precious luxury on Jakku, often reserved for drinking and the most essential hygiene. The fact that she had used some to cleanse herself spoke volumes. She was beautiful, a resilient bloom in this desolate landscape.
A whistle from beside him broke Kaelen of his trance, his head turning to look directly into the photoreceptor of BB-8, who was watching him. Slightly flustered that he had been caught, Kaelen cleared his throat, his voice a little higher. "What?" he grumbled.
BB-8 chirped a bright, encouraging note, then rolled impatiently towards the speeder. Kaelen groaned inwardly but complied, gathering his gear. Rey was already mounted on her speeder, the engine sputtering to life, her eyes fixed on the distant outpost. He didn't need to be told twice. He swung his pack onto the speeder's rear platform, careful not to jostle the droid who had already secured itself there with a series of quick, magnetic clicks.
The ride to Niima Outpost was always a race against the rising sun, a desperate scramble to sell their finds before the worst of the heat, or Unkar Plutt's patience, wore out. Today, however, as they sped across the sand, a sense of foreboding settled over Kaelen. The outpost, usually a chaotic hub of familiar desperation, felt⌠different today. With the distant, dusty outlines of Niima Outpost steadily growing larger on the horizon, promising not just a day's meager earnings, but an unforeseen encounter that would shatter their fragile Jakku existence.
âŚ
Kaelen was the first to dismount the speeder, his hand extended to Rey in an attempt to mend their friendship. When she glanced at his outstretched hand, for a moment, he could tell she wanted to reach out as well. But as her feet landed in the sand and she turned to untether BB-8 and the salvaged parts, his hand remained extended and emptyârejected.
Kaelen dropped his hand, a frustrated sigh escaping him. âAre we just not going to talk?â he asked, his voice low.
With her back turned towards him and BB-8 released, she paused for a moment, debating. She didnât turn around, only resuming her task of gathering a portion of the salvage.
âDonât give up. He still might show up,â she said, looking at BB-8. âWhoever it is youâre waiting for.â Pulling her satchel over her shoulder, she stepped away from her speeder and towards BB-8. âClassified. I know all about waiting.â
BB-8 let out an inquisitive beep.
Rey looked at the droid, a forced smile on her face that didnât quite reach her eyes. âFor my family. Theyâll be back. One day. Come on.â She headed off towards the Outpost market. BB-8 beeped, then rolled after her.
Kaelen pressed his lips tighter, his jaw slightly clenching before releasing. She needed more time, he thought. He watched as Rey turned her back and moved towards the main trading post area, BB-8 rolling loyally at her heels. She'd be heading for Unkar Plutt, no doubt.
He sighed, then shifted his own pack higher on his shoulder. No point in standing around. He'd avoid Plutt's greedy eyes for now. He turned towards one of the smaller, less reputable stalls further down the dusty row, hoping to get a fairer price for his Kessel conduits. He needed solid credits, not just portions.
Kaelen approached the merchant stallâa quickly assembled affair of twisted, old wooden posts and reclaimed metals mended together by twine, with a tattered, dirty blanket serving as meager shadeâhe saw the familiar wiry human with wary, tired eyes. He was older, a permanent fixture here since Kaelen was a boy. He remembered the old toy he had displayed on his stand years ago, a toy he had begged his parents for, but they never did get it.
Placing his wares on the table before the merchant, Kaelen gave a soft greeting. He leaned his electro staff against the makeshift counter, then pushed a few of the kyber-flux conduits forward. "Got some good stuff this trip, Jaren," he said. "Pure Kessel."
The merchant, Jaren, picked one up, his brow furrowing slightly. He ran a practiced thumb over the smooth, metallic surface. "Kessel, you say? That's a long way for a Jakku scavenger. Risks a man's neck for a few extra portions." He looked up at Kaelen, a flicker of something assessing in his tired eyes. "Looks clean, though. What's your price?"
âIâm not looking for portions. Credits.â Kaelen corrected, his gaze steady.
