The next morning, Rey loses track of time reading the newsfeeds. There's just so much to read. It's optimistic and reassuring for the short term. Darth Sidious might still be out there somewhere, but things are looking up for the Republic. That helps Rey to rationalize her prolonged absence. Finn and Poe don't need her. Not like they think they do. But the sooner the Republic gets organized, the better. Rey strongly suspects that Darth Sidious won't stay away another thirty years this time with Luke and Leia gone. Sidious probably likes the odds of having just her, Ben, and Plagueis left to oppose him. After all, he's beaten each of them as himself or in his guise as Snoke.
It's especially easy to get stalled perusing the newsfeeds since she's nervous about being around Ben. The more time they spend with one another, the more attracted she is to him. It's nothing she doesn't already know. From their very first meeting, when the Dark prince of the First Order snatched off his helmet to reveal fluffy hair, soulful eyes, and pouty lips, Rey was drawn in. But here's the thing—this isn't a new crush. She and Ben have a history. When will she learn? She knows better.
Ben keeps turning down second chances. She watched him kill his father who bravely offered him a way back home. Then, when she herself offered Ben an alternative to his Dark path, he refused. In a terrible irony, killing Snoke didn't set Ben free of the Dark Side, it opened up possibilities for advancement. Ben killed his Master in a classic Sith ascension, promptly declared himself Supreme Leader, and then set out to finish off the Resistance and consolidate power. Even when Ben appeared on Exogol, Rey now knows it was motivated as much by revenge, power, and position as it was by saving her or saving the galaxy. Ben stood at her side for himself as much as for anything else. They united for the common cause of defeating Darth Sidious, but that was where their meeting of the minds ended.
Ben is who Ben is, Rey is belatedly realizing. He truly is equal parts Ben Solo and Kylo Ren, just like he claims. She has stubbornly—maybe foolishly—tried to reform him, to no avail. But even that knowledge doesn't seem to dim his allure. Strangely enough, her fascination for Ben is as much condemnation as it is compassion. For she's as repulsed by him as she is attracted to him. His Darkness draws her closer even though she knows she should resist it. Ben Solo has mistake written all over him. She knows better. And yet, last night she stood close beneath him, feeling his hot breath on her cheek as she angled for his kiss.
She plans to pretend that never happened, of course. It will save them both awkwardness.
Darth Plagueis would probably explain her and Ben's strange relationship with his theory of balance. Her pull to Ben is her pull to the Dark Side he represents, just like his actions towards her can be explained by his longtime weakness for the Light. But they are individuals as much as they are archetypes. They are people, not just causes. Rey can't help but like Ben even knowing his misdeeds. She recognizes his loner tendencies, and she respects his knowledge and abilities. He's not bad to look at either.
Could she accept Ben as he is? Part of her wants to do so. They could run away together and hide out somewhere to study the Force. In some ways, that might be the perfect exit strategy. Except she doesn't think Ben will be content to sit on the sidelines for history any more then she will be. He's far too invested in the First Order, like she's committed to the Resistance. When the war ends soon, she doesn't expect Ben to accept defeat and move on. He certainly won't be making overtures for reconciliation with the Republic. She can't say she blames him. Even if Ben were sincerely contrite, he would be a very hard sell to Finn and Poe.
Where does that leave things? Rey isn't sure what the future holds. But whatever lies ahead, she needs more training. So she marches down the Falcon's ramp intending to present herself at the villa. She finds Ben outside on the landing pad practicing saber forms in the morning sunshine.
"You're feeling better," she calls as she walks up.
"I'm tired of sitting around."
"So your leg is healed?"
"It's healed enough."
She believes him. Ben moves pretty normally. Rey observes in silence as he glides through a series of poses. He moves with a dancer's smooth grace that belies his strength and power. Rey has crossed swords with this man several times. She knows the force of his blows. She respects the threat he represents. But it's all a bit ridiculous this morning given he's not holding a lightsaber or even a conventional weapon. Instead, Ben brandishes a stick that looks to be torn from a tree branch.
Amused, she decides to join in. "Hold on. I'll go get my staff."
"No. Leave that thing onboard. Lightsabers are supposed to be elegant weapons. You win with a clean kill. You don't bludgeon your opponent to death."
"No," she answers with an eye for his current weapon, "apparently, you poke them with a stick."
He shrugs as he continues his practice. "It's all I have. And it works for what I need this morning."
She's not the only one who has noticed Ben on the landing pad. Up walks Darth Plagueis to investigate.
"All hail the mighty Kylo Ren." Like her, the Sith Master is amused by Ben's weapon. He chides, "Look how the mighty have fallen."
"Careful, Sith," Ben responds with a flourish of his stick. "My ally is the Force."
"Good answer, good answer," the Muun chuckles at this silliness. "How did you lose your sword exactly?"
"I chucked it in the sea. I wasn't going to use it for Darth Sidious any longer."
Rey summarizes with a sigh, "You broke with your Masters Snoke and Sidious, but you didn't break with the Dark Side or the First Order . . . " It's a distinction she failed to appreciate on Exogol.
Ben shoots her a pointed look and obliquely alludes to their conversation last night. "I'm not the hero."
Old Plagueis is annoyed by the comment. "Are we still talking about this? You're both the hero," he grumbles. "Apprentice, you need a sword."
Lunging Ben reminds him, "Darth Sidious won't be killed with a sword."
"No. But other people can be." The towering Muun turns to her and looks pointedly at the weapon hanging at her waist. "Give him back his family sword. You can twirl that yellow thing."
