A/N-As I write the final third-ish of this story, the chapters are getting very long. So I've decided to up the chapter count from eight to eleven. It shouldn't change anymore; there's just a lot to tie up by the end of this fic, and I don't want to rush through crucial elements of Ben and Rey's story arcs.

Edit: Sorry for some formatting issues when this was first posted! I've fixed the ones I've found; hopefully there aren't anymore.

It was overwhelming anguish and a red blade thrust into Rey's heart that woke her. Tangling in her blanket, she bolted upright before inspecting her uninjured torso. Alarmed, she realized her bond with Ben was the source of the sensation. The feeling abruptly stifled, lingering only as an anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She searched for and found Ben's presence in the Force as she took in uneven breaths. His signature was strong and localized nearby.

As the adrenaline shock subsided, Rey took stock of her surroundings. The small cabin she occupied on the Falcon looked just the same as it had when she'd fallen asleep. Everything was silent. No emergency klaxons blared. Only the quiet hum of the sublight engines reverberated through the ship. Even so, a nagging sensation told her something was wrong.

She swung her legs off the bunk while glancing at the chrono. It was still the middle of the Falcon's night cycle. Despite her dread, Rey sat on the edge of the bed to gather herself. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was going to be another one of those nights. Rey didn't feel rested, and she didn't think she was going to sleep again any time soon. Resigned, she shifted her mind back to what woke her. Ben. With renewed apprehension, she quickly dressed.

Stepping into the darkened corridor, she shivered and wondered if he was working. Rey realized she knew very little of what he did with his waking hours. With a pang of sadness, she headed for the one place he was likely to be. Stopping outside the rear cargo hold, she wasn't sure if she should interrupt him. Since boarding the Falcon, he'd sequestered himself in the storage bay to record his knowledge of the First Order.

Yet in the three standard days since their departure, the ship still floated listless in the dark and empty nothingness between stars. They should've flown to the Resistance after she picked him up; he could've saved time and effort by informing the leadership in person. Though she'd told no one of her meeting with him, the time-sensitive nature of what he knew couldn't be overstated. It was imperative that the Resistance obtained the knowledge he had before it became obsolete, and Rey felt a building pressure to ensure he delivered it without delay. Ostensibly, they didn't set a course in an effort to throw off the First Order's scent. But Rey could see the decision for what it was: Ben was stalling.

With a melancholy ache, she had a strong suspicion that he wasn't ready to come face-to-face with Leia. She knew the impending reunion between him and his mother must be a daunting prospect. Although Rey was wary of hope deluding her again, she had a sincere wish that they would find reconciliation. The general rarely mentioned her son. But these occasions were accompanied by long stretches of quiet and a profound sadness in her eyes. Rey recognized it as identical to the look she'd glimpsed in Ben's. In moments like those, she understood the strange ethereal connection a mother could have with her child despite distance, time, and hurt. In the darkest corner of her mind that mired itself in envy and despondency, Rey wondered what she'd done to cause her own mother to sever the bond they'd once shared. In stark contrast, it was clear that Leia still held an undeniable love for her son. Rey just hoped he felt the same.

So despite her urgency, she was reluctant to rush Ben into a meeting he wasn't ready for. If he needed some time to come to terms with the inevitable reunion, Rey could give him the space she thought he needed. But regardless of her considerations, she barely saw him anyway.

Manning the Falcon with just two people could be lonely when sleeping hours were factored in. Though her missions with Chewie made the routine familiar, Rey felt an acute isolation on this particular flight. She and Ben didn't cross paths much. Though there was a necessary overlap in their shifts, they were far too busy with their own tasks. Rey spent most of her waking hours tackling the Falcon's extensive backlog of maintenance issues. The ship had seen far better days, and it seemed something was always in dire need of repair. As for Ben, she imagined his efforts were quite time-consuming.

At least, that's what she told herself. The alternative was that he actively avoided her. Since she'd picked him up, Rey felt an insurmountable gulf between them. The few occasions she saw him were laced with palpable discomfort. They hardly spoke, and he always seemed on edge and eager to get away. Whenever these interactions stung her, she had to remind herself that he wasn't there for her. He didn't seem to trust her. After what she'd done in the throne room, why would he?

