The weather, thankfully, did take a turn once more, and this time, it was a more permanent change. Snow melted, making the trails muddy once more, but Rey was relieved that the wind would no longer be assailing her with frigid fingers. Instead, light breezes kicked up that pleasantly cooled her heated body as they worked their way along. The occasional day was overcast and gray, but no rain ever came down. And the situation with Ben was both improving and galling.

Upon discovering that his warrior frame housed a scholarly mind, Rey was eager to find out what else inspired that wondrous quality in his voice she had heard underneath the night sky. She asked him about his studies as a boy, and he was quick to reply, his answers no longer clipped or irritated. Perhaps it was because this was one of those safe topics he had mentioned, but his openness in such topics led him to acknowledge a little more freely the relationships he had left behind so long before. When Rey mentioned his mother, he no longer bit back, and he stopped rolling his eyes when Luke's name entered the conversation.

Not that Ben was doing all the talking. He asked her questions just as often as she asked him, seeking her opinion on what she had studied during her time at Luke's, drawing out her observations of court in both Naboo and Alderaan, and even gently prying out more stories about her life in Jakku. Rey would have thought that every recollection would have been painful to share, but cheerful memories began to surface, and even the unhappy stories didn't smart so sharply when she spoke of them to Ben. He had a way of listening to her that was not in the least judgmental or mocking, but poignantly perceptive, as though he understood her even without words.

But as much as this strengthened bond with him was precious to her, there was no missing the careful distance he kept. Her interest in him must have become apparent and he didn't want to encourage it. He might be willing to cultivate a sort of friendship, but clearly he was not interested in pursuing anything beyond it. When he handed her the crossbow for shooting practice, he allowed their hands to touch for only a brief moment before stepping back. He would correct her technique from afar. When they sat beside each other at night, he always managed to sit just out of reach. He was never unkind, but he was consistently removed.

Rey tried not to be offended by his behavior; they were both less practiced at friendships to begin with, and she knew that he was revealing things about himself he had long kept quiet. Namely, that there was a deeply feeling, inquiring, studious soul that dwelt in this soldier's body. In his own way, he was trying to be kind in his subtle rejection. But a rejection it still was. And it rankled at her when she would recall the way his eyes would trap hers.

She knew it wouldn't be much longer before they would reach Naboo, and the manner of their journey would drastically change, the need for secrecy and concealment far more imperative. So, despite her grievances, she tried to enjoy what he did offer. It became a habit to search out the night skies, and Ben would tell her the legends of the constellations, his voice melodious and captivating. She, in turn, would fill in the gaps of the stories he told, imagining stories in between the great doings of the celestial beings that sparkled above them. Some tales she thought up were almost ridiculous in their plotting, and she loved to hear Ben chuckle at the twists and turns she conjured. She was glad to think he was happy in her company. Though she still had never seen a full smile or heard a real laugh from him yet. She was beginning to think she never would.

After many days of exhausting travel, Ben shifted course away from the mountains, and turned southwest. And grateful as Rey was to get away from the constant muck under their feet, for the mud never seemed to dry on the mountain paths, she knew this meant they were almost to Bacca, and the pass to Naboo was frighteningly near. Her chest tightened with anxiety, and her thoughts became muddled as she remembered yet again that the purpose of her journey was not to embroil herself more deeply with Ben Solo.

The scenery began to change, and she even recognized some parts of the Bacca valley as it opened up to view beyond the rocky ridge they had to climb. The pastureland was still the deadened white-yellow of late winter, but she thought she could see hints of green that meant spring was just around the corner. Chewie's manor was a distant dot below the line of the hills that intensified the nerves in her breast, and the setting sun behind them threw brilliant indigo and magenta streaks into the sky.

Ben directed her down to a copse of trees at the bottom of the ridge, and they settled themselves in for the night. There would be no fire, not with how easily detectable it would be with the open fields around them, but they had enough cover for now. Ben took out his whetstone and began silently drawing the edges of his knife along it, sharpening and testing the blade with his thumb. His face was withdrawn and serious, as though he had also just come to the realization that the more difficult part of their journey was about to begin. And he would not be caught unprepared.

Rey couldn't bear the silence for long. She needed distraction.

"It's so different," she observed, hoping her voice didn't wobble. She wanted very much to appear collected and calm. "When I rode through these parts last summer, everything was green. Even the rocks."

Ben lowered his hands briefly, looked around, and replied, "It'll look that way again soon enough."

"I assume you've been here before," Rey ventured carefully. He had been reacting more calmly when she mentioned his former life, but she wasn't sure if the closer proximity to one of his abandoned family would make his feelings more volatile.

