Chapter Three

Ben sat in the Falcon's cockpit, watching the ambient patterns of hyperspace swirl past the windows. Rey had silently typed in calculations, plotting their course, then vanished as soon as the ship had made it to lightspeed. This whole damned thing was no fair to her. How had it even gotten out that Rey had turned? Almost no one had even seen her…had a Resistance member leaked it? She'd barely been a Sith for a week. Ben had no doubt that he deserved whatever was coming his way. He supposed that it had been foolish of him to believe that the last few blissful weeks could last. He'd probably gotten more out of them than he deserved anyway. But Rey, Rey deserved none of this. It had been awhile since she had left now. An hour, two? Ben didn't feel good about leaving the cockpit unattended. But then, he guessed he felt worse about leaving Rey unattended, at least right now.

Ben made his way back into the communal area of the ship. Rey was lying across the seats, wide, unblinking eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, long dried tear tracks tracing her cheeks. Ben sat down near her head, careful not to disturb her too much. Her hair had half escaped from the braids Ben had woven it into now days before. Gently, Ben undid one bun, then the next, and began to comb the tangles out of Rey's hair with his fingers. It fanned out from her head in a halo. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, leaning into his hand.

"We'll get through this," Ben murmured.

"Mm." He had seen Rey cry, he had seen her spitting mad, but he had never seen her so dejected. Her mind felt weary and lonely. A realization struck Ben suddenly.

"Rey, when was the last time you ate?"

"I don't know," she said, brushing him off. They had shared a small meal when they emerged from the trance, but that had been many hours ago.

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm fine."

Ben stood up and rummaged through the cabinets. Their provisions were running low. He hoped there would be something on Kef Bir. Ben found one of the sweet green fruits that grew near the Resistance base on Ajan Kloss and returned to the table, slicing the fruit with a knife from his belt.

"I'm not hungry," Rey protested sullenly.

Ben held a spear of the fruit above her face. She glared up at him, then snatched it and sat up to nibble it, propping her cheek on a fist.

"You've faced so much more than this," Ben said, handing Rey a second piece of fruit and taking one for himself.

"It's not the same! I always had Finn, and Poe, and Chewie, and Rose, and, and, BB-8, and Leia, or Luke, or…Han…" Her tears were falling again, and Ben swallowed back his own grief and guilt and pulled her into his arms. She crumpled into his chest as he rested his cheek against her head. After everything, it wasn't fair to separate Rey from her family. Not again. She'd been through that too many times.

The hum of the Falcon's engines quieted as they slowed from hyperspace.

"Hey," said Ben, extracting Rey from his shirt, "why don't you go freshen up? I'll put the ship down and see if I can find some food."

Rey nodded, and Ben pulled her face gently back toward him to kiss her forehead, then rose.

They had landed on Kef Bir, traded for food with ex-stormtroopers and promised to be gone by the next day, lest they be accused of harboring criminals. Now Ben lay in the Falcon's main berth, curled around Rey. They had their own cabins, though they often disregarded the separation, but tonight Ben had sensed that Rey didn't want to be alone. So now he was here, skin of his chest pressed up against her back, his knees hooked into hers, one arm wrapped around her, the other nestled between her shoulder and her cheek. Even in sleep, she hugged it to her chest.

Ben couldn't shake the feeling that Rey didn't belong here. She deserved so much better than a life on the run. With him. When, for the first time in her life, she had finally found a family. Ben had had a family. He had known what it was like to be loved, and he had thrown that away for himself. Rey had never had that choice. She'd been thrown away and then thrown into all of this. With him. For him. Kylo Ren and his Dark consort. As if the Empress was nothing to the galaxy without the context of Kylo Ren. Maybe she was. Maybe if they had him, they would forget all about her. Then, for once, Rey could go home to a family without a war to fight. Oh, how he wished they had had more time.

Rey was tangled in his arms and nothing he had ever known had been better than this. Every instinct screamed to stay here and soak up her sunshine. But how long could she spend out here with him before her light began to cloud over? Her warm skin was torturous against his. It felt like goodness and home and belonging. It felt like everything he knew he didn't deserve.

One way or another, vengeance would catch up with Ben eventually. And if he was was with Rey, it would catch up with her too—Ben couldn't do that to her. Unless he caught up with vengeance himself.

Ben pulled Rey tight against him and kissed the back of her neck. He reclaimed his limbs and slipped out of bed, pulling on a shirt. Rey muttered and rolled over.

"It's okay," Ben whispered.

He looked around for something to leave a message with. He couldn't let her think she'd been abandoned again. He wandered the ship in the darkness, letting memory guide him. His fingers found the drawer where his father had kept paper and pens. Han had always had messily scrawled notes lying around. Always said reminders did nothing if he didn't have a physical copy on him. Ben found a brittle leaf of paper, but nothing to write with. He bit back his frustration. Were there no pens on this blasted ship? Finally he remembered the brush pen he'd been writing with before they left Ajan Kloss and dug it out of his pocket. He'd been trying to get back into calligraphy, and though his skills were rusty, practicing had felt good. Well, so much for that now. At least maybe he could leave Rey something nice. He switched on a lamp, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. His handwriting was stiff at first, but soon the aurebesh letters flowed from the strokes of his pen. Ben blinked and stared up at the ceiling above. He wouldn't let his tears fall and smudge the ink.

When he was finished writing, he folded the letter in half and slipped it onto the little table next to the bed Rey still occupied. Ben took in her calm, sleeping face one last time and then turned to walk out of the Falcon. He wouldn't let himself look back. He knew, oh so well, that she could force him to undo every decision he'd ever made. This time, he wouldn't give her the chance. The broken Death Star wasn't too far away. He had salvaged a TIE from the wreckage before, he could do it again. The tide was out and the sea had retreated into its basin, leaving only a flat stretch of beach between Ben and the old space station.

Author's Note: First of all, I'm sorry this is late. My school just unexpectedly shut down for next term in the midst of finals week, so right now I'm in the middle of moving out and trying to figure out what I'm doing until my school reopens. I won't leave y'all with this cliffhanger for too long, but expect slow and sporadic updates from the next few weeks. I'll get back into regular posting as soon as I have time to rebuild my chapter buffer.

Anyway, stay tuned for Ben creating drama!