Jarenâs eyes narrowed slightly, the crowâs feet by his eyes deepening, eyeing the young man before him. A knowing look replaced his usual weariness. âCredits?â he mumbled, looking over the parts. âThatâs new for you, boy. Always been portions before. Getting enough to last, keep that friend of yours fed.â He paused, his gaze drifting over Kaelenâs shoulder towards where Rey would be heading. âLooking to finally leave this dust ball, are we? Find that âbetter lifeâ your mother used to dream of?â His voice softened, tinged with a shared, unspoken understanding of loss. âAnd what about the girl, Kaelen? You just leaving her behind?â
Kaelenâs jaw tightened. The question hit too close, echoing Reyâs own cutting words from last night. âItâs not like that,â Kaelen managed to say between gritted teeth. âIâŚâ He paused. He didn't know what to say, because it was like that. Shaking his head, Kaelen quickly looked away, busying his hands with arranging his conduits and scraps on the table. âThatâs my business, old man. Just give me a fair price.â His tone was clipped, sharper than he intended. The moment those words left his mouth, he regretted them, the venom hot on his tongue.
Instead of a harsh or even angry reply, Jaren didnât recoil from the sharp words. Instead, his tired eyes softened, a faint, sad smile touching his lips. He'd seen that particular brand of anger before, especially in the young. "You think I haven't seen enough in my years in this wasteland, Kaelen? Saw your parents' dream of leaving. Saw plenty of others chase a better life... and leave behind what they truly cared for." He leaned across the counter, his voice dropping, almost a whisper. "Sometimes, boy, the real treasure ain't in the credits you make, but in what you choose to keep. Some bonds... they're stronger than any starship. Stronger than any longing for what's 'out there'." He fixed Kaelen with a look that spoke of decades of observation. "Think carefully about what you leave behind. This desert takes everything, but sometimes, a man gives away too much on his own."
There was a moment of silence, Kaelen stunned, taking in the older man's words. Never had Kaelen spoken about the deeply hidden feelings he harbored for Rey, or the feelings he had been denying for some time. Even if he did not want to admit it, they were undeniably there. The sudden shift in their conversation made him deeply uncomfortable, as he was nowhere near ready to face those feelings. He was afraid that if he spoke about them out loud, they would become real.
Jaren cleared his throat, sensing the shift in the young man. âWell,â he began, pulling the conduits closer. âYou want credits, you risk your neck for âem. These are good. Pure. Iâll give you⌠two hundred credits for the lot. My final offer.â
Kaelen blinked, startled back to the present. It was a decent offer, better than Plutt would give. The credits would mean weeks of real food, a chance to buy something beyond survival rations. Perhaps even a one-way ticket off this planet⌠He nodded, securing the small data chip Jaren slid across the counter, confirming the transfer. Kaelen had a feeling Jaren was being more than fair with his offer, giving them the choice to leave, permanently, and still have some left over.
âThank you, Jaren,â Kaelen said, his voice quiet but sincere, offering a brief, thankful nod before turning from the stall. He slung his now-empty bag over his shoulder, his fingers grasping the cool alloy of his staff. He secured the data chip, heavy with credits, to his belt. The weight of the transaction felt solid in his hand, a newfound confidence blooming within him.
He began his trek over to the heart of the outpost's desperation: Unkar Pluttâs salvage stall. It was less a shop and more a fortified cage of commerce, a rusted metal tent adorned with intimidating barbed wire over its main window. The bloated blobfish of a merchant, Unkar himself, presided from behind this grim barrier, always scrutinizing, always assessing. A chaotic swirl of desperate scavengers always gravitated here, and as Kaelen drew closer, he caught the uneasy murmur of hushed voices. A small group, their faces grim, was dispersing from Plutt's window, their frantic whispers carried on the dust-choked air.
It was easy for Kaelen to pick up on the words, slowing his gait into a steady walk to focus on their voices, then the sand crunching underneath his feet.
