CHAPTER TEN

Luke and Leia, as it turns out, might not have been the greatest teachers.

Well that's not exactly fair, Rey thinks to herself, as she and Finn stand in the middle of a clearing staring at each other. They had taken it upon themselves to train her, not to prepare her to train other people. And Leia hadn't had to do the heavy lifting in the first place — there'd been enough of a foundation, just from Rey's few days with Luke that Leia hadn't had to explain how the Force works. And Luke, well, Luke had been going through quite a lot when she met him.

And even still, he'd been helpful in his own way. But Rey doesn't really think a lecture about the failures of the Jedi, or the respect a lightsaber deserves will really help Finn in any practical way.

So while she'd definitely learned a great deal from them personally, they did not impart any wisdom regarding how to do that for someone else. Which has led to an irritating scenario she never could have foreseen.

Finn has just been standing here, waiting for her to do something, for at least five minutes. And she's just been standing here, waiting to think of something to do for just as long.

"Is this… part of it?" Finn finally asks after several excruciating minutes of them doing absolutely nothing.

"Uh, no." An idea strikes her. "Actually, maybe."

"Okaaaaay."

"Just— close your eyes."

He does as he's told after casting her one final glance that's equal parts hopeful and suspicious.

"Alright," she takes a breath. "What do you feel?"

"Besides silly?"

"Finn. Concentrate."

"Okay, okay." He scrunches his eyes even tighter. Frustration rolls off of him as he balls his hands up at his sides.

"No, no," Rey interjects. "Not like that."

"You're not giving me much to go off here," he opens one eye to look at her.

"Sorry. It was easier being on your side of things."

Rey allows herself a moment of frustration, but only a moment. She takes a deep breath and thinks of a new way to start.

"Sit down, maybe," she says. "There's no real reason for us to be standing right now."

Finn opens his other eye and sits down carefully on the ground. She sits across from him. They mirrored each other's posture instinctively, Rey notes with a hint of amusement — legs crossed, back just a little slouched, hands on knees.

They're back to staring at each other, but Rey can feel an actual plan forming now.

"Luke made me close my eyes," she says, "for my first lesson. But I don't really know if that was necessary. We can just sit here like this. It should have the same effect."

Finn nods once, clearly still a little lost but willing to go along with it.

"You have to have felt it before," Rey leans forward a little bit.

"Felt it?"

"The Force. You wouldn't know you were Force-sensitive unless you'd felt it before."

"That makes sense," Finn says.

"What did it feel like? The times you felt it?"

He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth to speak, closes it, then opens it again.

"It felt like… connection." He says it like he's testing the words for their truth as he speaks.

Rey nods in what she hopes in an encouraging manner.

"Connection. Good. To what?"

"Uh, everything. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"I do," she smiles. "See if you can feel it again. It's like a hum. Or a vibration, maybe."

Finn shuts his eyes again.

"You don't have to," Rey says. "You can if you want, or you can look at me, or the trees, the grass, whatever you want."

Finn looks around for a moment, before settling on some spot a bit to the right of her head.

It's odd, being on this side of instruction, she thinks. It's odd getting to share knowledge and watch someone understand it for the first time.

"The Force exists in all things, and it's in the space between all things, and it is the space between all things. It's always there for you to draw upon, it's a wellspring of life and strength and power."

She can feel the energy shift between them for one startling, sparkling moment.

"You feel it?" she prompts.

Finn nods. "You have this all the time?"

"I don't have it. We don't— the Force doesn't belong to anyone. It's an entity unto itself. It exists whether you can feel it or not. And it will always exist. But to have access to it… to be able to use it… that's—"

"A gift," Finn finishes for her.

"Right." She smiles.

Rey had been worried this morning that their first lesson wouldn't be exciting enough. She anticipated a certain amount of disappointment when she told him they wouldn't be doing anything more active than making a few fallen branches float — and even that's a lofty goal. So it's a pleasant surprise when she breaks the news and Finn's face lights up.

They stay seated on the forest floor, the canopy of leaves high above their heads providing ample protection from the sun, which has taken its place at the very center of the sky.

Finn, once again, clenches his eyes shut.

"Sorry," he says, cracking an eye open when she lets out a frustrated sigh.

"No, it's fine. You can keep them closed. Just try to relax."