"A few times," he said. "If my parents hadn't married, my . . . Han wouldn't have gone legitimate, if he'd stayed a bachelor. But this line of work was tempting to him, and Chewie made a successful go of it. I barely left the capital with him, but if I did, it was to come here."

"Is it strange?" Rey asked. "Traveling to these places you know, in this land you -" she bit her tongue before she said something offensive.

He glanced at her with an odd mix of humor and irony. "In this land I was meant to be king over?" She blushed a little at how easily and correctly he finished her sentence. "The irony isn't lost on me, Highness. I was supposed to rule this land, and here I am, skulking about like a common criminal."

"You wouldn't have to skulk if you revealed yourself to your mother," Rey said. He scoffed a little at the argument that was becoming second nature to them now.

"That wouldn't change the future of Alderaan," he replied. "I was divested of my title when she named Dameron her heir, and that won't change, even if I did go back to her."

"Do you want it back?" she asked quietly. This was a line of questioning she had never pursued, and she hesitated to bring it up.

Ben went still, as he was wont to do when confronted with an uncomfortable question. "I don't know," he said pensively. "I still have the same ambitions and desires I had then." He shook his head quickly. "Well, not the same ones. There's been too much . . . Going back to what I was before is impossible, and to have the same goals would be foolish. But sometimes you can't beat down the impulses that have been with you all your life, even if you know they're never going to come to fruition the way you planned."

"Do you need to beat those impulses down?" Rey wondered aloud.

"When your ambition leads to your father's death, it casts the blind pursuit of power in a different light," he quipped sardonically. Rey's eyes faltered, and he sighed. "No. I don't want it back. I left the throne behind, and I shouldn't be rewarded with it. Not even if I reconciled with my mother the way you want me to."

Rey sat there for a moment in contemplation and regret. It was such a waste that Ben's gifts should go unused, but if she said so, he would probably argue that he had squandered those gifts. She could perceive his point, but just the same she wished there was some way that, when all this was over, he could be in some position where others could still benefit from the workings of his mind. Directed in the right way, he could do so much good.

"Is it strange for you to hide away?" his voice broke into her thoughts. "You've been here, and stayed with Chewie . . . and his wife," he added belatedly, a look of slight amazement crossing over his features.

"Have you met Maz?" she asked, glad for the change in topic.

"No," he shook his head. "They haven't been married long. I heard her name countless times growing up, but never met her."

"She's a forceful woman," Rey said. "Not unkind, but used to giving orders. I like her."

"I hear she's not terribly . . ." he trailed off uncertainly, raising his hand from the ground to indicate height.

"She's miniscule," Rey said with an amused grin. "Anybody would look small next to Chewie, but he dwarfs her; she could easily vanish when they're together. I think it says a lot about her that she doesn't disappear when she's next to him."

"It's bizarre to think of Chewie being married," Ben said, still with that look of bemusement. "He and Luke always seemed to be recluses. And even though they stayed put most of the time, they gave me the impression that they were nomads. Of course, Luke wasn't a bachelor like Chewie. But sometimes it's easy to forget that," he reflected, sitting back.

"You never met Mara?"

Even in the fading light, Rey saw Ben's wince. "I did. A few times. All very brief meetings when they were on the move. But I was very young, and I didn't really know her."

Ben's voice diminished, and Rey thought she could detect some remorse in his reference to his aunt. She wondered what kind of insight Mara would have had into his situation. Perhaps Ben lamented the lack of her counsel, as well. Surely he didn't miss the similarities Rey had discovered between them. If Mara had lived, how would Ben's experience with Luke have changed?

"I sort of wish I could have met her," she mused. "Luke certainly loved her."

There was silence in the darkening grove, and Rey cocked her head. She had expected some kind of response. "Ben?"

He heaved a sigh. "Yes," he said tightly. "Luke loved her. If he hadn't . . . well, it's too late to change the past."

Despite Rey's desire to not begin a fight, she couldn't help asking, "What happened?"

"I thought you learned your lesson about prying," he reminded her.

"That was at least a fortnight ago," she quipped. "Things change."

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked, with the air of one who knew she wouldn't like what she heard.

"Yes," she said firmly.

"And you never asked Luke what happened between us?"

"No."

She heard a small exhale, a bitter chuckle. "And you're just going to take my word for it, that what I tell you isn't just my side of the story?"

She leaned forward, unsure if he could see the resolve in her eyes. "I trust you. I trust your word. I understand that sometimes you refuse to tell me something, but you've never lied to me. I know that whatever you tell me, it's what happened."

Rey could see pinpricks of light reflecting in his eyes as he stared at her, likely in disbelief. But she kept her gaze steady. She wouldn't devalue her words by looking away now.

She heard his intake of breath, and settled in. She'd waited for months for this story.

