Chapter VIII – The Death Plains
Ben was going to teach her about the force, whether she wanted to learn from him or not. They'd parked the speeder in the ridge's valley and found a plane shielded from the worst of the wind nearby. As she ignited Luke's saber, he eyed her stance.
Rey could hear him making mental corrections and clenched her teeth in defiance. "My feet are fine," she ground out. "And my arms are not too high."
Ben strolled forward, his mother's weapon clicked to his belt. He had abandoned his shawl, standing in the tans and white she had worn her entire life. Originally, the color contrast had jarred – she'd grown so accustomed to seeing him in his favored black – but now it seemed to suit him. A bit too well. She drank in long limbs wrapped in beige straps to stow tools, highlighting the casual ease he stood in, leaning weight on one foot, and wetted her lips with her tongue. This was an inopportune time to suddenly appreciate his appearance.
"You need to brace your legs farther apart," he intoned, pointing a flared white sleeve down. "To make up for your size."
"I use speed," Rey insisted. "Not strength."
Ben nodded gamely. "And that works on opponents like me," he circled her. "But not everyone is all elbows."
He came back into her field of vision, and Rey tried prying her gaze from his shoulders. Had they always been so wide?
Ben canted his head. "You're distracted."
She felt his searching tendrils reach out, and she shook them off, inspecting the state of the blue beam before her. Curling fingers around the hilt, she moved the crackling saber in a slow arc, savoring its weight and hum in her hands.
Ben's own weapon blazed to life, hovering to block the last of her idle trace through the air. "Clear your mind," he instructed. "Focus."
She stopped her momentum before the buzzing beams collided. "I don't want a teacher," she insisted.
"What about accepting help?" He reminded.
"I meant with building a fire or keeping the house clean."
"This would prove to me I'm needed."
Rey's jaw fell. Sneaky, conniving man. "Unfair tactic."
"They're the only ones I employ," his mouth lifted at a corner. "Stand like so," he demonstrated. "And visualize my intent. See where I'll go, how I'll move."
Rey did not think conjuring an image of his body's actions would help her focus. With a huff, she brought her blade to his, sending a sharp static into the desert's barren silence.
Ben bore down, using the advantage of brute force, as he always did. She pushed back, feeling her arms already begin to strain.
"I'm not injured and tormented like I was that night in the forest," he edged close until the weapon's glow tinged his features. "You have to be more strategic, Rey."
"I don't want to kill you like I did then," she snapped, digging her heels into the sand as her limbs shook.
Ben pulled his saber away, leaving hers hanging without a partner in a blink. Dancing back, he whirled it around, aiming for her hip. She reacted immediately, meeting its luminous blade in a surge of sparks.
"Concentrate," he urged. "Anticipate my decisions," he spun, bringing the weapon up to rake the cloth hanging from her tunic.
Rey leapt back, narrowly missing the slice. "Hey!" She cried. "Remember! Only one spare outfit!"
A wicked grin split his face. "Then stop me," he baited.
The valley filled with blurs of twirling light as they sparred, settling into a session that felt nothing like benign practice or the acrid animosity of true confrontation. A strange energy charged the space between them, a tension as their sabers united again and again, testing mettle and will in a way they'd never measured before.
As Rey landed from a bounded jump over Ben's head, she jolted, sensing the foreign element. The tension was ardent. Impassioned even. Like heaving chests pushed against a wall, battling each other for breath.
Ben capitalized on her comprehension, having none of his own, extending a palm and shoving her back with a force push. "What has you so preoccupied?" He called.
She rose up on her elbows, flinging her interpretations into his skull.
Ben froze like she'd doused him with ice water. Shock bunched his brow as she inadvertently shared her satisfaction over the span of his frame, and his mouth followed suit, crooking open awkwardly into a gape.
Rey sprung from the sand, vaulting into a somersault and whipping her lightsaber to his chest, halting it inches from his shirt. Obnoxious, white nuisance.
Ben stared down at the humming shaft in wonder. "Easy," he found his voice, hiding far back in his throat. "This is supposed to be training."
Rey withdrew, banishing the blade with a depressed button. Wiping the sheen of perspiration that had gathered on her forehead, she hitched it back to her hip. "Didn't feel like it."
Ben seemed to be turning their skirmish over in his head, hunting for the details she'd gleaned, his lightsaber still on. "No," he agreed. "I suppose not."
Rey ran her damp palms down her pants. "You gonna put that away?"