"But I have to put out some amount of effort, don't I?"

"Yeah, but you won't do it if you're tense. I know it sounds counterintuitive, but just take another deep breath and see if you can tap back into the Force again."

She can sense when it clicks for him again. She can feel the exact moment she stops being the only one attuned to the energy vibrating between and around them. And she can see the exact moment Finn realizes he's done it. And she wonders if perhaps, the real gift of the Force is not being able to use it, but being able to share it with someone else.

Rey is so focused on Finn, she doesn't notice the bond has snapped into place until Ben appears right in her line of view.

In the brief second it takes her to recover from the surprise, Ben's already turned away, as if to give her and Finn privacy.

"Oh, sorry," Ben says. He keeps his eyes on the ground and his head facing away from her. "I'll talk to you later."

Okay, Rey sends through the bond. She's certain Finn can't hear Ben, but she's not sure if Finn would hear it if she spoke out loud.

"Stop by when you can?"

Of course.

He disappears — a sure sign that they're both getting better at controlling the bond — but she can still feel the thrum of their connection buzzing within her.

Rey turns her attention back on Finn, who finally seems to have fully relaxed.

"Right," she says quietly, making an effort not to startle him. "Do you feel that?"

Finn nods.

"I want you to reach out with your feelings. Now that you can sense the Force, try to actively connect to it. Can you picture our surroundings?"

He furrows his brow. Nods.

"Pick something small — even just a leaf next to you. Try to move it."

Nothing happens. She watches him for what feels like minutes and still nothing happens. Rey starts to think she's made a mistake somewhere in this. That wouldn't be so hard to believe, considering she's basically making this up as she goes along. Maybe she didn't explain something clearly enough, or maybe she started from the wrong place, or maybe this just isn't something she has enough knowledge of to even pass on to anyone else.

She briefly considers reopening the bond. Ben had far more formal training than she did — surely he'd know better where to start when teaching someone. But he'd seemed so uncomfortable with even accidentally intruding on them. Still, she can't help but think if he knew she really needed him, he'd put aside whatever his discomfort was to help her…

Nothing happens for another second.

And then something does.

It's just a twitch at first. The leaf shudders as if nudged by a light wind. It goes still again for a moment until it rustles again, with more force behind it this time, until it fully flips over.

She holds her breath.

The leaf starts to flip again, but instead of landing flat on the ground as it did before… it lifts. It couldn't be more than an inch or two above the ground, but it is above the ground, and that's what matters. She watches in awe as the little leaf hovers above the forest floor, a tiny shred of green elevated above the rest, shaking as though it might crash back down at any moment.

"Am I doing it? I feel like I'm doing it," Finn says, his eyes still closed.

"Yes you are." Rey smiles.

Finn's eyes shoot open, widening in a mix of surprise and jubilance as they fix on the leaf still floating between them.

"I'm doing it!" he exclaims.

"Keep focusing!"

"I'm focusing! I'm doing it!"

A swell of pride rises up in her not just for her own teaching skills, but for her friend's achievement. It makes her want to laugh. So she does.

Within seconds they're both cheering so loudly, Rey's certain the rest of the base can hear them. But it's already late morning, they shouldn't be disturbing anyone. And besides, she's pretty sure they've both earned the right to a little celebration.

Finn loses his focus and the leaf drops back to the ground unceremoniously, but that's okay — he can try again as many times as they want.

There's no meetings today, so neither of them are expected back any time soon, both having carved out the entire morning for training. Rey can't remember a time — if there ever was one in the past year — where she and Finn have had nothing to do but actually just enjoy being friends.

They stay on the ground, soaking up the filtered rays of sun that shine through the trees. A slight breeze keeps the sun from becoming too punishing in its warmth. It's comfortable being out here, and they've kept the topics of conversation comfortable as well. They've discussed just about everyone on the base, speculated on how many people are going to stick around, come up with a list of planets they should check out when they have the time, and taken turns doing some of the worst impressions of C-3PO she's ever heard.

So when the conversation finally lulls, she really has nothing left to ask, other than the thing she's been meaning to ask for days.

"So why did you wait so long to tell me?" She rests her head on her knees and turns to look at him.

"You had a lot going on," Finn shrugs. "We all did."

