Rey
Rey peers at Poe through slitted eyelids, struggling to make sense of the blobs of color that float in and out of her vision. The room spins in slow circles. Poe's face is close to her, and his eyes darken with worry. His hair is matted and clumped with sweat. His lips move, but no sound reaches Rey through the haze.
Ben lies beneath her. She can feel the fabric of his clothes against her, the scent of him—sweat and smoke and a promise. She can feel the wetness of his blood.
Someone's arm slides under her knees, and a strong hand supports her back. She's lifted from the bunk, from Ben.
"No." She moans, shaking her head. The world tilts.
Someone's tugging on her fingers, and it takes her a moment to realize they're trying to pry her hand out of Ben's. His fingers are curled around her own, sealed in a white, bloodless grasp. She tightens her grip, shaking her head.
"No."
"Let go, Rey." Poe says, and his voice breaks. There's another, firm tug, and her hand comes free. She whimpers, protesting, as Poe carries her away. She cranes her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Ben, but a trio of officers crowd around the bunk, blocking her view. Two droids approach the bedside, supporting a Med Unit between them.
Rey's eyes flutter closed. People rush toward Poe, asking questions, and a whisper of dissent rises in the crowd.
Kylo Ren . . .
Enemy . . .
Traitor . . .
Poe carries Rey down the shuttle's ramp and through the Hangar. Rey keeps her eyes tightly shut, waiting for the nausea to pass. She's oddly light, dethatched, half-expecting to disintegrate and float away. She's numb.
Rey focuses on the things she does feel . . . the ache in her muscles and inside, the gash on her thigh, where Aries cut her. It's still leaking blood, and a scarlet stain spreads over her pant leg. She grounds herself in these small pains, because they distract from the bigger one. The only one that matters.
Poe lays her on a bed in the Med Bay. She catches his wrist, fingernails finding purchase on the skin of his wrist.
"I just want to sleep." She murmurs. Poe's face is taut. He looks at her, almost pained.
"Okay." He says, squeezing her hand. "Okay, Rey. I'll see if they've got something, to make it quicker."
He goes, returns with a medic in uniform, trailed by a medical droid. Rey lets them pierce her skin with a needle, attaching an IV. A cold, thick liquid enters her vein, through the tube, and Rey's body sinks. She peers at the ceiling, feeling the sharp edges melt away. The surface of the ceiling is shifting, shimmering. Her eyelids are heavy, and she lets them close, sinking into unconsciousness.
Poe
Rey's grip on his hand slackens, and Poe lets go. He gazes at her face, unguarded and soft, in sleep. Her face is swollen with bruises and streaked with tears. There's blood on the sheets, blood staining the front of her clothes, blood caked under her fingernails and smeared over her hands.
The unidentified shuttle popped up on their tracking systems not fifteen minutes after the First Order's fleet disappeared into that shitstorm, drifting near Yavin's flagship. Poe can't shake the memory. A turbulent nebula of lightning and blue clouds and star dust, ascending from literal hell. A tear, in space, consuming everything.
They attempted to contact the shuttle, received no word from its inhabitants. Radio silence.
Poe and the Red Squadron went to investigate, docking and boarding with blasters raised. There was blood on the floor. A lot of it. And, in the hold, Kylo Ren and Rey lay on the bunk, stained scarlet, entwined like some, strange, tentacled monster.
Poe shivers. They'd had to rip her away from him, force her fingers out of the death grip in which they clutched his hand. After he watched the First Oder's total obliteration, the sight should pale in comparison.
But it doesn't.
Poe steps back, letting the medic and her team of droids work their magic. The medic cuts away the remaining fabric of Rey's pant leg, revealing a deep, singed gash in her thigh, about seven inches long. Blood leaks from the wound, staining the fresh, white sheets beneath her. The medic places an oxygen mask over Rey's nose and mouth, and steam clouds the plastic apparatus.
She's alive. She's breathing.
Poe's gaze flicks to the monitor, watching the steady, rhythmic beating of Rey's heart, rising and falling.
A commotion in the doorway seizes Poe's attention. He cranes his neck, catching a glimpse of the large, black, sprawling mass that is Kylo Ren. He's splayed on the Med Unit, ashen-faced and dead to the world. Poe crosses, peering at the man—his sworn enemy, lying unconscious and vulnerable in the Resistance Med Bay.
A horrible, ragged blaster wound ravages his chest. The skin is mended, haphazardly pulled together. He's lost a lot of blood; the man's skin is paper-white, his lips stained a horrible, purplish-blue.
Poe's comrades, Dax and Cain, lift Kylo onto a bunk. A medic approaches the bedside, pushing her fingers against his throat, feeling for a pulse. She nods.
"He's alive."
She sighs. "I'm afraid he won't last long, not without treatment. He's lost a lot of blood. He'll need a transfusion, and extensive medical attention."
"Do everything you can to keep him alive." Poe says.
"You're not serious?" Dax yelps, brows knitting.
"I am." Poe says, gravely.
"This man is a terrorist and a murderer. He doesn't deserve our help." Dax says, folding his arms. "He's better off left for dead."
Poe jerks his chin.
"That's not our way. He deserves a fair trial. We'll do what we can."
Poe sucks his bottom lip, glancing at Kylo. This is Leia's son. He owes it to her, at least, to try.
"I'm beginning to question your authority . . ."
