"I hope that you see right through my walls
I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling
I'll never let a love get so close
You put your arms around me and I'm home"
—Christina Perri, "Arms"
Rey pounded down the corridors, following the bloodcurdling screams and cries for assistance and backup. She pushed against the closed Bond to no avail. Whatever was happening to Ben, he either didn't want her to see it…or he wasn't even conscious anymore.
Maybe both, Rey realized. Oh please, please be with him, Leia! Please keep him safe…keep him alive, PLEASE!
As soon as the panicking soldiers saw her coming they jerked out of the way, allowing her and her friends to plunge through the growing crowd. Rey barely registered a few nervous cries of, "Careful, Master Rey!"
She hardly heard, either, Poe's furious scolding: "How the hell did this happen?! Since when do we tolerate prisoners being attacked in their own cells?! What is this, a First Order interrogation room?!"
She couldn't hear any of it because at the sight of an enormous man bringing the biggest wrench she had ever seen down on Ben Solo's prone form, she knew nothing but the roar of her pulse and the throbbing energy of the Force.
"STOP!" Rey screamed, throwing out her hand.
The man froze, his tool inches from Ben's skull. His bulging muscles quivered in his uncomfortable, hunched position. Rey gritted her teeth, compelling him to keep his fingers around the wrench so it wouldn't tumble down on Ben—then hurled both man and weapon into the opposite wall. He tried to scramble back to his feet, but Rey positioned herself directly in front of him and flicked on Leia Organa's lightsaber.
The man froze again—not from the Force, but out of his own shock and terror—as the blade shimmered mere inches from his face.
"I will kill you if you touch him again!" Rey shouted.
The man swallowed, tried to point at Ben. "He—"
Rey took a step closer; the lightsaber nearly took off the man's nose. He backed into the wall with a crash.
"I know exactly what he did," she snapped, "and I know why you're angry. But he is under my protection—and the next time anyone so much as lays a finger on him, I'll teach them a lesson they won't forget! Now get…out."
Thankfully, before the man could decide whether or not to obey her, Poe issued a sharp command: soldiers, no longer so hesitant now that their resident Jedi was present, plunged into the room and dragged him away. Rey held his gaze until he was gone, not even allowing him a parting glance at Ben.
As soon as he was on the other side of that door, however, she whirled. She tossed the lightsaber on the cot and threw herself down on her knees beside Ben.
"Ben," she whispered, pushing his hair back from his bloodied face. "Ben, wake up—talk to me—"
His eyelids fluttered and he coughed weakly. "Awake…I'm awake…"
Rey looked over her shoulder; Finn and Rose stood close by, tensely waiting to help. "We need to get him to the medbay."
Without hesitation, they rushed forward and helped her get Ben upright. When he cried out in agony, tears sprang to her eyes. So did a memory, sharp and bone-chilling, of a snowy forest, blood, and steam…and the satisfying fury of hearing him scream in pain as she sliced Luke Skywalker's lightsaber up and across his chest and face…
"It's okay," she whispered, positioning herself against his side, one of his arms leaning heavily across her shoulders. "I've got you…you're safe, I promise…"
She could tell he had his teeth clenched, but whether it was because he was trying not to scream or trying not to vomit, she didn't know. Finn, supporting him on the other side, shot her a worried look. She understood it. She understood it all too well.
She couldn't really promise Ben Solo safety. Not yet…not while people still saw him as a monster.
Three hours and one long, scalding shower later, Rey curled up in a chair beside Ben's med-bed, hugging her knees and chewing her thumbnail. Ben half-sat, half-lay in the bed, his chest rising and falling in a drugged sleep. One side of his face had already turned an sickening mix of crimson and purple. A bacta-cast encircled his torso, healing the ribs newly-broken by his attacker's blows.
She would've healed him herself if she'd had the energy, but she was so exhausted, she was afraid she might exert herself too far. She couldn't afford the risk, not if he wasn't here to pull her back from the brink again.
They were finally alone, though. The medics had slipped away; so had Finn and Rose. She had no idea where Poe had gone. Lando and Chewie had stayed the longest. Rey hadn't missed the upswell of love and concern in Lando's eyes as he ran his hand over Ben's dark hair, nor Chewie's lingering study of Ben's bruised and cut-up face.
They were the last people alive who'd truly known him since babyhood. As deeply as she knew him through the Bond—as much as she felt as if she'd known him all her life—she couldn't even imagine the pain his two "uncles" must be feeling.
Ben groaned in his sleep. She sat up, laying her hand over his.
"It's all right," she whispered. "I'm here. I'm here."
Either he heard her or sensed her through the Bond: his breathing steadied. Rey sighed in relief, stole one last wary glance around the room…and slowly crawled into the bed beside him.
