Author's Note: Happy Weekend! Thanks so much for the comments from those lovely readers who are patient enough to put up with the long "dry spells" between updates. Though it seems I'm on a roll now. As always, let me know what you are thinking!

Chapter 21

Ben looked on from behind, feeling frustratingly useless as Kezzik worked on Rey's leg. Ben had already paced the corridors, raided the galley's pantry (disappointingly empty), he even pulled out the old training remote that was always stowed away on the Falcon. But every time he reached out with the Force, even toward the simple remote, an unease seemed to wrap around him. He was so distracted, the remote managed to zap him four times before he ever deflected a shot.

He'd since given up on finding a diversion and had resigned to stand in silence to watch.

Finally, Kezzik rose from Rey's bedside, casting a bloodshot glare in his direction. "You two need to stop pissing off the wrong people," Kezzik said, grabbing for the wall to steady himself. He sighed, leaning heavily against the door frame, sucking in air before he could continue. "This Dr. Kezzik deal is losing its novelty."

Ben bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. "Thank you."

He expected a sarcastic retort, but Kezzik was uncharacteristically silent as he ran a hand through his disheveled blonde hair and stared blankly at the wall. Ben could swear Kezzik saw something there, the way he studied it and narrowed his brows, but his expression passed like a shadow and then he was shaking his head and shuffling down the Falcon's gangway in the opposite direction. He managed only a few steps before Samra stepped in as a human crutch. Zeke took up the rear, obviously unused to being ignored, and hopped crankily along at their heels, snorting and snuffling.

Kezzik looked back, "The wound is stabilized and the leg will probably heal correctly. It's the best I could do."

Then the three turned out of sight.

He hated to trust Kezzik. But he had little choice.

Kezzik had put Rey into a Force sleep prior to the healing, saying it would be more comfortable for her. He'd never mentioned how long she would need to sleep it off.

Now, with the others gone, the silence pressed against him uncomfortably.

He glanced down to Rey's slight form on the bunk. She was so small, her body took up so little space on the bed, he was tempted to wrap himself around her and fall asleep that way. He craved her warmth, wondered what it would be like to spend the night tangled up next to another human being. Rey's mouth hung open just slightly and he could hear the faintest snore. It was impossible to tell what time it was, but he was suspicious of a late hour, as his eyes were beginning to take some effort to keep open. But though the draw of her body, her warmth, her Force was nearly inescapable, he needed to handle one small item of business.

He had to make sure something like this would not be repeated.

He'd overheard Kezzik and Samra talking about the prisoners. There was a deserted wing of abandoned barracks at the bottom floor of the temple, adjacent to those in use by the trainees. And that is where his errand would take him.

Ben bent to run a gentle hand across Rey's cheek, but paused before his fingertips made contact. She had trusted him, fought for him, and ended up suffering for it. He felt like they were stuck in a vortex, making circles together, never able to truly connect because of the chaos of the motion all around. It was as if the Force both willed them to be together, but reveled in tearing them apart.

He turned and began the walk across the temple.

Purposeful, heavy footfalls carried him through the corridors. He hoped the echo of each step would drown out the whispers in his mind, but it seemed the deeper he went into the heart of the Temple, the louder the voices became. A thousand whispers of his inadequacy. If he would have listened to Rey, this wouldn't have happened. If he could have trusted her. He doesn't deserve her.

It became an exercise in mental fortitude to keep his thoughts focused on the task. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, only that he needed to speak to the Traitor. He'd promised Samra he wouldn't hurt anyone, and though a part of himself did still crave revenge, he tried to keep those thoughts at a distance.

He turned a dark corner, lit only by flickering sconces on the walls, and nearly ran into Qi'ra.

Her hand gripped one of the vicious daggers strapped to her hip. "What are you doing down here?"

"I came to speak with one of the prisoners."

She answered with another question, eyes narrowing. "At this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep." He leaned back on his leg to lose some height, trying to seem less imposing.

Qi'ra cocked her head and crinkled her lip, relaxing slightly as a knowing expression spread slowly across her features. "How is she?"

"Better. Resting."

Qi'ra nodded and in the silence, whispers continued to buzz loudly in his mind.

"One of the pilots managed to retreat," she said. "We are hoping whoever it is won't lead the rest of the Resistance here. The other two pilots involved, Wexley and Finn, have been locked in the barracks until we can sort out what to do with them." She looked away, a smirk tugging at her lip. "Maybe I should just let the dragons deal with them."

The dragons.

His thoughts were taken back to the questions forming about those very creatures. What was it about the dragons that just didn't make sense? How had they ended up here? Why did they seem to be the ones in charge?

"What are those dragons guarding?"

Qi'ra's eyes widened, illuminated briefly by the flicker of a sconce, before her features glossed over into neutral again.

She knew something. He became even more sure of this as her gaze grew stonier with each passing second.

He could find out. He could press into her mind.

But instead, he waited.