"Fine." Poe says, mouth twitching. "Talk to D'Acy. I'm following protocol. Right now, this man is a prisoner of war. He's under our custody, and our protection." Poe pauses. "If we kill him, we're no better than . . . than them." Poe jabs a finger at the window and the stars beyond, indicating the remnants of the First Order's fleet.
The medic glances between them, unsure.
"Do everything you can. We need him alive." Poe says, fiercely. "That's an order."
Rey
She wakes, slowly, wandering through black and fog, struggling toward the light. Her eyes flutter open, and the light from overhead breaks falls in elongated, separate beams. She screws up her eyes against the brilliance. The pain, numbed by the whatever drug they gave her, returns. It hits her, a sucker-punch—sinking deep, cutting where it counts.
Rey whimpers, curling her body into C, pulling her knees to her chest. The skin of her inner arm pinches, painfully, and Rey discovers the IV. Carefully, she detaches the tube, letting it dangle. She squints, surveying her surroundings.
She's in a small room, with white flooring and white walls. It stinks of antiseptic. A pale, pink curtain is drawn across the room, separating her from another patient. Rey sighs, slumping against the pillows, watching the heart monitor. The machine whirrs and beeps, steadily, taunting her. It's proof. She's undoubtedly, hopelessly alive.
There's been a terrible mistake. She shouldn't be here. She should be dead, a thousand times over. She wants to sleep, to lay beneath the white snow, on Starkiller, and never emerge, oblivious to the world. She should be with Ben, wherever he is.
A part of her mind is struggling to wake, still. It tugs—a flutter, like eyelashes—and Rey's breath catches.
No.
It couldn't be.
But.
Rey sinks into her mindscape, reaching for that small, warm, pulsing energy awakening at the edges of her consciousness. It's there, unmistakable, a nascent sun.
Ben.
He's alive.
A choked gasp bursts from Rey's mouth before she can stop it. She clamps a hand over her lips, drawing a tremulous breath, eyes welling with tears.
She clambers out of the bed, untangling herself from the blankets. She pads across the room on sock feet, drawing the curtain. A pilot, still in uniform, lies in the bed. Thick layers of bandages are wrapped around his head, and blood licks at the edges. He's asleep.
Rey hurries past and opens the door, heart beating in her throat, sweat beading on her forehead. The floor breathes under her feet. She trails her hand along the wall, for support, and starts down the hallway, following the delicate, faint thread of light. The bond.
The hallway stretches for a time, and Rey reads the Force-signature in every room. Ben's close. He's behind any one of these doors.
The hallway ends in a pair of double doors. Rey pauses, fingers running over the knob, trying to read the room, behind.
"Rey?"
She turns, on her heel, toward the voice.
Poe's there, hands shoved in his pockets, smiling. He steps forward, hugging her. She squeezes his shoulders.
"It's good to see your eyes." He says. "You've been asleep for days."
Rey's mouth twitches.
"Where's Ben?" She asks. Poe's smile falters.
"Come on." He says, taking her elbow. "I'll show you."
Poe unlocks a door, on their left. The hall narrows, and there's only one, numbered door. Poe glances over his shoulder, then opens it, stepping aside.
Ben's lying in a glass pod, encased in a bacta suit. Rey inhales, approaching the pod. He's wearing undergarments, but his chest is bare, and Rey can see an angry, red pockmark where new skin is stretched over the wound. Her fingers rest on the glass. She wants to touch him, to feel the warmth and breath and heartbeat under her fingertips, to reassure herself that he's alive.
The bond is proof, enough. It's humming. Rising and falling, like a song. He's sleeping, deeply. She senses the soft edges of his consciousness. His mind is unguarded. The echoes of his dreams chase through her mind like children, playing hide and seek. She reaches out, tries to catch them in her hands, but they slip away like water through her fingers.
She seizes the bond and buries it deep inside the confines of her mind, as if she could keep it there and keep it safe for eons.
"The doctors say the worst time has passed." Poe says. "He'll be alright."
She shivers, fingers glancing off the surface of the pod. Poe puts a hand on her shoulder, an unspoken question.
She turns, throwing her arms around him, letting the tears fall. Poe starts, taken aback, and hugs her tightly, wrapping an arm around the small of her back. She buries her face in his shoulder, body trembling with sobs. She clings to him, and waves of relief and joy and gratitude roll off her shoulders, so entwined and smeared together in an overwhelming hysteria, it's impossible to separate one emotion from the other.
When she's cried herself out, she steps back, wiping her nose on her sleeve. There's heat in her cheeks and eyes, salt on her lips. She tries to draw a breath, and it catches in her throat.
"I'm sorry." She hiccups. Poe cocks an eyebrow, incredulous.
"Sorry? What're you sorry for?"
"I got snot on your jacket."
Rey refuses to leave his side. She curls up in a chair by the pod, sitting with her knees pressed into her chest and her fingers clasped together, tightly, until the blood seeps from her knuckles and leaves her skin white as the tiled floor.
Poe leaves, returns with a tray of food and a mug of Caf. He draws another chair beside her and takes a seat, tucking into his tray. He bites into a sandwich, chewing slowly. Rey pushes her potatoes around with a fork, making towers and castles.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asks.
Rey's gaze flicks to his face. She doesn't respond. Poe goes on.
