a/n: Disclaimer: Any negative opinions expressed in this chapter on the subject of Luke Skywalker belong solely to a young and hormonal Ben Solo. They in no way represent the opinions of your humble author (who will always think of Luke as her hero).


"Ben," Luke murmurs into his nephew's ear. "What are you doing?"

His words have the intended effect, and Ben startles at once from his daydream. He bolts upright in his straight-backed library chair, his cheek creased from being pressed up against the fabric of his sleeve for the past hour.

Ben flushes with embarrassment at having been caught wasting time like this again. He fumbles around on the table in front of him for the text he was supposed to have been reading.

"I'm… uh, studying, Uncle Luke," Ben stammers, flustered. He finds the right book – the one on kyber crystal mining; he can think of no drier subject – and throws it open to a random page. "That's what I'm doing. Obviously."

Luke gives him a small, indulgent smile. He nods. "Obviously."

His uncle continues to stand beside him with his hands clasped behind his back, watching him silently in that insufferably smug way of his. Ben flips through the pages in agitation until at last he finds the section Master Casja assigned him this morning.

Without taking his finger off the page he looks up at his uncle. "You better leave me now so I can finish, don't you think?"

Uncle Luke smiles again. It's a genuine smile this time. The way it lights up his eyes reminds Ben, for just a brief moment, of the idealistic farm boy he's heard stories about all his life. The brave young Jedi warrior who took down the Empire.

"You're right. I should go," Uncle Luke eventually agrees. His smile fades, and once again Ben is looking into the eyes of the older man Ben has always known. He winks at him; Ben cringes inwardly at the patronizing gesture. "I'll leave you to it."

Luke leaves the temple library on silent feet, leaving Ben alone with his thoughts once more.


Much to his uncle's frustration, Ben now spends a great deal of his idle time lost in daydreams.

For the most part, these daydreams are about Rey.

Ben wishes he knew what she looked like. He's imagined her face – the color of her eyes; the shape of her lips – so many times over the years he's lost count.

What he wouldn't give to actually see her face. He wants to trace her lips with his fingertips, and then taste her answering smile. He wants to hold her in his arms, her head resting gently on his chest as she sleeps beside him in his bed.

Sometimes, late at night, when Ben cannot sleep, he tries to imagine what it might feel like to have his hands on her body. To press her into the mattress beneath him, her hands tangled needfully in his hair.

Ben is eighteen, and has imagined doing things with Rey he knows a Jedi is supposed to steer well clear of. But knowing that he shouldn't imagine these things does nothing to dull his want. On the contrary. His desire for the soulmate he has never formally met only grows more powerful, and increasingly difficult to ignore, with each passing year.

He knows Rey's hopes and her fears, her mind and her spirit.

He knows her deepest secrets and the contents of her heart.

He wants, desperately, to know the rest of her.

He can, of course, tell none of this to his uncle.

Luke knows generally of Ben's struggles, and does his best to sympathize. But he worries about Ben, and about the situation his nephew has found himself in through circumstances entirely beyond his control.

And although Luke does not judge Ben outwardly for it, Ben still knows his uncle disapproves of the whole thing.

"A Jedi's avoidance of close personal attachments is what keeps us powerful and safe in dark times," he tells Ben often. Luke never says it outright, but Ben knows he always thinks of his own father's fall when he gives these warnings. "While I obviously can do nothing to end this connection, I would be lying if I said your connection with Rey didn't keep me up at night with worry."

Does his uncle ever do anything besides worry?

"I understand," Ben always tells him. But it's a lie. He doesn't understand. How could something so wonderful possibly be bad? "I'll be careful."

He tries to sound convincing but he knows Uncle Luke never believes him.

"Good," he always says in return. But his eyes betray his doubt.


One week later, Ben decides it's time to tell Rey about his plans.

After the temple lights are put out, signaling the beginning of the nightly curfew, Ben carefully slides open a hidden compartment on the underside of his small desk. Legend among the younglings is that this trap door was installed years ago by an especially mischievous boy with a penchant for smuggling in contraband from Coruscant.

Feeling along the bottom of the drawer Ben eventually finds, then extracts, the small bottle of Corellian gin he stashed here months ago.

He uncaps it, and then takes a large swallow to steady his nerves.

The stuff is awful, and probably not worth half what he paid that older boy for it. It burns terribly all the way down and makes his stomach clench.

