A/N: Emotionally, this was probably the hardest chapter for me to write. I sincerely hope I'm handling the subject matter well. Please refer to the end of the chapter for warnings if you need them.

Ben trudged naked through a dark and snowy forest, his feet growing numb with each frantic step. He wanted to stop. He wanted to lay down, to give up, to let the cold take him away. But he felt the impetus to run away from something. Or toward? He didn't know. Dread was pooling in his gut like liquid metal.

As he moved through the trees, the volatile flicker of his lightsaber cast a ghostly red pallor on the trunks and unstable shadows in their wakes. The woods were deathly silent. The only sounds that reached Ben's ears were the crunch of his feet and his heavy labored breathing. All the while, he couldn't shake the feeling of utter despair that threatened to overtake him.

He began to hear whispers following him. They were timid at first but then tore at his exposed flesh like vicious carrion. Fear engulfed him as he tried to escape. He couldn't look back. To look back was to face unimaginable pain and guilt.

But the voices refused to be ignored. They mercilessly hunted Ben down and circled, spitting his crimes back at him. His feet wouldn't carry him any further, and he stood his ground to fight. But what could a saber do against the specters of the past? He couldn't kill them. He couldn't even defend himself from the truths they hurled at him.

"Monster!" 'Worthless!" "Aberration!" "Beast!" "Freak!" "Snake!" "Failure!" "Grotesque!" "Rabid Cur!" "Murderer!"

He scrunched his eyes shut and doubled over as icy tears ran down his face. He screamed under the combined onslaught of the voices, his throat bloody and raw. His agony reverberated off the snow and trees, magnifying the sound of his pain a hundredfold. It wouldn't end. He didn't think a person could be capable of enduring such unceasing torment. His knees felt like they were going to give out. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't live like this. He couldn't. He couldn't. He can't…

His vocal chords gave out as his lungs finally emptied. Heaving, he knew he had to end it. The voices demanded justice and retribution, and they wouldn't accept it bloodlessly. There was only one way Ben knew how to do that. As if knowing his intent, the whispers became seductive and enticing as they urged him on. His eyes fell on the lightsaber in his trembling hand, the snow flickering like fire beneath his feet. A terrifying resolve settled over him. He swallowed against the rawness in his throat as he raised the saber's quillon to his neck.

"Ben."

All at once, the voices vanished without a whisper to be heard. A benevolent hand gently grasped the bare bicep of his right arm. It radiated trust, safety, peace.

"Please stop. It's okay."It was a kind voice, a woman's voice that he knew. He could feel an intimate familiarity yet couldn't place it. He experienced an inexplicable pang of loss at not remembering who it belonged to. The hand on his arm squeezed. "You don't have to punish yourself anymore."It sounded like a plea. He could feel the desperation in her grip as her nails dug slightly into his skin.

He covered the woman's hand with his own, and he could feel it like a ray of sunshine made flesh. Ben's saber arm dropped heavily to his side as he let out a choked sob. Her hand was so warm, and he was so cold. Violent tremors shook him. His body and soul felt numb and devoid of life. It was only a matter of time before he succumbed to the snow. To die in frigid misery was what he deserved. But the woods were so dark, and he was so afraid. Terrified that he'd freeze without her warmth, he grasped the woman's hand. He needed her to not let go. He needed her to stay with him. He needed her.

As if in response to his fears, the woman moved closer to him. Her bare torso pressed against his back as her arms encircled him. Her hands splayed across his chest, and her cheek came to rest against his shoulder blade. Her thighs aligned with his as the space between them reduced to nothing. The woman's entire body was flush with his own, her skin kissing his in an embrace that nourished his famished soul. Her warmth seeped into every atom of his being, banishing the chill that had ruled him his entire life. His face twisted as an uncontrollable whimper escaped. He'd never known such tranquility and comfort.