"I still would have wanted to know."

"I know. But I also wanted to be sure before I said anything. And hey, you waited even longer to tell any of us you were telepathically communicating with Ky— Ben."

Coming from someone else, she might think it was accusatory. But there's no judgment in his tone, just a hint of curiosity.

"I had thought it was just a temporary thing. I didn't want to alarm anyone if there was no reason."

"Fair enough. But you know you could have told me, right?"

"Of course," she smiles. And she means it. Maybe he wouldn't have understood — even as things stand right now she's sure he doesn't fully understand — but he would have been supportive. If she didn't know that before, she certainly knows it now.

She blinks back the tears that seem to prick at her eyes every time she so much as contemplates concepts like friendship and trust and belonging.

"While we're on the subject of things we could have told each other," Rey clears her throat, "you and Poe?"

"Ah, yes. Well, I wanted to be sure about that too."

"And you are? Sure?"

Rey's not sure she's ever seen Finn smile as widely, as freely, as he is now.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Rey thinks she's starting to learn how to be okay with not spending every minute worrying about Ben. It seems like every hour there's less to worry about — he's clearly healing, no one has made an attempt on his life, and if his confinement is making him restless, he hasn't let on to her.

Rey's plan had been to go straight to him once she was done training Finn for the day. Despite Ben's refusal to stick around for any of the training, the bond hasn't shut itself off since it clicked into place. It had been easy for her to send a quick message through it and let him know she was on her way. But then Finn had asked her to stick around for lunch and before she even had time to hesitate in any meaningful way, Ben's voice was echoing in her head.

Take your time and enjoy your friends. I'm not going anywhere, he'd said. She could almost hear the soft smile in his voice.

And so that's what she's doing now.

Rey sits wedged between Finn and Rose, with Poe and Jannah flanking them on either side as they enjoy a relatively uneventful meal tucked away in a corner, as far as they can get from prying eyes.

Since becoming Acting General, Poe has explained more than once, alone time has become a foreign concept to him. All hours of the day people are coming up to him to ask questions, offer unsolicited suggestions, and largely ignore any request for privacy he makes.

So the group stays as secluded as possible, giving Poe a few brief moments of peace before he goes back to being in charge.

Another thing she's starting to learn is how nice it is to sit in her friends' presence, even if no one has anything particularly important to say.

Lunch comes to its natural conclusion and it almost startles Rey when she realizes she's been sitting and leisurely eating for the past half hour.

It still surprises her sometimes, that she has the luxury of eating and enjoying her food without worrying about where the next meal is coming from. She scrapes the last dregs of her meal out of the bowl and worries, not for the first time, that all of this has just been some elaborate fever dream brought on by the relentless desert heat of Jakku. For a second, she pictures herself waking up in the sand, a year younger but a lifetime wiser and wonders how she would manage to pull herself up and scratch another line in the wall, knowing how much more of the galaxy there really is.

You know I'm going to ask you about whatever this is when I see you, right?

Rey's very thankful her bowl is empty because she startles nearly out of her seat when Ben's voice echos in her ear. She'd gotten so lost in her own thoughts, she'd completely forgotten the bond was still semi-open.

It's nothing. She thinks back at him.

Didn't look like nothing.

The bond closes, or narrows at least, and Rey turns her attention back to her friends. Rose and Poe, as it turns out, are deep in debate over which damaged ships should be repaired and which should be scrapped for parts.

It takes them all of five seconds to pull Rey into the debate, and she goes gratefully.

One of the few security droids the base has is positioned in front of Ben's door when Rey finally makes it there. It's a new — but unsurprising — addition that lets her pass without issue. Most likely Poe already instructed the droid to give Rey full access to the room, and it's a gesture that does not go unnoticed by her.

He's sitting up and already looking expectantly towards the door when she enters and the look in his eyes when he sees her is distracting enough to keep her from noticing the one very large change to the room for at least a minute.

And then her brain catches up to her eyes.

She can see both of his legs.

"You're—"

"All better," he smiles. "Or at least a lot better."

"Is that what you were going to tell me earlier?"

Ben nods.

"A med droid came and unhooked me from everything. I wanted to come show you, but I was pretty sure that would've broken a rule."

"Well, you're showing me now."

