Ben…

He jolted awake and whipped his head around in search of who had whispered in his ear, but no one was there. Rey and Finn were both still asleep—she, curled up under her borrowed cloak; he, sprawled on his back and snoring. The fire had burned down to embers overnight, and grey pre-dawn light was shining through the windows.

Dismissing the voice as the remnants of a dream, and trying to ignore the ill feeling it gave him, Ben slowly sat up. He winced at the stiffness in his neck and back from sleeping on the hard stone floor, and gingerly rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles. He levered himself to his feet, put more wood on the embers and stoked it into a small fire, then grabbed his half-eaten dinner ration and stepped outside.

The early morning was misty and cool. Folding his arms across his chest for warmth, he walked around the hut and looked out at the sea. There wasn't much to see, not in the thick fog that had descended on the island. Beyond the cliffs and the waves lapping at their base, the view was solid white. It was both peaceful and alarming, to be so blindly ensconced.

When he turned around, he caught a glimpse of the stone stairs that had brought them up from the Falcon last night. They continued to climb the mountain, up and out of sight. On a whim, he decided to do a bit of exploring, and started up the steps.

He climbed for over half an hour. As he ascended, the fog began to dissipate, and finally gave way to a brilliant morning. He squinted against the blazing light and looked around.

Unhindered by clouds, the rising red sun shone bright and warm, glittering off the dewy grass and faraway waves like thousands of tiny kyber crystals. The cliffs rose into mountains above him, and at the tallest peak, Ben spied an anomaly in the rock. At this distance, it was difficult to tell what it was, but he got the distinct feeling that it was significant. He continued to climb, intent on discovering what it was.

As the structure loomed closer, he made out a doorway, carved into the side of the mountain. He approached the rough-hewn doorway with caution, reaching ahead with his senses as he stepped through and looked around. The dim space inside was vast, but empty. The floors underfoot were worn smooth in places, and the ceiling soared overhead. The air was noticeably cooler than it was outside, and sunlight filtered in from somewhere, providing just enough illumination to see. Every little sound carried through the cavernous space with an eerie, disproportionate quality. Somewhere, water dripped with a steady, tinkling echo.

As he passed through the entryway, he began to notice mosaics sprawling across the walls. Their tiles glittered in the odd light, catching his eye and drawing him closer. Some tiles were chipped away, lost to the ages of time; others were coated in layers of dust and grime, making the images impossible to distinguish. He brushed a hand over the surface of one, but the importance of the scene was lost on him.

He continued through the hall on the balls of his feet, moving cautiously and quietly. Up ahead was a set of steps, which led into another room. In the center of the floor was a recessed pool lined with more mosaic tiles. Rainwater dripped from the high ceiling, falling directly into the pool and creating little blips in its otherwise smooth surface. Concentric waves rippled out to lap at the edges of the basin.

He stepped closer, then knelt down by the stone rim. As the water smoothed out again, he discerned an image in the underwater tiles. He cocked his head and squinted. There appeared to be a number of figures, all robed and poised in familiar fighting positions. In the center was a symbol—lifted wings encircling a spark of light. The symbol of the Jedi.

Ben realized this must be the island's Jedi temple, the destination of the pilgrim practitioners of millennia past. And indeed, there was a feeling about the place… something almost sacrosanct. This place demanded reverence.

Across the room was a sunlit doorway, really no more than a gaping crevasse in the rock wall. He rose and went around the pool, his steps echoing softly in the stillness, and headed for the opening.

Through the doorway was a stone ledge. There was no balustrade; a step too far, and he would plummet down the mountainside into the sea below. He stepped out onto the ledge, carefully watching his footing, then looked out over the horizon.

Here, at the top of the island, he could see for miles. The sun was rising in earnest now, igniting the drifting clouds in soft pinks and yellows. The salty scent of the sea reached him all the way up here at his lofty perch. Birdsong rose on the breeze.

It was one of the most beautiful places he'd ever seen. He wished Rey could see it, too.

Settling on the rocky ledge, he finished his dinner ration, then folded his legs and lost himself in meditation.

…

By the time he got back to the village, the fog had burned off and the air had grown temperate.

"Where've you been?" Han snarked as soon as Ben stepped off the last stone step.

Ben bristled at his father's tone. As far as he was concerned, Han had lost the privilege of knowing his son's whereabouts as soon as he'd shipped him off to Luke without a backward glance. "Exploring," he replied shortly, then went to sit by Rey and Finn on the low stone wall encircling the common area.