"You're allowed to live. You're allowed to be happy." Her compassionate voice reverberated through him with firm resolution. "You're not unworthy of it." He felt her tears as they slid down his skin. The woman radiated powerful intent, and Ben felt something stir inside him. It was small but held undeniable significance. It was something he barely recognized, something he thought was lost. Something that was stolen by the voices that whispered to him his entire life. It was a flicker of Hope.

Ben felt as if he'd been stumbling through a blackened tunnel with blind eyes and hands. He carried a glowrod, except he couldn't remember how to use it. Ben fumbled for years trying to turn it on. In his attempts, he grew frustrated, frightened, angry, and despondent. After a time, it felt like such a pointless thing. He wanted to throw it away. He almost did.

But the woman had shown him where the activation switch was. Ben was dumbfounded. It seemed like such an effortless thing. Could it be so easy? Could turning on the light save him? As if the woman could read his thoughts, he felt her gentle dissent. It seemed imbued with equal parts sadness and encouragement. It was a feeling, a sentiment that conveyed so much meaning. Ben understood it as if she'd spoken aloud.

[[No, not easy. You have to feed it, nurture it. And even then, it only lights the dark. You still have to walk the path every day. But you don't have to walk alone.]] But Ben had always been alone. With overwhelming sadness, he reminded himself that no one would ever choose to walk such a path with him. It was uncomfortable, painful, and seemed to never end.

At the thought, he sensed the woman's disagreement again. He felt rather than heard [[I'm here with you. And I will always walk with you.]] She tightened her hold around him, and Ben's throat constricted too. He felt wrapped in the woman's warmth. But it wasn't just physical. It enveloped some arcane thing at the deepest and most unknowable part of his being. He watched in awe as something radiant and luminous emanated from the woman's open palms and sunk into his chest. The little flicker that had come to life within him fanned into a steady fire, and Ben felt lit from the inside out. He could feel Hope's warming embrace in the same way he felt the woman's touch.

It wasn't the empty kind of hope he clung to in his most desperate moments. It was the kind of hope that could resuscitate a soul, the kind that pledged a future. The unflagging certainty of pain and dread diminished to just another possibility among many, the unattainable transforming into the possible. Ben felt an assurance that things like "tomorrow" and "happiness" were actually achievable. It was a simple realization, but its impact was seismic.

He was breathless. His knees buckled, and he collapsed in a puddle of melted snow. Ben cried as hope washed over him in waves that buoyed him above the despair. A lifetime of hurt and hopelessness spilled out of him. He wept without shame and grasped at the woman's hands in desperation and gratitude. She clung to him, her own tears falling on his skin. She was a lifeline he never thought he needed, and he never wanted to let go of her.

But when he eventually felt the woman slipping away, Ben panicked.

"No, don't go! Don't leave me!" He clutched at the hands that fell from his chest as he begged her to stay.

He couldn't see her, but he felt the woman's smile like a promise. [[I'm not going anywhere, Ben.]]

/ / /

Ben woke with a start, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He no longer felt the press of warm skin against his back. The unforgiving floor grates of the cargo bay bit into his bare side through the thin blanket he lay upon. He breathed heavily into the darkness of the hold. The woman from his dream was gone.

Rey.

He couldn't be sure why, but her name came unbidden into his mind. In answer, Ben felt the bond between them open, and he was startled to feel her lying right in front of him. He could only just make out her form in the gloom. He froze, unsure of what he should do. Still heavily affected by his dream, he took great gasps of air as he tried to regain his composure. It was difficult. An intense agitation flowed from her to him. Though her body barely touched his, she seemed as taut as a bowstring. But he could feel the warmth that radiated from her in the cold of the space. She was so close. Ben closed his eyes as he breathed her in, and contentment rolled through him. He experienced a powerful sense of recognition. It felt like the dream.