"Rey, you have to understand what this means. Word travels fast. Almost everybody knows you're involved with Kylo Ren, somehow. Hell, everyone knows you lied. You told them he was dead."
"You covered for me."
Poe nods.
"I did. I did, because that's what friends do. And I just need to know, Rey. I need to know if I was right, to trust you. Because I'm not so sure, anymore."
Rey scoffs. Poe sighs, observing his shoes.
"I talked to D'Acy. She's pissed. You disobeyed orders. You ran off, abandoned us in the heat of the battle, to save the Supreme Leader of the First Order."
"He's not loyal to the First Order." Rey interjects. "Not anymore."
Poe shakes his head, frowning.
"That's beside the point. From an outsider's perspective, it looked pretty bad. You and Ren . . . it's obvious you tried to help him. I've never seen a wound heal that fast. You saved his life." He touches her shoulder, face softening. "The Force?"
Rey nods.
"I couldn't let him die . . ."
"I know." Poe nods. His eyes bore holes straight through her. "I think it's time you told me what's going on." He says. "Everything."
Rey's chest constricts. Friends don't lie. Not to each other.
Friends don't keep secrets.
"It's a long story."
Poe sighs, rubbing his eyes. His shoulders slump, and exhaustion weighs on him. He seems to age ten years.
"I've got all the time in the world. The First Order's gone. There aren't any battles left to fight. I ought to start thinking about an early retirement." He jokes, halfheartedly. It does nothing to shift the mood. The tension in the air is tangible. Poe folds his arms, cocking an eyebrow, expectantly.
She takes a breath, steeling herself.
"We're . . ." She starts, and falters. "We're bonded, by the Force."
"You're . . . what?"
"We're bonded by the Force. We can talk, even when we're not together. I know what he's thinking, what he's feeling . . ." Rey trails off, squeezing her eyes shut. Wariness and exhaustion weigh down on her. "I can feel him, right now."
"Hell . . ." Poe says, almost mystified, rubbing a spot over his left eye.
"The day he abducted me, on Takodana, he got into my head. He wanted the map to Luke, and he knew I'd seen it. When he pushed, I pushed back. And something . . . something happened." She sighs. "It's hard to put in words, but it's like our minds bridged. And I could feel his thoughts. I could see his memories, his future. Everything. You can't just lie about all that. I saw him, as he truly was, and I knew that I could trust him. That I could help him. And it was like . . ." She reaches for words, vaguely aware of Poe's wide-eyed gaze, trained on her. "It was like I'd finally found someone that understood what it was to be truly alone, in the world. He was . . . familiar. Like I'd known him my whole life. In a way, I had.
"I used to dream about him, when I was a kid. He wasn't always the man in the mask, but a presence in the light. And I knew him, or I wanted to know him. And I think . . . I think this connection, between us, is something much bigger than either of us. It's old. It stretches beyond our years. When we met, face to face, for the first time, it came awake."
Rey nibbles on her food, watching Poe's face. Poe's lips press into a thin line. His eyes find her face. When he says nothing, Rey goes on.
"On Ahch-To, we talked. He told me about his past. When we touched, I saw his future. I saw him turn. I saw his redemption. When Luke refused to return to the Resistance, I was convinced. Our last hope wasn't Luke, it was Ben.
"I went to him, and he turned on Snoke. He killed his master. For me." Rey sighs, shaking her head. Poe pushes his fingers through his hair.
"It doesn't make any sense." He says. "He's been our enemy for the better part of seven years. He was Snoke's lap dog. Why throw it all away with both hands? What changed?"
"He killed Han." Rey says. "He killed Han, and it broke him."
"And he's head over heels for you." Poe interjects. Rey swallows, staring at her plate.
"Okay, so, you still haven't explained why you disappeared. We didn't hear any word from you for a month, Rey. A month. Do you have any idea what that meant, for us?" Poe's voice rises an octave, and his eyes flash, suddenly angry. Rey flinches.
"We were terrified. I organized a rescue team. We searched for you. When you didn't turn up, we thought we'd lost you, for good. And if you think running off to play Romeo and Juliet with our sworn enemy is a good excuse . . ."
Poe trails off, taking a breath. Rey starts to object, but Poe cuts her off.
"Finn fell apart, after the first few days. He broke things. It wasn't pretty." Poe's voice is barely a whisper. Somehow, that's worse. Rey wishes he'd start yelling, again. His words only twist the knife. Tears well in her eyes.
"I searched for you." She says, thickly. "I listened, on the radio. I checked the channels, I used codes. I thought I'd lost you, after the attack on Echo Base."
"We couldn't use the radio. It was too risky."
"Well, I guess it was luck, then, that you found me."
"Luck." Poe says, tasting the word. "I don't believe in luck."
Rey falls asleep in the chair, by the bacta pod. Poe left hours ago, after she finished telling her story. He didn't say a word, only touched her shoulder, lightly. The gesture, itself, said all that needed to be said.
The room is quiet, save for the beeping monitors. She watches the screen, the oxygen levels and the steady beat of his heart, eyelids drooping. The next thing she knows, someone's shaking her shoulder. She squints, in the semi-darkness.
Finn's there. He takes her hand, pulling her to her feet. Wordlessly, he leads her to bed. She tries to speak, meaning to thank him, but the words get jumbled in her throat and she's asleep before her head hits the pillow.