âDid you hear?â a hushed voice muttered to another, pulling his hood tighter. âFirst Order hit Tuanul village last night. Brutal, they say. Slaughtered everyone.â
Kaelen grimaced at this news. Tuanul village was far from Niima Outpostâa few hours' ride with a substantial speeder, and a day's trek on foot if you were lucky. It was a small settlement in the Kelvin Ravine. Most of its population were members of the Church of the Force, affiliated with the old Jedi order, but they were harmless, clinging only to old ways. Why would the First Order execute them?
He heard the second scavengerâs reply, low and fearful. âYeah, I heard. And the whispers⌠they say the First Order was looking for something. A droid. A small, round one, apparently.â
Then, the first scavenger's eyes, wide with sudden realization, flickered past Kaelen's shoulder towards the bustling crowd near Unkar's window. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, a tremor of disbelief in it. "Wait... look. That droid... the one she's with... could it be?"
Kaelen's head snapped up, his eyes involuntarily darting towards Rey and BB-8, who stood at Unkar's window. A cold dread began to coil in his stomach. Tuanul village. A droid. The pieces clicked into place with an unnerving precision.
Kaelen felt angry with himself. He should have known nothing good would have come with a mysterious, random droid who showed up, fighting with the Teedo. Yet Kaelen had vouched for it. It was making terrible sense now: from their home at the AT-AT, Tuanul village was a walkable distance. It all made chilling sense.
He tried to focus on the passing scavengers, straining to hear more snippets of conversation, but his mind kept stubbornly drifting back to the little spherical droid that had turned up on their doorstep. He found himself repeating the scavenger's whispered question: "Could it be?"
The muscles in his legs moved instinctively, his mind lagging behind as his body propelled him forward towards her. He was ready to tell her, to warn her about what he'd heard, to get them and the droid away from the outpost, as far as possible. He knew the First Order and their violent, murderous tendencies. What would they do with them if they found BB-8 here? There were already too many eyes that had spotted Rey and the droid.
Just as his foot made contact with the ground, Kaelen's eyes focused on Reyâs back. He saw the large mountain of small packets lying before her, her arms outstretched around the bounty, pulling them close to the table's edge but not quite accepting them. He watched her hesitate for a moment, the thin tendrils of her hair swaying by the faintest gust of wind. Her eyes glazed over, hungrily, greedily, at the sight of such abundance. Kaelen could see her long pause, before her lips formed words that he could not hear, her gaze fixed on BB-8, the droid looking back at her. And then she stepped away, taking only a single packet of rations with her.
Kaelen watched on, his eyes fixed on Reyâs receding form. His muscles remained tense, coiled and ready to spring, but seeing his friend seemingly unharmed, a wave of self-admonishment washed over him. He felt utterly silly. Had he truly allowed himself to be swayed by mere marketplace gossip from strangers? There was no way to verify such frantic whispers, and besides, even if there was a sliver of truth to it, what Jakku scavenger wouldn't eye a unique droid, hungry for its valuable parts?
Then, his gaze snagged on Unkar Plutt. The massive alien has pulled a small communicator from beneath his counter, speaking rapidly into it in a low, guttural growl. Kaelenâs eyes darted nervously toward Reyâs direction, and then, with a sharp, decisive motion, he slammed his windowâs heavy metal shutter down with a resounding CLANG.
Kalenâs blood ran cold. He knew that look, that kind of frantic secrecy. It wasnât about salvage. It was a warning, or worse, a signal. A deep, unsettling unease churned in his gut.
It was then that a profound sense of urgency, an insistent knowing, washed over him. It wasn't a sound or a touch, but an undeniable prickle, deep within him, urging him to action. His hand went instinctively to his neck, his fingers closing around the smooth, worn fragment of his mother's crystal tucked beneath his tunic. He felt compelled to touch it, as if it could somehow ground this sudden, overwhelming premonition. Rey was in danger.