As his mind and body calmed, he could sense the same thing happening to Rey. Ben lost himself in her. After a few moments of quiet when neither of them stirred, he felt something small and secret traverse the bond from her to him. She leaned against him, and he felt an incredible sense of oneness with the woman who lay with him in the dark. He had an intense urge to wrap his arms around her.

But like a switch that had been flipped, Ben was suddenly overwhelmed by the intimacy and closeness. Maybe it was the initial shock of finding her so close, maybe it was the lack of skin-to-skin contact. Regardless of how he managed to suppress his aversion to touch, it made a vicious reappearance as if angry that it had been ignored. It was all too much. He felt nauseous and self-conscious and vulnerable.

But more than anything, he was appalled with himself. Did she even want this? He felt like an unwelcome intruder. His stomach dropped sickeningly at the thought that he was doing to her what Snoke had done to him: forcing himself into the private life of an unwilling victim. It was deplorable. He was deplorable. Rey's powerful distress when he found himself at her back suddenly made sense. Ben wrenched himself from the bond before throwing up a firm barrier between them. Her warmth blinked out of existence. He couldn't allow anymore inadvertent contact, and he wouldn't let his emotions leech out to her. Ben needed to keep himself in check. Feeling ashamed for slipping up again, he groaned and rolled onto his back as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

After the self-disgust and embarrassment subsided, Ben felt weary and exhausted. He dropped his hands to his chest and stared into the dark. In the quiet, his mind returned to the dream. The fear and pain, the warmth and hope. And the woman. When he thought of her, his chest ached with confusing familiarity and want. Ben closed his eyes against the darkness and sighed. It was just a dream, he reminded himself. As if to prove it, he searched for the hope that she'd helped him rediscover.

But it wasn't there. Ben couldn't sense the fire anymore, let alone the flicker that precipitated it. Intense sorrow overtook him. Hope didn't exist. At least, not in him. In any case, he didn't deserve it anyway. People like him didn't get to have hope. They weren't allowed to have happy futures. The only justifiable possibility that lay ahead of him was annihilation.

The conflict he'd struggled with for so many months raged anew. Ben swallowed against a sudden thickness in his throat. Did he want to die, or did he want to live? He knew the end of the first path. It was short, sure, and ended his suffering. The second path was lost in a dark and twisting tunnel. He didn't know where it went. He didn't know what lay at the end of it or even how long it was. But after he'd let his guilt and pain consume him outside the cockpit, he just didn't want to hurt anymore. It was the only certainty he knew.

Even so, he felt it like another failure. He'd told himself that suffering was all he deserved, but he couldn't even do that right. With everything he'd done, he should've endured whatever punishment he subjected himself to until no more could be wrung from him. But Ben was weak and tired and selfish and frightened. His pain felt empty and meaningless. It wouldn't make people forgive him. It wouldn't bring anyone he'd killed back to life. It changed nothing. It achieved nothing.

Then you have your answer. Kill yourself. End your conflict and suffering.

Ben cried. Despite the dark, despite being alone, he hid the humiliation of his tears behind his hands. It was so plain. It was the most direct thought he'd ever had concerning suicide. Ben was overwhelmed by a powerful shame he didn't understand. He felt gutted, his heart clawing at the inside of his chest. His death should be what he wanted. One less nightmare to haunt the galaxy. One less tortured soul to remind others of what they'd lost.

But confronted with actually making the choice to kill himself, Ben didn't want to die. At the thought of him no longer being, he felt an acute existential sorrow. Something in him still clung to life with desperate persistence. But it wanted things he didn't deserve. It yearned for a future that couldn't be. He hated wanting things he could never have. He hated the constant torment of his own mind. Ben hated being Ben.

He was so pitiful and indecisive. He didn't want to die, but he was in so much pain. Ben felt cut open and raw. He'd overfed his darkest thoughts and worst memories with the desire that they'd tear him apart. But they only left him wounded while his soul sustained endless scars in its attempts to repair the damage. He only wanted to be free of it all. The pain, the guilt, the turmoil. He wanted it all to stop.