"Please don't. That weapon is ridiculous," Ben complains as he continues his form poses.
Rey isn't giving back the Skywalker sword. She offers a substitute. "I have your mother's sword. You can use that."
"No, thanks."
"She'd want you to have it."
Ben scowls. "No, she wouldn't."
"She would."
"She stopped training with that sword because of me. Because of who I would become. Did she tell you that?"
"Luke did."
Ben gives her a pointed look over the end of his stick. "My mother quitting her training didn't stop me from becoming who I am."
Plagueis takes that as his cue to intone, "Nothing would have stopped it. You cannot stop destiny."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Rey sighs, thinking of her vision on the Death Star ruins. She deeply fears becoming that scary, Dark woman. "But you can still use Leia's sword."
"It's too short. I need a long sword."
"Your stick isn't very long," Rey observes.
"She said it, I didn't," Plagueis laughs. "A sword must be in proportion to your height and skill. When I fought with a weapon, I had an exceptionally long sword." Plagueis smirks at Ben. "Longer than yours, Apprentice. Much longer."
"I doubt that."
"Count on it."
"Does it matter?" Rey complains at the stupid argument.
Ben agrees. "It's not how long your sword is. It's how you use it."
The Sith Master snorts. "Did some woman tell you that? Did it make you feel better? Wait—did my Daughter tell you that?" he leers. "Apprentice, did you accomplish your special mission?" Plagueis asks in a comment that is lost on her.
Rey fumes, "Are we still talking about swords?"
Ben ceases his practice and turns to her. He gestures to the Skywalker saber. "Why do you even want it? It's not yours."
She begs to differ. "It called to me and I found it."
"Did you find a hand with it?" Plagueis deadpans.
She takes offense. "That's not funny."
"Yes, it is. Did you know that Lord Vader was very funny?" the old Muun recalls. "People always forget that because he was so fearsome. Your grandfather would boom sarcasm from behind that mask and everyone was too terrified to laugh. That was the best part. Lord Vader made everyone uncomfortable. Sheev must have been jealous of all that Dark gravitas."
Whatever. "This lightsaber belongs to me," Rey puts a protective hand on the weapon lest Ben try to snatch it with the Force.
Sensing the brewing dispute, Plagueis offers a compromise. "Apprentice, when Vanee gets back, I'll get him to open the vault and you can pick a sword from the collection. I'd let you in myself, but Vanee knows the organization better than I do. He gets cross when I go in search of something without him."
"You have a sword collection?" Rey blinks.
"I have Lord Vader's trophies from the Jedi Purge. His Mustafar castle was looted for everything but its actual treasure," Plagueis explains. "Lord Vader amassed an impressive collection of holochrons and artifacts he stole from temples and straggler survivors. It is a veritable library of the Light."
"So you're saying Lord Vader would never have destroyed her books?" Ben guesses.
"Probably not," their host admits. "But if he did, it wouldn't matter. He already had his own copies."
"He did?" she asks hopefully.
"Yes, I believe there are several versions of those manuscripts in the collection."
Whew. "So the knowledge isn't lost?" She is deeply relieved.
"The books are there for you both to access when the time is right," the old Muun promises.
"How about right now?" Rey angles.
"All in good time," Darth Plagueis slows her down. "When you balance the Force, Daughter, I will give you a key to the vault and you may learn all you wish of the old ways of the Force. But first, you must chart our course into the future." He turns back to Ben. "In the meantime, you are welcome to select a sword."
"These are swords from dead Jedi?" Rey worries.
"Yes."
"Oh."
Ben gestures to the weapon at her waist. "That sword you call your own killed a bunch of Jedi."
"Younglings. Lots and lots of innocent younglings," Plagueis piles on ghoulishly.
Are they trying to give her a disgust of the sword? It won't work. "It's mine."
"With Lord Vader's helmet lost and his castle destroyed, that sword is all Lord Ren has left of his grandfather . . ." Darth Plagueis muses rather pointedly.
She isn't swayed. "It's mine."
"So stubborn you are, Daughter," the Muun sighs and rolls his eyes. "Well, carry on, carry on." The ugly Muun departs, leaving her and Ben alone on the landing pad.
"Do you know your forms?" Ben asks as he resumes his practice.
"Not really. There were some in my books. I tried them a few times." Rey explains, "Your mother didn't have a lot of time to train me. I did the combat stuff on my own."
Ben is affable about her ignorance. "It's okay to be self-taught. Luke Skywalker was mostly self-taught. Try to follow along. Let's see what you can do."
Rey lights the Skywalker saber and does her best to imitate his poses. In this, as in all other things, Ben is a surprisingly patient teacher. He's a different man when he's speaking reverently of the Force than when he is stomping through a star destroyer with a crowd of stormtroopers trailing in his wake. This Ben is collaborative and earnest. Neither insistent nor commanding. It's more like he is sharing secrets with her. Moreover, he seems delighted to do so.
He talks as they move. "You learn the poses until they become second nature and are committed to muscle memory. So that they flow with your body during combat. Swordplay is a bit like a choreographed dance. There are classic forms, traditional attack patterns and defenses, and signature moves and passes. I will teach you to master them all."