The mattress was so, so soft. She needed sleep, and Ben needed her…so she tucked the blankets around herself and rested her head in the slight dip between his shoulder and his chest. He didn't stir. With a sleepy smile Rey tucked a hand under her cheek, closed her eyes—
And Palpatine's evil cackle echoed in her head, just like it had when she tried to sleep on the Falcon.
She jerked her head up with a gasp, tears prickling her eyes. He'd never get out of her head now, would he? She'd be plagued by his memory for the rest of her life…by his taunting voice, telling her he was all the family she had…
Someone knocked on the door. Rey threw off the blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, blinking away her tears. "Come in."
The door opened and Poe stuck his head in. "Hey. Just wanted to check in on you."
Rey sniffled and rubbed her arms. Poe stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. For a moment he just stood there, gripping the end of the bed. Since Rey refused to look at him, she wasn't sure whether he was staring at her or at Ben.
"Why are you angry?" he asked, cutting to the chase.
"Oh, I don't know," Rey mumbled. "Maybe because I just assumed your men would've recognized the importance of keeping a valuable prisoner alive?"
"Now that's not fair, and you know it. Even if every man and woman on this base believed this guy was pure as the wind-driven snow, there would've been no holding back a man like Zundas. Dude's gotta be three hundred pounds worth of muscle! There's a reason General Organa put him in charge of building this base from the ground-up!"
Rey shivered, hung her head. "I know, I know. It's just...It's been a day."
"Yeah," Poe murmured. "I know."
Rey sniffled again and felt a faint question from the Bond; she reached behind her to stroke Ben's hand, and once again he settled. Poe sank into the chair she'd vacated. From her perch on the bed, she sat a few inches higher than him; he had to look up at her as he leaned his elbows on his knees.
"Look," he whispered. "You…you are amazing, Rey. I've never known a girl like you. You remind me of Leia, only…in a way, you're even stronger than she was—or maybe you're going to be. There's just something about you that makes me want to follow you into whatever adventure you decide to take, moving forward."
Rey frowned. Poe sighed, reaching for her free hand. She gave it to him without hesitation.
"I really am sorry about Kef Bir," she whispered. "If I could go back and change anything—"
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. It is what it is, and it turned out all right. What I was tryin' to say is…if you're telling me that Kylo Ren, Ben Solo—whatever you wanna call him now—has turned good, it's really, really hard to argue with you. You understand and perceive things that would go way over my head…and I reckon even Leia would tell you that I've sometimes got more skull than brains."
Rey laughed weakly. Poe smiled and cupped her hand in both of his.
"I trust you, Rey. I don't understand it, and Force knows I'm not about to forget what he did. But I know you, and I knew Leia…and I know she never gave up on him. If you've brought him back and he's really willing to help us take down the First Order once and for all…then I guess I'll vote for sparing his life."
Rey's chin quivered. "Thank you, Poe. Thank you."
He nodded, his gaze drifting to Ben. A strange look crept into his face and he quirked an eyebrow at her.
"You love him, don't you?"
She swallowed. "Yes."
"Why?"
Rey dropped her gaze. She still didn't know how much to tell him about the Dyad, yet she knew Poe needed some indication of what Ben meant to her. He deserved it.
"Because…" she managed to choke out, "…because he's everything I've always waited for."
To her relief, Poe didn't press her. He simply nodded, gave her hand a squeeze, and headed for the door at a pensive, meandering pace.
"By the way," he said, spinning on the ball of his foot, "Leia is gone. Apparently, her body vanished into thin air right before we all made it back to Base."
Rey raised her eyebrows. "Just when Ben came back to life, then."
"Well, I don't know about all that—but that's what Maz told me. We'll be having a memorial service for her and the rest of our fallen tomorrow. You'll be there?"
"Of course." Rey forced a tired smile. "And thank you again, Poe. For everything."
He smiled back. "No problem…Rey Skywalker."
Her eyes widened. Poe smirked.
"Well, you did say you were a Skywalker by choice, didn't you?" he asked.
"Y-yes…"
"Then that's settled. You're Master Skywalker from here on out." His roguish grin softened. "Leia would've been proud."
Rey's throat tightened, but she managed to nod her thanks. Poe sent her a parting wink and slipped out of the room. As soon as the door shut behind him, she turned back to Ben. His eyes were still shut, but something about the Bond felt different. She rubbed his hand with her thumb.
"I know you're awake," she whispered.
His eyelids cracked open. Rey drew her legs up onto the bed again and moved closer to him. He swallowed with difficulty.
"Where…where am I?"
"Medbay. Your ribs are broken again."