Ben
Ben wakes, and the stars are the first things he registers. They spread out above him like a vast, diamond-studded ocean, so much bigger than himself. The starlight shimmers and shifts, surrounding him in a silvery aura, cascading like quicksilver and jewels, like ink in water. He watches the changing light, enraptured.
He's floating, on his back. Tentatively, he touches his chest, searching for the wound. There is none. The skin is bare and unmarked. The scar on his face, too, is gone. The pain is gone, leaving behind only soft, dull edges. His mind is foggy, oddly blank. So, he watches the stars, feeling oddly light and free. Like he could drift here for moon cycles and eons and spans of days, an infinitesimal part of the universe. Star dust.
Life is all around him. Microorganisms, drifting in the vacuum of space. Trillions of cells. Planets and worlds teeming with life. Sentient beings, violent beasts.
The Force's web links every living thing, flowing through bodies that act like conduits, a vast ocean, ebbing and flowing. It's the rhythm of life. It has a voice. It has a throbbing, beating, bleeding heart. It has poles. The darkness, and the light. And between it, gray. Silvery light. Stars.
It has existed far longer than he, and it will exist long after he is dead. It's unimaginable, in its enormity. It surpasses everything he knows, everything he's seen. He can't begin to understand it. Yet, he is a part of it.
He drifts, exalted, awash in the multitudes. In the energy, that binds all life. He is, at last, at peace.
The sky lightens, and the stars disappear. And Ben finds himself standing on a grassy hillside, overlooking an expanse of water, azure. Sunlight ripples across its surface. On the shore, a beautiful, blue-capped building rises from the foliage, ornate and elegant and crawling with ivy.
Wind brushes across Ben's face, making the tall grass and wildflowers sing. Wildflowers dust the hillside, and the surrounding valley. Ben's surroundings burst with color, purples and yellows and pinks. The sweet scent permeates the air, stirring up memories he'd kept buried, inside.
Flowers. Flowers and liquor and dying flame. Sweaty bodies and a threadbare couch and well-kissed lips. Rainfall.
Fire and flood and burning things. Fuel. A dead master and a broken apprentice. A dying spark. And a girl.
Burning petals.
Flowers, springing up in the dappled sunlight in the woods on Takodana. Skipped stones. A promise. Made, broken.
A single, desert flower, growing in the sun-scorched sands on Jakku.
It's Rey. His desert flower. A promise of life, of hope, amidst the chaos and the flames.
Rey.
The Force vibrates, culminates in a burst of blue light, just meters away. Ben squints, raising a hand to shield his eyes. The light splits in two, and twin humanoid forms materialize, cloaked in blue. Ben blinks, peering at the ghosts.
The woman is young, probably in her late twenties. A cascade of brown curls falls over her shoulders and frames her face, light and delicate. The eyes that peer at him are dark and bright, reflections of his own. She's beautiful, and familiar. There's something in her face, in her eyes . . .
The man is tall and lean, dressed in robes, with long hair and a face not unlike his own. He smiles.
"Ben."
Ben swallows, breath caught in his throat.
"Anakin." He breathes. "Grandfather." Ben glances at the young woman, Padme Amidala. His grandmother. She smiles.
"It's good to see you, Ben." She says, sweetly. She smiles, soft and sad.
He nods, at loss for words. Ben meets Anakin's gaze, the initial shock fading away.
"I . . . I begged for your help. I needed you. And you never answered." Ben says, slowly. "Why now, after all this time?"
"You weren't ready." Anakin says, simply.
"I suppose I am, now?"
"There are things you should know."
"And you're here to show me some grand prophecy?" Ben snaps. "I don't need your counsel."
"Not a prophecy." Anakin says. "A past life."
"The past must die." Ben snaps.
Anakin jerks his chin.
"You're wrong."
"The past has brought me nothing but pain. I want to be free of it." Ben says.
"The past is a teacher. Without it, you'll never learn." Anakin says.
Ben objects, but Padme lays a hand on his shoulder. She fixes him with a hard stare, eyes flashing with annoyance and disappointment. But there's something tender, in her gaze, too. Kindness. A secret, well-hidden softness. For a moment, she reminds him so much of Rey it takes him aback.
"Come, Ben." She says, offering her hand. "Let me show you."
He hesitates, steeling himself, and takes it. Her slender fingers wrap around his own, and a thread of energy tugs at his navel. He's thrust into a memory, another life. His surroundings are unchanged. The ornate building on the distant shore—Varykino, Padme whispers, in his ear—glistens with afternoon sunlight.
Laughter drifts, on the breeze. Ben turns. The ghosts of his grandparents are gone, replaced with the flesh and bone versions of themselves, young and happy and full of life. They lie on the hillside, among the wildflowers, talking. They're at peace . . . in love. The memory changes, and Ben's watching their wedding. A white headdress, beaded and patterned with white flowers, adorns Padme's head. They seal the union against a bleeding, red sun.
The scene changes, again, and fragments of thought and memory flash before his eyes. Padme's pregnancy, Anakin's growing allegiance to Palpatine, the darkness, inside him. He turned, to save her. In the end, it destroyed him.
Ben watches, horrified, as Anakin, wild with anger and paranoia, darkness choking out his light, stalks in front of Padme's smaller form. She's pleading with him, begging him to come back, to make things right . . .
His fingers clench into a tight fist, and Padme's hands fly to her throat, clawing at the invisible force, choking the air from her lungs.