They shared a Force bond, but that didn't mean he wanted anything to do with her. Since that first day, she'd felt no stirrings from his side. It was as dull and silent as it had ever been during their months apart, and Ben seemed intent on keeping it that way. Despite yearning for the intimacy they'd found prior to Crait, Rey was afraid of relaxing her barriers or even broaching the subject to him. She was afraid of what it could lead to, afraid of reopening the wound she'd created when she shut him out. Considering their history, she reasoned silence was better than conflict.

But Rey was feeling the distance. They were together on the same ship yet separated in every way. It was one thing to be alone. It was another thing entirely to ache for a connection with someone that didn't seem to want it. It just compounded the existing isolation she'd been feeling for months. Rey was often surrounded by people, but she found friendship with only a select few. Even then, she saw them sporadically at best. She hadn't even seen Finn in months. From the little communication she'd had with him, his long-term mission to increase the defection rate of stormtroopers was quite successful. But his effectiveness meant he hadn't returned to base in some time.

Regardless, Rey was never in one place long enough to grow any sort of close attachment. Most of her missions shuffled her around the galaxy with people she never saw again. She felt adrift on the wind and unable to put down roots. She knew her loneliness was a self-inflicted wound; no one forced her to accept the assignments that took her away from those she'd found companionship with. Yet despite a life spent waiting on one planet, Rey now found herself in a constant state of movement and didn't know how to stop. She didn't understand where the compulsion came from, but she knew it had nothing to do with her drive to take on as many missions as possible. Rey allowed herself to fall back into a familiar life of solitude and self-reliance, and she hated it.

Ben's avoidance of her fit uncomfortably-well with this existence. As she stared at the cargo hold's hatch, she felt into the Force for his side of the bond. It was unyielding and unresponsive, and the sting of isolation bit sharper. Swallowing past a bitter sadness, Rey thought better of disturbing him and walked away.

Lost in thought, she jumped when she rounded the corridor and came upon him anyway. Ben sat outside the cockpit with his back against the wall and his lightsaber in front of him. His legs were drawn up and the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. Even from down the corridor, Rey could hear the great shuddering breaths he took. He looked small, smaller than his imposing stature would seem to allow. Her heart twisted at how vulnerable he looked. It was incongruous to everything she knew about him. Rey hesitated before closing the distance, and her concern only heightened with each step.

"Ben?" He didn't answer. Rey stared at the pale skin exposed by his sleeveless undershirt and felt an instinct to comfort him in his distress. Unsure of whether or not she was doing the right thing, she reached for his bare shoulder. When her fingertips touched his skin, Rey felt a surge at the point of contact.

Her awareness of the Force suddenly bloomed as if a curtain had been swept aside. Astonished by what she could sense and feel, she looked around as if she were experiencing the world for the first time. It was beautiful. She turned her attention back to Ben and found that the greatest concentration of the power and intricacy came from him. As she tried to catch her breath, she realized it was the first time their bare skin had touched without the bond acting as a conduit. Something in her thrilled and rejoiced as if it had waited months for this moment. Maybe years. Perhaps even a lifetime.

But when Ben stiffened and his side of the bond slipped open, she snatched her hand away at the [rejection] that crashed into her. When he snapped the connection shut, Rey was left feeling cold and hurt. Her awareness of the Force was still there, but it had lost its luster. The thing inside her that sang with happiness now mourned. A familiar hollowness widened inside her in response to his denial. She felt the urge to run. But Ben still hadn't moved since she'd found him, and she could clearly see that he was in pain. Rey didn't want to leave him alone if she might be able to help. If he told her to leave, she would.

Still feeling the sting of his rebuke, she swallowed her hurt and crossed the corridor. His lightsaber lay as a line in the sand. She drew her knees to her chest as she lowered herself to the floor and watched him warily.