His breathing quickened, his muscles tensing with pain or fear—she couldn't tell which. Rey leaned closer, stroking his hair back from his forehead.
"Shh…shh. It's all right. I'm here, and I'm not leaving you. I promise."
He turned his battered face away from her. "Should've known. Should've…seen it coming…"
"Hey." She laid a hand against his cheek, forcing her to look at her. "You didn't lash out, I got the chance to fight for you, and Poe is on our side. We're already making a great team, Ben. Don't give up hope yet."
He gazed up at her through bleary, swollen, half-open eyes. When he lifted one bandaged hand and brushed her jawline with the backs of his fingers, Rey shivered and let her own eyelids flutter shut.
"Sleep," he rasped. "You're…so tired…"
She shook her head. "I can't. Every time I close my eyes, I hear him in my head—"
"Try. Please."
He moved his arm to the side with an effort. Moving carefully so she wouldn't jostle him, Rey lay down and rested her head on his bare shoulder; Ben shut his eyes, wrapping his arm around her. Every bone and muscle sang in relief and a warm rush filled her insides at the realization that she'd never been this close to him…this…intimate…
And the cackling started again. Her eyes flew open—but before she could bolt upright, she felt Ben's hand on her head, holding her close. When she tilted her head back, she saw his eyes were still closed. But the new, focused quiet in his own mind now flowed into hers.
So did his defiance, strong and stern in spite of his physical pain and the stupifying medicine.
"Get out of her head! You tormented me for years. I won't let you do the same to her!"
The medbay room was bright enough, but the coiling, hissing Darkness engulfed them from an unseen plane. Rey closed her eyes with a shudder and pressed her face against Ben's chest. As soon as she did, she envisioned him standing at her side, gripping her hand and wielding a blue lightsaber. Terrible yellow eyes glowed at them from the Dark, full of hatred, greed, and cruel amusement.
Grandfather. Rey felt sick to her stomach. But Ben never faltered. He took a step forward, bringing her with him, and aimed the point of the lightsaber at the Enemy.
"She's mine," she heard him growl. "She belongs to me and the Light, and you will never have her."
Palpatine's laughter turned into a wet, guttural snarl. Rey's skin crawled—until she realized she, too, held something heavy and cold. She glanced down. It was the other Skywalker lightsaber, unlit, just waiting…
Without hesitation, she switched it on. Ben glanced at her. Rey raised her eyebrows and nodded.
That was all he needed. A radiant smile split his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. Together they raised the lightsabers high above their heads.
As soon as the two blades touched points, the explosion of light blasted away the Darkness. The horrible eyes vanished with an unearthly shriek. A pure, cold wind nearly knocked her off her feet.
Back in the medbay, however, curled against Ben Solo's side, Rey sighed in relief. He relaxed, too, his hand falling limp onto her shoulder.
Within minutes, they were both sound asleep.
Millions of light-years away, the First Order Dreadnought Dauntless maintained its menacing orbit around Coruscant. The glittering planet, once the center of the Galactic Empire, was just a shadow of its former self these days. The First Order always preferred more industrialized cities like Crestir, and the people of Coruscant hadn't taken kindly to the slight—hence the Dauntless' presence.
But even the Dauntless was supposed to have departed yesterday morning. General Enric Pryde himself had set out for Exegol, intending to rendezvous with the resurrected Emperor Palpatine. The Emperor's massive, otherworldly fleet would give the First Order the final advantage they needed over an increasingly defiant Galaxy. The crew of the Dauntless had waited impatiently for their own summons—none more so than General Ava Cratt.
Now, nearly twenty-four hours later, Cratt marched to the Dauntless' hangar with three of her subordinate officers on her heels. Her sharp, almost masculine features may have been cold as steel, but her insides were doing all sorts of strange things. Her heart, especially, felt like it might pound right out of her rib cage at any moment.
It was embarrassing. Her parents had been high-ranking officials of the Galactic Empire, and she'd occupied the third-highest position in the entire First Order for the past four years. This nervousness was beneath her.
And yet I'm about to meet a man who claims to be Palpatine's son—and possibly the only survivor of Exegol. I think I'm entitled to a little anxiety.
She took the opportunity to straighten her peaked black cap before rounding the last corner and striding into the hangar deck. The Supreme Leader's TIE Whisper had just landed. The black-clad figure climbing out of it wasn't quite as broad as its original owner, but Cratt could tell that he was at least as tall and much more nimble.
What she did not expect was for him to be so striking. As he flung aside his cloak's hood she took note of his long, sharp features, barely softened by a head full of thick brown hair. Far more unsettling were his eyes. They were an unnatural golden color—almost reptilian.
It only confirmed what her trembling communications officer had told her: the man was a Sith-lord—just like the old stories said.