"Enough." Ben says, and the scene dissolves. He takes a breath, staggering to his knees. The memory still courses through his veins like a virus. He can hear Padme's unsuccessful attempts to draw a breath, the furious, agonized screams of his grandfather, burning. It's the darkness' swan song. It's a pulsing, beating heart, driving the toxins into his body, ripping his flesh.
No.
He worshipped Darth Vader. Now, he knows the truth. He knew his grandfather was a Jedi before he turned to the darkness. He knew Anakin fell in love with the former queen of Naboo. He'd always been told she'd died in childbirth. But, this . . .
This is beyond anything he'd ever dreamed.
He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to be like him, the monster called Darth Vader. Part of him knows it's too late. That he can't hope to ever redeem himself, when finds joy in murder, savors the sound of bodies falling to the floor at his feet, when he lets rage and hate overwhelm him such that he can't string two coherent thoughts together. How could he have ever thought there was a chance for him, in the light? He's nothing but Snoke's puppet. A monster, ruled by a master.
Suddenly, he understands what the mirror was trying to tell him. He's taking a good, long look at his reflection, and he hates the twisted, broken creature staring back at him. Ben's eyes trace the scar, trailing from the bridge of his nose to his neck, slipping under the collar of his shirt.
You have too much of your father's heart, young Solo.
You'll never be as strong as Darth Vader.
The deed split your spirit to the bone.
Snoke was right, in the end. He killed Han, his father, and it destroyed him. And it took a scavenger from Jakku—his desert flower, his princess, his past, present, and future—to realize it. But she isn't done with him. Fate isn't done with either of them.
Suddenly, Ben's staring not at himself but Rey, in the mirror. His eyes trace her face, the geography of her body. The column of her neck, the sweep of collar bones, her breasts, the hardened muscles and lean frame and calloused hands. Her hair, those beautiful, dark tresses. Her eyes, flashing jade. Her lips, pink and soft. Those lips are hallowed ground, a church. His solace, in a burning, shattered world.
She blinks, lashes glistening with tears, and wraps her arms around him. He clutches her to his body, a choked gasp escaping his lips. Her light subdues the darkness, almost instantly, balancing him, grounding him, and he realizes what it means to make a choice. She's his guiding light, in the darkness. And if this is weakness, if he's got his father's heart, so be it. Because she's worth it. She's everything.
It's not too late, for him.
"It wasn't too late for Anakin, either." Rey says, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. Her hand rests against his cheek. "Come back to me, Ben."
She dissolves, and Ben's fingers tighten into fists, clutching at thin air. Anakin and Padme appear, at his side. He turns, facing them, cheeks wet with tears.
"Don't make the same mistakes." Anakin says. Padme cups his cheek, wiping away his tears with her thumb.
"There's hope for you, yet." She says. "But you'll have to make the choice for yourself."
Ben nods, meeting their eyes, in turn.
"I've made my choice."
Ben's eyes snap open. He gasps, drawing a breath. He sits up, and his head knocks into a cool, hard surface. He claws at the air, disoriented, and the surface above him unseals, falling away. A wall of cold air hits his face, and he coughs, reaching for breath, trying to calm the rapid, stuttering beat of his heart. He groans, reaching for purchase on the surface beneath him. He's moving. At first, he thinks he must be floating in water. He registers the bacta suit, and understands.
He rips at the suit with his fingernails, and the tubes attached to the apparatus fall away, leaking bacta liquid. He finds the clasp and undoes it, clambering out of the suit. A loud alarm chirps, from the monitor, and he ignores it.
He tries to stand, but his legs are unsteady, trembling and unable to support his weight. He grasps the edge of the pod, for balance, peering at his bare chest. There's a faint, pink mark where the blaster wound should be. Nothing more. It won't even leave a scar.
He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. His skin is slick, coated with bacta. There's an IV in his arm. He grasps the needle and pulls it free.
A medic rushes through the door, eyes wide.
"Where's Rey?" He demands. The man reaches for his commlink with shaking fingers. Ben knocks it to the floor, swiping a hand over the man's eyes, pushing into his mind. "You will show me to her, immediately." Ben commands. The man smiles, pleasantly, looking dazed.
"Of course, this way."
The medic, per Ben's request, retrieves a clean shirt and pants from a supply compartment. Ben pulls the garments on, and follows the medic, through a door and down a narrow hallway. The tiles are cold, under his bare feet.
He's at the Resistance Base. As much as it would normally irk him, he's preoccupied with finding Rey. There's a lapse in his memory, on the Raven's bridge. He needs to know she's alive, she's okay.
The medic leads him down a flight of stairs, through a pair of doors, and down another hallway. A pair of officials pass them, in the corridor. The shorter man's eyes flick over Ben's face. His eyes narrow, as the realization hits him. He reaches for his blaster.
Ben draws the weapon out of his hand, stilling the pair with a flick of his wrist. In his distraction, the medic breaks free of Ben's mental grasp. He's yelling into the comm, on the wall, and Ben sighs, biting his lip. The door, on the left, bursts open, and several officials surround him, blasters raised, shouting. Ben releases his grip on the man's wrist, holding his hands above his head, in surrender. An officer hurries forward, attaching cuffs around his wrists.
They march him down the hallway and onto a turbolift. Ben says nothing, letting the Resistance officers take him to the detention block. He steps through the door, too exhausted and heartsick to resist.
