Luke watched Rey sob into the floor of the Falcon. It was the first time she'd had any privacy since the end of the battle over Exogol. She'd closed the hatch and crumpled to the inside of the old ship. Her dry shaking cries echoing inside the silent space.
The Jedi master Remained quiet and allowed his young protégée to go through the normal process of sorrow. He knew that this time of silence would be intrinsic to giving her the strength for what was coming.
"Does he just not want to see me?"
Luke smiled fondly, despite the girl's anger.
"Who, Rey?" The ghost asked, knowing full well the answer to her spat questions.
"My— well— Ben." She finished, quietly "If I can see you and Leia, why hasn't he come… we have a bond…"
Rey trailed, speaking more than her words. He felt her doubt, and confusion. She had been given a word to explain what the two of them had experienced; one that meant so much. Then very little explanation other than the rending gap in her soul.
Rey felt quickly awkward, knowing who's mother Luke was related to. Probably wondering what they talked about or if they could even share secrets now that they were all "one with the force".
"It's actually called a Dyad, Rey."
Rey flushed despite the desert sun, and emotion welled up in her. Blinding her.
"That… I don't even know what that means, but I do want to know why I can't see him like I see you."
Luke shrugged, eyes briefly darting to Leia who was being teasingly unhelpful, and not visible to their young apprentice.
"Ben is… not with us. Currently."
"Careful Luke." Said the princess of Alderaan. "There are some things she must do on her own."
Rey frowned at the paraplast wall of her home on Tatooine, when she calmed herself and turned once again into the room and finding nothing but the desert night.
It is not your time yet.
He woke to the sounds of water, waves, and rain. The gentle call of wildlife; not the sterile smell of space and air refreshers. The voice had been so familiar…
Then the voice seemed intensely unimportant in the onslaught of sensation.
For the first couple of moments he couldn't process where he was, or how he was here. A particularly intense wave slapped across his back. Too many stimuli, too much to process.
His last memory was Exogol, the smell of blood, the tension of death…
He sat up suddenly, staring up at the high cliffs. Reaching out gently to the force and finding only a tingling sensation, like a half-remembered song. Several breaths later there was a flash of understanding and the remembrance of how to stand, how a body moves.
Broken leg, cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder, the heavy smell of smoke and fear in the air.
None of the pain had mattered in that moment, nothing else existed except her tiny frame collapsed at the base of the shattered Sith throne. Of course, he hadn't known exactly what bringing her back would do. Obviously, none of the helpful force ghosts constantly floating around would be willing to talk to his First Order; potentially dark self.
It was all so new to him, that he wasn't sure he blamed them at this point. He'd cradled her in his arms and had a flash of inspiration. Then, her healing his wounds on Kef Bir, and old remnants of texts claiming that once the force was used to heal and not just to harm and control. The whole concept was a mad dash in the dark. Nevertheless, in those moments of freshly redeemed soul, saving her was the only destiny that mattered.
Dying had never frightened Kylo Ren, he had lived in a constant heady mix of arrogance and youth which prevented all such fears. He had been burdened with glorious purpose, pure malevolent power poured through his veins; there was never an option for failure.
But Ben Solo, he was weak and terrified in that moment, and Ben loved.
Ben wasn't afraid of dying— he was afraid of living without her.