CHAPTER SEVEN

It couldn't possibly be that far past sunrise when a loud bang on the door startles Rey out of her sleep.

"Rise and shine!" Poe calls through the door.

Rey groans and rolls over. Maybe if she doesn't respond he'll go away, just for a few more minutes, just a little longer to put off the ceremony she's already dreading today…

But the banging just gets more aggressive. And far too rapid for one person to be doing on their own.

"C'mon, Rey," Finn calls.

Of course. Both of them are out there together. Of course they are.

She peels herself away from her very warm bed — though not quite as warm as Ben's chest was, her sleep-addled brain jumps to remind her — and she winces a little when the cold steel of the floor meets her bare feet.

It's not nearly as hard to get around this morning as it was yesterday. She'll be back to running her training course in no time at this rate. Just the thought of getting back to being a productive member of the Resistance is enough to cheer her up.

She opens the door to find Finn and Poe already dressed and far too alert for the early hour — and it is, in fact, an early hour, as evidenced by the lavender and periwinkle sky behind them.

"None of the ceremonies are supposed to start for hours," she croaks out.

"Ah, come on. Isn't it supposed to be the way of the Jedi or something like that to be awake and alert all the time?" Poe asks as he pushes past her and walks into the room.

"A little advance notice would be nice," Rey grumbles and steps aside for Finn to make his way into the room as well.

"Do you need these?" Poe holds up the half-shredded rags that were the clothes she wore on Exegol.

"I guess it's all too torn to wear again," Rey sighs.

"Great. Putting them in the Museum of Heroes I'm breaking ground on today in honor of us all," Poe winks, and Rey really isn't sure if he's serious or not.

"He's kidding." Finn tosses a half-hearted glare Poe's direction and then turns back to Rey. "We're here to break you out."

"I didn't realize I was a prisoner."

"Sorry. Force of habit," he corrects himself. "The medics said you're fine so you don't have to stay here."

"Oh," Rey recognizes but can't quite explain the way her heart drops at that. "Good. That's good news."

"Finn also had another reason for wanting to come so early," Poe adds, a glint in his eye.

"I uh—"

Poe squeezes Finn's shoulder encouragingly.

"I was wondering if you could take me out to your training course."

"Right now?"

"Just to maybe… go over the basics?"

She'd considered this as a possibility, that Finn might want to learn how to use the Force. And it was an exciting possibility — it still is — but the sudden realization that she'll have to be the one to teach him is… daunting.

Logically she supposes she must have known that she would have to be the one — she is, as far as she knows, the last Jedi alive.

No, her brain corrects her, there's another.

Although now that she thinks about it, she's not entirely sure if she can classify Ben as a Jedi. He didn't complete his training — neither did she, to be fair — so maybe they're both not quite—

"Well?" Finn's voice cuts off her rambling train of thought.

"That training course is not the basics." She can sense Finn's disappointment at her words before she continues, "But I can walk you through it. Show you what you're in for eventually."

"Okay," he beams, "great!"

"I'm coming too," Poe says, already heading for the door.

"You don't have to," Rey says.

"Oh, I know. I just want to get a start on droid-proofing it for all your future outings. BB's still a little cautious around trees."


It's not hard to tell what they're trying to do. It's going to be a long, stressful day where she'll be very public for much of it, followed by another long, stressful day where she'll finally have to tell the whole base about Ben. And then the days after that… who knows?

There's a good chance this is the only free, uninterrupted time she'll have for a while.

So it's thoughtful of them to take her to a place that's exclusively hers. To remind her that this place exists, that peace exists.

She feels completely fine, she could run the whole course if she wanted to, but although she has energy now, she's not certain how much she'll have by the end of the day.

So instead, she settles for walking through most of it with Finn and Poe, explaining the purpose of each part, describing the type of skill each section requires.

"Ah, so this is where you let my droid get bludgeoned," Poe murmurs as they pass the fallen tree that hit BB-8 what feels like a million years ago.

"We'll have to clear that out of the way next time we come here," Rey gestures to the tree and shoots Poe a dirty look for good measure. "And he wasn't bludgeoned."

"He's always so dramatic," Finn whispers conspiratorially to her.

"You love it," Poe shoots back.

She can't quite place the look on Finn's face, but she recognizes it, senses the emotion beneath it. She's not attuned to Finn's feelings with the same clarity or depth that she is to Ben's, but she can still sense it — the hesitancy and the affection that goes deeper than friendship.

She also recognizes the tenderness in his voice when he mumbles, "Yeah, I do."