"No funny business." The officer says, rapping the barrel of his blaster on the doorway.
"Bring Rey to me." Ben demands. The officer shoots him a sideways glance, scoffing. Ben growls, frustrated. "I want to see her." A beat. "Please."
The officer glares at him, and leaves the detention block. Ben slams a cuffed fist against the wall, expletives spilling from his mouth.
"I need to see her!"
Rey
She's in the cafeteria picking at her breakfast when Poe taps her on the shoulder, motioning for her to follow. She does, eggs and toast forgotten, and trails him until they're well out of earshot.
"Ren's awake." He says.
Her eyes widen. She rushes off, in the direction of the Med Bay.
"Rey, wait." Poe catches her elbow. "He's not in the Med Bay."
Rey's brows knit, together.
"What? Where is he?"
Poe falters.
"You're not gonna like it."
He leads her down to the detention block, pausing to unlock the nearest, high-security cell. Rey's gaze traverses the cramped room, eyes locking on Ben's face. She launches herself into his arms.
He staggers against her weight, cupping the small of her back, awkwardly, the use of his arms hindered by the shackles on his wrists. Poe rushes forward and unlocks them, and Ben lets them fall away.
He cups Rey's cheek with his hand, and tears cut traces down his cheeks. He's looking at her with a kind of burning intensity that makes entire star systems seem infinitesimal, compared the light of his eyes.
"Ben." She chokes. She props herself on tip-toes and kisses him. He kisses her, back, with the same, insistent, almost frantic intensity that leaves her breathless.
"Rey." He says, against her lips, and her name is a shiver, on his breath. A leaf, in the crisp, autumn wind. A fluttering bird's wing.
"Alright, that's enough P.D.A. for my taste." Poe says, clearing his throat. He smiles, cockily. Ben glowers at Poe, looking like he wants nothing more than to strangle him. Rey lays a hand on his shoulder, reading the changing tides of his emotions. Resentment . . . jealousy . . .
The detention block's door slides open, and a Nubian official enters, looking furious.
"Dameron." He snaps. "You don't have clearance to release prisoners from the detention block."
"Who ordered his transfer from the Med Bay?" Poe demands.
"He didn't transfer. He escaped." The officer retorts, coolly.
"This is ridiculous." Rey snaps. Ben shifts his weight, beside her, and she lays a hand over his wrist, index finger pushing against his pulse. "Release him!"
"He's under custody. He cannot be released until his trial is held and his fate is decided."
Poe lays a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, Rey."
Rey shrugs away from his touch, furious.
"What trial?"
Poe sighs. "He's a prisoner of war. Technically, he's under our custody. A trial will be held, he'll appear before a panel and a judge." He explains. "It's protocol, Rey."
The officer brandishes his blaster in Ben's direction. "Get those cuffs back on, and get out." He stares at Rey, coldly. "Watch your step, traitor." He warns. "Or you'll end up in there, with him."
Rey ignores him, turning toward Ben. She hugs him, wrapping her arms around his neck, breathing him in.
"I'll see you soon." She says. "I promise."
The night before the trial, Rey lies in her assigned bunk, restless. Sleep doesn't come, and she stares into the shadows, thoughts turning over and over. A million different scenarios play out in her head, each one worse than the last. She knows Ben's chances of getting off, exempt from punishment, are impossibly slim—almost nonexistent. What will they do, if he's charged? Banish him? Execute him? Subject him to torture, for information? She shivers, countless methods of cruel and unusual punishment flitting through her brain. She squeezes her eyes shut and blows out a long breath, suddenly nauseous.
D'Acy will do everything in her power to make sure Ben never sees the light of day, again. Rey's certain. She also knows the majority of the Resistance share the same sentiments toward him. But they also trust (trusted) her. If Finn and Poe back her, if she can make an adequate case for him, convince them he's deserving of a second chance, well . . .
Maybe.
Maybe they've got a shot.
His mind brushes against hers, gently. The bond opens, and he's there, lying beside her, in the bunk. She rolls on her side, facing him, and he gazes into her face.
He says nothing. His fingers twine themselves into her hair, trailing to caress her cheekbone, her jaw.
"Ben." She says, softly, voice barely a shiver, in the air. She opens her mouth, to express her worries, her fears, how terrified she is, for tomorrow. For the ruling that could seal their fate, forever.
What if I lose you? She wants to ask. You promised me we'd find the stars, do you remember? You promised we'd travel the galaxy, until the thousand suns in the night sky give way to darkness, until the galaxy becomes nothing, and we are both dust in the ground. You promised we'd build a new order, you and I. You promised we'd go somewhere. Somewhere we'd be free, together.
Ben gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head, planting a kiss on the soft skin between her eyes. She closes them, breathing in his scent. Like bacta and antiseptic, but beneath all that, him. Something like pine, like snow, like smoke and ash and sea breeze.
"Whatever comes . . . tomorrow, in ten years, in a hundred, they can't touch us." He says. "We're invincible." His mouth twitches, into a small, sad smile. "And I intend to keep my promise."
"Promise?" She asks, and her voice is that of a small child's.
"Promise."
She closes her eyes, then, and her head finds the place where his heart beats, in his chest, steady and strong—a life line, a constant. His arm encircles her, pulling her tighter, against him. Sheltering her from the monsters, in the dark.