After a few moments, Ben's breathing slowed and some of the tension released from his body. He lowered his hands and stared at the wall above her head. She could see the distant thoughts in his gaze when he asked, "Have you ever watched a man's eyes as he's dying?"

Self-conscious and uncomfortable, Rey shifted. She looked at her knees and said, "Yes, I have." Turning her attention back to Ben, he stared at her with an intense look in his dark eyes. Feeling as if a spotlight had been shone on her, Rey said, "Jakku was… an unforgiving place to live. I found more than one person dying in those deserts growing up." She swallowed against the images that came unbidden into her mind. One in particular haunted her still. "I was looking for salvage when I found a woman who'd holed up in an abandoned Star Destroyer. She didn't have any food, probably hadn't eaten in weeks. I was frightened by the way her bones stuck out," Rey said in a distant voice as she lost herself in the memory. "I remember wondering if I looked the way she did; I wasn't much better off myself. Even so, I thought I could help her. I didn't have any food either, but I offered her some water from my canteen."

Rey looked down at her knees. "She couldn't talk. She just moaned and tried to wave me away. The noise that came out of her throat…" Rey's brow furrowed as she closed her eyes and swallowed. She was intimately familiar with it. Like a rattle mixed with the dry sound of sand blowing across the desert floor. It made frequent appearances in her nightmares. She looked back at Ben. "I was afraid of her. But I wanted to help, so I tried to give her some water anyway. It just pooled and ran down her jaw. She didn't even try to drink it."

Her eyes stung, and she looked away from his piercing gaze. "I cried. I didn't understand. Why wouldn't she let me help her? Didn't she want to live? She was suffering, and I didn't know what to do. After trying many times, I just sat and watched her stare at the ceiling. I don't know how long I stayed. But after awhile, she looked at me instead. I remember feeling like I couldn't turn away…

"And then… I don't know… She just wasn't there anymore. It was the smallest of changes, but that slight difference tilted the world under me. When I realized what happened… I ran away from her." Rey looked down at her hands. "I was so weak, I didn't even get far before I collapsed."

Rey let the memory of her sobs and the coarse sand consume her until the silence in the corridor became oppressive. "I never returned to that Star Destroyer again. I never told anyone about her, never knew what happened to her body." She felt a pang of guilt. "Hers was the first death I witnessed. I was seven. I didn't even know her name…" A tear traced its way down her face before she roughly wiped it away with the heel of her hand.

After a moment, she gathered the courage to look at Ben again. He stared at her with an expression she couldn't decipher. Was it pity? Was he judging her? Rey wanted to hide. She wanted to escape the failure she felt at not being able to help the nameless woman. Despite her best efforts, more tears slid down her face. Rey felt exposed. She couldn't conceal herself from his unreadable gaze, and it left her feeling vulnerable. In her distress, Rey's hold on her mental barrier slipped, and the bond opened. [guilt, embarrassment]

Ben flinched, and she hastily corrected her mistake. She looked down at her knees again.

They sat in uncomfortable silence until he said, "You were right about me." Rey looked up and saw the pain in his eyes. "Killing Han tore me apart."

It was the promise of self-inflicted retribution that persuaded Ben to leave the cargo hold. A few hours prior, he'd finished recording everything he knew about the First Order. Having completed the task, he found he had nothing more to occupy his mind. Feeling trapped on a ship he had no right to be on, his thoughts raced as they surfaced memories of his childhood, of the Falcon… of Han.

He had no desire to let those recollections run unchecked through his head. Afraid of where they would lead, he attempted meditation. Ben often surprised himself with how well he managed to quash his anger, fear, and circling thoughts with the now-frequent ritual. But on this night, the calm mind he sought eluded him. Every time he tried to grasp at the edges of tranquility, a voice, a touch, an image of a past long dead would intrude. No matter how hard he tried to block them out, Ben was never far enough away from the memories of his family and childhood.

