For days afterwards, Rey tried to feel relieved. The dreams she'd had of Kylo Ren, the feelings for him, the ridiculous things she'd wanted from him—all of it had been hers alone, not something shared, not something there was no going back from. She told herself this was best. The line that tethered them, through space, was still there, only it was an idle connection and nothing more serious than that. Probably, with time, it would begin to weaken. Probably it was just a remnant of what Snoke had stoked between them, something they couldn't maintain on their own.

It hurt her but she had been hurt before. She would be better-off. She told herself that. Still, there was a sense of unease building in her, forming at the base of her stomach and the back of her throat. She began to feel fear, fear like she'd rarely known, seeping into mundane, everyday activities. Rey didn't know what she was afraid of, only that something was not right. One afternoon, the discomfort was so great she'd lied about not feeling well—convincing Finn it was just an upset stomach—and gone back to her shack. By the time she'd arrived, she was gasping for breath, sobbing, completely soaked in a horror and dread she couldn't explain.

This time, when Ben appeared to her, she didn't speak. She was so afraid of letting him see her this way, especially when she couldn't say why. She could see that he was stalking through the corrugated halls of his ship, seething even through the mask and armor, his demeanor causing anyone around him to go well out of their ways to avoid his path. Rey found herself moving with him. He did not acknowledge her until he'd reached his quarters. Then, he reached up and ripped the mask from his face, heaving it across the room to clatter against the wall. Rey jumped at the sudden outburst and yelped aloud, clamping her hand to her mouth. Ben turned on her at once, his face dark and terrifying.

"Why are you here? Why must you torment me with your constant presence? What I wouldn't give to be rid of you," he shouted, jabbing a gloved finger at her before yanking those off too and thrusting them across the room after his helmet. Rey sat, shaking with tears, pressed to the wall, biting her hand to keep quiet. She looked at him and simply shook her head, begging him to understand. His face changed as he took her in, brow furrowing into something else—was it concern?—his stance loosening as he took a step toward her.

"What's happened? What's wrong?"

Rey couldn't answer. He came to her at once, lowering himself in front of her in his suit and cape and thick black boots, taking her hand.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. Rey shook her head. He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I'm so afraid," she whispered, trembling.

"I can't hurt you," he answered, straightening and turning his back and stepping away. "Not from this distance. Anyway, not without exerting a great amount of effort and I have no plan to do that. Not today."

"No," she pleaded. "It's not you. I'm not afraid of you."

"Then what?"

Rey pressed herself against the energy of the room, tasting it, testing it to see what quivered in answer. And she realized, as she did, that Ben was the source of her fear, only not in the way he'd thought.

"You're afraid," she said, looking up at his guarded face as it dawned on her.

"I'm not the one cowering on the floor," he bit back.

"It's you," she persisted, rising to her feet. "I'm feeling your feelings."

Ben's face twisted in horror. He began to back away from her.

"The connection between us isn't weakening," Rey continued, her confidence building. "It's growing stronger. I can sense your feelings, even when we're not actively speaking like this. All day, all week I've felt this way."

Realization lit her eyes and she reached a hand out to him.

"Ben," she whispered, head tilting in compassion. "Is this…is this how you feel all the time?"

He didn't answer, but Rey watched the contorted planes of his face soften from their angry grimace, smooth to something that looked more like what she felt. What she'd said had terrified him.

"You're wrong," he stammered in horror. "That can't be. You don't know that."

"I do," she insisted, stepping toward him "It's you."

"My feelings," he growled darkly, "are always in control. Always. Even a Padawan wouldn't look as ridiculous as you do."

"Let me help you," she pleaded. "Let me in."

They stood opposite each other for a moment, Ben's chest heaving, his face dark, hands gripped to fists at his sides. Rey looked up at him. Her shoulders had relaxed. Her head was tilted just so. She closed her eyes and breathed in, held it, released. She cleared her mind until all that was there was a comfortable silence. She breathed. She breathed. She sucked in another breath and then pushed it out into the room, across the space between them to Ben, willing her peace to fill him. When she opened her eyes, there were tears in his eyes.

"Ben," she soothed, crossing to him, taking his hands into hers, full of pity for him.

"I don't remember the last time I felt this way," he whispered.

"Maybe with—" he stopped abruptly and looked into her eyes.

"I can teach you," Rey said. "I can show you how to find this for yourself."

Ben coughed out a bitter, hollow laugh. "You think I haven't tried meditating? You think sucking in a few deep breaths can change this?" He gestured roughly at himself.

"No," he went on. "No, it has to start with you. It has to."

She nodded mutely. Rey reached out and pressed her hand to his chest. He flinched away. They didn't speak. Ben unclasped his cape and let it fall to the floor. He unhooked his jacket, from the top to the bottom, silently maintaining her gaze. He shrugged out of it and let it fall also. He wore a thin, nearly transparent black sleeveless t-shirt. He took a step closer to her, causing her breath to hitch in her chest. Rey swallowed. Her lips parted. Ben took her hand and raised it to his chest, pressing it to him. He let go and closed his eyes, breathing her in. Rey fought back disappointment, forcing what she'd wanted to happen from her mind to close her eyes and breathe more calm into him.

"You're disappointed," Ben said in surprise. He pulled away, turning his back on her, sweeping his clothes off the floor and walking to his cot.

"No, Ben," Rey protested, walking after him. She reached for his shoulder and pulled him back around to face her. "I'm sorry. Please, think nothing of it."

He looked down at her suspiciously, unconvinced.

"When I touched you," he said slowly, intentionally. "you reacted with disappointment. I felt it."

"It wasn't about that. Please. Believe me."

"Then what?"

Rey floundered under his dark gaze, feeling herself blush hotly as she tried not to let him feel the desire she felt at remembering her dreams, as she tried not to betray that her disappointment had been, not at being touched by him, but at not being touched in the way she wanted.

It was no use.

"Oh," he said, his eyebrows leaping. "Oh." He looked puzzled. He frowned.

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I," Rey whispered.

"The way you feel…that's about me. You feel…arousal."

Rey didn't speak. She clenched her jaw.

"Rey," he tilted his head and forced her to meet his gaze. "Have you dreamt about me?"

Now her eyes widened with surprise. She started to shake her head but stopped, confused.

"Rey," Ben started, then stopped abruptly. He lifted his hand and brushed her fat lower lip with his fingertips.

"It wasn't a dream," she whispered suddenly, realizing.

"No," he shook his head. "Maybe it wasn't."