"Okay." But Rey is a pragmatist when it comes to things like this. Frankly, she could care less about the sword lore of the Jedi and the Sith. Her fighting doesn't need to look pretty, she just needs to win. "I mostly want to know how to block laser blasts . . . unless there are other leftover Sith Lords hanging around who we don't know about . . . " Because who's left in the galaxy to fight her with a lightsaber? Her eyes drift to the man beside her. Ben, that's who. "Unless you and I will be dueling . . . " she adds as an afterthought.
"We're on the same side now," he assures her. "But this is a proud tradition. It is my obligation to pass on what I know. This knowledge is lost if it is not shared." He says this with such seriousness that Rey takes note.
She plays along. "Okay. Show me that last bit again."
Kylo complies and Rey awkwardly imitates. "Is this right? This doesn't feel right. "
"Lean into it more," Kylo suggests. "The sword is an extension on your anger—I mean your arm."
She snorts. "That doesn't sound like Jedi training."
"Combat techniques are neither Light nor Dark, they are defensive or offensive. So don't worry about which moves are Jedi or Sith. It doesn't matter."
"Okay . . ." She is dubious.
As always, Ben teaches by putting skills in historical context. Lightsaber forms are no different. "The Jedi spent centuries in a police function, so their traditional combat training focused on deescalating conflicts. The goal was to use the sword to protect life, not to take it. If at all possible, you were supposed to refrain from lighting your weapon."
That harkens back to what Rey read in her books. "Non-violent intervention . . . "
"Yes. Not your thing."
"Hey!"
"You're more the aggressive negotiations type."
"What does that mean?"
"Negotiations with a lightsaber. A lit lightsaber."
"Yeah, I guess that is more me," Rey grumbles sheepishly.
"You lit a sword on Luke Skywalker," Ben reminds her.
"Wasn't my best moment."
He shoots her a look. "Neither was stabbing me on Endor."
"Right. Not my best moment," she squirms guiltily. "But hey—I'm from Jakku. And I healed you. So, no hard feelings?" she proposes.
"I'm a Dark warrior. We are known for revenge," Ben boasts with the ghost of a smile about his lips. "But since I'm also a conflicted Skywalker, I grant you forgiveness. I shall refrain from taking your head."
"With your little stick?" she teases.
"You live another day, Jedi," he retorts. "Yes, like that," he continues critiquing her efforts. "Keep your other arm back for a counterbalance. Weight to your bent knee. Shoulders and eyes forward. Lunge like you mean it."
"This is hard," she mumbles.
"You are a naturally athletic and you are full of Force, but formal swordplay is much harder than it looks."
Yes, she's learning that fast. It's like advanced yoga with a deadly weapon.
"Eyes on your surroundings, never your sword tip. The sword is your arm and you think its movement like you think your arm to move."
"Got it."
Eyes on her surroundings is an easy task because Rey's eyes keep wandering to Ben. She's entirely too aware of his body next to hers and it has nothing to do with his training. It has everything to do with the broad shoulders and rippling muscles she once saw naked and gleaming pale white in dim light through the bond. It was a tease that worked. The brief image has remained a favorite in her mind.
They shift to another pose and Ben ventures offhand, "What do you say we let all bygones be bygones?"
It's a serious question that requires a serious answer. "What would that include exactly?" Rey probes.
"Everything. We let the past die and we move forward. That's what this is all about. Evolving beyond the well-rehearsed conflicts of the past to make something new. Fresh starts."
"Fresh starts . . ." She mulls it over.
"Fresh starts for us personally and for the Force," he clarifies.
That's not exactly the plea for forgiveness from the contrite, redeemed Light Side Ben Solo that she was hoping to hear. It sounds more like a truce, which is what they de facto have right now. Well, more like a truce with kisses . . .
He presses, "Well?"
She's supposed to accept what happened regardless of whether Ben regrets doing it. It's less 'I'm sorry and I won't do it again' and more 'It happened. Get over it.' Flummoxed Rey hedges, "I'll think about it."
He scowls. "That's a no."
"That's not 'no,'" she protests. "That's 'I'm not sure.'" This guy has a lot of blood on his hands, including his own father's. Would it kill him to act the least bit sorry? He's acting very matter-of-fact about his infamy.
"What if I call myself Ben Solo?" Ben jeers, looking stung. "Would that help?"
"It might." Feeling ambushed, Rey gruffly calls him back to the task at hand. "Back to saber forms."
He shoots her a dirty look but resumes teaching. "The Jedi's emphasis on non-violent intervention fell by the wayside in the Clone Wars."
That makes sense. "It wouldn't have been practical against the droids."
"Yes. Since the fall of the Sith Empire, lightsaber combat had been confined mostly to melee brawls. The Jedi didn't expect to be fighting equals. That all changed when the Sith re-emerged. Dueling took on new emphasis and the Jedi were tasked with being battlefield commanders."
Ben's tone turns bitter now. "The Clone Wars were the zenith of Jedi hypocrisy. The Republic's peacekeepers became soldiers. The champions of life and liberty commanded legions of genetically modified, expendable slave soldiers. All the while, the Jedi Council that claimed to be apolitical meddled ceaselessly in the Senate. It all culminated when the Jedi attempted to arrest the duly elected Chancellor without a warrant or an investigation. When the plan went awry, they decided instead to assassinate him."
"Palpatine was a Sith Lord!" Rey defends the decision.
"Where's all that love of democratic due process now?" Ben goads her. "In that act, the Jedi were exposed for who they were: power hungry zealots terrified of the Sith and the Darkness they represented. Willing to compromise their ideals to protect their institutional standing. People forget that the Purge was surprisingly popular in its day. Citizens resented the Jedi for their warmongering and sanctimony. Many also viewed Palpatine as a hero who tried his best to hold the Republic together."