When he boarded the Falcon, he took up residence in the rear cargo hold in the hopes that he could avoid them. When Rey insisted that he use the crew quarters, he refused. While he didn't want reminders of what once was, it also seemed rude of him to evict her from the space she'd been using for herself. Yet when he glanced through the hatch and saw none of her personal artifacts, it struck him how transient the quarters looked. It was bare and showed not a single sign of use. Rey had mentioned the frequent flights she took on the Falcon, but she'd never settled into the space. With a stab of sadness, he wondered why she hadn't. She certainly had more right to it than he did. Ben couldn't bear the memories and guilt that flooded in just from standing outside the hatch.

He needed to be as far away from the living areas of the ship as possible. Rey couldn't understand the reasoning behind his choice. She even suggested that he use the bunk located in the ship's communal space. But Ben still refused and insisted on the privacy of the cargo hold. She seemed agitated when she pointed out that he could be thrown against the heavy crates if they had to make an unexpected maneuver. Ben made a half-hearted dark joke. He could tell she didn't think it was funny. Regardless of her misgivings, he retreated to the cramped sanctuary of a couple blankets spread across the grating between two large containers.

In any case, he didn't need comfort because he didn't rest much anyway. His nightmares had grown constant, and sleep became its own torture. In an attempt to stave off the hellish visions, he forced himself to stay awake as long as his body would allow. But some monsters didn't need sleep to invade his mind. The cargo hold became the only way to keep them at bay. Within its confines, he tried to avoid the memories and only ventured out when necessary.

He barely saw Rey. There always seemed to be something she was working on or tinkering with. But she never once sought him out. He couldn't blame her. He could sense her discomfort whenever they happened to encounter each other. She seemed to want distance between them. Despite how much he wanted otherwise, Ben granted it without comment. After the choice he'd forced her to make on the Supremacy, he had no right to request anything from her. So he repressed his regret and disappointment to focus on the work he'd given himself. He needed the Resistance to turn the tides of the war. He needed to undo his wrongs. At least, the ones that could be undone.

But when recording no longer took up the space in his mind, and meditation failed to prevent its occupation, he couldn't stop the self-destructive impulses that took over. Despite his previous aversion to the idea, he did what he told himself he wouldn't do: Ben wandered and indulged in old memories. He felt a compulsion to punish himself, an almost masochistic need to be reminded of what he'd destroyed.

That was how he found himself standing at the end of the tunnel leading to the cockpit while his heart clawed at the inside of his ribcage. In the days since he'd arrived on the ship, he had been given every excuse to avoid the space. The Falcon was essentially on autopilot, and if any course corrections were needed, Rey had taken care of them.

Seeing the cockpit quiet and empty, Ben felt the urge to avoid it at all costs. But his feet carried him forward anyway. As he drew closer, he heard voices and shouts of laughter that were once familiar. Compelled down the corridor, he felt the pull of a memory from decades ago.

/ / /

Chewie warbled in amusement as he hurtled through the Falcon. Ben giggled on his furry shoulders, his head dangerously close to the ceiling. The wookie ducked low as he rushed into the cockpit. Han turned from his work as they barreled into the space.

"Careful, Chewie! You're gonna give the kid a damn concussion one of these days," Han laughed as he reached up to pull Ben into his arms. Chewie nodded and mumbled in an abashed way. Ben felt his heavy paw pat his head gingerly in apology. Looking up at the wookie, he giggled one last time before his father swung him around to the front of the cockpit.

"Alright, little starfighter. Let's get this bucket ready to fly." Han sat in the pilot's seat with Ben in his lap. Uncle Chewie lowered himself into the copilot's chair. As his father tried to work, Ben reached for the buttons and levers within his reach. Han readied the ship with one hand while using the other to gently pull his son's wrist away from the controls.

"You're gonna be a natural, kid, just like your old man," he said with a lopsided smile. Ben's face split with a toothy grin as he looked up at him. "You'll be making the Kessel Run in no time." Chewie roared in agreement.

/ / /

Ben stared at the vacant seats of the darkened cockpit. The laughter was just a memory and a distant one at that.