But Ben didn't know how he wanted to be free of those things. He felt lost and defeated by his own sorrow. It gorged itself on the quiet sobs that betrayed the helplessness he felt in every part of him. Ben just didn't have the strength to interrupt it. For some time, he just let it feast.

… There could be another way.

It was such a tentative thought. It was shaky and unsure, but it broke through his despair like a singular candle flame in the vastness of a dark night. You know what it feels like to be liberated from it all. Ben choked back a new wave of tears as the dream returned to him. The woman and her hope. His hope. Could they really hold the answer to his suffering? He wasn't so optimistic, but he was desperate for reprieve. Ben wiped the tears from his face with trembling hands as a wavering determination pushed against the despondency. It couldn't hurt to try. At least, it couldn't hurt more than what was already tearing him apart.

Ben closed his eyes and recalled the dream with surprising clarity. He focused on the feelings his and the woman's hope elicited in him. He'd felt relieved of his pain and sorrow. He'd felt as if a burden that had crushed him for so long had been lifted. He'd felt alive. He'd felt free.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the loss of those feelings, he stifled a cry of despair. His heart was so heavy without the light of hope that had ignited in his chest. He felt as if he were grieving. He longed for those feelings to return. He longed to feel genuine hope again. The freedom and relief he felt in his dream promised things the short path of death couldn't. Death was cold and final nothingness. But Hope… It opened Ben up to so much uncertainty. It could lead to a future of more suffering. Or it could lead to one that eased it. Or even one that Ben might find peace and joy in.

But he couldn't even fathom what such a future would look like.

"You're allowed to live. You're allowed to be happy." Ben swallowed. He wasn't sure if he deserved either of those things. He didn't know if Death or Life lay in his near future. But he wanted to feel that hope again. The agony he'd forced himself to bear was unendurable. He didn't understand how, but maybe hope could ease the pain. With desperate resolve, Ben attempted to find the flicker he'd uncovered in his dream.

But it didn't take long before he came upon an insurmountable obstacle: He didn't know what genuine hope was. He could recall from the dream how it made him feel, but not how to find it. The more he tried to do so, the more elusive it seemed to be. In trying to achieve the impossible, Ben's frustration threatened to boil over. Before it could, he forced himself to stop. To breathe. After a few moments, the edge of anger softened, but the despair did not. If hope was in him, he couldn't find it. And if he couldn't find it, it might as well not exist anyway.

[[You have to feed it, nurture it.]] How could he, though? How could he feed what he didn't have? He almost lost himself in hopelessness again before an idea managed to fight through the gathering storm. He could try meditation. It had always been a way to escape his thoughts. Maybe this time he could use its calm to examine them. Maybe…

With a sudden determination that surprised even him, Ben sat up in the darkness. Crossing his legs and setting his hands on his knees, he forced himself to push the circling doubts aside. He blew out an exhale as he shut his eyes. Focus. He brought his attention to bear on the individual muscle groups of his body. With purpose, Ben released the coiled tension in one. When he was satisfied, he moved on to another. After his body felt loose and pliable, he began one of his breathing exercises. As the measured breaths centered his mind, the silence of the darkened cargo hold enveloped him. He found the sensory deprivation soothing in its own way. He saw nothing, and he heard nothing beyond the sound of his respiration.

Some time later, Ben found the utter calm he sought. Rolling his shoulders, he brought his mind to focus on a singular task: What in his life could possibly feed hope? There isn't anything. Your life is miserable because you deserve to be. Ben's jaw tightened. With difficulty, he pushed the thought aside and denied the attention it sought. Before refocusing on his task, he loosened his body once more to release the tension that had crept back in. He brought the question back to his mind.