"So the point is?" Rey huffs, not really wanting to hear more of Ben's political opinions or praise for Darth Sidious.
"The point is that the Jedi Order didn't always live up to its ideals. My uncle wasn't the first to make the wrong choices due to his paranoia about Darkness."
Ben continues, "You can see the loosening of Jedi standards in their training. As the role of the Jedi evolved, so did their combat skills. Some are indistinguishable from their Sith counterparts. Same moves, just different labels. It's like how the Jedi mind trick is not that different from Sith mental manipulation."
"Is this leading up to a balance lecture?" she guesses.
"The distinction between a Light Side skill and a Dark Side skill can be rather flimsy. Stop worrying about learning something Dark. Learn it all, and use it when you need it. That's it. Last one. We're done." Ben lowers his stick and stops his progression of poses.
As she extinguishes her weapon, Ben goes in search of another branch. "This will do," he announces as he selects one to hand to her.
"What's this?"
"I want a rematch."
Is she understanding him right? "We're playfighting with sticks?"
Ben doesn't answer with words. He leaps to engage with his woefully silly weapon, howling, "You are unwise to lower your defenses," with a boyish grin on his face.
"Hey!" She leaps back before joining the battle in earnest. Soon, they are trading blows, stabs, and jabs with a pair of brittle tree branches.
"I have you now!" Ben thrusts for the kill and misses.
She laughs. This is fun. It's also fast. Ben is very quick for such a tall man. But soon her jab and swing combo cracks off half of his stick. What was a meter is now little more than a twig. Ben grimaces but reengages nonetheless.
"What was that you said earlier about Leia's saber being too short?" she laughs. "You're stumpy now."
"My sword is plenty big. It can handle you," Ben answers.
"Hardly. I have the advantage."
"That's not the same as having the win."
"Ha! Don't make me destroy you!" she shrieks.
"I see you have the banter part down," Ben drawls as he dodges yet another lunge. "Talking trash is part of the duel."
"I'm from Jakku. I could probably teach you a thing or two about trash talk," she brags.
"We need to work on your footwork. You have terrible footwork. Luke was a stickler on footwork."
Ben must be right because no sooner does he speak than she stumbles a little.
"Snoke didn't care about footwork. He prized a precise swing. Yes, that's it. Swing with your whole arm, not just your elbow. Get the full power of your body behind it," Ben keeps teaching.
"Like this?" She swings.
"Yes. Better."
"Better like this?"
He recoils from her incoming branch. "You are a quick learner," he commends, "but you keep leaving openings on your left. Protect your left. Watch." He pokes her with his little stick before she can even see the movement to block it.
"Ouch!"
"You'll live. Next time, protect your left."
"I'm trying. You're fast."
"The best swordsmen could vary their speeds to confuse their opponents' timing."
"Like this?" She slows and then hurries.
"Yes. Good. That reminds me. We should work on Force-assisted speed."
"Not today. You're tiring," she declines, noting his now limping gait and heaving chest.
"Well, I've been dead and I have this broken leg," he sighs.
"How much longer to heal?"
"The bones are fused. It's just soft tissue damage now. This movement probably helps."
She is skeptical of that claim. "Is it hurting?"
"Yes."
"Then I had better win so you can stop."
"To the victor, go the spoils."
"What's that supposed to mean? What do I win?"
"A kiss."
"What?" Huh?
"You wanted one last night," he smirks.
Rey feels her cheeks grow hot and it's not from the exertion. She grumbles, "I hate that you can read my thoughts," with true resentment.
"I hate that you can't acknowledge anything between us," Ben responds with equal acrimony.
Again, her cheeks grow hot. "I'm being discrete."
"You're afraid."
"Yes! Look, this is complicated."
"You're right. I tell you what—if you win, you get a kiss with Ben Solo. If I win, you get a kiss with Kylo Ren."
"Is there a difference?"
"You tell me. You're the one who wants to change me."
Rey frowns and concentrates on the battle.
"Aha!" Ben somehow manages to knock the stick from her grip. He stomps on the fallen weapon as he declares, "I win! Pucker up."
"I didn't agree to this," she protests as he steps forward to claim his prize.
"Worried Plagueis is watching?"
"Is he? Then we definitely shouldn't do this." Rey crosses her arms and lifts her chin.
"You're right. We shouldn't. This isn't the Jedi way. And it's not the Sith custom either. The Sith kill their enemies."
"No mercy?"
"No mercy. But we're letting the past die. No rules. That means kisses are allowed. Attachments too."
"Ben, you're really limping—"
"Only the leg is broken. The rest of me works."
"Oh, very well," she fumes. "Get it over with. Then go rest your leg."
"As you wish."
This isn't a reprise of last night's awkward longing as they stand close. This time, Ben nabs her hand and lifts it to his lips. It's a courtly gesture from a bygone era that perfectly fits the prince of a lost world. The smooth, romantic gesture is not at all what Rey is expecting. She's disarmed . . . and charmed.
She must also look shocked because Ben smirks, "There. Done. Now you can pretend it never happened."
"What happened?" she takes refuge in flippant sarcasm.
"You catch on fast to deceit. Maybe you will be Dark soon," Ben leers with some sly shade.
Rey frowns and changes the topic. "You need to get off that leg. Can you ice it?"
"I will. You keep practicing. I'm going inside."
