Author's Note: If you've read/reviewed this story before and wonder why the title is different and where the chapters have gone, well... the chapters have been temporarily deleted in favor of me adding onto and fixing up certain points that will provide plot development in later scenes, and the title has been altered to better fit my vision of this fic. This story is a labor of love coming straight off of the tail-end of The Last Jedi, so it focuses on topics that we got glimpses of within the film.

Like I stated before, this is a slow-burn, so you won't get all of the fireworks all at once, but I personally prefer that-both in writing and reading. Jump into the action too quickly, and all the storytelling seems to fade into the background. Please know that I am not writing this as a probable sequel to TLJ, since I am not the best at theorizing. Not saying that everything happening here is unrealistic, but rather, I'm not basing my writing off of any assumptions off of what might happen in episode IX. Really, it's just a fic that delves into the psychological aspect of Star Wars (and specifically Rey and Kylo's relationship).

In time, all chapters up to 6 will be reposted with the added/edited content, and the story will continue on from there. Please enjoy the story, and maybe leave a review! It's very much appreciated. (:

it's dark inside

It was the dark from which he had come, and the dark in which she returned to.

Irony, it felt like. Was it days or hours since she had last slept? Since she last felt the darkness of despair crawling down her back? As she sat down on one of the small bed of blankets laid out specifically for her, she couldn't have been able to tell.

And what of the remainder of the Resistance? It was difficult for her to even figure out how many of them were left. She only remembered leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes, reaching out through the Force for… something. But the loss of her master, no matter how short their time together had actually been, was still a loss she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.

He had gone in peace, and Leia had felt it as well. It was a reassurance that kept Rey from grieving in the same way that she had Han. But that had happened so suddenly, that she hadn't been able to think about it. She hadn't been able to think about a lot of it. Every moment was a split-second decision for her. When would she have ever been able to choose?

The sudden feeling of falling made her jolt back to the present, her vision blurry as she glanced around, her former thoughts forgotten and her back hurting from remaining in the same position for so long. Her senses were fuzzy, bringing back the reality that she had just been dealt physical trauma that she hadn't even bothered to treat yet. The cut on her arm was the source of the blood streaks trailing down to her elbow, but barely did she feel any noticeable injury.

She drifted off with vacant memory of a motherly presence settling her down more comfortably beneath a thin blanket. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her mind, but there was more. Certainly more…

Rey opened her eyes to a dark room that was most definitely not the one she had fallen asleep in. Had she not grasped the force so closely, she might have mistaken it for a dream—or even a nightmare. But even then, it was difficult for her to grasp just what she was seeing when she pressed her hand against the wall.

It stabilized her somewhat, but the dizziness that overtook her suddenly was not something she could prepare herself for, and she felt her arm go out from under her and let out a soft breath when her back hit the hard cot. It was still beneath her, but the blanket that had been placed so gently over her was pushed to the side, thrown away like it was unwanted.

When out of the darkness she saw a thin line of red, the pieces began to form inside of her head. Nausea overtook her quickly, but not by her own doing, and try as she might, she still could not conjure up the strength to lift her body from where it lay prone in a place she was unfamiliar with. But this place… it wasn't actually real, was it? She was supposedly still in the Falcon.

"Ben," she breathed, her voice coming out in a rough croak as she tried to collect herself. She grasped at her physical being and attempted to pull away, separate herself from how he currently felt: the weakness that came not from injury or illness, but a dark state of mind that continued to grasp at her with vengeance. She would never have sought it willingly. But now it was blinding, and the moment she spoke his name, she felt it cover her.

"Here," Rey said, as though the words would mean anything as they slowly began to register with her. Where was he? "Ben."

She couldn't see him in the dark, but she knew the moment his manifestation appeared in front of her. It was a demanding, haunting presence that she knew well enough. But the hollowness of it all was what held her back from saying more. Now, they had nothing left to say to one another, and the looks that they had given one another right before she had closed that door was enough to prove it.

"I'm still here." His voice was deep and emotionless, an extreme contrast to his outbursts earlier. The ones that had her pulling away from him for good. The surge of emotions she had felt then was subdued, replaced a coldness she would never dare reach for. Her need for answers, her desperation for the life that she thought was possible for him… for them…

"I'm always here."

Clear and demanding, but it was Ben. And no matter where this all may have started, he was not ready to leave.

Not unable, but not ready.

As the ghost of a hand brushed against hers, the scene faded away and she was left in the darkness of the Millennium Falcon, turning her face inward until she let the tears begin to fall for the boy she had failed to save.