Rey handed him a plate filled with bread and finely-sliced smoked fish. "Courtesy of the caretakers," she explained. "So, what did you discover during your explorations?"

He accepted the plate and tasted the fish. "Mmm. Words don't do it justice," he answered evasively, and speared another bite. The answer had been for the benefit of his father, who was still listening in hopes of learning more of Ben's whereabouts, but when Rey narrowed her eyes at him, Ben realized it had annoyed her too. He stifled a grin.

"Are you telling the truth, or just being obstinate?" she asked tartly.

"Yes." He relished her short, irritated sigh.

"Now that we're all settled," Luke spoke, giving them both a look, "I think we should get back to training." He leveled his gaze on Rey. "I thought that I might take over your theoretical lessons for now."

All thoughts of flippancy rushed out of Ben's head as his eyes shot up to his uncle. His heart squeezed in his chest.

"Are you sure?" Rey asked. "I thought you were too busy to train me."

"I suddenly find myself with a wide-open schedule," Luke replied with a tight smile. "I am quite sure."

Ben didn't like it one bit.

…

After breakfast, Rey went off with Luke to train. With nothing else to do, Ben retrieved his lightsaber and marched off to find an isolated place to catch up on his own training. He'd seen a rocky outcropping not far from the village on his morning trek up the mountain that would suit his needs perfectly. He hiked out to the spot now, around the mountain and out of view from the circle of stone huts, where none but the ocean and the feathery little porgs would witness his angry release.

He did not like being separated from Rey.

Away from the others, he took a deep, calming breath of salty sea air, and felt the first bits of tension begin to dissipate. He stripped out of his tunic, down to the sleeveless undertunic he wore, and tossed the outer garment aside. Unclipping his saber from his belt, he held the hilt aloft and ignited the weapon. The vivid violet blade emerged with a burst of energy, then settled into a low hum in his hand.

After the vision, when he'd challenged the Trials and become a full Jedi, he'd been tasked with constructing his own lightsaber. He'd heard the call of the kyber crystal, and had spent hours meditating over it before he knew it was time. But when he'd completed the construction of the saber and switched it on for the first time, the color had surprised him. Perhaps it shouldn't have. It was the perfect blend of Jedi blue and Sith red—who he was and who he could've been. A mixture of light and shadow.

Twirling the hilt end over end, he spun with the blade, blocking and parrying and striking at his imaginary components, anticipating potential attacks in his mind and moving to counter them.

The fight went on for some time. It had been a while since he'd been able to really let loose; the base on D'Qar hadn't had any proper training grounds, and the clearing in the forest, while sufficient for mock fighting with sticks, had been too small to use a lightsaber. Here, he ducked and thrusted and rolled and danced across the wind-beaten rocks until his muscles burned, his breath deepening as he felt sweat trickle down his back.

When he'd done enough, he cut off his lightsaber and clipped it back on his belt. He raked a hand through his hair, pushing the damp strands out of his face, and stood a moment with his hands on his hips, sucking in lungful after lungful of air. The sea breeze coming off the water was cool and calming. After a moment, he closed his eyes, his breath slowing as he felt the panic and aggression from earlier continue to abate.

It was irrational, he knew. But they'd been separated for so long. And she had died. Part of him—the part that had sacrificed himself to bring her back, and would gladly do so all over again—feared that if he let her go where he couldn't get to her, he might never see her again. And when she was with Luke, he definitely couldn't get to her. He didn't trust Luke not to say something to her, to mislead her and make her hate him. He cared for her more than he'd ever cared for anyone, and the thought of losing her again, in any sense of the word, was terrifying. Once had been too much; he couldn't do it again.

But now, having worked off his anxious energy and calmed down a bit, he realized something: he could still sense her through their Force bond. It had only been a slight indication before, but now, he could clearly tell it was her.

When had that changed?

Tentatively, he reached out—and yes, there she was, down in the village with Luke. Her life energy was an effervescent spark next to the steadier presence of his uncle.

She was okay. A little subdued, but okay.

Forcing himself to be satisfied with that for now, he withdrew his presence and hiked down to the Falcon to use the fresher. He was in dire need of a shower after his training session, and the ship could run on auxiliary power and still be relatively undetectable as long as it was used sparingly.