"Dejarik later?" she asks hopefully.
"Only if you wear the dress again."
"It's a deal." They can agree on that, at least.
Hours later, she has practiced her saber forms, meditated, caught up on the newsfeeds, and exchanged perfunctory and deliberately vague messages with Rose and Poe. It's evening now, so Ben will be eating his dinner with Darth Plagueis. Rey munches her own rations on the Falcon before she luxuriates in the pleasure of a hot shower. Then, she unwinds her trio of hair buns and dons the pink dress. Ben will be coming soon for that holochess rematch. She's looking forward to it.
Sure enough, Rey hears footsteps just as she senses Ben's approach in the Force. But rather than venture forth to meet him, she lingers in the bedroom. She's been trying on the pink dress every night alone like this, trying to grow accustomed to the girl in the mirror. Struggling to see herself as something more than the scavenger turned Resistance fighter. Wanting to graduate from unkept girl to coolly poised woman. It's all in the context of wondering what's next for her once the Republic is re-established. What will her public role be while she secretly trains with Ben from time to time? Poe is pushing for her to take a Senate advisory position in something akin to the way the Jedi High Council once advised the Old Republic Chancellor.
Could she do that? Could an uneducated former scavenger with only the basics of Jedi training be the voice of conscience to the new Senate? If so, she will need to wear clothes like this pink dress. She had better get used to it so citizens and Senators alike take her seriously.
"Rey?" It's Ben filling the doorway. He flashes that lopsided smirk that is very Han Solo. His eyes are intense as they look her up and down in the dress.
"Hello." Rey refuses to feel self-conscious. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. This is exactly the sort of personal scrutiny she needs to get used to if she is to accept Poe's offer.
"You still owe me a kiss. A proper kiss," Ben begins as he leans against the door jam.
She ignores him, turning back around to face the mirror. "How's your leg?"
"Better. Getting off of it helped."
"Good."
He pushes off the wall now and walks forward to stand behind her facing the mirror. Ben catches her eye in the reflection as he looms tall over her shoulder. Rey is reminded now of Lady Vader's wrongful assumption that they were a romance. She had chosen Ben's princely black garments to helm the First Order. The dress Rey wears was selected for the young woman who would stand at his side as a consort. That means the pair staring back at her in the mirror are the young power couple who Lady Vader erroneously hoped would someday rule the galaxy. It gives Rey pause.
Ben fills the silence. "I love you in this dress. You're beautiful."
She shrugs off the comment, secretly pleased but too sheepish to let on. "It's just a dress."
"You can't accept a compliment, can you?"
She looks down and fusses with her skirt.
"It's for the same reason you can't acknowledge a kiss," he accuses.
"Don't start," she growls as she steps away. "Let's play dejarik. I worked on the table last night. It should work fine."
"Rey." Ben catches her arm as she steps away.
She freezes, looking pointedly at his restraining grip. For all Ben's sword swinging violence and Force transgressions, never once has he physically manhandled her.
"Rey." He says her name softer this time as his hand loosens. He steps forward and now they are right back where they were last night. He's too close. She's in his space. They are a heartbeat away from another kiss.
"We need to stop doing this," she whispers up at him, her pulse quickening. Ben's very nearness has a magnetic pull that sets her heart racing.
"Don't fight the will of the Force," he replies. Then his lips descend on hers and Rey can no longer form cogent thoughts. She's too enraptured.
Tempting as this is, it is too dangerous, too risky. She and Ben aren't really friends. At best, they are uneasy allies. She's Light . . . mostly. And he's Dark . . . though not entirely. He led the First Order while she opposed him as champion of the Republic. She wants to rebuild the Jedi Order. He argues to let the past die. But when he calls her beautiful, she believes him. He even died saving her on Exogol. And in Ben's arms now she feels the belonging she has wanted for so long. Maybe she is fooling herself, but it's too good a feeling to resist. Ben doesn't even need to try to seduce her. Just being himself is all it takes.
He pulls back and they both stand with chests heaving. "You're right, we should stop," Ben mumbles halfheartedly.
But she has reconsidered. "No. Don't stop," Rey commands softly, reaching up to pull his mouth back down to hers. She wants more of this forbidden new pleasure.
It's all the encouragement he needs. Ben's hands begin to roam her body freely, taking shameless advantage of the thin silk of her dress. Things escalate fast from there. His hands cup at her breasts and squeeze her waist before they venture lower. And now, Rey finds himself moaning against his mouth. This is the passion she has read about and seen depicted on the holonet that she finally feels for herself.
"Make me stop . . . tell me to stop . . . " he rasps into her neck. He's raining kisses down her throat as she arches to give him more access.
"Don't stop. Never stop," she gasps back. This feels amazing. It's the adrenaline rush of combat but with a different sort of danger. All around them, the Force feels charged with possibilities. Like something important is about to happen.
They're in the captain's quarters of the Falcon, which must at one point have been Ben's parents' master bedroom. But tonight, that bed is the soft surface where they both land after stumbling back in the fumbling, awkward heat of inexperienced but enthusiastic lust. Soon her pretty dress is twisted up around her thighs as Ben's tentative hands explore upwards. She's terrified and excited. They both know where this is heading.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Ben confesses, his long face vulnerable as he hovers over her.
"Neither do I. But how hard can it be?" she answers. Between the two of them, they can figure it out. She's all in for anything and everything at this point. She can't get enough of Ben. And, well, she's always had impulsive tendencies. Plus, she's stubborn about things she wants.