After the sky has shifted from the gold-tinged pinks and purples of dawn to a clear bright blue, after Rey, Finn, and Poe have returned from the training course, and after they've gone to their respective quarters to change into clean clothes for the day, Rey feels the bond snap into place.

She turns around from the corner of the room she's facing as she gathers the last of her things, half expecting to see Ben standing right behind her.

He's not there, not really… and yet she can feel his presence despite his not being physically in the room with her.

"I know you don't have time to see me," he says, and Rey can hear it as clearly as if he actually was right in front of her.

"Is everything all right?" she asks, hoping he can't sense her slight anxiety spike.

"Just wanted to hear your voice for a second."

"Oh," is all she manages to reply, and suddenly she's very thankful he can't see her so he can't see the blush she's certain is forming on her face.

"You sound tense."

"It's been a long day and it hasn't even started yet."

Rey feels a bit foolish, talking out loud in an empty room, but she's not sure if she's able to just think things at him or if she has to physically say them, so she errs on the side of caution.

"Let me know if you need anything," she adds as she arranges her hair into something halfway presentable.

"I won't."

"You won't need anything or you won't let me know?"

"I won't need anything," he says and Rey can feel how firmly he means it.

"Well okay," she sighs, "but if you do—"

"How could I when I already have more than I could possibly ask for."

She's not sure if that's an incredibly heartwarming or incredibly sad sentiment, and truthfully, she doesn't have time to figure it out right now. Judging by the noise coming from outside, most of the Resistance has already gathered for today's events.

"I know you have to go," he says, sounding much more steady than she feels.

"I think I do," she huffs.

"If you don't mind, I do have one favor to ask of you."

"Anything." She smiles, forgetting he can't actually see her expressions.

"Don't worry about me today, okay?"

"Ben, I—"

"You have enough going on, and I'll be completely fine just lying here all day. Tomorrow you can feel free to worry about me. In fact you probably should worry about me tomorrow. But for today just… don't. Please."

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise," she says, trying very hard to make it sound like she means it.

But if Ben's sigh right before the connection breaks is anything to go off of, she's not very convincing.


The ceremony she had dreaded the most was the first of the day and went by blessedly quickly. She, Poe, and Finn had stood on a slightly raised platform as Lando said a few words about their bravery and heroism and, truthfully, Rey can barely remember half of what he said, overwhelmed as she was by the sheer amount of people staring up at her, most of whom she still didn't recognize. It's still staggering to her to see just how many people showed up for the cause.

And that fact in and of itself had made the entire ceremony seem even more ridiculous to her — everything they had achieved was part of a group effort, an impossible feat if not for all the people who had gathered to honor them. If anything, she should have been thanking them, not the other way around.

Before she'd known it, Chewie was helping her off the platform and C-3PO was making his way toward her, showing a considerable amount more recognition of her than he did the last time she saw him.

"Mistress Rey!" he'd exclaimed when he finally reached her, R2 at his side. "It's so good to see you again. As I'm sure you can tell, my memory database has been fully restored."

R2 gave an indignant beep.

"Yes, yes, of course, R2, it was with a considerable amount of help from you," he continued.

"I'm glad," she said honestly, feeling a rush of relief both at the fact that 3PO's sacrifice hadn't been permanent and that she was no longer the center of attention.

"See?" Poe's voice came from behind her as he clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Quick and painless, right?"

"All things considered," she'd replied.

And it had been painless, especially compared to the portion of the day she's now found herself participating in.

The incredible amount of support they received in that final battle also came at an incredible cost — one which Rey hadn't fully processed until this moment, as the names of every person who was not fortunate enough to return to the base are read aloud to the crowd.

She's given up keeping count, settling instead for simply listening and trying not to be overwhelmed by the crush of grief and sadness she feels emanating off of the several hundred people surrounding her.

For a fleeting second, she's jealous of all the people who aren't attuned to the Force… who aren't feeling their own grief reflected back at them in unrelenting crashing waves.

But that brief flash of jealousy gives way to something else — something she'd felt intensely in Ben yesterday, but which belongs only to her now.

Guilt.

She was the one who led them to Exegol, she — however indirectly — had a hand in causing the funeral she's now standing at.

She hadn't even known what she was going to find, when she'd hopped in Luke's X-Wing and flown off to that horrible hidden planet. She hadn't known what she was walking into, had no way of knowing that her friends would survive or that so many people would show up to fight on their side.

She'd had no real plan, hadn't bothered to strategize or think or even consider if there was a safer, smarter way to go about things. She'd just flown, unblinking, straight into danger. And they had followed her.

