A/N: Thank you SO much for the reviews and support thus far! What a nice welcome to the Star Wars fandom :). I wrote the first nine chapters of this fic during NanoWrimo this year, and have now finished through chapter 12. I mostly write Inu-Yasha and Zootopia stories, but your words of encouragement (and the damning amount of beautiful fanart on tumblr) have kept my muse completely caught up in Reylo.

I will resume updates in 2021, hopefully posting once or twice each month. See you then!


Chapter IV – Night Terrors


Ben's nervousness had been unfounded. He discovered another tightly-folded bundle of bedding in his own bag, along with other tools and objects Rey had managed to squeeze into every viable nook. The term packrat came to mind, and he bolstered his shields as she whipped around, scowling. Casting his eyes about the room, as much to avoid stirring up further ire as to pick a space, he chose the corner by the cistern, knowing the small annex the harch had generously-coined a second room was little more than a closet for storage, not wide enough for the length of his frame. This was one of the few buildings they'd viewed where he could stand at his full height without brushing the ceiling, and he reasoned it had been another factor in Rey's decision. The notion she'd considered him while appraising dwellings spread a curious warmth in his chest.

The sun had dipped into the horizon by the time Rey managed to tackle fashioning a makeshift door for the night. Resting down near the ground on the balls of her feet, she visually judged the archway, extending arms to measure its breadth. Ben offered to help, grabbing up the tools she'd placed by the newly-cleaned firepit, and watched as her whole body jolted in astonishment.

He wondered if she still thought him such a monster that he wouldn't assist in crafting a door, before dawning realization hit.

Rey had lived most of her life alone, stranded in a bleak, hostile wasteland, with no one to depend on but herself. She couldn't fathom the idea of a second set of hands. It was probably why she'd selected this desolate planet in the first place – she was accustomed to adversity, maybe even comforted by its familiarity.

He crouched gingerly beside her. "We could use the rotted boards in our lavish other room," he prompted, giving away none of his inkling understanding.

Rey recovered quickly, schooling her features into casual agreement. "Sure," she jumped to go retrieve them, and Ben reached up, encircling her wrist.

"I'll get them," he said, standing. "You just call and tell me how many we need."

He didn't need any bond or dyad connection to see his suggestion's effect. She bit her lip – a habit he recognized from their embittered, lightsaber skirmishes – and ducked her way through a nod.

Ben trotted to the closet and began sifting through the meager supply the harch had wanted to charge more for, reaching for Rey with the force before he'd even thought to use his voice.

There are half a dozen decent ones, he said. And four or five more we could cobble together.

Bring them all, she answered, responding mentally for the first time since she'd cried out to him in the Sith temple.

Juggling them in multiple loads, Ben laid them at her feet, finding a small pile of nails nestled in her opened tool set.

"You've really considered everything," he lifted an arm to the back of his head, scratching his hair idly.

She caught the motion, staring at its casual ease with an unreadable expression before long-lashes fell. "Not everything," she murmured cryptically.


He knew it was a nightmare, not a vision, but the dark claws of Snoke's torturous training left him hollowed and afraid all the same. Ben fought towards consciousness, waking with a hollered scream, thrashing back blankets like they were restraining limbs. A face swam into focus among the dim light of fire embers, and it was Rey, staring down in abject terror. He could see the tinge of horror she tried to hide, the trauma his almost-death had imparted, and he struggled to free himself from the clinging disorientation of the past, wanting to reassure her he wasn't fading away again.

"B-Ben?" She ventured, leaning forward. "Are you alright?"

The throes of the nightmare receded, but its foreboding chill still clung to his insides. He nodded mutely, and she gave a strangled cry, cupping his bicep with trembling fingers.

He could feel her need through the contact, and without hesitating, straightened to a sit and swept her up into his arms. Rey needed proof, needed to know he wasn't departing the world of the living, leaving her abandoned and forgotten.

She stiffened momentarily, before melting into quakes against his chest, burying her face below his collar to stifle her hiccupped breaths. He circled her tighter, hoping she could hear his very real, very alive heartbeat through his shirt.