He glanced at it, before a mischievous twinkle sparked his brown eyes. "When I have the advantage?" In one stride, he grabbed Luke's weapon, yanking it free, and leveled his mother's saber over her shoulder to her neck. "Do you yield?"
Rey glowered, feeling its heat crackle at her cheek. "You play dirty."
Ben's shrug was cavalier and smug. "You know this. I told you to anticipate my maneuvers."
"I couldn't," she grumbled. "It's your clothes. They're throwing me off."
He edged the lightsaber away, not wanting to singe her hair. "What?" He peeked down at himself. "How?"
Rey gestured vaguely. "They make you look… different."
Ben switched the beam off, confused. "Why does that matter?"
She swiped for her saber in answer, but he was too fast, hiding it behind his back.
"Rey?" He tried again. "You're supposed to be trusting me, remember?"
She fought down an eyeroll, making another bid to retrieve the device. Ben intercepted the arm she shot past his waist, trapping it between his elbow and side.
"I can do this all day with you so scattered and unfocused," he said.
"Give it back!" Rey tried wrenching her wrist free, but it barely moved in its pinned cage.
"You're better than this," he reasoned. "Something as trivial as dress shouldn't derail you from your goal," his voice took on the tone of Luke, imparting a lesson. "Free your thoughts of their clutter, be present in the moment."
Why was his side so warm? And his voice's pitch so low? Had they always been like this? Rey squeezed her eyes shut, retiring inwardly to listen to the hammering of her speeding heart.
"Yes," Ben encouraged, absently reaffixing his own weapon to his waist. "Concentrate on your breath."
She worked to slow and deepen her inhales, letting them expand her belly rather than lift her shoulders.
She saw Ben in the darkness of her eyelids, pride pulling his mouth into a soft smile.
"Imagine breaking free," he said. "Not with brawn, but surprise, summoning the lightsaber to you."
Rey felt his ever-present stare roam over her face, lingering as it had in Exegol. She could predict him – he only had one note when it came to her. She made her body go lax, letting her stance sway slightly.
Ben noticed the teeter right away. "Rey?" He asked sharply, alarm replacing his pride.
She allowed her knees to quake, as if they threatened to buckle, and felt the pressure lessen around her captured limb. She knew he would try catching her if she fell. Flicking her eyes open, she pushed against his chest with her free arm, surging a leg up into a kick. It connected with his abdomen, and she pushed off of him, freeing herself and flipping over to land a few feet before him. Straightening her arm, she called to Leia's lightsaber. It flew from his belt, rocketing into her palm.
Ben doubled-over from her blow, managing a baleful glare as he sucked in the oxygen she'd knocked from him. "That was a dirty trick," his smirk betrayed his eyes, revealing new gratification.
"I'm an apt pupil," she countered.
"Or I'm a skilled teacher."
Rey scoffed. "A gullible one."
He shook his head, sending waves of black into his eyes. "Only when it comes to you."
They continued to practice feints all afternoon, too absorbed to heed the incremental shifts in the weather around them. The sun had traveled far in the sky before Rey felt the searing burn of stinging sands along her arms and face. They had grown too fervent for the ridge at their backs to offer protection any longer, and she whirled around, dawning horror seizing her as she watched the shifting dunes.
"Ben!" She cried shrilly, lowering her lightsaber.
He was stretched out a few meters away, fighting an ache blooming in his tailbone. She had sent him sprawling through the air, dashing him to the ground with a vindictiveness Skywalker would never have approved of. His pain evaporated in the fear his name held, and he rushed to his feet.
Rey was running towards him, waving frantically, and he cast his senses out, searching for enemies. Who had snuck up on them? Were they aiming unseen blasters at her? Springing from his spot, Ben raced to reach her, nearly colliding as they met halfway.
Checking her state, he whipped his neck up with his weapon out, scanning the natural rocky barrier looming nearby. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I can't believe I didn't see," she said breathlessly. "A storm," she gulped. "A storm's coming."
He took her elbow, drawing her to him as if he could shield her from its onslaught alone. "Let's get to the speeder."
Rey shook her head. "There's no time. We only have minutes before its upon us," the words were heavy with apology. "I'm so sorry, Ben."
He watched as the sky darkened abruptly, twisting in violent clouds that were assaulted and ripped apart as soon as they formed. He turned and sprinted for the towering embankment where they'd left the vehicle, hauling Rey in a clasp tight enough to bruise. He'd be damned if they died in a freak squall, when they'd conquered everything else hurled their way.