Maybe it wouldn't be enough to thank them for what they did — maybe she should be asking for their forgiveness.

An arm wraps around her shoulder, squeezes gently, and brings her back to the present.

"I know it's tough," Finn whispers.

"Tough" doesn't begin to cover it, but there's no use, she realizes, in explaining the entire swirl of emotions she's feeling right now as she realizes that no one — not Finn, not Poe or Rose or even Ben — no one in the galaxy could possibly understand exactly what it's like to be her, to have been her, facing off against Palpatine while everyone she knew and loved fought and died a short but unreachable distance away.

She had come so close to losing everything, it had all been on her shoulders in those final moments before victory, and no one alive today will ever know exactly how that felt.

That old, creeping feeling of loneliness that's plagued her for so much of her life threatens to return, so she focuses on the arm around her shoulder, on Rose standing on her other side… on all the people who survived, who fought for the same ideals that she did, who proved to her that she will never be alone again.

The sun has passed its peak and is already beginning its slow descent toward the horizon by the time the final names have been read and Poe has assumed his place in front of the crowd.

They've shifted seamlessly into the final ceremony of the day, such as it is.

Surely there were once Alderaanian funereal traditions, but those have been lost to time and war. Leia left no solid instructions on how to proceed with any kind of memorial and a part of Rey suspects she wouldn't have really cared to have one — not if it would detract from important work that needs to be done.

But this is the most important work they could possibly do today, she thinks. Honoring the dead, simply taking a day to breathe and absorb both the weight and the cost of what they've achieved before they move on to their next tasks.

And there will be many, many more tasks, and more battles to face.

You may be facing quite the battle tomorrow, her brain reminds her and she forces that anxiety-inducing thought back to the back of her mind where she's been storing it.

Tomorrow's fight is for tomorrow. Today, she reminds herself — yet again — to stay present.

Poe has finished speaking. He's been replaced by Lando who is in the middle of an old story — she's heard it before — about the day he first met Leia, so many years ago.

It's been at least an hour since Rey's moved any more than shifting her weight from one foot to the other and her back has started to ache, but she doesn't dare move a muscle. Not now.

She's too focused on absorbing every word, memorizing everything said about Leia — the princess, the general, her trainer, and the closest thing to a mother she's ever known.

She hangs on every word, not only for her sake, but for Ben's as well.

She searches for their connection, mentally reaching out, but finds nothing on the other end of it. He's either asleep and actively blocking himself from their bond — whether that's for her benefit or his, she's not sure.

There's no burial — Leia became one with the Force and left them no body to bury or burn — so the ceremony effectively ends when Lando finishes speaking and he and Poe place a few lit candles at the edge of the podium, their faint glow an echo of the golden tones of the sunset that is now painted across the sky.

"Dinner?" Poe says as he rejoins the group, looking decidedly less spry than usual.

And the guilt rushes back to her full-force, now compounded with exhaustion and the stress of knowing that tomorrow is that much closer to being here.

"I'll join you all in a bit." Rey tries to keep her face neutral. She's not sure she succeeds. "I haven't checked on my little section of the cave in days. Just want to make sure all my things are in order."

She knows it's a lame excuse even as it comes out of her mouth, and it's clear that none of them believe her, but they let her go with a nod and a promise to bring her food if she doesn't join them within the hour.

The Tantive IV was destroyed in battle, and now that it's gone, the limestone cave that used to house it along with the command center and what Rey's come to think of as her personal research section feels immense.

Clearly people have been using the space as a place to sleep and store some of their things — the cave has a distinct lived-in quality to it now that it didn't quite have before. Her little corner, however, has remained untouched. Rey had suspected as much.

The ancient Jedi texts she spent so long poring over are still in their neat stacks, her tiny cot is still against the wall, a single pillow sitting atop one end.

Everything here feels comfortable, safe, familiar... more like being home than her little dwelling in Jakku ever did.

It should be a relief to finally feel like she has somewhere she belongs, but the guilt just won't stop coming today, it seems.

She can't help but look at the evidence of so many displaced people, can't help but think back to all the names that were read out loud just this afternoon. All the people who will never be able to return home, all the people who don't have a home to return to.

And this is neither the end nor the beginning of it. She's left behind a trail of death and destruction everywhere she's gone ever since she left Jakku. And — considering there will certainly be more fighting left to do — she's sure she'll leave behind more in the coming weeks and months.

She knows deep down that none of this is explicitly her fault. This is a war. People die in wars, planets are destroyed. That's an unavoidable fact. She knows it's not her fault.