"It was the letters," Ben began, but then his breath hitched. "No. It . . . I'll go further back. No doubt - no doubt - my mother told you about my dissatisfaction with the Alderaanian court."

"She may have mentioned it," Rey said shyly.

"My distaste for it was more than just how slowly everything worked. I had a difficult time finding a place there. I could think like my mother but I had none of her diplomacy. I could fight like my father but I didn't have his blasted charm. If I was anything like Luke, nobody would ever believe it - he was a perfect, untouchable legend and I was too close and too much. It wasn't a comfortable position, being the son and nephew of heroes and failing to live up to everybody's expectations.

"I tried. But the failings of court were just the final straw in a lifetime of resentment, and I wanted something more, something where I was myself without the burden of familial prestige. And that's when Snoke wrote to me. He didn't have a sterling reputation in the Realms then, but he hadn't revealed himself fully for what he was, and what he offered me . . . I thought it was what I wanted."

"Which was?" Rey prompted.

"Power."

"You were going to be a king!" she exclaimed incredulously. "What more did you need?"

"It was different. Yes, I would be king, but a king bound by procedure and politics and laws that I struggled against. It wouldn't be the kind of ultimate authority I wanted, to effect change without having to answer to anyone."

"So you wanted to be a tyrant," Rey summarized disapprovingly.

"I had no intention of using my authority to harm others; I just wanted to be able to do what I thought was right without the toadies and committees and corruption I saw every day. Does that seem so unreasonable?"

"No," she admitted. Hadn't she herself joked that government would move more swiftly with a single head rather than many?

"And that's what Snoke offered me. A chance to be part of a new order, a place where I would actually have a voice and the authority to put my ideas and policies into effect. I believed I would be his successor."

"You never suspected Snoke's motives for seeking you out?" Rey asked tentatively.

"I was foolish and wouldn't let myself suspect," Ben recalled bitterly. "He flattered me and gratified my pride. The rational part of me knew there had to be some catch, but I didn't want to give up the boost to my vanity that someone finally appreciated me, regardless of my name or heritage. I justified it more with his arguments that my own grandfather had served for many years in such a position as he would give me, and I began to parrot Snoke's teachings in my own words."

"You believed he didn't want you for your name, and then used your grandfather as an argument to join him?" she asked. "That didn't seem . . .?"

"Incongruous?" he finished sourly.

"I would have chosen a less sophisticated word," Rey confessed.

"I wanted to believe him; any disparities in his persuasions I ignored because I wanted to be right so badly."

"But you had to see how he lied to you and used you. You couldn't have believed in his promises for long," she asserted. "Did you?"

Ben was quiet for a long time, the outline of his body a frozen image in the filtered moonlight. "I believed him until my father bled to death in front of me. But the bridge was crossed by that point, and I had bound myself to Snoke. So I served him. To defy him would mean admitting that I had been wrong. I knew I was, but I wouldn't admit that, not for years, so I became a monster instead."

He shifted toward her. "That's what made me so angry at Luke that last night I was in his home. He'd found the letters Snoke wrote me, and was furious that I would compromise his safety and my family by allowing Snoke into my life. That I was a foolish child who would never believe he was wrong, and that I was on a path to destruction, a path of my own making." He exhaled a bitter huff. "And the crank was right. I've hated him for years for being right about me."

"And that's when he tried to kill you?" Rey asked in confusion. Luke's words were harsh, but were they the words of a man intent on killing?

Ben shifted again as he exhaled, and he ran a hand through his hair. "We were both raging at each other, really. Just shouting and taking any shot we could. I called him a coward, he called me an imbecile, and it escalated from there. And then I - I brought Mara's name into it."

He paused, and in the ominous silence Rey could already feel the bottom of her stomach dropping out of her.

"I said it was convenient that she should whore herself out so as to avoid paying for her crimes," Ben muttered, his voice strangled and disgusted.

Rey deflated, disappointment pushing down on her. "Oh, Ben," she murmured reproachfully.

"I didn't mean it," he went on. "I was ready for a fight, though, and I knew what would hurt him the most. I wanted to provoke him. That's when he pulled the knife on me. My sword was out just as quickly. He drew first, but I was just waiting for the excuse."

If there had been any doubt that Ben wasn't telling the truth, this was the final proof to shatter that doubt. He was willing to admit his culpability in what had passed between him and his uncle, a mark of integrity he didn't have to exercise. It did little to banish the sick feeling in Rey's belly, but it was something that struck her all the same. "So, how did you manage not to kill him?"

"I was fighting angry. I was a terrible fighter when I did that." Rey couldn't help the smirk that appeared on her lips. She knew the feeling. "Luke, for all he was incensed at me, had years of practice to perfect his control. It's humiliating how quickly he disarmed me. But he held that knife at my throat for a long time. I wonder how close he came to using it.

