XLV
Rey wonders, as she wakes, if she was ever a complete person or if she'd always been a plucked, raw chicken, butchered and freeze-dried for long-haul shipping. Her skin shivers, overly sensitive, as though the epidermis has been peeled away in one thin skin, leaving her vulnerable to every breath of wind. Not that there is any wind to speak of. The air she breathes is recycled, stale, tasting of metal, plastic, and curdled anesthetic, and it wafts over her skin in regular drafts. It's sour and disgusting.
She's alive, then. Good to know. Though the way she feels right now, she almost wishes she weren't.
A sliver of light knifes into her eyes, startling defensive tears to prickle at her lashes. She groans and tries to roll over, but her body won't cooperate. There are cords holding her down, first of all. Cords? Why would anyone be holding her?
The immediate past slams back into her mind, and Rey jerks against her bonds, too weak to break a single strand. But she has to get out, she can't let Hux hold her; it can't have all been for nothing!
"Oh, thank goodness! She's—you're awake! Rey, can you hear me? It's Rose!"
"Rose?" Rey croaks, her throat as bloody and sore as the rest of her. What happened? She doesn't remember much after...after...
Oh. Right. After being blown into space. That explains a lot.
"Yes!" Rose's voice is full of bubbly energy, and Rey can just imagine her standing there, bouncing from one foot to the other, "Oh, thank the Force! No one thought you'd wake up so soon."
"How long?"
"Three days. It's felt like forever."
"And," she pauses, steeling herself against the worst, "Is everyone okay?"
"Yes," there's warm pressure on her hand as Rose squeezes it, "everyone's fine. He—Ben, I mean—he didn't leave the medbay for over two days. Then he collapsed and we sort of dragged him out. Sorry we couldn't carry him, but he is heavy. Poe calls him a murder-bot—he's joking, I think—but it really does feel like he's made of durasteel."
She wants to laugh. The thought of Rose, Poe, and Finn hauling Ben down the hall like a hibernating saber-bear is hilarious.
"You'd think that after rescuing you from space he'd be a bit more careful. But no. He had to be unconscious before he let a doctor anywhere near him."
"He rescued me?"
"Of course. Nobody else would have been able to do it."
The tears pooling in Rey's eyes finally overflow, sliding down her cheeks in a scalding sheet. She's unthawing, coming alive by inches, and every inch hurts. But she wouldn't trade it for anything. Not anything.
"Do you want me to get him?"
"Yes," her head aches as she nods, but she doesn't feel the pain. "Please."
"Okay, just give me a minute. If he's still asleep, do you want me to wake him up?"
She shouldn't say yes. But she smiles.
"Drag him here by his ankles if you have to."
Rose laughs. "As if I could move that slab all by myself. But I promise, I'll draft as much help as I need. Just hang tight; I'm gonna send a doctor in for you. Maybe you can even sit up today!"
Her enthusiasm is a hot bath. Rey can't sit up, can't possibly, but she does open her eyes. Rose's heart-shaped face blooms, cheeks flushed and brilliant. More tears come; no one has ever looked so artlessly happy to see Rey, not ever in her life.
"You're my best friend," she says, simply, "You know that, right?"
"Oh," Rose sighs, "I'm so glad you're all right. Just lie still; I'll be right back."
She leaves in a bustling flutter, to be replaced moments later by an efficient doctor Rey doesn't recognize, who puts her through her paces as precisely as a show dog. Her joints squeal as he bends her arm, fingers, and elbows. Her skin goes blotchy red with every touch. And her vision keeps sliding in and out of focus.
She feels great.
"Well," the doctor concludes at last, "for a woman who spent over a minute in the vacuum of space, you're doing well. As far as I can tell, anyway. Just listen to your body, and don't do more than it tells you you can."
"Thanks, doctor," she's actually sitting up now, though propped on a cloudbank of pillows, and can turn her head slowly without assistance.
"Thank the Force. It's the only reason you're alive."
Rey leans back and contemplates the ceiling, remembering. It was the Force that saved her; of course it was. She remembers that beautiful voice manifesting to her like the voice of a cosmic mother, the friend who had always been inside her. She didn't make the Force save her; she wouldn't even have known how. It saved her because that was its will.
Submitting to something greater than herself isn't something that Rey has ever enjoyed. She submitted to Unkar Plutt, to the unfair life he foisted on her and every other orphaned soul like her. She submitted to the myth of her parents, that they would return for her, remaining on Jakku even as it ground her to dust. Submission has never brought her anything but disappointment, grief, and pain.
But now, she is willing to let herself go. She trusted the Force, and it was there for her. They are composed of the same celestial matter; she is one with the Force and the Force is with her.
