Cyra spent the night by herself, but when she awoke in the morning--or what she assumed was the morning, one could never tell with the lack of windows--she felt a presence beside her. She stiffed and pretended to still be sleeping, though her eyes remained open. She decided to casually roll to face him, stretching the blanket over her shoulders and hiding most of her face. She waited for a few moments before she opened one eye to see him.
Ben was in bed with her, tucked underneath the comforter, but he lay rather unusually with his back against the bed. His hands were folded on top of his stomach and his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
"Are you going to pretend to stop sleeping now?" he wondered softly.
Cyra blocked her mind immediately as she heard his husky voice. She continued to hide her face underneath the covers. "Perhaps."
"How did you sleep?" he asked. He made no move to look at her, but allowed her to continue trailing her eyes along the profile of his face. "Because I barely slept. Your mind is awfully loud, Cyra."
"I dream loud?" said Cyra, her tone monotonous. She was appalled by how quick he was to jump into a poor start of their day. "I am so sorry I don't consciously hide my dreams from you after I spent six years alone. Forgive me. If you have such a problem, maybe you could get out of my head. Or, I don't know, get your own room?"
"My own bed, for that matter," he agreed. When he continued to stare at the ceiling, instead of respond to her attitude, Cyra realized he was not truly upset over losing sleep. She shrunk further under the blanket. Ben continued, "You dreamt about us. Our past together."
Cyra tried to conceal her annoyance at his unwanted presence in her mind, notably while she was sleeping. She had to conceal it; this was a good step in the direction she was trying to take him. Ben allowing himself in her head, listening to her thoughts, feeling her emotions, without trying, could bring him back to the person he was when they were younger. She was showing him, even subconsciously, he had never left her heart, nor her mind.
"Can you blame me?" she wondered. "I've been surrounded by you and our past for the last two weeks. My subconscious cannot even escape you."
"Perhaps I'll take that as a compliment," he said, somewhat cheekily. It was hard to tell with how serious his voice had become. But, somewhere, underneath the man he became, she saw the Ben Solo from her youth peaking out at her. I'm here, he was trying to say. I'm still here...
"You were dreaming about the letters," Ben continued.
It became obvious to Cyra that he wanted her to inquire more into her own dreams. A wave of anxiety floated through her stomach; her plan was working. She needed to play into it believably.
"The letters you used to write to me?" she wondered, her brows coming together. "I had them on me the night I left you, I kept them in that backpack."
Ben was genuinely curious. "Why?"
Cyra shrugged her shoulders. "Why wouldn't I?"
That was something Ben couldn't argue. He didn't know why he felt inclined to ask. After spending a number of hours accidentally hearing the voices of her dreams, he assumed he would have kept them, too. If not for the memories of a better time, when they were together, it was to continue practicing the lessons Ben detailed. He supposed he wanted to hear some declaration from her, as he had told her a number of times since he found her again. She never was a forward gal, at least with her words of affirmations. It was always in her actions, he had to remember. She loved him because she kept the letters. She loved him because she chose him.
Does she? A part of him wondered. It was in a prophecy that she would join him. He, Luke, and Leia had all recently reminded her of her foreseen place in this story. He had to wonder her reasoning for joining him, truly, beyond what she saw in his head, beyond the prophecy. Another part of Ben's head told him he already knew why she stayed. It was in her actions, it had to be.
Ben sighed, a slightly growl exuding from him. He flushed in embarrassment when he noticed how loud it was, and he cleared his throat. He felt stupid. He felt genuinely stupid and boyish worrying about a girl again. He was beyond that, he thought. He thought love would never reach him again after Cyra was believed to be dead, but, of course, as all things did, it changed. He loved her as fiercely as the days in their youth the minute he saw her again.
But he could not remember what it was like to be in love, nor how the person he had grown to be would submit to such emotion. He remembered the feeling of his fathers hand on his face, the love that was behind such a simple touch from a father to his son. He remembered the discomfort he felt, fighting against the plea of his father's feeling.
"Hey," said Cyra, reaching to touch his hand. He flinched out of his thoughts upon her touch. "Now who's the one thinking loudly?"
Ben stared at her hand on his. He felt nothing similar of what he felt when his father touched him. He felt the sincere worry behind her action, the simple act of placing her hand on his. How the Force bent around something as simple as her hand always surprised him. The waves raising from the skin on her hand were gentle, soft. He could only see her presence in the Force as clear as he did, the same way he could sense her, and access her mind so easily. He was not bothered by how hard she tried to keep her head from him. He understood she was hesitant by him. He changed from the man she knew, she was right. But Cyra hadn't changed at all, beyond the hardened exterior she was forced to grow.