Without a second thought, Kaelen shoved off, unaware of his empty sack falling from his shoulder. His electro staff was in his hand, its phrik alloy cool against his palm, ready. He sprinted forward, pushing through the gossiping scavengers, his eyes fixed on Reyâs retreating form.
The outpost was more crowded than normal. The earlier hours were always best, not only for vendors but for everyone to beat the heat before it peaked and became unbearable. He weaved through the throngs, his eyes frantically searching for Rey's familiar beige garb. Pushing deeper into the crowd, it was then that he saw her several feet away, kneeling in front of the droid, her staff tucked into her side.
He opened his mouth to shout her name, a warning, but the words died in his throat. Two hulking figures, dressed in thick layers with scarves covering their heads and faces, materialized from the jostling crowd like phantoms. They moved with an unsettling, practiced efficiency. Before Rey could even get to her feet, one approached her, clearly stating their intent to take the droid. The other lunged forward, throwing a coarse, heavy drape over BB-8. The droid's excited beeping turned into muffled, frantic chirps of alarm from beneath the cloth.
This alarm set Rey off. She quickly spun towards the droid, her leg immediately kicking out at the thug who had thrown the drape, yelling, âOi! Get off him!â His body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, right into the boxes of a nearby merchant's stall. The second thug, the grimy brute who had approached Rey first, immediately grabbed her from behind, lifting her off her feet and pulling her away from the struggling droid.
Rey snarled, feral and desperate. Without hesitation, she twisted her head back and bit down hard on the man's arm, eliciting a guttural roar of pain. He recoiled, dropping her with a yelp of disgust. As she landed, still spinning to regain her footing, her staff whipped out, catching a precarious stack of metal urns for sale. They toppled with a deafening CRASH, the sound echoing sharply through the outpost, momentarily silencing the market's usual din.
That crash was all the signal Kaelen needed. He was already a blur of motion, his electro staff a gleaming extension of his will. "Get off her!" he roared, lunging forward. His staff swung in a wide, powerful arc, connecting with the chest of the thug who had just dropped Rey, sending the brute sprawling back into the bewildered crowd.
The thug who had gone for the droid was back on his feet, charging at Kaelen, landing a solid fist into his cheek, whipping Kaelen's face to the side. The force wasn't enough to knock him off his feet, but the pain in his cheek burst like a hot iron, rapidly spreading across his face. Kaelen ducked away from the second swing, acutely aware that Rey was also back on her feet, quarterstaff in hand, already locked in combat with the other thug. Dodging a third swing, Kaelen slipped underneath the thug's arms, getting behind him. He then lifted his staff, swinging it hard into the man's side, then down to his legs, sweeping him off his feet and onto his side with a crack.
When the thug rolled onto his back, Kaelen swiped his staff in an upward motion, the tip of the hard alloy connecting with the thug's jaw, forcing it to close with a hard crunch and snapping his head back into the sand. Kaelen was sure he had broken teeth.
Even though they lived a harsh life, Kaelenâs strength was often overlooked, his loose clothing masking the years of muscle building underneath. He had to be strong to survive. For both of them.
As Kaelen raised his staff for another attack, the thug threw up his hands, cowering, a deep red dot appearing on his cloth mask that began to grow larger, spreading. Kaelen paused, his grip on the staff tightening, knuckles white, the staff rising and falling with Kaelen's rapid, yet controlled breath. He could feel the anger in him surge, not just from the fight, but a deeper, simmering frustration that had built up since last night, since Rey had refused to truly see his point, since she had pushed him away. The want⌠no, the absolute need to inflict pain, to make this man feel a fraction of the helplessness he felt when he thought he was losing her, bubbled to the surface. For a terrifying beat, the thought of smashing his staff down, hard, consumed him.
But then, a flash of beige in his peripheral visionâRey. She was fighting fiercely, but she was there. He couldn't let her see this, couldn't let her witness the cold, destructive part of him that threatened to unravel. He wouldn't give her another reason to push him away.