The war is not over. There are many battles left to fight. But as long as there is breath in her lungs, as long as his heartbeat keeps time with her own, as long as he's there, in the darkness, when everything else is reduced to ash, she will fight. Because he's enough. He's always been enough.
On the morning of the trial, Rey wakes to an empty bed. She's disoriented, expecting to open her eyes and find him there, beside her. But, of course, he's three floors down, in the prison block. His scent clings to her body, to the sheets, and she wonders if it's an illusion, like a phantom limb.
She drags herself out of bed and into the refresher, scrubbing her body clean, washing away the peeling, scabbed skin on her wounds. The bruises left by the conflict in Hux's throne room are beginning to turn an awful, greenish yellow. The soreness is fading, and the gash on her leg is healing.
She steps out of the shower and regards her naked reflection in the mirror, taking in the collection of scars that mark her skin. They're a map of her life, of the battles she's fought, of the things she's seen. A lump forms in her throat, looking at herself. Where the skin was once unblemished, in her youth, it is now flecked with freckles and sunspots, marked with scrapes and cuts and bruises and and scars. She dwells on her reflection a bit longer, blinking back the hot, wetness in her eyes, then tears herself away. She dresses quickly, in long, elegant gray robes.
Rey's just stepping outside her compartment, lightsaber clipped to her built, when her commlink pings, summoning her to the command center, in the palace. She pauses, outside the door, steeling herself, and steps inside. D'Acy's waiting for her. Her usual, simple uniform has been replaced with something more elegant. A deep, violet cape drapes over her shoulders and sweeps to the floor. A Rebel Alliance pin glints on her collar. She regards Rey with an even, expressionless stare. Rey starts to speak, but D'Acy silences her.
"Commander Dameron explained the situation." D'Acy says. Her mouth forms a thin line. "It's no excuse for desertion, but I suppose we can let bygones be bygones."
"I'm sorry." Rey says. "I needed to find my place, in the Force and the rebellion, and I've found it."
"Good." D'Acy nods. "You will have the opportunity to tell your side of the story, at the trial. The process is fair, but I'm afraid Kylo Ren has committed such treasonous acts, the chances of a favorable sentence are slim, at best."
Rey nods, insides squirming, unpleasantly. D'Acy goes on.
"I regret to inform you, you've been stripped of your commanding title, after your blatant refusal to follow orders." The general tells her. Rey nods, glumly. She expected it. Part of her is relieved. She's not fit to be a leader. Her place is with the Force, and with Ben. She doesn't belong in meetings, nor at dinner parties, forming battle strategies and entertaining diplomats. She's not a soldier. She's not a politician.
D'Acy dismisses Rey, and she goes, relieved.
In the hall, she runs, quite literally, into Poe. She springs back, an apology on her lips, and falls silent. His face is weary, and dark bags hang under his eyes. His eyes are wild, alight with something—fear? Insanity?
"Poe, what's—"
"Follow me." He says, tugging on her arm. She does, and he takes off, down the corridor. She struggles to keep up, taking two steps to match every one of his long, hurried strides.
"What's going on?" She demands.
"I'm getting you out. You, and Ren." Poe glances over his shoulder, worriedly. "Hurry. We don't have much time."
"Getting us out? What d'you mean?"
Poe stops, grabbing her shoulders.
"They're going to execute him." He says, frowning. "There's talk. It won't be pretty. There's nothing you can do or say to change their mind. He's as good as dead, the minute he steps up to that panel."
Rey's stomach sinks to the floor.
"You're sure?" She says, voice faltering. As his words sink in, she knows it's true. She's naïve, if she expects them to show mercy to the man who killed countless in their ranks, obliterated their fleets and their worlds . . .
Poe nods. "Positive."
He continues, up the corridor, into the turbolift. He punches a button, and they begin their decent.
"I can buy you enough time to get Ren and get as far away from here as fast as you can." Poe says.
Rey falls silent, mulling it over. She turns to him, placing her palm over his hand.
"Why are you doing this?" She asks, gazing at his face. His eyes flit to the floor, then rest on her face.
"I didn't believe in the Force. Not really. Not until I met you. And I think if all that stuff's possible, well, then fate and purpose and destiny are, too. And if we've all got a purpose in this world, he's yours. You're my friend, Rey. I know you. I trust you. You're not happy here, it's obvious. If you've got a chance at a better life, one with peace and purpose, who am I to deny it?" Poe sighs. "You would do the same for me. And it's the right thing to do. I owe it . . ." Poe trails off, gaze finding the floor. When his eyes return to her face, they've got the overbright quality of someone attempting to hold back tears. "I owe it to Leia."
Rey swallows the lump in her throat, nodding, and her gratitude and love for him is so strong, in that moment, she thinks her heart might burst.
The turbolift doors slide open, and Poe leads her into hall, outside the prison block. There, a familiar face awaits them.
"Finn!" Rey says, and throws her arms around him.
"Rey." He breathes, hugging her.
"Finn, what's the word?" Poe asks.
"I've got the release form. Signed by D'Acy, herself." Finn says, mischief glinting in his eyes. He smirks, brandishing the papers at Poe. "I hope this works."
"It will." Poe says, nodding. "Just, stay here." He says, and pushes through the door.
Rey presses her ear against the door, listening. A muffled voice on the other side regards Poe, suspiciously. He asks a question, one Rey can't make out. Poe answers, faltering, and the guard's voice rises, angrily. She winces, looking at Finn.
