She ignored TwoBee's concerned hovering as she continued to lay on the floor, her arm and cheek slowly imprinting with the grating of the metal. Had she revealed that much when she invaded him with the bond? Had he been a passenger in her head and privy to all her inner most thoughts?
Yes, she knew, he had.
She felt open and bare, awed that he would do the same and offer himself so there would be no misunderstanding.
Kylo Ren. The Jedi Killer. The Fallen One. Ben Solo.
He now knew how badly she wanted to take his hand, knew her heartbreak when she reached for her saber, unsure if he would let her leave without a fight. He had seen how, upon waking first, she had crawled to his side, checked him for injuries, and held his face in her hands as she tried to wake him. He would have watched her futile efforts to drag him to the escape pod with her, heard her frustrated cursing until she could sense Hux approaching, and her last desperate tug before she called his saber to her and clipped it on his belt.
He knew he had been familiar to her at first sight, masked and hooded, the dark thing that had always stalked her dreams.
And she, his phantom.
He was right. This was not Snoke. The Force had brought them together long before Takodana.
"There will be no untangling this," she murmured to herself as she rolled to her back, rubbing at the red marks on her face. She reached out again but her efforts still crashed against the fortified wall of his mind. It felt wrong, in a way, to have him so distant after what had just happened and she wondered if he felt it too.
She tried repeatedly to contact him in the subsequent days, a steady push from her mind to his but he blocked her, her only reassurance being he felt calmer, no longer like a wire about to snap. Still, it unnerved her... if only he would speak to her.
Even with the constant twitterings of the droids, the Trident was starting to feel stark and empty, just a tube of metal machinery traversing space. She used to be able to do 'alone' so well. She supposed that was before she had real people to miss, ones with actual faces instead of a shadow family who left her with nothing but rags for clothes and three loops of twine for her hair.
She kicked hard at a table stand, causing an indignant squeal to erupt from TwoBee. His face had been clear in Ben's vision, though weathered such that his age was hard to tell, teeth broken, and his eyes glassy from drink. Her father, with her nose and lean frame, had not even looked back after selling her, instead preferring to count his money from the deal. Thrice more she kicked until the Force backed her effort, ripping the bolts from the floor and the table thud back down at an awkward angle. A heavy sigh escaped her as the anger evaporated, leaving only an intense feeling of foolishness behind. All those years of wasted hope.
Not wasted. It kept you alive.
Her back stiffened at the thought, certain it had come from Ben but his walls were still in place when she pressed against them to test.
"You will wonder, on occasion, if a thought or a memory came from yourself or me."
"No kidding," she scoffed and reached for a text to better direct her restless energy and folded herself on the bench as she started to read. Her first choice, a weathered tome bound in brown leather, recounted the history of the Jedi starting with their origins on Tython and the offshoot of the first Dark siders.
"Always fighting," she sighed as she read through the account of their struggle for power and set it aside in frustration. She reached for another, her hand passing over the spines until she came to one, newer, covered in white with embossed gold.
She flipped through the pages, her eyes skimming for her desired topic until she saw it, her palm spreading over the text.
"The Force is a mountain rising from the water – the dark side is the submerged underbelly. If you choose to explore, you will be lost in the caverns below and left to drown. Passion lines the path to the dark side and must be avoided. Fear, anger, and hate all will cause one to lose focus and to find appeal in the easy pleasures of the dark side.
Love is equally dangerous. The Jedi must serve all, not a select few. Those who obsess over a parent, child, or lover devote all their energies toward the special object of their focus. Should the urge to contact your birth families or form romantic attachments emerge, you must seek the guidance of a Master. Attachments will only allow you to lose sight of your path and are cause for expulsion from the Order.
Jedi must always turn away from the dark passions within themselves."
Rey couldn't help the curl in her upper lip that appeared as she read.
Yes, she mused, cutting Ben Solo off from those he loved and teaching him to suppress his feelings worked out spectacularly. No wonder the Jedi were always at war. They developed a full proof method of perpetually creating their own enemies. She closed the book in disgust, pushing herself away from the table.
Fear could be problematic but it also served a purpose. Fear had driven her to listen to her instincts to survive the harsh desert of Jakku. And anger... well, she had reached for that when there had been nothing left, it too saving her. It had kept her on her feet after a beating from an older scavenger, allowing her to deal a blow that made the bastard steer clear of her in the future. It had enabled her to push into Kylo Ren's mind and drive him away at their first duel.
And love...