With one last harsh look at the cowering thug, Kaelen turned towards Rey. He was a moment away from helping her, almost as if responding to an unspoken beckoning, but then he halted. Rey herself had overcome her aggressor. With a swift, precise hit onto the thug's shoulder, stunning him, she recoiled back and launched the side of her staff into the man's temple, knocking him clean off his feet. Kaelen stood ready, watching her, a quiet pride swelling in his chest. There had been countless moments like this, times they'd faced down thugs and scrap scavengers together, and every time, he found himself fiercely proud watching her hold her ground, unyielding and undeterred.
The two defeated thugs were quick to try and escape, evidently realizing they were no match for the combined power of Kaelen's measured strength and Rey's sheer ferocity. They had been unprepared for such resistance, thinking it an easy pick. Scrambling away, they retreated, leaving behind a chirping BB-8, who inquisitively wondered what had just transpired. The onlookers, already accustomed to such brawls, merely shrugged and resumed their haggling, largely unfazed by the skirmish that had just provided a momentary entertainment for their dull existence.
Rey was the first to move towards the droid. She knelt swiftly, reaching for the sack, and threw it off to the side. BB-8's round head immediately rolled to where his photoreceptor looked up at his saviors: Rey, and then, standing just behind her, Kaelen, his presence looming, his electro staffâs tip placed firmly in the ground, still guarded and ready for the next attack. BB-8 beeped a questioning query.
âThey work for Unkar,â Rey said, still kneeling. âThat guy wanted you. He must have really wanted you.â
The scavengers' conversation from earlier, about Tuanul Village and the hunted droid, popped into Kaelen's mind with chilling clarity. âRey,â he urged, taking a step closer, the words tumbling out as he forgot about the lingering tension between them. His only focus was her safety. "Rey, I need to talk to you."
Rey turned, looking up at Kaelen from her kneeling position, her hand shaking her staff free of sand as she picked it up. âWhat is it?â she asked.
Just then, BB-8 suddenly started beeping wildly, his dome swiveling sharply to their left. His focus was fixed on a spot twenty feet or so away, to the sidelines, underneath a stall's meager shade where a man stood.
âWho?â Rey asked the droid, but BB-8's frantic chirps already conveyed the answer. The droid strung together a series of insistent beeps, indicating the leather jacket the man wore was identical to his master's. No, not just identical, it was the one.
"Him?" Kaelen inquired, his eyes following the droid's fixed gaze, only for BB-8 to confirm with a decisive whir. As if simultaneously, both Rey and Kaelen looked over at the figure, their previous concerns momentarily forgotten in the face of this new, unexpected enigma.
The man, looking utterly out of place amidst the chaos of Jakku, was young, with short, tapered hair and a bewildered, slightly panicked expression etched onto his face. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face, his dark skin glistening. He wore dark, simple trousers and a plain, dark shirt untucked, but it was his outer garment that truly stood out: a distinctive brown leather jacket. It was a military issue, albeit well-worn and likely salvaged, with patches and faded Resistance insignia on the shoulder that, even from a distance, hinted at a story far more complex than any scavenger's tale. He seemed to carry the weight of something heavy, his eyes wide and uncertain as he scanned the market, but his eyes were set on the droid.
Rey rose to her feet, and in an instant, she was racing forward, holding her quarterstaff in one hand, charging the man. Kaelen was quick to follow, a wordless command he obeyed, as did the little droid, rolling energetically behind them. The man stood there in shock at first. It wasnât until Rey had halved the distance between them that he realized he was her target.
The man spun on his heel, his feet carrying him into a desperate sprint, weaving and dodging between stalls through the crowded market. His ears picked up the thumping of someone relentless behind him. Skidding into one stall, several of the merchant's wares tumbled off their table, shattering on impact, and the indignant merchant immediately began shouting after him. He turned a corner, quickly evading, but it was then that a hard, sudden impact slammed into his chest. He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him, a groan escaping his lips as he realized Kaelen had rounded the corner and struck him with his staff.