He will never understand how his father can like this stuff as much as he does.

But the drink does its job well enough. Ben feels a bit warmer now, and somewhat less terrified then he did a moment ago. For that, at least, he is grateful.

Ben sits at his desk and takes out his pen set from the top drawer. It's the one small personal luxury they allow him here, given his circumstances.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and presses the tip of his pen to his arm before he can second-guess himself.

He writes:

I'm coming to visit you, Rey.

There. It's done.

He exhales slowly, feeling more relieved than he thought he would when he'd imagined this moment. Rey knows the truth now. It feels good, after keeping these plans from her these past few weeks.

Ben sits and stares at his arm, willing her response to appear. What does she think about this development?

What is she thinking, in general?

But the minutes tick by slowly with no answer.

Just when he's decided his next course of action should be smash his stupid bottle of gin against the opposite wall she finally writes him back.

But we've discussed this, Ben.

Ben's shoulders slump. He closes his eyes and runs a shaky hand through his hair in agitation.

She's right, of course. They have discussed this. Dozens of times.

And they always come to the same conclusion. Specifically, that their meeting in person is an impossibility.

Rey believes she cannot leave Jakku. Not until her parents return. She believes she must stay right where she is because when her mother and father come back they need to be able to find her.

(Ben is convinced her parents – if they're even still alive – are never returning to Jakku. If they were planning to, surely they would have done so by now. But this is a conclusion Rey must reach on her own, and Ben holds his tongue whenever she mentions it.)

As for him, because of a promise his mother extracted from Uncle Luke years ago, Ben is forbidden from solo interplanetary travel without Uncle Luke's knowledge and express permission. And Uncle Luke will never agree to his visiting Rey.

He shakes his head and sighs.

He needs to make Rey understand.

It's different this time, he explains.

I have a plan.

And he does.

Two weeks ago, Ben paid one of his classmates a good portion of the credits his parents left him for his personal expenses while at the Jedi temple. This classmate has a very fast ship – and official Jedi business near Jakku in one month's time.

Chash will bring me with him on his mission. He'll drop me off on Jakku.

She doesn't respond.

Uncle Luke will approve my going with him. It's an important trip. He won't know what I'm really doing. Chash would never tell.

Still nothing from Rey.

Ben squeezes his eyes tightly shut, and tries hard to tamp down the panic rising inside him.

Rey, please. Say something. I need to see you. And I think this'll work.

After what feels like an eternity, she finally writes back.

When will I see you, Ben? When are you coming to me?

Ben clenches his fist and punches the air.

It takes all his restraint not to shout in triumph.

Soon, he writes, giddier than he's ever felt in his life. In about a month.

He isn't sure he'll ever be able to stop smiling.


But his sleep that night is troubled.

In his dreams, Ben finds himself walking alone along a tunnel deep beneath the ground.

He does not recognize anything about his surroundings, though the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore suggests that wherever he is, the sea is not far away.

He is searching for something here. He's certain about that. He knows it like he knows the way his lightsaber feels in his hands. Like he knows his own name.

But the dark side of the Force is strong here, wherever here is. And Ben does not know what he's come here to find.

Abruptly, after many hours of walking, Ben reaches the end of the tunnel. He comes upon a large pane of mirrored glass, frosted over with mist and cobwebs and the dust of time.

Whatever he's come to this strange place to find is on the other side of this glass, Ben suddenly realizes.

He starts to rub off the grime with the sleeve of his tunic so he can see beyond it.

When it's clean enough to see through, Ben sees an image of… himself, on the other side. Or, at least, the person on the other side looks how he imagines he might look in several years' time.

The mirror-him looks a bit older, a bit broader through the chest and shoulders, and just a little taller than he currently is. Instead of the sand-colored gray tunic Ben has worn these past eight years at the Jedi temple this older version of himself is dressed, from head to toe, in the darkest black clothing Ben has ever seen. Instead of slouching, with gangly limbs that don't yet quite fit his growing body, this future version of himself stands upright, proud and confident as he gently rests one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.

Off in the distance, far beyond where this future Ben stands, sits a dark, shadowy figure atop an iron throne. Ben only realizes he is even there when, at length, he begins to laugh.

Soon, the figure intones, his voice deep and rusty with long disuse. Very soon, young Solo.


Ben wakes at dawn with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest.

He wonders exactly what it was he'd just seen.