Love of family, imagined as it had been, had kept her from just laying down to die in her loneliness. Love of a friend, bright and new, had driven her to save Finn on Starkiller Base. Love had moved Chewbacca's aim, allowing Ben to live.
Love could be dark and possessive, a force capable of breaking people, but it was also loyalty, compassion, and care, a never ending source of strength when nurtured properly.
The answer was far more nuanced than "don't love."
As if people were capable of choosing who they loved.
Ben's face swam up before her mind's eye, a dark broken prince with his crimes too numerous to list.
She swallowed thickly, pushing away from the table to distract herself from that line of thought and busied herself with the tedious job of repairing the power cell. After so many days drifting in space, the walls of the Trident were starting to close in on her. She needed to anchor down to some real earth soon, let a sun warm her skin, and breathe in non-recycled air. Her eyes drooped as she continued to tinker, not wanting to be alone with her thoughts, instead preferring to keep her mind fogged with exhaustion.
She had nodded off a few times but it wasn't until she burned her forearm with the soldering iron that she finally gave it up and stumbled to her bunk. She was nearly unconscious when her heart started to race and phantom pain bloomed across her face and back, driving her from her bed to collapse onto the floor. Her breath came in fast deep pants, her lungs seeming to move to their own rhythm out of her control.
It was him. His heartbeat, his breathing, his adrenaline.
Something was wrong.
His walls were still in place but fissures and cracks were erupting as fast as he could shore them up.
She could faintly hear the explosions of blaster fire and the distinctive hiss of saber beams connecting. More pain, this time across her shin, and she felt his rage spurn the dark side in him, whipping out in a violent lash before settling in a flowing current. For a long few minutes her body felt like she was running for her life, the rush of blood in her ears, and a pulse pounding in her neck. She wanted to push into his mind but she could still feel him straining against her and she withdrew, not wanting to distract him.
Bring me to him, she pleaded with the Force, wishing she had control over that aspect of the bond, but as she remained tangled in her blankets hyperventilating on a cold metal floor, it seemed he was to do this on his own. It went on forever, the staccato pounding in her chest, the billowing of lungs that felt too big to be her own until finally the ragged nature of his walls smoothed and solidified, his presence once again shrinking to just a faint thrum.
She pulled herself up and sat on the edge of the bunk, breathing tightly through pursed lips to slow her heart rate. Her eyes slid closed as she felt the wall between them thin, his consciousness brushing against hers, as gentle and fleeting as when their fingers touched.
An acknowledgement. A reassurance.
Her next breath shuddered through her chest as she laid back down on her meager mattress.
It was many hours before she found sleep again, but when she did, she dreamed of spin-barrels blooming under a Jakku night sky.
"Rey, you haven't seen... him... have you?"
"No, no I haven't," She shook her head. "Why?" she added apprehensively as her fingers drummed next to the hologram emitter.
Finn scratched his head and frowned. "There are rumors of unrest in the upper ranks of the First Order and while the official party line is that Supreme Leader Ren is still in charge, our sources report he hasn't been seen in a few standard weeks. We were hoping you'd be able to clarify."
Rey was already shaking her head before he could finish. "General Hux would jump at an opportunity to seize control. If Ren was gone, he'd make sure everyone knew he was in charge."
"While that is definitely true about Hux, the Order has had a lot of shake ups lately. Another change in leadership so soon could rock the confidence of the systems that support them. More then power hungry, Hux is practical. He may be calling the shots for now and biding his time."
Rey sat back in her chair, her thumbnail between her teeth in contemplation. "Our link, it hasn't brought us together since General Organa. When I saw him last, he seemed... resigned. Just said that he knew what he had to do."
"Any idea what he meant?"
Rey huffed. "He's so mercurial, I can never be completely sure but it felt..." she paused, remembering how he looked at her, his hand lifted as if he was about to caress her cheek and her sleepless night where she felt his heart race behind her own ribs. "Finn..." she said, feeling stupid it hadn't occurred to her yet. "I think he may have abandoned the Order."
Finn rubbed his face and nodded, releasing a huge sigh. "Okay," he muttered, his hands going to his hips. "But why?"
Rey pulled her lip between her teeth and shrugged, her eyes staying cast to the floor. Finn frowned, his eyes passing over her and he looked as if he wanted to say something before he shook his head.
"So if Ren is no longer with the First Order, does that mean you can come home?"
Rey smiled and nodded, warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of finally seeing her friends. "As soon as I am certain, I can come for a bit."