He was still a ways off from the landing site when he saw that the Falcon was already occupied. Chewbacca and Finn were sitting on top of the ship; the ex-trooper was observing as the Wookiee ran checks and made small repairs. The loading ramp was down, and as Ben drew closer, he could hear the clattering of tools coming from the interior of the ship. No doubt it was Han, making more modifications inside. It was a miracle the ship still functioned as well as she did, considering the never-ending patch jobs she required.

Ben strode up the ramp and kept his head down, intending to hurry through the cabin unnoticed—or at least uninterrupted—and headed for the fresher. But his father popped out of the floor compartment just as Ben passed by, and called out to him.

"Hey, kid—ugh, what have you been doing? You smell!"

Ben closed his eyes and gritted his teeth together. "Thank you; I'm well aware," he bit back. "I've been training. I came to use the fresher."

"You know where it is," Han said, waving vaguely down the corridor as he turned back to his work. "You definitely don't want to smell like that when Rey gets done with Luke," he added as Ben continued by him.

Ben froze, and slowly spun to glare down at his father. "What?" he breathed.

"I've seen how you are with her," Han said, giving him a lopsided smirk. "You didn't think your old man would notice?"

Ben continued to stare at him, nostrils flared as he fought for control. Han had no right to intrude on this. Absolutely no right.

"We're not having this conversation," he said evenly, then swept down the corridor to the fresher.

…

Dressed in his freshly-cleansed tunic and pants, Ben shook his wet hair out of his face and shut the lid to the rickety laundry droid. Whilst scrubbing in the shower, he'd resolved to escape the Falcon as quickly as he could, not wishing to have another run-in with his father. Han didn't get to pry into his life. He didn't get to know where he'd been. He didn't get to joke about girls, especially this girl. Ben wouldn't stand for it.

Ben opened the fresher door and poked his head into the hallway. No one was there. Ever so quietly, he tiptoed down the corridor.

He was almost to the ramp when Han's voice called him back. "Ben."

Cursing his abhorrently abysmal luck, Ben took a steadying breath, asked the Force for patience, and turned to regard his father with a hooded gaze.

Han set aside the power coupling tester and climbed out of the floor compartment. "Look, I'm sorry if I upset you earlier," he said, coming to stand before his son.

Ben's gaze sharpened. His father's tone had gotten his attention; Han actually sounded contrite. Not sarcastic, not angry. Just plainly, sincerely contrite. Ben could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard his father apologize—and that had only been to his mother, when Han had really messed up.

"Rey's a good kid," Han continued, looking up the few inches to meet his son's eyes. He gave Ben a little half-grin. "I like her."

Ben huffed. "I knew you would," he muttered, and almost felt an answering smile tug at his lips at the mention of her name. It was impossible not to like her.

Han's grin faded. "She took up for you, you know. On the way to Ahch-To. She and Luke were talking—I didn't hear all of it, but I heard enough. She stood up for you. Really gave ol' Skywalker a run for his credits. Had him speechless by the end."

Ben felt his breath catch in his suddenly-tight chest. They'd… talked about him? And she'd stood up for him? Realizing Han was watching him, he nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice.

Both men fell quiet. The weight of his father's gaze remained on him, growing heavier by the moment, and he shifted uncomfortably under the steady scrutiny. When it seemed the conversation was finally, blessedly over, Ben nodded to himself and turned to leave.

"We should've never left you."

The whispered words brought Ben up short, and he met his father's eyes directly for the first time in years. His breath stilled in his lungs as his will was immediately torn. The walls he'd built as a man came slamming back up, even as the young boy deep within yearned to hear the rest. But he couldn't let this man hurt him again.

He held up a shaking finger. "Don't—"

"Would you just be quiet for a minute?" Han snapped, cutting him off. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you for some time now. Your mother and I, both."

Ben stilled. He could feel himself trembling, and desperately hoped Han wouldn't see it.

"We should've said something long ago," Han reiterated, as if finding his place in a long-practiced speech. "Your mother and I… we didn't know what to do, Ben." He shrugged helplessly. "We felt something changing. There was a—a darkness in you, and we didn't know what to do about it. We did the best thing we could think of."

Han looked at him imploringly, willing him to understand. After a moment, he straightened, dropping his shoulders back and meeting his son's gaze squarely.

"But we were your parents," he said firmly. "And we shouldn't have left you. We've regretted it every day since."

Ben could feel his eyes burning with telltale wetness. He swiped at them roughly with his shirtsleeve. "No, you shouldn't have," he agreed hoarsely. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth together. "What's done is done.

"But," he continued softly after a moment, "if you hadn't left me to Luke's tutelage, I might never have had the vision, and be in a position now to help the Resistance. I… I might've turned to the Dark Side, and been beyond your reach altogether."