"Are you in charge here?" he demanded.
She drew herself up to her full height. "I am. General Ava Cratt, currently in command of the First Order Fleet until such time as—"
"Own it," the man said quietly. "Pryde is dead, and so is Armitage Hux. You are in full command of the Fleet, General."
She blinked, a little surprised; no one else had seemed so confident in her right to succession. But she refused to let it go to her head; she intended to test him first.
"Who died and made you Supreme Leader?" she demanded.
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you really asking me that after a certain piece of information I sent to you?"
Cratt raised her own eyebrow in reply. "My communications officer informed me that you claimed Kylo Ren has defected to the Resistance—but we've received no other tidings to that effect. In fact…" She gestured towards the TIE Whisper. "If he was on Exegol, he likely perished in the same battle that took Pryde, Hux, and the entirety of your Emperor's 'Final Order.' What I'm really wondering is how you survived."
The newcomer's jaw flexed. "Is that contempt I hear in your voice, General?"
"The First Order is unaccustomed to failure," Cratt snapped. "We were gaining ground—we at least had the majority of the Galaxy under our thumb—until the Emperor decided to barge in and turn everyone's head with promises of utlimate victory! And now we've suffered the greatest defeat in our entire history. So yes, perhaps I am contemptuous. I don't believe your claim that the Supreme Leader would've left us high and dry—and I certainly don't believe that you are the son of Palpatine. The Emperor left no heir. The very idea is an absurdity and a mockery of his legacy!"
Her voice had risen to a shout, the anger, confusion, and horror of the past twenty-four hours spilling out of her like a flood. The newcomer glared at her for one tense, silent moment. When he stepped closer she stared him down, too furious and grief-stricken for her lost comrades and magnificent ships to flinch.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him flick his wrist. Her three subordinates, waiting breathlessly behind her, flew backwards with startled cries. Cratt and the Sith-lord now stood alone in the middle of the deck. Her blood thundered in her ears, yet she refused to withdraw her infuriated gaze.
"You're a fierce one," he murmured. "Your only failing is your blind loyalty."
Cratt ground her teeth, then gasped as he raised his hand close to her head. All of a sudden, images—terrible, blood-curdling memories—flooded her mind:
A boy in a library, poring over ancient, forbidden books full of seething spells and outlawed symbols.
Sith Acolytes gathered around an altar, murmuring incantations over a corpse, spilling their own blood to give it life.
The temple, thundering with a hundred-thousand voices.
A spectral figure on a throne, calculating the destinies of millions.
The First and Final Orders, crumbling beneath the assault of rebel scum.
A tall young man in black wielding a blue lightsaber, defiance on his all-too-familiar face.
A slender girl beside him all dressed in white, radiant and fierce, gripping his saber's twin.
Cratt shuddered, the loss and betrayal consuming her. Now she understood everything this man had seen. The Supreme Leader had turned his back on everything she and the First Order stood for. He'd gone home, returned to his mother's filthy Resistance…and with none other than the Jedi-girl who'd murdered Snoke on his own throne.
"No," she heard the Sith-lord whisper into her mind. "The Girl didn't kill Snoke. Not alone."
"Kylo Ren," Cratt breathed.
"Ben Solo now. He killed Snoke and let the Girl take the blame—though something tells me he'd rather die now than allow anyone to look at her in a way he didn't like. And they're both responsible for the death of my father. Yes, yes, I know…you think it strange that Darth Sidious should've had a son. I'm telling you he had two. The Girl is the offpsring of my treacherous brother…and I'd rather obliterate myself than watch her and the grandson of Darth Vader establish a new Jedi Order and spawn another Skywalker."
Cratt's chest burned with rage. The Sith-lord lowered his hand, releasing her from his hold over her mind. She relaxed with a teeth-chattering sigh; her legs felt like jelly.
"So," he said, aloud this time, "are you ready to make them pay for what they've done?"
Cratt blinked hard, swallowed harder, and tossed her short black bob of hair in a valiant attempt to regain her haughty composure. "More than ready. What would you have me do?"
"Prepare an attack party. We'll punish the Resistance for Exegol, kill Ben Solo, and capture the Girl in one fell swoop."
"But we don't even know where the Resistance base is!" Cratt protested. "Wherever they are, they've either managed to shield or disguise the place! We've found no trace of them in a year!"
"That is because you didn't have Darth Chrallous on your side." He started to walk past her, then stopped, raised an index finger. "But whatever happens, that Girl is mine. I want her alive and unharmed. She wields more power than you know."
Cratt nodded mechanically. "As you wish…Darth Chrallous."
He flashed another smile, all teeth and glinting eyes. " 'Emperor,' if you please, General."