The door slides open. The figure standing there, blocking all the light, is almost featureless to her weak eyes. It's more like a monolith than a man—Rose wasn't all wrong when she called him a 'slab'—but Rey doesn't need her eyes to see him. To her, he's a beacon through the Force, shining brighter than any sun.
"Hi," she murmurs.
He flows forward, the door sliding shut behind him. The world is quiet.
"Hi," his hands raise, then fall again, as if he doesn't feel himself worthy of touching her. He folds them instead, the gesture hunching his shoulders inward, a protective posture guarding his heart.
"It's all right," her fingers creep across the covers to reach for him, "You won't hurt me."
"The doctors said," he swallows, "They said you'd be fragile. I shouldn't."
"I am," her voice wobbles, "But I need you to—would you hold me?"
Even with her permission, he's reluctant. When her hand reaches his, he barely curls his fingers around hers. Rey has to lift it, has to bring him to her, has to lean forward to rest her heavy head in the crook of his shoulder. He's so hot he burns away any lingering chill, down to her marrow. Her skin tingles, healed and whole.
His arms close around her, and, despite his hesitation, a flow of pure joy surges through her, half hers and half his. The sensation brings her right back to the start of their relationship, open and vulnerable to each other, naked and honest in the light of knowing and being known. Brought together by—and in—the Force.
She breathes out, breathes in. Out, and again. His arms tighten around her; his tears fall into the loose mass of her hair. She's crying too, salt from her tears mingling with the salt of his skin.
"I love you," it's a voice from deep inside of him, buried by years of abuse, of shame, of fear, of unutterable darkness. "I love you."
"I love you," is all she can say. There's no greater sentiment, no higher feeling, no other response he deserves. "I love you so much."
Rey tries to shift her legs so he can slide onto the bed beside her, groaning as her stiff body refuses to cooperate. Ben contemplates her for an instant and scoops her up, supporting her until she lies lengthwise against him, head resting on his chest.
She sighs, eyes falling shut. "I love listening to your heartbeat."
It quickens under her ear. "Why?"
"It's proof that you're alive."
"We have needed proof lately, haven't we?"
Rey nestles closer. "I've never been so scared, not knowing whether Hux had killed you or not. He is dead, isn't he?"
"Yes. He was blown into space with the rest of you."
"Oh. Oh, well. I kind of wanted to do it myself."
"You and me both," he grumbles, "but at least he's dead. It's probably for the best that neither of us killed him."
"Hmm," she agrees. "And the rest of the Order?"
"It's recovering. Abaloe seems to have seized the reins for now, but we managed to slice enough confidential information from the rest of the fleet that we're staying ahead of them. Cracked more than a few of their top-secret encryption codes. But do we have to discuss this now?"
"I guess not," she laughs, "After all, one day the war will be over and then what will we have to talk about?"
"We'll have to learn how to..." he stops to consider, curling the word over on his tongue, "chat."
"Ooh," she shudders, exaggerated and dramatic, "or practice small talk."
"I'm bored already."
"You're bored of me?" she can't twist her neck to stick out her tongue at him, but does it anyway, "Already?"
He can't joke, not about that. "Never."
"Never?"
"Not until the stars burn out."
"That's," she runs out of air, "I always knew you were a poet, underneath it all."
He shifts, embarrassed. "I used to love it. I'd copy lines down to practice my calligraphy."
"Calligraphy? Like, with a pen? On paper?"
"I know it's silly, but I liked it. I felt like it connected me to the past, back when the words were written."
"I love that," she imagines floppy-haired baby Ben bent over a sheet of paper—she's never actually seen a piece of it outside of pictures—pen gripped in one fist, earnestly copying down beautiful words from a glowing screen. Translating from the virtual to the physical, as if he could feel the words and absorb the truth of them through the act of writing. It reminds her of something.
"When I was a kid, I used to fix power converters. They were worthless to trade, but...I liked figuring them out. Like solving a puzzle. It made me feel like there was something else in my life that was worthwhile. That I could create something rather than just tear apart and disassemble."
"You were always worthwhile," he says, kissing her forehead.
"You were too," she replies, tangling her fingers with his. "I guess we both get to realize that now, don't we?"
He's silent. But Rey can feel him thinking, feel his knee-jerk denial turn slowly from dejection to hope.
"I suppose we do."
Note: Thank you all so much for following me—and Rey and Ben—on this journey! After seeing TLJ I saw the characters as two broken people learning to put themselves together in the face of a galaxy that wanted to see each of them in a particular light. I wanted to tell the story of them defying these odds both together and separately, and I hope I've done that.
I want you all to know that I have valued each and every comment you've left, and I hope those of you who have yet to share your thoughts with me will do that. Please know that if it weren't for the ongoing support of my readers that this story may never have been completed.
I guess now there's nothing more to do but wait with baited breath for the actual conclusion of Rey and Ben's story! Let's hope that it'll be as satisfying as anything fandom can give us!