Rey raised her quarterstaff at the stranger, rounding to where she now stood at his feet. Kaelen slowly circled to his side, his own electro staff held ready, prepared for any sudden move from the man.
âWhatâs your hurry, thief?â Rey demanded.
The man stammered, scrambling slightly on the ground. âWhat--?! Thief?!â
Just then, BB-8 rolled up fast, his spherical body opening with a soft whir. A small metal plate moved, revealing a welding arm that quickly telescoped from his chassis and delivered a sharp jolt, shocking the man where he lay.
"OW!â He yelped. âHey! What?!â Confused and dazed, the man scrambled back slightly as Rey persisted.
âThe jacket!â Rey accused, her staff still pointed. âThe droid said you stole it!â
The man looked up at Rey, his eyes quickly glancing at Kaelen before flickering back to her staff. âIâve had a pretty messed-up day, alright?! So, Iâd appreciate it if you stop accusing meââ the manâs voice grew increasingly frustrated, and as he began to lift himself onto one elbow, BB-8 zapped him again.
âOW!â the man yelled again, groaning before shouting at BB-8 to stop it.
âWhere did you get the jacket? It belongs to his master!â Rey pressed, her voice unwavering.
The man looked at Rey, then at the agitated droid. Kaelen, watching, could sense the turmoil in the man's racing mind, his own internal battle as if he were putting pieces together himself. The man sighed heavily, his head rolling back against the sand. He needed to respond to them somehow.
âIt belonged to Poe Dameron,â he finally said, his voice a weary admission. âThat was his name, right?â he asked, looking at BB-8. The droid beeped excitedly, looking to Rey before rolling back to the stranger, confirming with a series of relieved chirps.
Rey's eyes widened, a flicker of awe Kaelen didn't miss. He'd never seen her look at him like that.
âHe was captured⌠by the First Order!â Finn continued, his voice gaining desperate energy. âI helped him escape, but our ship crashed.â He grimaced, his gaze now looking at the droid, his eyes full of sorrow. âPoe didnât make it.â
BB-8 let out a sad, mournful, long whine, his head dropping at the news.
Kaelen's gaze narrowed. There was a frantic energy to Finnâs story, a little too much theatricality for a man who claimed to have just escaped the First Order. He watched Rey, seeing the immediate empathy and awe in her eyes as she listened. A bitter taste filled Kaelen's mouth. This stranger had known Rey for minutes, and already he commanded a spark of admiration Kaelen sometimes felt he had to fight for.
âI tried to help him,â Finn said, his voice softer now, attempting to comfort the droid. âIâm sorry.â
The droid turned its head, no longer the firecracker it was moments ago, and began to roll away from them, disappearing behind Rey and out of sight.
Rey looked at BB-8, then considered Finn again, a thoughtful expression on her face. A slight, almost impressed, tilt to her head. She lowered her staff.
âSo youâre with the Resistance?â Rey asked, her voice intrigued.
Kaelen felt a prickle. It wasn't the urgency of his mother's crystal, but a hollow feeling, a dissonance in the Force that told him the man was about to lie. He instinctively clutched the crystal fragment beneath his tunic, his jaw tightening as he watched Reyâs expectant face. He couldn't stand the way her eyes seemed to light up, the way she leaned in, completely taken by Finn's manufactured heroism. He had fought off scavengers and brought back actual treasures, risked his life, and she'd barely offered a smile. Now, this man, this liar, was effortlessly captivating her.
âObviously,â Finn said, getting up from his spot on the ground. âYes. I am. Iâm with the Resistance, yeah,â he added, lowering his voice, almost whispering the last words.
Kaelen's lips pressed into a hard line; his suspicion is a cold knot in his stomach. He slowly walked to Reyâs side, his electro staff now lowered, its tip resting lightly on the sand, but not disengaged. He remained a silent, watchful sentinel.