Rey couldn't have been out for long, but it was enough to pull her out of the slumber that she so desperately clung to. Now, she clung to herself.

Sit and take a breath. It was something she started with every day, and something she would continue to do to keep from counting the days instead. The uneven scratch marks in the corner beside her pile of blankets was proof of just how much she had succeeded. A continuous habit, but not one she able to break so easily when it was one of the only things keeping her thoughts in order.

But before, she had been waiting for her parents. Or maybe she had just been waiting for something to break her from the life she had been living faithfully for… for…

How long had it been?

She had counted for so long, scratching those marks into her head as much as she had against the wall of her AT-AT. A few days meant very little when trying to recall the number, but now, she couldn't for the life of her give a straight answer. Back then, it had meant so much to her, to know how many days had past and how long she had been able to survive. It was an accomplishment of sorts, a way for her to record her strengths as she managed to make a living.

But it wasn't living, she realized, and that was when she stopped counting. Except she hadn't.

Now she was counting her fingers, something she had been told helps with restlessness. But there was never a reason she shouldn't, when her days were now filled with fulfilling orders and providing her support in any way she could. Truthfully, anyone could have taken her place and nothing would change. Rey wanted to think that her position was set and that the reliance on her came from a place of trust.

"Do not think too highly of yourself."

When was the last time she had heard him so clearly? That he allowed his voice to carry into her surroundings, and in turn, into her thoughts as well? Staring at him from aboard the Millenium Falcon had told her all that she needed to know: he was conflicted, held down by the weight of every action that had led to that point. But he had made his choice, and he knew it, putting his strengths towards justifying what could have just as easily been a move that turned the tides in their favor.

Her face had remained stony through the brief exchange, but his look of defeat and hers of indifference could not have matched what they currently knew to be true: the First Order held the power, and the Resistance was right to fear them.

"Every one of you is expendable. You're lying to yourself if you think otherwise."

This was war. It was something she had overheard when everyone had settled down with their rations. Personal conflicts that held no real place in their fight. Had it not been for General Organa, those people fighting for them might have easily fought against them. Leia made it clear that every single one of them had a role to play, and that their importance was only as great as they believed themselves to be.

"We carry the light of the galaxy," Rey said back, her voice steady as her fingers twisted themselves in her clothing. He stared back at her, less than a few yards away, and could have easily pointed out her tick. But he did not. His expression didn't change, and Rey knew that should she leave the silence to him, they would both be left with nothing. "…You could have joined us, you know. Done the right thing."

"The right thing?" Kylo echoed, turning on his heel as he let out a breath and lifted his chin high. "It must be nice, to do what you like and assume you're in the right."

"We're fighting for something bigger. Something outside of us," she insisted, moving to stand, but something held her back. She thought it to be physical at first, and she moved her arm to rid herself of the entanglement, but her movement was halted as well. Her eyes were dark as she spun back to him, a nervous act that took on the look of caution. Even as his steps brought him closer, she couldn't have flinched, with her limbs frozen and her mind too unfocused to break herself away.

A show of fear in one sense, but a purposeful deed in another.

"You could have truly fought for something bigger. I wished to build an empire—a powerful force that the galaxy could rely on." Rey finally began to move when he drew into her space, coming into the dim light that the open door allowed them. Before, she could see him: the semblance of a lost boy unsure of where to go and what would get him what he truly aspired for. Now, he gave her nothing but a blank stare, with no reminder of the moment they shared around the fire. "…But you denied it, denied me, in favor of a cause you have no knowledge of."

It was a jab she couldn't ignore. She stood up abruptly, but Kylo didn't even think to move back. A foot of space separated them, but she could barely feel him. Knowing when a threat was nearby was a trait needed in order to keep yourself safe, but the space he filled felt empty, with no real proof of his existence besides what she could see. It felt like she might pass right through him, should she take another step forward. But he would not allow that, with his brown eyes boring into hers.

"You asked too much from me," she finally exhaled, unclenching her fists as she let the negative emotions wash away from her. His slight twitch was the first and only sign of him being here, and she knew it had to do with her defiance. But to her, it was no longer defiance: it was resigning to a truth that she still hoped to change. Her hand moved forward without even thinking, and when she rested it where his arm would be, she could hide her surprise when she actually felt something solid. Something solid and clear.

Rey let out a sound between a cough and a sigh, unable to hold on for more than a moment. It was a moment that seemed to last forever, but she knew where she was, and she wasn't about to lose herself. "You will never stop reaching for more, Ben Solo."

She stepped back, leaving him seething under his cloak and the masks he wore, with his promises lingering just behind her.