"You march into our home, Supreme Leader of the Universe, without a single thought as to our priorities here. Reckless, just like your father. Now you've brought the eye of the Resistance upon us and the First Order is soon to follow." She paused, her shoulders rising and falling as though she'd just run laps around the temple. "The dragons are none of your concern."

Ben clenched his fists, trying to quell the heat of anger that had begun to churn inside of him. "If you tell us what is going on here, maybe we could actually help."

She snorted, turned away, then slowed to a stop facing in the opposite direction.

"You can help by not nosing around where you aren't needed," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. But he couldn't help reaching out to her mind now. Lightly, just a brush of his consciousness.

I need to keep him away from the soul snares. If he were to find out –

She whirled, lunging at him, and in a flash of movement, her dagger was against his neck. But Ben didn't fight back, he knew Qi'ra wouldn't kill him, even now with her cold steel at his throat. The Force was insistent, fighting back would only give her more reason to distrust him.

"Stay out of my head," she hissed.

The blade pressed harder against his neck and he could feel his pulse jumping in the vein just below it. One slice and his life would spill out across the temple stones. Still, he knew, with a certainty that only the Force could provide, that this was mostly for show. She would not kill him.

But he was walking a very thin line. He stood very still, not speaking, not moving, until she released her hold on him, with a frustrated sigh.

"Keep the Resistance away or the First Order will track them. We can't risk a confrontation yet. We are not ready. Keep your focus on training or whatever it is you Force users need to do to help us take down the First Order. Leave my home to me."

And with that, she was drifting down the darkened corridor out of sight, leaving him with his own thoughts and the phantom pressure of a knife at his neck.

Qi'ra needed them. There was no other reason she would suffer his presence. But what did she need them for?

He thought back to her personal thoughts. Soul snares. Now that was something new. He definitely had some research to do.

Ben stared after Qi'ra for several minutes, thoughts churning chaotically, before the chill air forced him to move again, just to get his blood pumping and put some warmth back in his limbs.

He followed the snaking corridors as Samra had described, finally coming upon the outer door to the holding cells. The one, he knew, that held the Traitor. Raising his hand, he manipulated the Force around him to unlatch the door, and it swung open with a noisy creak.

Inside, the room was lit with stark bright light, contrasting with the dark stonework of the cell. As it was just an old barrack, there were no bars indicating a prison. It was just an empty space with a single bed and a chamber pot in the corner. The traitor was bound, arms in front of him and he sat on the edge of the bed. He raised his gaze to meet Ben's in defiance, dark eyes burning into him.

He sensed the Traitor's decision to charge him before he'd even moved, and the moment he did, Ben waved a hand to push him back hard against the bed. This time, he held him in place with a not-so-gentle grip to ensure he would not be moving.

"You are disgusting," the Traitor spat. "What did you do to her?"

Ben's pulse picked up again, feeling it pound angrily in his ears. The confrontation with Qi'ra, still so fresh on his mind. The attack from Finn and the X-wings. He was nearing the edge of the cliff.

Anger. But he couldn't let the Traitor rile him further. He needed to solve this problem. For Rey. He needed to stay calm.

He focused on one long breath. The muscles of his abdomen expanding as he inhaled, his lungs filling, the tightness of his chest as he reached his maximum inhalation, then slowly, exhaling through pursed lips.

With one breath, he managed to calm the storm. For now.

It took every ounce of self-control to speak to the Traitor as though he was not a brainless space slug larva. And even then, his tone was more strained and sarcastic than he'd wished for.

"It's Finn, correct? That's what they call you?"

Ben ignored the growl he got in response.

"Finn, I need you to understand a few things. Rey was injured back there in the jungle."

He would appeal to whatever friendship he thought he had with Rey. Gain some sympathy and maybe the idiot would listen.

"She's resting now, but she'll be fine."

Finn promptly spat in his face.

Ben reached a hand to wipe his cheek, anger roiling under his skin, darkness creeping into his vision at the corners and all thoughts of calm breathing were blackened.

The Force responded in a flash of rage and Finn was pressed by his throat against the wall.

Finn clawed at his own neck, prying at the invisible fingers holding him in place.

As Ben watched him struggle, he could practically hear Rey's voice, begging him to release her friend.

"You are making this very difficult, Finn." Even Ben could hear the strain in his voice as he closed his eyes and willed himself to release the man, relaxing one tendril of Force at a time.

Finn gasped, a grating breath, before sending Ben a glare of utter hatred.

A bead of sweat dripped down the back of Ben's neck as he focused on finding some light, some balance, moving his grip from Finn's throat while still keeping the man at a distance.

But Force help him, as soon as Finn could breathe again he was making demands. "You don't have to let me go, but let Rey go. She doesn't deserve this. She actually thought she could help you. I wish I would have known what she was doing, who she was talking to, I - "

Ben reached out a hand to cut him off with the Force. His patience was now officially gone.