Han huffed. "Well, thank the stars that didn't happen," he said gruffly, although Ben could hear the relief in his voice.

Ben huffed a laugh, echoing his father. "Yeah. Thank the stars." Han had no idea just how close he'd come…

"I know it doesn't fix things between us," Han said carefully.

"No, it doesn't, but… it's a start."

"Well, then." Han eyed him appraisingly. "If you ever need any advice about Rey—"

"Still not having that conversation!" Ben bellowed over his shoulder as he spun away and fled down the ramp.

…

When Ben got back to the hut, Rey was there, evidently having finished her training for the day. She was seated against the far wall, one of the Jedi texts propped open on her knees, deeply focused on her reading.

Now that he was once again in her presence, he felt a wave of relief wash over him that had eluded him all day, as if he'd been submerged underwater and had finally broken through the surface to breathe again. At the same time, his nerves tingled like live wires, still shivering and sparking from the day's torrent of emotions.

She looked up from the text as he stepped inside, and her gaze immediately sharpened. "Are you all right?"

The question puzzled him. Surely he wasn't that much of a wreck. "I'm fine," he said calmly, hoping she would leave it alone. He crossed the room to his pack and put his lightsaber inside.

But she wasn't convinced. "No, you aren't," she insisted.

He glanced at her. "What makes you say that?"

"You're quiet. And not in an introspective way like usual; more like in an exhausted way." She started to say more, but hesitated.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Sorry. You just seem tired, is all." She nodded at the lightsaber. "Did you train today?"

He gratefully allowed the change of subject. "Yeah, just some saber-fighting practice. Found a good place for it, just around the mountain." He settled by his pack, feeling the physical and emotional exhaustion of the day catching up to him, and raked his damp hair out of his face. "How was your session with Luke?"

She sighed; the sound carried an edge of frustration. "It was fine," she said evenly. "I miss our sessions, though. I don't really agree with Luke's ideologies."

That was surprising. "Oh?"

"He's very black and white, very old-fashioned."

That made sense, Ben supposed. Luke's dogmatic approach had been destroyed in the vision when Ben had turned to the Dark Side, but this time, no such event had occurred to derail his uncle's outdated thinking.

"There has to be room for human emotion," she continued, her cadence indicating she was recounting something from her lesson. "Sorrow, fear, anger… we feel those emotions for a reason. Ignoring them does us no good. We can't let them control us, but we still have to process them."

Ben nodded. "I agree. That's one of the points where my uncle and I differ in our beliefs."

"He assigned me a passage on the subject for tonight's reading," Rey said, holding up the book.

Ben remembered the passage. Even as a student, when he'd read it for the first time, he'd thought it was a load of hogwash. He could see the point, but he didn't agree with it. And he had proof as to why it didn't work.

At the thought, he huffed a laugh. "When you discuss the passage with Luke, ask him about Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader." He ducked his head and muttered under his breath, "He'll love that."

Rey cocked her head in puzzlement.

"Anakin Skywalker—my grandfather, Luke's father—was a Jedi," Ben explained. "He fell to the Dark Side in his youth, and took the name Darth Vader. He lived a very… emotional life."

"Your grandfather was Darth Vader?" Rey exclaimed.

Ben nodded. He briefly detailed the story of Anakin's childhood and Jedi training, the loss of his mother and his marriage to Padme, the emotional torment he'd endured from the Dark Side and the Light, and his eventual descent into darkness.

"In the end, Luke redeemed him just before his death." He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "But one has to wonder if Anakin would have fallen to the Dark Side to begin with, if only he'd been allowed to process those feelings of loss and pain. If only he'd been allowed to love publicly instead of in secret and shame." He pointed a finger at the floor in front of him, emphasizing his argument. "Those are human emotions. At what point does denying those emotions result in a break from one's humanity? To me, that seems far more dangerous."

Rey nodded. "I agree with you."

She was still holding the book. With a start, he realized he'd been talking for quite some time. "I'll let you get back to your reading," he said quietly, and stood to his feet.

She balanced the book on her knees again. "Luke said to resume my physical training with you tomorrow," she said as she traced the page with her finger, picking up where she'd left off.

"Okay," he replied neutrally, tamping down the sudden rush of happiness that jolted through him. He could show her the temple and the training ground. And they could meditate, and talk, and spar, and…

She glanced up at him, smiled warmly, then returned to her reading.