But he has misgivings. Ben pulls back and sits up. Suddenly, he's very serious. The rush of wild abandon has passed. No one's getting swept away in the moment now. Things are very deliberate between them. "Are you sure you want this?"
She understands his words but hears their meaning as reluctance. Rey gulps and reacts, "You don't want me . . . " She's being let down easy. "Right," she pretends not to care as inwardly all of her insecurities rush up to overwhelm her. Embarrassed, she tugs at her twisted dress as she pulls away.
"No-no! I just want you to be sure," Ben yelps. "Search your feelings."
Search her feelings? Really? Jedi talk at a moment like this? Now, Ben has definitely killed the mood. "This isn't training," she grumbles.
"I know. But I want you to say it. Say that you will let bygones be bygones."
She sits up now too. "Ben—"
"I don't want to do this and have you condemn me tomorrow for the past."
Oh. One look at Ben's indignant yet hopeful face tells her that this is very important. His comment this morning hadn't been anywhere near as casual as he pretended. She knew that, of course.
Rey swallows hard. Is this the moment she has been hoping for? The moment of redemption and reconciliation that will bring them into true accord. Is he—could he—be asking for forgiveness? After all those second chances, is Ben finally ready to accept? Has all the Light Side knowledge he has been teaching her left its mark on him as well? If so, she has to encourage him. She dares not turn him down. And so, Rey begins with her own mea culpa, "We've both made mistakes . . ."
"Say it!" he hisses. Ben's always so intense. Never more so than now.
She nods. "We can't change the past . . . "
"Say it!"
Fine. She tells him what she tried to tell him once before in the elevator to Snoke's throne room, only this time without all the posturing and one-upmanship. Looking in his eyes, she promises, "I want to help you. Let me help you and I will forgive you." She can't speak for the Resistance, but she can speak for herself. Rey reaches to grip both his hands, squeezing them. "Then, we can move forward."
He searches her eyes, as if gauging her sincerity as he decides. He warns, "I won't be a prisoner to the past."
"That's why I am here. So you can train me so we can balance the Force. So however the Light and Dark evolve, they can be better than before." She's not ready to throw out all the Jedi knowledge, but she recognizes the need for reform. And she's learning to appreciate that Darkness has its place as well.
Ben nods slowly. He seems mostly satisfied with that answer. "So be it," he replies solemnly.
The formal response makes Rey nervous. Because what began as a hot make-out session now feels like a negotiation. Like they are back in Snoke's throne room haggling over the future of the galaxy. This conversation seems more like the prelude to a merger of equals than it does two young people going to bed together.
But that's clearly where this is going because Ben now stands up. Rey watches in silence as he reaches up to unclasp his cape. Then, he begins to unbuckle his tunic. When he is stripped to the waist, he stops and looks to her.
She takes the cue to stand and unzip her dress. But her earlier boldness has faded and she is shy about slipping it off.
"Don't be afraid. Let me see you." He lifts the dress off her shoulders to slide down. It puddles at her feet. She's left standing there barefoot in faded cotton panties. She never wears a bra, so Rey feels very exposed. The fancy princess gown is off and beneath it is just regular her. Skinny, flat chested her, complete with plenty of scars and sun damaged skin courtesy of Jakku.
But Ben doesn't seem to realize it. He smiles down at her. It's the same wholly genuine smile she remembers from Exogol. The one that melted her heart . . . and then broke it when he died. "I have wanted this from the moment I first met you in the woods. I have wanted us to be together for so long."
"I shot at you on Takodana," she recalls bluntly.
"That's how I knew you were the girl for me," Ben answers, unperturbed. "You were Light to my Darkness . . . an equal to push back for balance . . . the answer to everything I needed . . . "
Enough talk of the Force. Rey steps forward into his eager embrace. Warm bare skin meets warm bare skin, and female meets male. In a heartbeat, their earlier urgent passion reignites. There is no talking now.
There is no stopping either. Her panties slip off and he unclothes completely as well. It takes a try or two. But she is wet and ready for him, and he is hard and engorged. There is a little discomfort at first, but Rey gets past that fast as she revels in the raw physicality of their union. Ben is heavy atop her and forceful as he thrusts. She is no passive vessel beneath him, however, as she instinctively meets his movements with her own. Their mating dance is in some ways another version of their swordplay. But they improvise a rhythm and find an angle that maximizes the friction as they apply their youthful best efforts. It all culminates in her gasping, choking, eyes-squeezed-tight surge of pleasure. Not long afterwards, Ben practically shrieks as he finds his own release. The mystery of sex has been solved for both of them. And it's a wonderfully joyous discovery, even if it lacks polish and sophistication.
This is the most physically close, emotionally intimate, vulnerable and trusting that Rey has ever been with another person. It's quite threatening, actually. In the aftermath as Ben lays collapsed and panting on her, Rey must resist the urge to push him off. To push him away.
"Thank you," he breathes into her ear before he kisses her deeply and finally—thankfully—rolls off.
They are laying side by side now. That actually helps. Just that little bit of physical distance from Ben reduces her anxiety. Rey feels emotionally claustrophobic as she processes what they have just done. What is she feeling? It's not regrets exactly. It's more like pressure. Rey is worried for what tonight means. And for what it will encourage Ben to expect.
Sure enough, he goes right there. "We will need to leave very soon."
We.
He first broached this topic last night. But admittedly, she did say that she would stay until he had healed enough to leave with her. Still, they never discussed things beyond the vague idea that they would jointly oppose Darth Sidious. They have never discussed the details of what that means.
