CHAPTER TWELVE

Rey certainly can't say this is the most relaxed trip she's ever taken. Although, truth be told, relaxation is not exactly something she's ever associated with trips on the Millennium Falcon.

The morning had started on the poor side of okay and gone down from there. She'd tossed and turned for most of the night until finally falling into an uneasy sleep — which seemed to last no more than five seconds at best before Finn was shaking her awake and telling her they had an hour before they were heading out.

That vague sense of dread she'd felt yesterday has been plaguing her since she was so unceremoniously shaken awake, and if anything, it's only gotten worse in the intervening hours between then and now.

But despite an intensification of the feeling, its source is still a mystery to her.

And Ben's not doing any better.

She'd found him in his room ready and waiting to go only a few minutes before they were due in the Falcon. He'd been tense from the moment she opened the door, saying nothing but a quick good morning before reaching straight for her hand.

They'd had to take the long way to the ship — Ben had caught sight of the memorial for Leia still being maintained by a few people on the base and had stopped dead in his tracks.

"We can go the other way around," she said, craning her neck up to look at him.

He'd nodded almost before she could even finish her sentence.

They didn't have the luxury of semi-privacy the way they did last night — the whole base had been bustling with activity from the moment Rey woke up — and the number of eyes on them did not go unnoticed by her or Ben.

But regardless of it not being their most comfortable moment, they made it to the ship in one piece, physically if not mentally.

"You're okay?" she'd said as they walked up the ramp.

"I'm okay. You?"

"I think so."

It was almost the truth.

And then they'd boarded the ship, Poe had given everyone a brief rundown of the plan, and they'd departed from Ajan Kloss with plans to return — if all goes well — in a few days.

But Rey knows that the odds of all going well are never as high as she'd like. And as she'd stood in the cockpit of the Falcon, watching the base transform from a sprawling jungle planet to a small green dot, she couldn't stop wondering if perhaps she'd seen those trees up close for the last time.

They've only been in the air for a few minutes and everyone but Poe and Chewie have vacated the cockpit in favor of waiting in a less cramped space. From the small room she and Ben have stuffed themselves in, she can hear Jannah pacing the halls with Rose, can almost make out the distinct words they're uttering in hushed tones.

There aren't any windows in the room she and Ben are in, but she knows there's several starfighters trailing the Falcon. Ideally, they won't be necessary for this mission, but idealism and reality very rarely intersect in war. And they are still at war, technically. It's been easy to let that slip to the back of her mind for the past week, but just because the worst of it is over, doesn't mean all of it is over.

The dread deepens.

She and Ben are sitting on the edge of a bunk next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, not touching each other beyond that. His hands are resting flat, palm down on his knees. She keeps her hands in her lap, wringing them so hard her knuckles start to ache.

Their roundabout trip to the ship had been Rey's first clue that Ben's discomfort is of a more material rather than philosophical variety. The tentative way he'd eyed the space between the pilot and co-pilot's seats — the space, she'd realized belatedly, where Han's dice used to hang — before turning and leaving the cockpit the moment they were dismissed was her second clue. And the way he's sitting beside her, back straight, looking like he's on the verge of bursting into either tears or flames, makes it so that she doesn't even need to ask when the answer is so clear. It's not the destination that's put him on edge, it's the way they're getting there.

Rey's heart sinks. Maybe if he was suffering for the same reason she is, she'd be able to help him, but there's nothing she can do about his actual predicament. And there's probably nothing he can do for hers either.

With nowhere to go and nothing to do, it's impossible not to focus on the growing disquietitude she's been working and failing to ignore. And paired with the anxiety Ben's giving off, it only takes a few seconds for them to find themselves caught in a feedback loop of misery.

Ben shudders — he'd shuddered the second they'd walked on the Falcon too, but not as blatantly as he's doing it now — and covers her hands with one of his own.

He's still not looking at her, but he gives her hands a quick squeeze — just enough to remind her he's here with her. An anchor in what is rapidly becoming a very unpleasant storm. She shuts her eyes.

In this small room, if she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that everything is different — she and Ben could be traveling anywhere, hand in hand soaring through the galaxy because they want to , not because they have to. That's not a luxury she's ever had — to go somewhere just for the pleasure of being there — but maybe someday it will be.

"We'll go anywhere you want, once this is all over," Ben murmurs.

Right. The bond. She's been so anxious she'd actually forgotten it's been open this whole time.

"Or," he frowns, clearly misinterpreting her lack of response as hesitation, "I mean, you can go anywhere you want, I don't have to be there."

"No, no, Ben," she flips her hand over, laces her fingers with his, and squeezes his hand. "We'll go. I'll want you there."