"Yeah," a goofy grin breaks out on his face, "I am."

Even though it's only been a handful of days, she's gotten so used to walking to him that it startles her when he pulls himself out of bed and walks — albeit shakily — to meet her in the middle of the room.

It's not like she forgot, exactly, just how tall he is, but there is a stark difference between sitting on a bed next to him and feeling him tower over her as he gently rests his chin on her head the same way he did last night.

It should be suffocating, the way she's crushed to his chest, practically inhaling the fabric of his shirt. It should feel suffocating, but instead it just feels warm.

His hands circle around her, palms pressed flat against her back, and she twines her arms around him, her hands not even coming close to reaching each other across the broad expanse of his back.

It's odd to realize you missed something well before you ever had it, but as they stand in the middle of the room, on equal footing, in no immediate danger and with no divide between them, she understands so clearly that she's been missing this her whole life.

"How did training Finn go?" he asks, making no effort to move.

"We got there eventually. It was harder than I thought it would be. We can sit down, if you want," she adds when she feels him sway ever so slightly.

"I do not want," he sighs. "These past few days have been the least mobile I've ever been in my life. You have no idea how good it feels just to stand."

"Well, what if I want to sit?" She pulls back just enough to look up at him.

He curls his shoulders down enough to kiss the tip of her nose.

"Then we'll sit."

He might not necessarily want to sit down, but it does turn out to be the best option — pacing the room seems like a waste of energy and Ben immediately shoots down Rey's suggestion of a walk around the base. Though it would be allowed as long as she's with him, he says it's more than he's prepared for. Rey doesn't ask if he means physically or mentally.

Still, perching on the side of the bed, both of them leaning against each other not because they need the support but because it feels nice, is a good option.

He holds one of her hands in both of his as she tells him all about her and Finn's training session, one of his thumbs brushing back and forth across the top of her hand.

"Why didn't you stay?" she asks, her curiosity at his odd reaction that morning getting the better of her. "I wouldn't have minded."

"I know," he says, "But Finn probably would have if he'd known I was there."

She can't argue with that. But she also knows that neither he nor Finn or anyone else on the base can or should avoid each other forever.

"Well, I might talk to him — eventually, not soon — and see how he feels about it. I could probably use your help. You have far more experience in Force training than I do," she finishes.

"I'm not sure I'd be of much use," he says.

"I seem to recall you being much more confident in your skills when you offered to be my teacher."

Ben blushes, actually blushes, at that.

"I was confident in a lot of things I shouldn't have been when I did that," he replies. Then the light behind his eyes disappears and he averts his gaze from her for the first time since they sat down. He stares at their joined hands, as if they're the most interesting thing in the world. "The last six years of my training were… nothing I'd want to pass on to anyone else."

There's a very thin line — and Rey realizes she's still trying to find it — between mentions of the past that he takes in stride and ones that seem to crumble him from the inside.

She's not sure exactly when it happened, but they seem to have crossed from one side of that line to the other. The shift in his mood offers a stark contrast to the lighthearted chatting they had just been enjoying.

"Hey, Ben?"

She squeezes his hand. It does nothing to lift him from the melancholy depths she can sense him spiraling into.

"Ben," she tries again.

It's hard to tell if it's the strength of their bond or the strength of his emotions — or perhaps a blend of both — but she feels as though a heavy blanket has fallen over the both of them, suffocating her the way being crushed to his chest a mere few minutes ago should have.

Talking to him right now is useless — she knows that instinctually. He'll have to ride this — whatever it is — out, but he will come out from under it soon. She knows that instinctually too.

And they're in no rush, so she just keeps sitting next to him. Her free hand finds its way to his back, his shoulders, the nape of his neck.

He maintains a tight grip on her hand, tight enough that his hands seem to be the only part of him not trembling.

Rey's hand moves up again to settle in his hair. She runs her fingers through it, stroking in what she hopes is a soothing manner.

Her arm starts to ache — even sitting there's enough of a height difference that she has to reach a bit — but she doesn't dare stop. Not now that he seems to be finally calming down. Not as his breathing starts to even back out. Not as he takes one more shaky breath and finally lifts his head to look at her.

"Better?" she asks.

He nods, looking a decade younger than she knows he is.