"I don't think it's working." She says, turning the knob.
"Rey, wait—"
She ignores him, entering the prison block. She wills the Force to guide her, entering the man's mind, subduing his will. He resists, at first, and eventually succumbs to her mental probing.
"You will release Kylo Ren from the prison block." She says, slowly, calmly. The guard nods.
"Of course."
He taps a command on his control panel, and the doors of Ben's cell slide open. He steps out, eyes locking on Rey's face. He's been given access to a shower, and clean clothes. All in preparation for the trial, Rey guesses. He's dressed in pants and a gray doublet. Rey blinks, taken aback by the absence of his usual, black clothing.
"You will unlock the cuffs." She tells the guard. He obliges, instantly, and the shackles on his wrists open. He cocks an eyebrow, at Rey.
Rey turns to the guard. "You will forget this happened. You will forget we came, and you will forget our names. You will speak of this to no one." She says. The guard nods, dumbly.
"Of course."
Rey turns, approaching Ben, cupping his cheek in her palm.
"What's happening?" Ben asks.
"We're getting out." She says. "We're leaving. Together."
The Falcon is waiting for them in the hangar. Rey turns to Poe.
"The Falcon, how did you—"
"I pulled some strings." He says, cutting her off. "It's a long story, for another time."
"What about Chewie? The Falcon's his as much as it's ours."
"Chewie returned to Kashyyyk." Poe says. He looks at Ben. "He said Han meant for you to have it."
Ben's eyes flick to Poe's face, and his mouth twitches as he wars with himself, battling his demons.
"Thank you." Ben says, finally.
Rey feels her chest swell, her spirits lift. For a moment, Luke and Leia's golden light envelope her, in the Force. The warmth spreads from her chest to her whole body, tingling in her fingers and flowing into her fingers, clasped in Ben's hand. She catches his eye, and a flicker of something crosses his face, and she knows he feels it, too.
The hangar is manned by two Nubian lieutenants. One of the pair, a woman of thirty, stops them, asking for clearance. Rey dissuades her, and she lets them pass. Rey lowers the Falcon's ramp, turning to Finn and Poe. It hits her, then. This is goodbye. Her heart climbs into her throat. She looks at them, each, blood rushing in her ears, tears spilling over her lashes. She turns to Poe, stepping toward him.
"Thank you." She says, pulling him into a hug. "For everything."
Poe nods.
"Keep in touch, Rey from Nowhere."
She smiles, turning to Finn.
"Finn . . ." She begins. He shakes his head.
"This isn't goodbye forever, Rey." His voice breaks, on her name. Rey nods, drawing a shaky breath.
"You're right." She says, thickly. Finn pulls her into a tight embrace, and she buries her head in his chest, relishing the feeling, thanking the Force and the stars above for his friendship, his trust. He draws away, holding her at arm's length. His thumb brushes a tear from her cheek.
"Take care of yourself." She nods, taking his hand, squeezing it.
"I'll see you soon."
Ben stands stiffly at her side. She takes his hand, gazing into his face. His eyes, dark and deep and gentle, fix on her face. She smiles.
"Let's go."
Rey sits in the cockpit, watching Naboo fade into a smear of light and color as the Falcon jumps to hyperspace. Ben is in the Main Hold. A turmoil of emotions flicker just under his surface, and Rey knows it's in his best interest to be alone, with the Falcon, with his ghosts. With Han.
Eventually, Rey hears his footsteps nearing, and he enters the cockpit, dropping into the chair, beside her. She turns, gazing at him, unsurprised to find the overbright remnants of tears in his eyes. She takes his hand, shivering as their flesh makes contact. She hears the ghost of a small boy's laughter, as he runs through the ship's gangways, struggling to keep up with his father's long-legged stride.
Rey squeezes Ben's hand.
"This is it." She says.
"This is it." He repeats.
He fists his hand in her hair and kisses her.
She smiles, against his lips. He pulls away, and she climbs out of the chair, pressing her body against him, kissing him with fervor. Her hands snake up his back, fisting in his hair. His lips tease her earlobe, and waves of pleasure ripple throughout her body. Her breath quickens. Suddenly, there's not enough oxygen in the cockpit.
Ben gathers her in his arms, planting kisses along her jaw, her neck. He lays her on the mattress, in the Falcon's Crew Quarters, removing his shirt, fumbling with her belt. She helps, removing her trousers, her cloak, her shirt, until she's in her undergarments. Her hands roam his body, caressing every inch of skin within reach. He moans, shivering, and she feels his pleasure, his adoration, over the bond.
"Rey?" Ben asks, pausing, taking her face in his hands.
"Ben."
"I love you."
After, they lay on the bunk. Ben lies on his belly, arm slung across her, protectively. She lies on her side, brushing his hair back from his eyes. She sighs, gazing at his face, thinking of the lifetime, ahead.
They'll build a new order, together. A temple, to train young Force-users in the ways of the Gray Jedi. They'll teach balance. Control, yes. Passion, also. And a choice.
She thinks of Finn, of Poe. She'll see them again, she's certain. She knows it as she knows there are stars in the sky.
She closes her eyes, listening to slow, steady breathing of the man, beside her. Enjoying his presence, his company, the serenity of the moment.
He is the sun, the stars. He is everything.
And they're free.