"It's my fault you aren't the same person you were when we were children," said Ben. He suddenly turned in the bed and turned away from her.
Cyra's brow came together. She propped herself up on her arm, trying to peer over his broad shoulders to see his face. She felt his thoughts turn poorly after her hand touched his and wondered what triggered his sink into the deep end.
"Ben, we all have to grow," she said softly, resisting the urge to touch him. "We were going to grow up regardless of what happened. We couldn't stay ignorant children on Chandrila forever."
He said nothing.
"It's clear to me some part of you regrets the past. Maybe not for the same reasons I believe you regret the past. But there's no use in dwelling on it, Ben. Things happened. We have to live with what happened, what we've done. You and I are together, now. The future is ahead of us. We should be thinking about that," said Cyra.
"The future said you will die," he mumbled.
"The future says everyone will die," she countered, rolling her eyes. "Out of the two prophecies Luke saw, only one has come true, but not even that is really true. I joined you, yes, but I joined you, not the First Order."
"You may have to act as such," admitted Ben. He did not want to steer from the conversation, though he knew he had necessary information to tell her. "General Hux is particularly loyal to Snoke. He is wary of my leadership and my relation to you. He's shown interest in what your function is among the First Order."
"Besides looking pretty?"
Ben relaxed, his instincts allowing him to roll his eyes. "You won't be involved in anything to do with the First Order. But I have requested clothing for you and I do request that you and I be seen together throughout the ship. If you are to go off on your own again, I refuse to have you shot once more."
"You're requesting a fear tactic."
"It's how we operate."
"So, I could just throw a temper tantrum and have the same effect you do," said Cyra, raising her brow. When she felt Ben not react, she sighed. "Alright. Fine. I'll wear black and walk around with you. What else am I supposed to do here?"
"You and I will train."
"And that's it?" wondered Cyra. "I'm going to just sit here and walk around with you and train and--"
"You are not trusted, Cyra. You can't be apart of the First Order when you were recently caught escaping from the Resistance. You are still an enemy to most, regardless of if you are protected by my love. If I appoint you to some position, I still have reason to believe that you may act against the First Order and for the Resistance."
Cyra opened her mouth to argue, but caught herself. She could not provoke him. She feared he forgot he bared his thoughts and past to her. She remembered how he could not pull the trigger on his mother, arguably, an act against the First Order and for the Resistance, or how he told her he would maintain presence in various systems and not expand. But he was not ready to accept the short actions he was making. She could not push him to see his actions the way she saw them, not yet.
"You're right," she said softly. She, too, turned and faced away from him. "Guess I'm just not used to having no function."
Ben paused. "I thought you would refuse to help the First Order."
"I am refusing," said Cyra. She sighed and rubbed her hands along her arms. "But then I woke up safe. I don't have to watch my back or fight for my food anymore."
Ben didn't respond, for the sole fact that he didn't know how to, other than remaining quiet. He didn't like to hear about what she went through on her own. The juxtaposition of their lives haunted him. She should've been the one who was safe, who was well fed, who was taken care of.
"You're right," she said again. "I shouldn't have a job in the First Order, because I don't condone your mission. I'll settle with your plan. It'll be just my lightsaber and me and some obvious boredom ahead of me being your love interest."
"My lightsaber," Ben said.
Cyra rolled over and flicked his arm before turning away again. "You left it behind. It's mine now."
"You deserve to feel safe, Cyra," said Ben, changing the subject. She felt him turn in the bed to face her back. "We will figure out the rest for your time here."
"I guess so," she agreed.
The collective tense silence after her words haunted both of them. Ben was facing her. She felt his breath on her neck. He watched the outline of her body under the blankets rise and fall with her shaky breathing. He scooted closer to her and snaked his hand underneath the blankets, wrapping an arm around her waist. He didn't know why he felt so nervous to be close to her. They hadn't lay like this in so long, but they had already kissed. When she said nothing, he pulled her against him. Cyra let out an amused puff of air.
"Is this alright?" he mumbled.
Cyra nodded. "I thought we were going to get up soon. It's probably morning."
"We're in space," dismissed Ben. "Five more minutes?"
"Five more minutes," agreed Cyra, closing her eyes.