"I left that night. Took off while they slept."

He left off, clearly done with sharing his memories, and Rey now had plenty to think on. She had asked for it. And it wasn't as though Ben hadn't prepared her; he had made it quite clear she wouldn't like what she heard. She was surprised, though, at how much the disappointment at his mistakes weighed on her. Maybe she had been hoping that it was all just a misunderstanding. But to know that he deliberately chose to wound his uncle, even if only with words, pricked at her heart in a lonely way. And with what he said about why he had continued in Snoke's service at all (though she was sure he omitted the mistaken certainty that his family would reject him), she was forced to confront what he'd been trying to tell her, that his actions were not those of a hero. It was a sharp blow, considering how easily she could forget his past when so many of his actions regarding her had been blatantly good. But he knew every one of his crimes. No wonder he fought her so vehemently when she had tried to speak of his goodness. It may be there, but it was mingled with the darkness he had followed for years.

"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice. She couldn't think of anything else to say, just that she was dreadfully sorry for the pain this man carried with him. She wouldn't add to his burden by chiding him for the errors he had made; he was all too aware of them.

"Me, too," he replied simply. "It's not enough to make up for everything I did then - it never will be - but I am. But of all the mistakes I made that night, the worst one was what I said about Mara. I didn't know her, really, but I knew what I said wasn't true. And the more time has passed, the less I blame Luke for what he did after I said it. If anybody had said anything like that about the woman I -" he cut himself off uncomfortably. "I would have done far worse than he did," he finished grimly.

If only he could admit to his family what he just said to her. If only he knew that they didn't even need his apology. If only he would believe her when she told him so. She inched closer to him, praying for inspiration that she might say the right words.

"If you apologized to Luke for that night," she began, "would you believe him if he said he forgave you?"

She heard him exhale shortly. "I don't know. I wouldn't if I were him."

"What about your mother? If you gave her a chance to say that she forgives you, would you believe it?"

A shuffle of fabric let her know he was shifting around uncomfortably. "I don't know," he confessed quietly.

"You should give them that chance," she said firmly. "And give them the chance to ask for your forgiveness. That's all they want."

"It keeps on coming back to this," he muttered, and his silhouette turned to her. "Why does it keep coming back to this? Why won't you leave it alone?" He didn't sound angry or upset, but genuinely bewildered and pleading.

"Because you have a family, Ben!" Rey exclaimed in a burst of impatience and pain. "You have a family who loves you and wants you back. Don't you know what a gift that is? I know it's not a simple situation, but all you have to do is reach out and they will be there! Do you know what I would give for that?"

She felt her body begin to tremble, emotion overwhelming her. "I knew for only a few months what being part of a family was like, and, if anything, being with Liecia and the children made me want it more once it was gone. I couldn't rid myself of the longing for it once I got a taste. And you can have it back, this great gift right at your fingertips, but you won't take it! And I can't stand that you keep on throwing it away," she said in pained frustration.

"One day your chance for it will be gone, in one way or another, and you'll wish you had made things right with them. Please," she implored, grasping in the dark and grabbing hold of one of his gloved hands with both of hers. "Please, don't throw your chance away. Don't -" she choked on the terrible longing.

"Don't throw it away," she whispered, gripping his hand.

A lone tear escaped down her cheek, but before she could disengage one of her hands to attend to it, Ben's free hand had reached up and cleared it away. How he had seen it in the dark was a mystery, but she stilled at the brush of his glove against her skin. His hand hovered in the air for a moment by her face, and she wondered if he would touch her again. That secret part of her that would not let go of romantic fantasies wanted him to, but she knew it was a futile wish. Not to mention completely at odds with everything that had been revealed in the past half hour.

His hand lowered and she released the other from her grip, sitting back in silence.

"Sometimes I wish," he said, "that I had the bravery to do what you suggest."

Her eyes lifted to search him out more clearly. What was there to say? What good would it do to express her faith in him yet again? She'd already said it, and they were both exhausted from it. All she had the energy for was to simply sigh.

At least until the unmistakable crunch of approaching feet came near, and her energy returned in a snap. Ben's, too, and they leapt to their feet, both drawing their swords, Ben's other arm instinctively stretching out to shield her.

"All right, you two," a weary voice spoke out of the darkness as two shadowy figures moved into the trees. "This is trespassing you're doing, and you should just move along. Find another spot for the night."

"We're not hurting anything," Ben replied, his voice placating and low.

"Doesn't matter," the other figure spoke, and Rey stifled a gasp. She knew that voice! "These times, we can't take chances. You should know that."

Rey stepped quickly around Ben. "Finn?" she asked.

A muted thud was the first thing she heard. And then, "Rey?!"

Ben let out a resigned sigh behind her.