"Are you sure you're healed enough?" she tries to stall.
"I'm fine. Every day is better."
"Where would we go?"
"Someplace remote. Neutral, if possible. We can get regular jobs and live like normal people. You may have to change your hair or something. You're pretty recognizable."
When she says nothing, he continues. "We'll also need to change our names and invent a past. I don't care what the story is, as long as we commit to it. It should probably be generic. Just something to explain where we come from, how we met, when we got married . . . Things like that."
"M-Married?" she whispers, still staring at the ceiling.
Ben apparently has things all planned out. "We'll be just another young couple making our way in the galaxy. The goal is to be very ordinary. We just want to fit in. To meet expectations and be forgettable."
"Oh." She gulps.
Ben must sense her growing panic because he soothes, "I don't care if we make it official or not. I understand that I'll be a fugitive if anyone figures out who I am, so it's your call whether you want us to legally marry. Your commitment is enough for me."
"C-Commitment?" she whispers hoarsely.
"Yes." He turns on his side and reaches for her hand. He laces his fingers in hers and clasps them tightly. "You and me, working together in hiding to balance the Force. I will protect you, you will protect me. We both will protect our eventual children and students."
"C-Children?" she chokes.
He nods, his expression very serious. "The Force is strong in my family . . . our family," he corrects himself. "One day, we must pass on what we learn. That will be especially important if we cannot defeat Darth Sidious. All the knowledge of the Force will die with us if we don't pass it on."
"There is Plagueis," she suggests weakly.
"He's not enough."
"He's immortal."
"That's what he claims. But clearly, he can be hurt. Look at the guy. Besides, he's not a Chosen One. He can't balance the Force or he would have done it already. Rey, if we fail, the Skywalker bloodline must continue for there to be hope for the galaxy."
Ben has a point. Rey swallows hard and tries to tamp down her burgeoning misgivings. But as he keeps speaking, the future Ben envisions has more and more worrisome conditions.
"This is a fresh start but it must also be a clean break," he warns.
"You mean I can't tell my friends?"
"We have to remain a secret." Ben is firm.
She loosens the hand he's holding, snatching it back. "You mean you have to remain a secret." He's the fugitive, not her.
Ben doesn't take the rebuff. Instead, he snakes one long, muscled arm around her, scooping her close into the shelter of his side turned body. Who knew Kylo Ren would be a snuggler? The embrace is okay . . . well, maybe even sort of nice . . . but part of Rey feels a trapped. It's by his expectations as much as by his body.
"You were right last night," he tells her as he nuzzles her neck. "There is no place for me in the Republic. Besides, Sidious probably already has spies there like he did in the First Order."
She objects. "Oh, I think not—"
"Believe it. He famously played both sides of the Clone Wars. What makes you think he's not playing both sides of this war as well?"
She has no rebuttal to that logic. Ben's insight reminds her again of the advantage of having a Sith oppose a Sith. Ben knows how the enemy thinks since he was his proxy Apprentice for years. It's a good reminder that Rey needs this man as her ally if she is to prevail. Ben's skills are the reason she came here in the first place and the reason she stayed when he at first attempted to chase her away. But somehow in only a matter of few weeks, their alliance has become very personal.
Ben has her tucked under his chin now. His voice soft and husky in her ear. "Rey, if he finds us, he will use our dyad again. Now more than ever, he will need our combined power to rejuvenate himself."
"So I have to leave everything behind for you?" she restates his terms out loud.
"It's for us. For the future and for the galaxy as well."
He's sincere in his appeal to her altruism. But he's also strategic laying on the guilt. It's a pitch she's heard from him before—abandon the Resistance if you wish to save it. Yet again, Rey can't really refute his logic.
But he's moving so fast. Too fast. It's very Ben. For this is the very same man who offered her anything and everything as he stood with mutilated Snoke at his feet. They barely knew each other back then and yet he was proposing they govern the galaxy together. Rey didn't ask any questions in the throne room, but she implicitly understood the enormity of the moment. For when a Dark Sider negotiates to share power, it's serious business. Everyone knows there is no greater priority for a Sith than power.
Here again tonight, it's all talk of power and the Force. For it has not escaped her notice that there is no mention of love in all Ben's plans. It is deflating. Part of Rey can't help but feel rejected despite his grand heroic plans for their future together.
Will you love me? That's all she really wants to know, but she's afraid to ask. Because she could be convinced to run away to hide with Ben, including leaving behind the Resistance and her friends, if he would promise to love her . . . if the marriage and children he spoke of were real and not just a ruse and his duty to the Force. Will you love me? It's all she ever wanted on Jakku. As a child, she dreamed of the love of a family who would appear to rescue her from hardship. As she matured, that dream remained but another opportunity emerged as well. If she couldn't find her family, maybe she could make a new family of her own. A husband and children could fill the aching void of loneliness instead of her long-lost parents.
Is this it? Is Ben her chance? He thinks so, and he claims the Force wills it as their destiny. But Rey is less persuaded by talk of fate than she is by free will. What does Ben want for himself? Will you love me? Is he choosing her or letting the Force choose for him? Ben might not see a difference, but she does. For the orphaned, much scorned scavenger girl from Jakku very much desires to be wanted.