It felt like something was strangling Ben's heart. His breath came in shallow bursts as his body shuddered beyond his control. His hands and feet felt numb and tingly. An oppressive weight grew in his chest. He squeezed his eyes to shut out the cockpit. Ben recognized the event for what it was: a panic attack, one reminiscent of the many he experienced during his youth. For years, he'd used the darkness to stave them off, to prune them the instant they seemed ready to emerge. Without that aid, the assault on his mind and body was agonizing.

Knowing the soothing numbness it could bring, he thought of dipping into that well of power once more. Ben felt for the darkness at the edge of his mind, always there, a beast kept at bay only by the fortification he'd built against it. It was tantalizingly close. As he brushed against it, he felt the tinges of cold apathy it promised. Ben shook his head in agitation. He'd come so far. He'd made progress. He could do this alone; he didn't need the crutch of darkness. Steeling himself, Ben pulled away from it.

The attack recommenced in full force. Ben desperately needed the grounding of a hard surface. He stumbled away from the cockpit, and his back hit a wall. He let himself slide down its surface as he shuddered out ragged breaths. He rested his forearms on his drawn up knees and shook his wrists in an attempt to get feeling back into his hands. He tried focusing on his breathing to center his mind and arrest the snowball effect of the attack. He remembered another episode from when he was a boy.

/ / /

The voices in his head had become so distressing in their cruelty, in their ability to warp the world around and within him, he began to levitate objects around his bedroom. He hugged his knees as the voices slithered unobstructed through his mind. His mother eventually found him whimpering on the floor. It was one of the rare occasions she was home during the day. Leia approached him as if he were a cornered animal. But Ben latched onto the soothing noises she made as she sat beside him. He wanted more than anything to drown out the thoughts wriggling through his head.

His mother rubbed his back in gentle weighted circles. After he'd calmed somewhat, Leia asked softly, "What do we do when we're scared?"

Ben lifted his head from his knees as tears streamed down his cheeks. He gulped air a few times before saying, "We use our senses."

His mother smiled at him, her hand continuing its slow circles. "That's right. So what do you see?"

Ben took a couple shuddering breaths as he looked around. He saw the hovering objects. He slammed his eyes shut and shook his head. He felt Leia lean in closer to him.

"Come on, Ben. What do you see?" she asked in a reassuring voice, so different from the ones in his head. Ben opened his eyes again and looked past the things that floated around them.

"I see… my drawing of the priprak I found in our tintolive tree."

His mother gave him an encouraging smile and nodded. "Good. What do you smell?"

Ben tried to focus himself. "I smell the caf that Beex is making." As he mentioned the droid, he had to fight down an inexplicable panic that added to his already substantial fear. He hugged his knees tighter.

"You can do it, Ben. What else?"

Ben was able to tamp down his anxiety just a bit. "I taste the jogan I had with lunch." As he focused on the fruit's tart flavor, he noticed that fewer objects levitated around them. He swallowed, encouraged.

"I hear my calligraphy brushes… They're rattling less." His cheeks reddened, embarrassed by his lack of control.

"And what do you feel?"

Leia's hand still rubbed circles on his back. Ben focused intently on the pressure. He relaxed under the touch as something like peace warmed his body. He let out a long relieved breath as he looked at his mom's smile. The voices had abated.

/ / /

As he sat against the Falcon's curving wall, Ben swallowed against the weight in his chest and attempted to concentrate on his senses. He tried his best not to look at the cockpit. He focused instead on a slightly-askew panel across from him.

The tingling in his extremities dissipated somewhat.

He smelled ozone and machine oil.

His body trembled less.

He tasted the stale ration bar that stuck between his teeth.

He could breathe easier.

He heard the distant hum of the sublight engines.

The pressure on his ribcage eased a bit.

He felt something jabbing into his hip.

Reaching down, he unclipped the lightsaber from his belt. Ben sucked in a sharp breath and gripped it in his shaking hands. He was transfixed by its brutal lines and the damaged casing that barely contained a cracked and unstable Kyber crystal. He felt the tug of another memory. Ben squeezed his eyes shut as he willed it away. Of all the guilt he'd forced himself to confront, this was the one deed he could never bring himself to face. Don't make me relive it. Please. But the more he pushed against it, the stronger the pull to the past became. Ben groaned as the dread seeped in.