Ben tried to be methodical as he examined his memories and emotions with a clear head. But it didn't take long before the weight of all that he'd done and all that he'd experienced pushed against the calm he tried so hard to maintain. Ben stopped frequently to center himself, but it became more difficult with each thought he scrutinized. If anything, the self-reflection only intensified his despair. In his effort to discover hope, he only found things that strangled it. After countless frustrating attempts that ended in him needing to step back, Ben almost abandoned the pointless venture all together.

As he tried once more to find his way back, his mind touched on a particular moment. Focusing on it, he realized it was something he'd circled several times but refused to give credence to. Maybe he didn't want to. But there was something he could latch onto. Or rather, someone. He shook his head as if to push the idea away. A not-insignificant part of him still believed he didn't deserve to find what he sought. But Ben remembered the hope in his dream, and his heart ached at the absence of it.

With some reluctance, he allowed himself to recall the previous night. His stomach clenched at the painful memories he'd indulged, the panic, the all-consuming guilt. But he forced himself to look past them. Behind his eyelids, he saw Rey sitting in front of him. He felt the warmth, intention, and emotion she'd telegraphed to pull him out of his own head. He allowed those feelings to wrap around him now. Something in his chest tightened. He remembered her eyes. They were pained but held so much compassion and earnestness.

"You're not alone, Ben." The darkness swallowed the inarticulate noise that slipped from his lips. His throat was too thick. She'd meant it. He could feel that she'd meant it. After everything he'd done, she could've left him to drown in his pain and hopelessness. But she stayed with him. Ben felt a heavy emotion building in his chest as tears fell into his lap. No one had ever stayed for him. But Rey did. She stayed to help him. She kept her side of the bond open for him. She didn't shut him out, and she didn't push him away. She didn't judge him for falling apart in front of her. She only gave him unwavering compassion. She cared about his well-being. Rey was the kind of person he'd been missing his whole life.

For a moment, he was too overwhelmed by a confusing tangle of relief, sadness, contentment, and tiredness to notice it. But Ben felt that little flicker again. It was so tentative, but it was there. Astonished, he recognized it as identical to what the woman helped him uncover in his dream. It was just the smallest of flames, but it was the same. Ben marveled at the feeling before latching onto it, afraid that it would snuff out if he let the slightest bit of hopelessness in.

Bringing all his focus to bear, he protected the little flicker of hope with desperate Ben was lost. He felt as if he held some incredible power and didn't understand how to use it. It was like standing amidst a pile of books without the ability to read. The flicker wasn't a fire like the one in his dream, and he didn't know how to harness it into something that he could use. Now what?

[[Nurture it.]] The woman knew it would require effort and attention to keep his hope alive. He needed to feed it. But something in him scoffed at the idea. What makes you think you deserve hope after everything you've done? Ben felt the familiar stab of guilt, and his doubt guttered the little flame inside. Panicking, he thought of Rey again. He focused on her compassion and care and willingness to stay. After a moment, the flicker steadied again.

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, his mind couldn't help but return to the question. Did he deserve it? He thought of the woman's kindness and unflagging encouragement. She thought he deserved it. And Rey. He remembered her concern and intense desire to help him. In so many ways, she'd made it clear that she wanted him to step into the light. She must think he deserved hope too. The flame grew just a bit at the thought.

But outside its glow, the monsters of guilt, fear, uncertainty, and pain bared their hungry teeth. He heard their whispers in the dark. They waited for him to lose his grip. They waited for him to fail. Ben guarded the little flicker as if it was the only thing that protected him. But how long could he hold it? The monsters were patient things that watched his every thought. At the first sign of doubt, Ben was sure they'd tear him apart. How could he possibly maintain a constant grip on hope when the darkness was only a step away? What if he slipped? What if he did fail?