But she can't help but feel like it is.

And wouldn't that make sense, for hers to be a legacy of death? Her lineage would suggest it. She knows the history, knows how much havoc her grandfather wreaked on the galaxy… what if in trying to right his wrongs, she's created her own? What if she has, if nothing else, inherited the capacity for such things? Rey's mind flashes back to the lightning that came so easily from her hands. It hasn't happened in days, but then again she hasn't tried it to see if it still can…

"Hey."

Finn's voice snaps Rey out of the dark and useless path her thoughts had been going down. She looks up, realizing she's been staring blankly at a spot on the floor for who knows how long.

Clearly the distress she's in is written on her face, judging by the way Finn is looking at her, a bowl of something that's still steaming in his hands as he studies her face.

"You never came for dinner so…"

"Thanks." She takes the bowl the second he holds it out to her.

Rey keeps her eyes fixed on the latest compilation of meat and vegetables that's been put together, but she can feel Finn watching her for several long seconds of silence.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Finn asks finally.

"Not really," Rey sighs. "I'm not sure there's even anything to really talk about."

"You're upset." He doesn't say it like it's a question.

Rey nods, finally meeting his eyes.

"Look, Rey," he crouches down to meet her at eye level. "I know how stressed you must be with the whole… thing… tomorrow, but—"

"It's not that," she shakes her head. "Well, I mean, it is that too, but it's just… never mind. It's nothing, really. I'm being silly."

Rey turns back to her food and Finn hesitates for a moment before standing back up.

"If you're sure," he says.

"I am. Really." She can't manage more than a tight-lipped smile that she knows couldn't possibly look very genuine.

Finn nods slowly and right when Rey thinks he's about to turn away and leave her he sighs and opens his mouth once more.

"I know you like being self-sufficient and I know you're good at it, but we — me, Poe, Rose, all of us — we all want you to feel like you can rely on us. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but just know that you don't do us any favors by shutting us out. We want to be there to help you, whatever it is. Always have, always will."

"Thank you," she says. And she hopes he can feel how much she truly means it.

Finn doesn't stick around for much longer. After wishing her a good night and imploring her to get some rest, he heads back outside to the Falcon or wherever he and Poe are sleeping, Rey presumes.

As the night goes on, more and more people fill the cave, settling into their makeshift camps and going to sleep. But, despite her best efforts, Rey is not among their number.

She watches them — holding a book open in her lap despite the fact that she's clearly not reading it. She tries not to focus on tragedy and pain and the burden of legacies, but on the hope she has for the future, the plans she has for her life, all the places she'll travel to when the war is finally fully over… the people — person, specifically — she might do that traveling with.

It's pitch black and silent aside from the staggered breathing and scattered snores of the others sleeping in the cave by the time she reaches out with the Force again.

The bond snaps into place so quickly Rey wonders if he was waiting for it.

"How are you?" she whispers into the darkness, feeling silly for the second time today for talking to thin air.

"Why are you still awake," Ben says in response.

It hasn't even been a day, but just hearing him, knowing for a fact that he's alive and safe and on the same planet as her relieves some of the tension she's been carrying all day.

Will she always feel like this, she wonders, every time she hears his voice?

"I couldn't sleep," she sighs.

"You need rest if you're going to properly defend me at my trial tomorrow."

"It's not a trial."

Rey rolls on her little cot from her back to her side. Ben's voice sounds so close to her that if she shuts her eyes she can almost imagine him next to her.

"How's your leg?" she asks.

"Still attached to the rest of my body."

"We'll count that as a win."

"How was it all today?"

The can hear the subtle shift in his voice, the way the levity in his words has disappeared. It doesn't take a genius to know that there's only one ceremony he's really asking about.

"I wish you could have been there," she says.

"Me too."

"I tried opening the bond. I thought maybe you'd be able to hear."

"I know. I felt you doing it."

"Then why didn't you—"

"Would it make me a coward if I said I just didn't know if I could bear it yet?"

The way his voice shakes as he asks the question is enough to bring tears to her own eyes.

"No, I don't think it does," she whispers. "I can tell you about it some time. When you're ready."

"Assuming I'm still here."

"You will be. Think positively."

"That's still a relatively unfamiliar skill to me," he sighs.

"Well luckily for you, we'll have plenty of time to work on it."

Ben doesn't say anything for several long seconds. The silence stretches on just long enough for Rey to mentally check to make sure their bond is still in place.

And then, the quiver in his voice finally gone, he says, "Okay."