A Reylo re-telling of Beauty and the Beast
In the beginning learning the curse could be broken had given him hope. Yet as he grew more reclusive that hope faded to cynicism. He snorted to himself at the memory, pushing away all of those ridiculous t...
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1,268.
That was the number of rivets Finn counted that secured the ceiling tiles in place above him in his holding cell.
177 was the number of times the florescent lights had flickered throughout the hours he sat staring absentmindedly at a not-so-interesting speck of dirt on the chamber floor, marring its otherwise pristine condition.
93 was the number of times Finn heard his stomach growling, demanding for his attention to acknowledge that it needed to be fed.
Even though a First Order protocol droid had been bringing him small rations of bread and what appeared to be some form of mystery meat he didn't want to risk the chance of it being tainted. Although he'd been surprised to see the Order had provided such hospitality to a prisoner, Finn considered the reason to be that Hux still needed him alive for whatever grand scheme he had up his sleeve. Knowing the General's reputation of conducting ruthless tactics to get what he wanted, Finn wasn't about to put it past the general to pull a shady move as such.
And finally the last number that crossed his mind was the number 2. Two marked the number of days – according to the analogue clock on the wall – that he was confined to the diminutive size of this kriffing chamber. Hux's words from the previous days' confrontation replayed continuously in his head: the First Order officially knew of Rey's whereabouts. He had to get out of here, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't manage to free his hands of the cuffs. Even if he were able to, there was nothing within the cell's vicinity to free himself of its secured confinement.
He was exhausted. He hadn't slept since the evening prior to his and Jessika's arrival on Starkiller Base. His head was still pounding from being conked with a blaster, and he felt weak and lightheaded from the stubborn lack of nourishment.
For the current foreseen future all Finn could do was sit, and hope, that Leia had been right. He knew the palace was securely hidden which would make it relatively harder for the Order to find: even with the guidance of the binary beacons. While patience had always been a strong virtue of his – a quality earned from his years of assisting Rey with scavenging on Jakku – time was officially running out. And by the looks of it what he needed right now was a miracle.
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Back at the palace's West wing Kylo was doubting his earlier decision to ask Rey to dance. At first it had seemed like a good plan, which it was – in theory. He'd lost track of the countless number of times he had been forced to dance throughout the years. Being born of noble class it was merely a necessity to learn due to the numerous celebrations and gatherings his parents held, and attended, throughout the years.
He had meant everything he'd told Rey the previous morning when he convinced her to dance with him. He wouldn't allow her to make a fool of herself. That, for the most part, he was confident in, but it was what he planned to do afterwards that was currently sending his stomach into a series of knots and rendering his nerves skyward. It had been years since anyone outside his staff had seen his face. Even during those times, he had been significantly self-conscious of his looks and how others perceived him to be.
