freya shepherd ✧ rey skywalker (thatsameforce) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2020-01-20 21:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | freya shepherd, kyle roth |
Who: Freya Shepherd and Kyle Roth
What: Freya attempts some Force Skyping. It does not go well.
Where: London / Los Angeles
When: Backdated to Friday evening, January 17th, 2020.
Warnings: TBD, but probably nothing major.
Jo would kill me if she knew what I was doing, Freya thought as she met her own eyes in her bathroom mirror. Which, in a strange way, was progress. For weeks now, she’d stood in this same place after she finished her bedtime routine, looked herself — and Rey — in the eye, and thought Jo would kill her if she knew what she was thinking about doing. And for weeks now, that had been enough to stop her from pursuing the thought any further, to climb into bed and wait for BB-8 (her half-feral cat, not the droid) to curl up next to her and sleep like nothing was different.
Freya bit her lip, wondering why tonight, of all nights, was different. It was just a normal, boring Friday night. She’d worked the closing shift at U Break We Fix and spent most of the night fiddling with an ancient laptop that a pensioner couldn’t afford to replace. He told her he needed it to stay in touch with his grandson, who was studying abroad in America. Everyone who brought in a broken laptop had a story, but this one triggered something in Freya. Memories, and a reminder that she hadn’t always been alone.
Maybe it was the grandfather that did it. Maybe it was the fact that it had been exactly a month since she and Rey experienced the end of Rey’s journey together, and a month felt more than long enough to wait. Or maybe it was the realization that Jo had plenty of secrets — secrets within secrets, of which Freya happened to be one. That had never bothered her before.
Tonight, it did. And Freya decided it was past time she had a secret of her own.
“Right,” Freya said to her reflection. Mouth set in a firm line, she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. “Here goes nothing.”
Two rushed minutes later, and Freya was sitting cross-legged on her tiny living room’s threadbare rug, a water bottle on her right and Rey’s lightsaber on her left. A dim Victorian lamp blanketed the room in a warm glow, making her surroundings seem more soft than they were shabby. She loved it both ways, but she hardly noticed now.
Sensing a deviation from their routine, BB-8 meowed plaintively and rubbed his head against Freya’s elbow. She scratched his head once, distractedly. BB-8 promptly attempted to knock over her water bottle in retaliation, but Freya reached out with the Force, preventing it from toppling just in time.
“Bear with me, alright? This shouldn’t take long.” Her lips twitched into a brief smile as her petulant cat scampered away. Then she was alone again, and the smile faded.
No more putting it off, she thought. Or maybe Rey did. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.
Freya took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Be with me,” she whispered. She reached out to anyone who might hear her — Luke, Leia, even Anakin, if he was out there. Any Jedi would do, because they would still understand. They’d talk to her. That would be enough.
Better some other Jedi than no Ben at all.
“Be with me. Be with me.”