/ / /

He stood on an open skyway, an empty chasm falling to either side. His father's hands wrapped tight around the lightsaber. Kylo felt the inevitability of what he must do as it coalesced around him in a dark cloud. His hand turned and overpowered Han's grip. With a flick of his thumb and a savage upward thrust, he sought to destroy his past and the last link that connected him to the scared boy known as Ben Solo.

/ / /

Hunched outside the cockpit, Ben doubled over at the searing pain of that life-ending blow. It felt as if he had been stabbed. Maybe he had, in a way. He saw Han's accusing eyes. With a guttural yell, Ben threw his lightsaber against the opposite wall with as much force as he could muster. It bounced off and clattered to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

The guilt was overwhelming him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think of anything except for the endless loop of violence and condemnation. He was desperate for reprieve, anything to ease the torment that threatened to drive him into insanity. Without forethought, he grasped into the Force for the one thing he knew could bring some semblance of peace.

He felt Rey's jolt to wakefulness in the bond. Despite her confusion and fear, her warmth wrapped around him. He felt like a drowning man that had been thrown a line. The pull of her felt safe and soothing. It was even more enticing than the darkness had been. He could keep the bond open, he could-

No.

Ben jerked the barrier between them back into place. As he faced the guilt and pain on his side, he knew he had made the right choice. He was being selfish. He would not burden Rey with the extent of his misery. All that aside, he didn't deserve her comfort or empathy or compassion. With a twist in his gut, he knew she wouldn't offer him any of those things anyway. He was a monster. He'd done too much to too many people. He hunted down the last remaining remnants of the Resistance on Crait. He murdered Han in cold blood right in front of her. He deserved the suffering that was coming to him, and he would bear it willingly.

He rested his elbows on his drawn up knees and pressed his palms against his eyes. Ben allowed the memories of what he'd done to run rampant through his head. He gripped his hair in his hands until his scalp burned. He would endure the punishment.

Sometime later (it might have been minutes or even hours), he heard Rey's bare feet padding across the floor toward him. Ben didn't look up at her. He didn't want or deserve the reprieve of those eyes that were capable of such warmth and softness. As he replayed his guilts, he felt the need for hard cold and jagged edges.

"Ben?"

Her fingers touched his bare shoulder. It was the smallest of contact, but something potent shot through him where her skin met his. The breath left his lungs at the sheer power of it, and Ben marveled. Their hands had only ever touched once when they were light-years apart. Despite the intensity of that contact, he hadn't realized how much the bond dampened incoming sensations. This was something else entirely.

But what started as an aching thrill of fire morphed with alarming speed into a feeling of deep-seated abhorrence. It was rooted in something primal and horrified. Disgusted, even. He felt Snoke's hand on his cheek, and revulsion bubbled up and spilled over. Ben tensed, his control on the barrier failing. Before he could mask his emotions, [rejection] slipped through the bond. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and her hand withdrew from his shoulder. Appalled by what she might see or feel, he pulled the veil back into place.

Regardless of how successful he'd been, she stood silent before he heard her walk across the corridor and slide down the wall opposite. Ben felt shame and confusion. After the moment they'd had on Ahch-To, he should've welcomed the contact. He realized with a shock that he did want it. Intensely. The thought of her touch thrilled him in a way that astonished him. But as he entertained the idea of allowing her to do so, Snoke's twisted smile swam before him. Bile rose in his throat as he fought the urge to rub his skin clean.

He began to understand with devastating clarity that his previous master had left him with another mental scar, one he didn't even know he had. A powerful dismay overwhelmed him. He was defective. Broken. The man who violated the sanctity of his mind still haunted him months after his death. He felt weak. Ben was ashamed of how much he let Snoke affect him. How could a mere whisper in his head cause so much damage? He groaned inwardly. I'll never escape him. Ben's eyes stung. He would never be free of the insidious harm that Snoke had ingrained in him since childhood. But with demoralizing resignation, he knew he was enduring only what he deserved. What was one more punishment?