A huge smile broke over his face and he excitedly punched the data pad in front of him. "These are the current rendezvous coordinates in the system. Ping me once you're there and we'll get you."
Rey saved the information to view later and returned Finn's smile. A timer started to flash, their signal to end their transmission to reduce the risk of interception. He sighed and shrugged apologetically.
"It's okay, I'll talk to you soon."
"You better."
Her smile fell as Finn faded away, concern for Ben quickly occupying her mind. Their bond still hadn't connected them, not since she went to him the night Leia died. It had never been this long between times before and she was starting to worry that maybe that had been the end. Perhaps it's only purpose was to help him leave the Order, and now that had been achieved, it was over.
Her heart clenched at the thought.
"I don't want it to go," she whispered to herself, eyes watering at the way her small voice echoed in the empty space. She stood, moving to her pile of discarded saber pieces. That had always been a key to fighting the isolation... busy hands, busy mind... but then the Force shifted, as if taking pity on her and the loose pieces clattered from her hand onto the table.
She blinked and he was there, seated on the ground, his head bowed causing his damp hair to fall forward. His elbows rested on knees as his bare shoulders rose and fell with labored breaths. Splatters of mud reached up from his pant legs to his sleeveless shirt and forearms, clumps of it clinging to the sides of his boots.
"Ben!" she cried out and started to move toward him, certain he was hurt but froze as his head snapped up. His face was still pale but less sallow, the dark crescents under his eyes now just faint shadows.
He is not injured, she realized. This was just fatigue from physical exertion.
He looks uneasy, his eyes flicking off to his left before returning to her until they narrowed.
"Why are you crying?" he asked exactly as she spoke. "Where have you been?"
They both frowned at one another and Rey folded her arms across her chest shooting her best 'you first' glare down at him. He clenched his jaw, biting the inside of his cheek before he spoke. "I left the Order."
She may have suspected it, but hearing it was another thing entirely, her arms falling to her sides and her heart jumping into her throat.
"But... but you didn't go to the Resistance."
He sighed heavily, his head dropping back down. "There's no place for me there," he said, before lifting his head again and fixing her pointedly with a look. "There will never be a place for me there, Rey."
"But, you're-"
"I have my unfinished business with the Order but it won't be from the side of the Resistance. Beyond that, I don't have any answers for you." He paused, his expression softening slightly. "Not yet, anyway."
She had no response to that, and instead just nodded lamely.
"Well... Are you alright?" she asked gesturing to the yellowed bruises on his temple and the caked mud on his pants.
He seemed to consider her question for a moment. "I am," he replied simply, his eyes again darting over to his left and Rey felt she could almost hear the ghost of a chuckle, light with a gentle mirth.
"Is there someone there with you?" she asked and pressed against the wall in his mind for an answer and he pushed back harder, his jaw rolling before he gave an annoyed glare to the unseen figure.
"Who is there?" she asked, moving around as if to get a clearer line of sight.
"Rey..." he sighed, rising to his feet to step in front of her and she halted, his broad figure suddenly encompassing her entire view. His hands were lifted as if to rest them on her shoulders before he thought better of it and let them fall back to his side and she watched distractedly as his Adam's apple bobbed.
"My whole life I've had a voice in my head, whispering to me, pushing me..." he said, his voice low in that tone she felt was only ever meant for her.
She nodded, recalling his memories. "I saw."
"I thought it was Darth Vader, my Grandfather leading me in his footsteps," he scoffed and shook his head. "But it was Snoke. It was always Snoke." He swallowed and looked at her, his expression almost apologetic. "Its never been just me in here. I need to be alone in my head for awhile and keeping you out is exhausting."
She looked at her shoes, chagrined and feeling guilty. "I can do that," she murmured, already pulling back from his mind until he was no more then a glowing point in the back of hers. His shoulders relaxed and he stepped back.
"Thank you."
He turned away from her and she felt compelled to ask him something, unsure of when she would see him again.
"You will call on me, if you want me?" she asked in a rush and he froze, his posture going rigid. "Need me, I mean," she corrected, her face heating up. He looked at her over his shoulder and his chin dropped in a single nod.
"Will you?" he asked, the simple words feeling heavy to Rey's ears and for one wild second, she thought he was asking if she needed him until she realized he was offering to come to her aid should the situation arise.
"Yes," she replied, turning her head as she swept a lock of hair behind her ear to hide her blush. She was suddenly far too aware of the way the muscles of his back moved beneath his shirt, their paths twining down his arms in sinewy patterns.
She swore she heard the ghost laugh again as the connection shuttered closed.