[[You don't have to walk alone.]] With startling swiftness, Ben's mind touched on Rey. He shook his head, warning himself against indulging such an idea. But he couldn't help the little bit of optimism that crept in at the thought. Maybe she would walk with him. He didn't know in what way that might mean, and he still couldn't understand why she would want to. His stomach dropped at the thought of the dark and painful path that undoubtedly stretched in front of him. But he couldn't deny the compassion of Rey's actions and feelings outside the cockpit. He couldn't deny the truth of her words the night they first touched in the bond…

The flicker grew into a small fire. It wasn't the blazing pyre from his dream, but it was steady and sure and there. Ben let out a small cry of surprise. His hope was real. In his wonder, he tried to examine it from every angle and viewpoint. He felt a desperate need to memorize how it felt and what made it grow in case he ever lost it again. But it was complex, and Ben knew he'd never be able to fully comprehend it. Instead of despairing at the thought, he appreciated the beauty of its intricacies. He could feel it as a light might pierce through a dense fog. It felt like a new kind of clarity after years in darkness.

He opened his eyes to the unlit cargo hold. The crates around him were murky and undefined. He could barely even see himself in the gloom. Ben didn't want to be in darkness anymore. He turned on the lights and settled on his blankets again. With a clearer head and a warming fire in his chest, he returned to his meditation and continued to search for even the smallest things that could nurture the hope that lit his soul. The monsters kept their distance.

After some time, Ben became aware of Rey's presence just outside the cargo hold. He felt the pull of her, that same intense longing that called to something deep within him. When he took his next steady breath, he brushed against her Force energy and let it warm his body. He sighed as the combination swept over him. It was all so soothing. He couldn't help but compare the feeling to his dream. His concentration on Rey's energy intensified as it vibrated mere yards away. It was so similar to the hopeful woman. So similar…

But as Ben focused on her, he read conflict. She struggled with something he couldn't understand. He opened his eyes and looked at the hatchway. Ben furrowed his brow as his own conflict pulled at his heart. He couldn't put to words how much Rey had supported him the previous night. She stayed with him. She pulled him through the abyss of his own mind. He wanted to relieve whatever anxiety she was feeling in turn. But would she even want his help? And what made him think he was even capable of providing any? As he grappled with his doubt and earnest desire to ease Rey's irritation, [sadness, yearning, want] came through the bond.

A strangled sound escaped Ben's throat. The sentiments wrapped around him like a blanket woven from mournful and euphoric threads. It was both uplifting and oppressive all at once. The emotions abruptly disappeared from their connection, but his mirrored feelings remained. Ben's heart sped in his chest as he stared at the hatch. She didn't mean it, did she? He still sensed Rey in the corridor. She was so close. Ben might have imagined it, but the magnetic pull between them seemed to intensify with every passing second. He wanted to believe in what came through the bond. He wanted… He wanted… [affinity, agreement]

His mind erupted in an explosive tangle of humiliation and longing. Without thinking, Ben shot to his feet and telegraphed an incoherent rebuttal of [restraint, want, nervousness, entreaty, embarrassment]. His regret was instant. Any semblance of calm he possessed evaporated as he circled the hold in blind agitation. His hands ran through his hair as he tried to process what he'd just done.

What were you thinking?! He hadn't been. That was the problem. His foolish heart spoke for him, and he had to deal with the consequences. As he jumped from one excuse to another, the hatch opened behind him. Ben spun at the sound. His mind stuttered at the sight of Rey standing in the doorway.

CW: Emotional distress in a nightmare.

CW: Ben almost kills himself in a dream. There are no detailed descriptions for this moment. It's a one-sentence action.

CW: Ben has a prolonged internal conflict over whether or not he wants to commit suicide. He struggles with intense despair throughout. He believes himself as undeserving of hope or a future.

CW: Ben has a very severe and unforgiving view of himself. He experiences several moments of intense self-hatred.

A/N: Ben uses a technique called Progressive Muscle Relaxation when he's trying to calm his mind. It can be quite effective as an anxiety tool, but it's also just great for relaxing the body.

In the next chapter, Rey tries to help Ben find his path. Thanks again for taking the time to read this story. Comments are always appreciated :)