She's direct by nature in many things but not in this. For this is not the sort of question Rey feels she can pose even though it's a dealmaker or dealbreaker for Ben's whole scheme. She fears looking pitiful by begging for affection that ought to be spontaneously given. Asking the question is to provoke the answer that will give her the justification to accept. But that's not what she wants.
Rey grew up negotiating in Jakku's barter economy. She's no stranger to making deals and accepting less than she wants But frankly, she's giving up far too much in Ben's scenario not to get a sincere promise of affection.
So, she tentatively prods, "What about us?"
"Us?" he echoes.
"Us." She refuses to be more specific.
He must sense her unease because he starts backtracking now. "You can set the terms. Don't let the word marriage scare you off. Call us whatever you like. Husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, partners, whatever. If you want to be roommates for the public, that's fine. I guess brother and sister would be okay as well for now . . . I defer to you."
That's not giving her reassurance.
"There is one thing I will insist on."
"Yes?" she asks hopefully.
"When we are safely away from Plagueis, I want to reestablish the bond."
The bond. Again, he's talking about their Force, not themselves.
"We are stronger together and safer together. I think in time, as we live and train together, the bond will grow even stronger than before. Our dyad has amazing potential."
He's right. But again, the words land flat. Maybe she's being exceedingly selfish in the moment, but Rey can't help but perceive this decision as her one and only chance for love. Because once she disappears into hiding with Ben—especially if they bridge their minds—how will she ever be able to find someone else? How could she possibly explain to another man that Kylo Ren can hear her thoughts but don't worry because it won't compromise their relationship? Rey knows with certainty that would be a lie. The bond will make Ben a permanent interloper in her life again until one of them dies. That seemed unavoidable before, but this time the bond is an affirmative choice. Does she want this? She's not sure.
"I don't know about the bond . . ." she hedges.
He is hurt. "You don't want us bonded?"
"I sort of got used to not having it . . ."
"I miss it. Don't you?"
"Do we really need it?"
"Think of all the power it will give us. Think of how much easier it will make training," Ben replies.
His answer is the Force . . . it's always the Force for Ben. Even something as intimate as the bond he thinks of in terms of strategy. And who is she fooling? This man was trained by a Sith Lord to wield the Dark Force. Strategy and power trump everything for him. For as he has both shown her and told her time and again, he's still very much Kylo Ren. Tonight, naked and held close in his arms, is just the latest example.
"Think about the bond. It's important. But we don't have to decide now."
"Yeah, okay . . ." With relief, she immediately accepts his punt.
Ben drops a kiss on head. "I hear your mind working."
She doesn't deny it.
"I sense great fear in you."
"It's true," she admits. She's afraid of this decision to leave with Ben and what it means for her future. She's afraid of Darth Sidious lurking out there somewhere. She's also very afraid of that vision of herself on the Dark Side.
Ben soothes, "You have always had fear and anger. The Dark Side is in your nature, like it's in mine. I can help you learn to manage it so you don't become Luke."
That sounds so ominous. Rey gulps. "I don't want to become Luke." Luke was alone. For years and years, he was alone. It's a fate she will do anything to avoid.
Her mind must be screaming out her thoughts because even without the intense connection of the bond, Ben knows what she's thinking. "You're not alone. You have me. And with the bond, you will have me forever, no matter what happens. Even if we are forced to separate at some point."
She wiggles in his arms now, turning to face him. This conversation keeps provoking more anxiety. Feeling panicky, she shuts it down. "Ben, don't talk. Just hold me."
It works for a moment before he resumes his planning. While stroking her hair, he wonders, "How much fuel do we have? We have a long way to go to get back to civilization . . ."
"It will be enough," she mumbles into his chest.
"I want to get that sword from the vault. If we leave tomorrow after Vanee returns, then—"
Frustrated, she kisses Ben to shut him up. Tonight was perfect until he began planning for their looming reality. All his talk of decisions ruined the afterglow fast. Rey has no rose-colored glasses. She's dealt with ugly practicalities all her life. But it encroached too quickly tonight on what should have been a special moment. Now, Rey feels pressured and uncertain.
Ben takes the kiss as a cue to resume their passion. "Let's make sure you'll never be a celibate Jedi," he whispers. He is ready for round two, and Ben's body is the comfort she needs right now.
This time, there is less trepidation. They are both far from experienced—there is still much fumbling and some awkwardness—but there is also hedonistic abandon and no small amount of intentional escapism on Rey's part.
If nothing else, she and Ben have this. Brief and primal though it is, it's wonderful. This is lust, not true love. There are no endearments or declarations spoken between them. But Rey feels certain that Ben cares for her. Just like how she cares for him, despite all he has done. Ben is many things, and not all of them are good. But some of them are.
Tonight is not a moment of true accord—if anything, tonight has made clear the extent of their differences. Rey has a lot to think about. And so, when they are both spent a second time, she pushes him away.
"I need to be alone," she confesses, a little ashamed to meet his eyes. She doesn't want to hurt him. "I need to think."
"I know." He seems to expect her request. "I'll give you your space."
"It's not that I don't want you around—"
"I know," he overrides her sputtering explanation. Leaning forward to kiss her goodbye, he assures her, "I know you need your distance."
He rises from the bed to dress. She watches in increasingly troubled silence. Does he know how torn she feels? He must. Because before Ben leaves, he tells her, "I'm trusting you. I don't want to wake up tomorrow to learn you fled in the night without me."
It's a line she's heard before. "I won't," she promises. It's the only commitment she's ready to make. And even it's not an easy one.
He nods. "We leave tomorrow after I get a sword."