The touch mollified her quickly, and Rey withdrew with a sniffle, giving him a grateful, almost polite nod before scooting back on her heels. Her hair was free of its usual buns, falling around her shoulders in soft waves, and the contrast it made in her visage was striking. Personal. Like they were bedmates, and she'd simply rolled over to check on him, instead of racing across the room. Her attire was of a similar state; she wore her tunic without its bound straps, the top little more than a slip of fabric, light and almost filmy. Ben worked to remember how to inhale and exhale like a normal person, and not suck in great gulps of air like they'd ease his stomach-flopping awareness of what Rey slept in.

"Bad dream?" She asked, oblivious to his analysis.

Ben tried not to read into how hastily she had retreated, or this new wellspring of decorum. Hadn't she just burrowed into him for solace? He hadn't imagined their kiss in his blinding relief in Exegol, had he? "Yeah," he cleared his throat, unwilling to detail his subconscious's razored memories. She didn't need to hear his former master's teaching methods involved flayed, peeled-back skin and searing flame.

Rey waited anyway, hopeful, and he covered his face with a sweating palm.

"Sorry I woke you," he finally managed.

"N-No big deal," she stammered, crestfallen. She pushed off the ground and rose, turning for her own sleeping space.

Ben peeked out from beneath his fingers. "Rey," he croaked. "Thank you."

She glanced back with a guarded smile. "Of course."


Ben returned from the outhouse, stepping over the pile of boards they'd removed that morning. Rey was crouched in front of a fire, adding water to portions with an ease of practice. "I thought we could purchase a proper door and explore the countryside a bit today," she said brightly, forced cheer evident as she stirred the portion right before it swelled.

Ben answered with an arched eyebrow. All he'd seen among the smattering of dust-strewn buildings were identical dunes that blurred together, stretching on for countless klicks.

She waved him over, scooping out their green-tinged breakfast onto a set of plates. He neared, taking one with a nod of thanks. Palming it over the table, he moved to pull a chair out for her.

Oblivious, she took the opposite seat, thinking he'd staked the first as his own. Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. For a woman so attuned to his inner workings, she was remarkably obtuse at actually interacting with him.

They ate in silence, Rey hunching over her plate and shoveling food in with her hands, darting glances at the sunlit, bared archway as if someone would yank it from her.

Ben felt his rage flare at the marks of survival and malnutrition she still bore – her furtive swallows made him want to break things and punch faces. He tore off another bland piece of his own meal, bringing it to his lips and chewing absently.

Rey paused in her race, her cheek full, gauging him. "You're angry," she mumbled. "I can sense it."

Ben swore in his head; it was hard to predict when she'd be uncanny or clueless. "I don't like seeing the effect hunger's had on you."

She chewed and swallowed, flushing dark red. "Sorry," she said softly, bowing her head.

He could feel her mortification – she thought he referenced her rough manners – and clenched his teeth in frustration. Dumb. She was SO dumb.

"I was speaking of the hardships you've endured," he clarified. "I don't want you to ever know those again."

"Oh," Rey stared at her plate as if it would reveal untold secrets of the universe. "Well…," she fumbled for words. "Now that there's peace again, provisions will be easier to come by. No more First Order blockades or tariffs."

Ben heard himself respond before he even knew he was speaking. "We brought relief and aid to countless systems. There was an entire division reserved exclusively for managing food supply lines. It wasn't the Order that left you with nothing but nutrient-scarce rations."

Rey's eyes narrowed.

"The only planets embargoed were ones who resisted what we offered," he continued.

"Your offers were never free."

Now it was Ben who was oblivious, mulling a reply and missing the warning note in her tone. "If security and organized oversight are costs—."

"Those are comfortable, bureaucratic ways to describe total dominion," she cut in. "Lies told to justify atrocity," Rey shoved back from the table, snatching the last of her breakfast and stuffing it into her mouth to keep further retort to herself.

Ben stared up from his seat in bewilderment, clearly confused by her influx of passion. What'd I say? He sent her.

She turned, giving him her back.

Whatever it was, the stiffness in her shoulders was answer enough. It had been wrong.