"Good." She runs her hand through his hair one more time, brushing a few errant strands away from his face. She moves her hand to his cheek and wonders if she's ever going to stop marveling at the fact that he is warm, and alive, and here with her.

He loosens his grip on her hands though he makes no sign of letting go.

"I'm sorry," he forces out, his voice much softer than it usually is.

"What are you—"

"This shouldn't keep happening, I shouldn't have— You should be able to speak freely without throwing me into a breakdown."

"Hmm," Rey sighs. She moves her arm back to circle around him and pushes herself closer to his side before pressing a kiss to the shoulder nearest her. "That's true. But I'm sure we'll get there."

A little bit of the tension in his body seems to leave at that.

"Really," she continues, "you don't need to apologize for having feelings. Some of the things you've been through… well, they warrant feelings."

Ben just hums noncommittally at that. There's still something of a far away look in his eyes.

Rey takes a deep breath, acting on a new idea before she has the chance to think herself out of it.

"Remember what you saw me thinking about earlier?"

That seems to get his full attention. He snaps his head to look at her again.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" He says the words like he's testing them out, like it's a foreign phrase he hasn't yet mastered.

Rey realizes that that's probably the case.

"Not really," she says. "But I'm going to. Because I think it might make sense to you."

A slight nod of his head is the only indication he gives that he's ready for her to continue.

"I was thinking about how none of this feels real." Ben's eyes finally focus all the way on her at her words. "Like it's too good to be true, and I'm going to wake up and discover that I'm still on Jakku, slowly dying in the desert. Except it'll be worse than before, because I'll know about how much more of a life I could have, but I won't get to actually have any of it."

That's all she manages to get out before she can feel herself, getting choked up, but it seems to be enough.

"I'm still not used to the quiet," Ben says, speaking so quietly himself that Rey would have to strain to hear him if they weren't pressed so close together.

"The quiet?" she prompts.

"Is it always like this for everyone else? Quiet and not confused?"

"Sometimes I'm confused."

"No, I mean—" he shakes his head, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just me now. In my mind. There's no one talking to me but me. And every time I think about that for too long, I expect to hear him again."

"Snoke?"

"Snoke, Palpatine… I guess it was all him wasn't it? I just— I keep thinking he's going to show up in my head again, that this isn't as over as I think it is. And I hate that, because I like the quiet. I want to enjoy it. But it makes me nervous."

This is not something that's going to be fixed overnight. Rey thinks it's unlikely to be something she can fix for him at all. But she knows with that same stunning clarity she feels every time she thinks about Ben, that she'll be by his side for as long as it takes him to work through it, and then for a long time after that.

But somehow that seems more like a declaration centered on herself than it is on him, so she stores that thought away for a different time.

For now, she thinks, just holding him might be enough.

She's sure he can tell what she's trying to do, when she pushes herself backwards until she's propped up by the headboard and pillows on the bed. But he doesn't move until she opens her arms.

Rey thinks absently that it must look silly, her cradling a man as giant as Ben, but when he buries his face in the space where her neck and her shoulder meet and slings an arm all the way across her waist, she can't bring herself to care what she looks like.

"So you like the quiet?" she asks when she feels him go practically limp against her.

"It's strange. But peaceful. And this is what it's always been like for you and for everyone else?"

"It is," Rey nods even though she knows he can't see her. "All I ever hear is myself. And you."

She's not sure how long they stay like that, just enjoying each others' presence and the quiet and the gentle pulse of energy in the bond between them. Eventually her hands find their way back to his hair, and she takes a moment to reflect on how unfairly soft it is.

For a second, she thinks he's fallen asleep, but then he shifts slightly, tightening his grip on her waist in the process.

"How did you know to do that, earlier?" He's so relaxed he almost sounds lazy.

"I didn't," Rey murmurs, as unwilling to break the gentle peace of the room as he seems to be. "But when I was little, whenever I was upset, I always wished there was someone who could stroke my head and tell me it'd be okay. So I thought maybe that would work for you too."

"That's… incredibly sad, Rey." He presses his lips to her collarbone.

"Yes, but I'm happy to be here doing it for you."

He shifts again, this time to tilt his head up enough so that their lips can meet as he pulls her even closer to him, his hand clutching at her back.

Her hands don't leave his hair for quite some time.