With that bleak acceptance in mind, he returned to the territory of indulging his guilt over what he'd done to Han. He waited for Rey to leave and maroon him with his torturous thoughts, but she never did. After a few minutes, he lowered his hands. He was feeling contemplative and worn down.

"Have you ever watched a man's eyes as he's dying?" He didn't expect her to answer. Ben supposed he only wanted to know that there were more things that separated them. He wanted to be monstrous, to keep her at a distance where she wouldn't be tainted by him.

Instead, "Yes, I have."

His full attention snapped to Rey. Ben really looked at her now, taking her in. Her eyes were downcast, and her fingers laced and unlaced in fidgety agitation. She looked… distant and in pain. Some complicated emotion roiled in his stomach and heart. Her eyes met his, and he glimpsed the lifetime of misery they could only hint at.

"Jakku was… an unforgiving place to live. I found more than one person dying in those deserts growing up…"

As he listened to Rey's story, his distress and sympathy for her grew to an unbearable pitch. Despite his earlier misgivings, he felt the urge to hold her and soothe away the unwarranted guilt she felt at the woman's death. His eyes stung at the thought of Rey enduring such harsh experiences at a young age. No one deserved them at any age. He thought of her growing up in a constant state of lacking and want. The want for food, the want for comfort, the want for her family. Anger seethed through his veins at the thought of her worthless parents and the life they'd abandoned her to.

But when he looked at Rey, it melted to something minuscule and unimportant. She looked so small, so vulnerable. It seemed a sharp contrast to the fierce woman he'd grown to begrudgingly then adamantly admire.

"Hers was the first death I witnessed. I was seven. I didn't even know her name…"

Ben's heart lurched when a tear fell from her eye, and he almost jumped up and closed the distance between them. He felt such a desperate longing to ease her pain. But with a grimace, he realized she probably didn't want him so close. And besides, what comfort could he possibly offer her? He stared at her, unsure of what to say. He felt adrift. There were too many thoughts in his head and not enough words to convey them. He yearned for the bond to be open to better articulate the extent of his empathy for her.

As if in response, [guilt, embarrassment] telegraphed through their connection. Ben couldn't hide the remorse he felt at her inadvertent admission. The emotions coming from her abruptly disappeared, and she broke eye contact. Rey didn't deserve to feel that way. She wasn't like him. What he had done was monstrous. She only did what any seven-year-old could rightly be expected to do (and then some). Rey had a good heart, one capable of almost too much compassion. Ben suddenly felt the swell of an emotion he hadn't felt in years. It had become so foreign, he almost didn't recognize what it was: affection. True honest fondness. He choked on the sentiment, feeling utterly incapable of processing it or knowing what to even do with it.

He kept his mouth shut, but his mind was in utter chaos. Even in the throne room or on Ahch-To, he'd never felt that way. In both of those instances, it was more like a desperate yearning for understanding, a want to ease the lifetime of loneliness he'd endured. This was entirely different. He floundered against it, unable to contemplate the gravity of the significance it held.

But at least he finally knew what he could do for her. Ben felt the need to offer her something, anything to show his gratitude for her honesty. He chose to trade vulnerability for vulnerability.

"You were right about me."

CW: Rey tells a story about the first death she witnessed. It's not described graphically. She was very young when this happened, and it was distressing to her.

CW: Ben subjects himself to emotional and mental "punishment" for his guilt.

CW: Ben has a panic attack.

CW: It's revealed that Ben has an aversion to skin-on-skin contact. This is tied to the mental abuse he suffered under Snoke. Ben thinks of himself as "broken" because of his inability to tolerate touch.

A/N-Panic attacks affect people in different ways, but I took some inspiration from my own experiences when I wrote Ben's.

The five senses exercise that Leia taught Ben is a simplified version of the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. I've personally found it useful as emergency relief for panic and anxiety.

In the next chapter, Ben and Rey start to communicate. Thanks for taking the time to read this story! Comments are always appreciated :)