"You are not in a position to dictate what happens here, Finn." A physical ache was forming at his core every minute he went without unleashing his frustration. Strangling was not enough. Destruction rang in his ears and he could hear nothing else. He had to practically scream to hear himself over the roar of his own inner rage. "Rey has chosen to be here. And if you would shut up for one minute, you would understand why."

Finn was shaking now, but with a Force hold over his voice, he wasn't going to be spitting out more insults anytime soon.

So Ben took his time to explain, a little more time than he probably needed since he had a comfortable grip at the moment. "I have denounced the First Order. I killed Snoke, but somehow he is still alive and wants me dead. Rey has joined with me of her own free will. We are trying to find a way to take down Snoke's regime and you are not helping."

Finn's eyes widened, then narrowed again. He was getting there, but still was not fully convinced. Ben let off on his throat for a moment, hoping he wouldn't regret it.

"Why even bother coming down here?" Finn's lip curled, baring teeth like a cornered Nexu. "Even if this was all true, why not just leave me here?"

"Because," he said. "I need you to get a message to my mother."

Her ears were stuffed with cotton, a blindfold pulled over her eyes, and her throat had been scoured raw, burning with thirst.

A sandstorm?

She groaned.

Warmth, cradling her closer. An arm?

She swallowed, pushing her eyes open, blinking. It was dark, nearly dark. Through blurred vision she saw running lights up and down the floorboards. A ship.

The arm cradled her closer. A Force. A connection, and she settled back into him.

A cup to her lips. Cool, soothing the fire as it traveled down to her belly, leaving a trail of smooth comfort.

This was not a sandstorm. And Rey remembered where she was and what had happened. She knew the Force of the man lying next to her, she knew his smell, his presence. But she'd never woken next to someone before.

It was alien, it was warm, it was a little terrifying.

Ben removed his arm from her, inching away.

"No," she croaked. "No, its okay, its just – "

She was too delirious for words. So, she sent a word laced with feeling through the bond.

Stay.

She sensed a swell of something, relief, concern, protection, as he took the cup back and settled against her again. She fit well next to him this way, nestled with her back fitting perfectly against this chest, his arm around her.

They remained that way, silent, just breathing for several minutes.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice sounding thin, spent, and she wondered if he'd slept at all.

She unhooked his arm around her and turned to face him, still lying side by side.

She traced a light finger over the wrinkles between his eyes, and his frown relaxed. "My leg is hardly an ache. You can stop worrying now."

Even in the low light she could see his eyes were red-rimmed, framed from below by purple half-moons – the sign of sleep deprivation. Pairing that with the tangled black nest of hair sprawled across the pillow and he was the picture of exhaustion. She had to stifle a laugh before she realized, if he looked this bad, she could only imagine how she must look to him.

You look as you always do.

She pressed her lips together in frustration. It wasn't fair to read her thoughts like this. But she played along anyway.

And how is that?

Bewitching.

His eyes glittered with mischief before his stare grew more intense and she had to look away from those fierce dark eyes. She trailed her gaze over the rest of his face, his strong nose, his lips – more supple than they had any right to be.

The corner of his mouth twitched, the touch of a smile as he followed her gaze, and he too, looked at her lips and oh kriff, was he going to kiss her? His smile disappeared. There was a question in his eyes. An internal battle raging just below the surface. Would he? He raised a hand to cup her cheek and leaned closer. He was going to kiss her. He was initiating this touch, all of it this time was coming from him, and she waited, closing her eyes, letting his Force roll over her in waves before she ever felt the heat of his mouth against hers.

Then Ben Solo kissed her.

And his lips were softer than she remembered, igniting every nerve in her body. His lips, his taste, his Force, soft but insistent as he moved them gently against her. His tender, timid exploration continued, drawing sweetly on her Force, wrapping her light around him slowly. But then, something shifted. His hand raked through her hair and he pulled her closer. This was his desire. His mouth moved with a hard desperation as his kiss spoke to her, begging her to listen. Don't leave me it said. Please. Please.

She arched her back, pressing herself against his chest and heat began to build inside of that empty place somewhere deep within her. A place she never knew existed, but now needed to be filled. She couldn't stop kissing him, couldn't stop running her hands over his body. His arms, his sides, his back.

He moaned, a guttural sound that sent a shock of desire straight through her.

And somehow, their kiss became a living thing. She opened herself completely to him – her thoughts, her fears, her Force as his lips devoured her. His Force moved within her and they stayed that way, coupled in the energy of the galaxy, kissing, desperately touching until the intensity of it became too much and she had to pull away, if not to keep from passing out, then to draw in a complete breath before she was utterly lost.

His chest heaved against her, his own breath ragged and shallow. His heart was pounding at a furious tempo against her body, thrumming against the Force itself, and there was no way she could change its rhythm. Their rhythm.

He pulled away to look at her, and when he did, the questions were erased from his eyes. Rey could tell from that look that he knew. He didn't need to beg her not to leave. She would stay. Because finally, Rey was home.