Reyâs staff, however, lowered completely, her posture relaxing. She studied Finn, clearly impressed. âIâve never met a Resistance fighter before.â
Finn managed a slight, nervous smile. âWell, this is what we look like. Some of us. Others look different.â
âBB-8 says heâs on a secret mission; he has to get back to your base,â Rey informed Finn, glancing back at where the droid was settled. BB-8 was still tucked away behind her, processing the news of Poe in its own circuitous way, but its message about its urgent mission was clear.         Â
The man spoke quickly, loudly, as if relaying a juicy bit of gossip, utterly unfazed by the monumental weight of his own words. âApparently, heâs carrying a map that leads to Luke Skywalker, and everyoneâs after it.â
Reyâs head snapped up, turning to Finn, her expression concerned, curious, and utterly captivated. Kaelen watched her, the raw longing in her gaze, a hunger he'd seen before, but never directed at another person, especially not at a stranger barely five minutes old. A fresh wave of jealousy, sharp and hot, twisted in his gut.
"Luke Skywalker?" Kaelen interjected, his voice cutting through the startled silence, a rare sharpness to his tone after his quiet observation. "I thought he was a myth." He had heard the name before on his travels, hushed voices speaking of rumors, legends, storiesânever a real person.
Rey and the stranger looked to him, the pair startled by his sudden voice. Kaelen could see the flicker of embarrassment cross Rey's face as she realized her friend was there, watching. She had been so utterly captivated by the moment, by the supposed Resistance fighter, that she had forgotten their argument, forgotten the tension that still simmered between them. It stung him, his heart prickling with a painful ache.
But before either could reply, BB-8's rapid beeps drew the attention of the trio, the droid madly buzzing at something it saw. Kaelen was the first to step forward and investigate, following the small droid to the edge of the market's shade. âWhat the hell?â He muttered, peering out into the dusty outskirts, his eyes settling on two figures armored in white. It was then that he made out Unkar's thugs, talking to the figures, pointing in their direction.
The figures in white turned. In that instant, Kalen realized who they were. Stormtroopers.
"What is it?" Rey asked, startled by Kaelen's sudden tension.
The resistance fighter, reacting purely on instinct, moved to Rey, urgently grabbing her hand and yanking her towards the maze of tents.
But Kaelen was quicker. His hand shot out, not at Rey, but at the man. He shoved him hard, pushing him away from Rey, creating a space between them, his figure towering over him and creating a protective barrier. "Back off!" Kaelen snarled, his voice a low, furious growl. "They're here for you, not us!"
Rey, bewildered for a split second by Kaelen's aggression, quickly snapped back to the immediate threat. She tugged on Kaelen's arm, her eyes wide with alarm, pointing with her staff. "Kaelen, no! We're already spotted! They're running towards us! It doesn't matter what's going on, we're going to get killed if we stay!"
"She's right! Come on! Now!" the man yelled, already scrambling to get past them, his voice tight with desperation. He was afraid, too afraid, Kaelen noticed. Something was not right, Kaelen thought, a cold knot forming in his gut.
Kaelen's jaw tightened. The words were a bitter pill, the truth of the situation undeniable. They were spotted, caught between the droid and the supposed Resistance fighter. The First Order was here for one thing, and it was not justice. He glared at the man for a heartbeat, then, with a reluctant nod, conceded.
The murmurs in the market had died, replaced by a growing, ominous silence. All eyes, including Kaelen's, were now fixed on the two white-armored figures. They weren't moving quickly yet, but their presence alone was enough. They scanned the crowd, their helmets turning slowly, deliberately, before one of them raised a hand, pointing directly at the trio.
All the petty grudges, the bitter jealousy, the gnawing frustrationâthey vaporized in the face of the approaching storm. There was no escape. Not here. Not now.
His entire being narrowed to one desperate imperative: Rey. Keep Rey safe.
The First Order had arrived, and they were coming for them.
