Chapter II – Running Away
No amount of protest swayed Rey's resolve. Poe, Finn, and Chewbacca's angered incredulity only fueled it more. She surmised they would be among the first to oppose the tribunal's ruling. Bidding goodbye to her friends, the only family she'd ever known, she boarded an old, guardian-class ship with Ben in tow, bound for a remote planet in the Outer Rim. The joy sweeping the galaxy in a profusion of fireworks, banners, and festivals was suffocating, a choking reminder of all she didn't have. There was no home to return to and decorate, no bustling neighborhood to spread smiles and hugs through, no sense of peace to rejoice in.
Rey traipsed into the cockpit, releasing Ben's elbow and depositing him in the copilot's chair with an unceremonious shove. He slumped down, hunching his tall frame into an exaggerated stoop as he vacantly surveyed the cramped space. She took her own seat, checking the fuel gauge and inputting coordinates for Carajam, a planet the holovids had told her was almost as removed as Ahch-To's island. It was imperative they not be found until Rey had formulated a beskar-plated defense. She wasn't about to lose Ben to imprisonment or execution after she'd saved his damned soul.
"Where are you taking us?" He asked, scrutinizing the numbers she put into the computer.
"Somewhere we can hide away and regroup," she mumbled absently, preoccupied with launch preparations. "I-I can't be around others right now. They… don't understand," she wasn't technically lying. Although their departure was more for his sake, all the merriment around her was stifling – a testament to her losses and depressing reminder her role in the saga was complete.
Rey caught his nod from the corner of her eye.
"Now you see," Ben's voice was hard – like it'd been before he raced into the ancient temple – and her fingers stuttered over the console.
"No one understands," he continued, enfolding himself in the desert shawl she had flung over his shoulders.
Rey bit her lip to rein in a frown. "You least of all," she ground out.
He fell silent as she engaged the ship's thrusters, deftly lifting them off the Takodana launch pad. His eyes stayed on her as she rose the converted freighter into the atmosphere, and she worked to ignore the unspoken impressions he sent to her temples.
She looked small and tired in his eyes; a slip of a girl bound in Jakku attire. She had donned her old outfit in preparation for their destination, one starkly similar to her birthplace. Rey shook her head to banish his thoughts, trying to focus on her flight path, but Ben pushed them in, forcing her to see.
She was made up of knots of hope and worry, sinew pulled too tight for too long, muscles strained in being everything for everyone. A battered little thing, cast out of her empty, sand-filled prison into a galactic war, a pawn to all she met. It wasn't only Palpatine that had tried using her – Skywalker, Han Solo, the Resistance. They all wanted a piece of her, wanted her power collared and ensnared.
Rey closed her eyes, ejecting him from her mind with a mental shove. "No," she gasped. "Stop it, Ben."
He ceased manipulating their bond, drawing the hood of his shawl up until only his prominent nose could be seen in his profile. She propelled them into hyper-drive, and their surroundings became blinding, blue light.
The journey was one of terse silence and mental shields. Rey wrestled with disappointment so vast she'd cry if she were prone to tears. But such weakness was reserved for despondency in the chasms of Exegol or the lonely hut on Ahch-To – she wouldn't break down in front of the man who was now more a stranger than ever. Again at least. Was it Kylo Ren, clawing his way back to supremacy, that viewed her as such a brittle being? Or worse, Ben himself, who saw all she'd struggled to become, still just poorly masked the Nobody underneath?
Carajam was a desert planet, unremarkable and unknown, one more port of call for those wishing to vanish. Rey shut down the engines and scanned the landing bay warily. A few locals puttered around, carrying nondescript bins or doublechecking data pads – none spared the ship more than a passing glance. Satisfied the Guardian's doctored records had sufficiently made them unworthy of interest, she stood, rearranging the smattering of tools and pouches tied at her waist.
"Come on," she ordered, crossing the cockpit in three strides. Ben made no move to follow, and she halted, palming the archway. A desire to snap something harsh and scathing rose, but she uttered only a 'please' with an embarrassing amount of tremble.
If he noticed the vulnerability in her tone, he gave no indication except to rise smoothly.
He followed her into the belly of the ship, taking the bulging bag she thrust into his arms with a blink. Rey ticked through an inner inventory as she darted into cabins, making sure they had enough supplies should anything happen to their transport. Grabbing a backup communicator – she'd stowed one in each of their packs – she headed for the exit. Ben trudged behind, a mute, mobile automaton. Outwardly, he may have seemed conscious and semi-present, hair tousled from his thrown-back hood, jaw tightly-set in a slight frown, towering build no less imposing even obscured in a poncho, but she knew he was dozens of parsecs away. Still thinking of the martyrdom he'd been robbed of and fathoming the new life he'd had no intention of allowing himself, no doubt.
Suppressing new annoyance, Rey pushed a button, opening the access hatch and lowering the loading ramp. She was about to step onto it when a hand shot out and grabbed her tunic, collaring her back.
Wait, Ben cautioned silently. There's someone who's attention we don't want aimed our way.
Maybe he wasn't as many leagues away as she'd thought. Rey retreated fast, bumping into him as she searched wildly. The newness of them being a unit—a cooperating team—barely registered in the face of possible danger.
Don't use your eyes, Ben chided, a note of exasperation in his thoughts. Find them with the Force.
His grip was uncompromising, keeping her in place, and she felt suddenly like a child, admonished for running in front of a speeder. "I didn't bring us here for you to be my new teacher," she hissed, craning her neck forward as she hunted.
No, I'm to be saved, the tone in her head was dry. Again.
Rey huffed and closed her eyes, reaching out for the energy all around her, drawing it in like oxygen. It glowed in her chest, a borrowed coil of power. She felt Ben's presence weave into it as he inspected the amount she'd collected with ease, roving through her in a caress that jarred in its intimacy.
"Stop that," she snapped aloud, losing concentration. "Kylo Ren is the one who delves without asking."
He's still part of me, Ben whispered in her head. Just as I was entombed in him.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted the person he'd felt—a thick-scaled chistori—proudly baring a familiar, hexagonal patch on his arm. "How can he flaunt First Order sigils now?" She muttered. "Hasn't he heard of their destruction?"
I sense his importance is self-inflated, he said. You could easily turn his awareness elsewhere. His mind is more than malleable enough.
Needing no more assurance, Rey cast her intentions out with a jut of her chin, hardly exerting effort to plant a new directive in the Order sympathizer's neural pathways.
The chistori opened a large snout in an excited wallop, swiveled on a clawed heel, and trundled off to be the first to see the rare bloom a visiting naturalist was rumored to be showing. Botany had always been his favorite thing after all….
Yes, yes… absolutely… desert be damned.
He just had to see this flower….
Thoughts floated to them as he sped away, and Ben's pride dropped like an impromptu embrace.
His amusement made something curdle in her stomach, and Rey recoiled as she realized how close they were standing. "I don't want Kylo Ren's approval," she pushed him back with her shoulder-blades, surprised at the venom surging up in her.
He swept the curtain he'd parted for her shut, but not before she heard the last trailing words of his mind.
It was… mine.