She feels him relax and an odd surge of jealousy washes over her at the fact that he can be relaxed at all right now. Usually, this close to a mission she'd be fine — focused on the task at hand, but able to function. Now, she's barely able to think without her mind sending her into a new dizzying spiral of unease and anticipation and excitement-but-not-excitement and fear-but-not-fear. And he's relaxing.

"How are you doing that?" she grimaces at the tone of accusation in her voice.

"Doing what?"

"Sitting here calmly, like you're not worried at all."

He doesn't respond, but he does finally turn to look at her. He catches her eyes and stares at her, as if daring her to look away.

"Rey, what's actually bothering you?"

"I don't— I don't know," she huffs. "I just think I really want to get this over with."

That's not exactly it. She knows that's not exactly it, but considering she doesn't know exactly what it is, she figures this will explanation will have to do.

"Well I want to get it over with too, if that helps."

She'd like to say it does help, but that would be a lie.

"But you don't seem worried at all," she says instead.

Ben shakes his head.

"That's because I'm not. There's a lot about today that I don't like, but I'm not worried about what's going to happen. And that's because I trust you and I know I'm okay as long as I'm with you."

Her heart tries to melt at that, but it's too frozen with fear to do more than thaw halfway. But she is pleasantly surprised to feel a soft smile forming on her lips, matching his.

"You can't know that for sure."

"I haven't been proven wrong yet."

He bends down and kisses the tip of her nose as if that somehow settles it.

And she does manage to stay calm for a few minutes. She takes deep breaths and she focuses on the feel of Ben's hand in hers, and she keeps her thoughts far, far away from the sense of foreboding that refuses to fully disappear.

But then the anxiety returns, and the shift in her mood is clearly felt by Ben, who takes a sharp stuttering breath at the exact moment her deep breathing fails her and the air gets caught by a lump in her throat.

"I used to really like doing calligraphy," he says after a long beat of silence.

It's such an unexpected declaration it's enough to make her want to laugh out loud. Or it would be if he didn't look so deadly serious right now.

"Calligraphy?" she says, not entirely sure she's heard him correctly.

Ben nods and she feels her lips curve up despite her best efforts to remain straight-faced.

"It's just a hobby. I picked it up years ago, long before—" he cuts himself off with a slight shake of his head that she's not even sure he did consciously. "Anyway, the other day, you, uh, might have noticed that I was writing when you came in…"

"I was wondering about that."

"I know you were. You didn't ask me about it though."

"I assumed if it was urgent you'd tell me, and if not, then we'd get to it eventually." The lump in her throat shrinks with every word she speaks. "And we have."

He smiles at her softly, carefully.

"So we have."

"Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Are you trying to distract me like I did with you yesterday?"

"Maybe distractions aren't either of our strong suit," he huffs in what sounds like a shaky approximation of a laugh.

"Well if we can't be distracted, we should at least be prepared," she sighs. "Which lightsaber do you want?"

"Oh, I— I hadn't thought about it."

Even without the bond she can tell she's truly caught him off guard. His eyes leave her face for the first time in a while, in favor of staring at the wall in front of them.

It doesn't take long for her to realize how unfocused his eyes and how tense his jaw are. He knows, of course, that what she's really done is offer him a choice between his grandfather's and his mother's belongings — a choice between two sides of his family that contributed their own weighty significance to his life. She starts to feel a little guilty for bringing it up.

"I've handled both, so I don't really have a preference," she offers. "So if you'd rather keep using the one from before…"

"That would be good. The one you gave me from before is good." He says it a little shortly and then immediately tries to cover it with a tight smile.

"It was necessary to bring up, you know," she covers her own guilt with a layer of defensiveness. "We might not have time once we're on the ground to discuss and—"

"I know," he turns back to her and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "I understand."

And just like that she sees her defensiveness was unwarranted, because she can feel it. He really does know. He really does understand.

"Come here?" Ben murmurs as he moves his hand from her hand and pushes himself back until his back hits the wall behind them.

She moves to follow him and nestles into his side the second she reaches him.

Like this, she thinks as he wraps his arm around her, she can almost imagine they're going somewhere else.


She can hear the rain well before she can see it. The second they enter Akiva's atmosphere, rain begins pelting hard and heavy on the top of the Falcon, creating a violent, arhythmic beat.

Rey had done a little research on the planet before she'd tucked herself into bed last night, looking up stats and weather conditions and population stats on a holopad. Nothing too in-depth, but just enough to have an idea of what they're walking into. It's not the kind of thing she would have even thought to do a year or even a month ago. She's not entirely sure why she even did it. She just knows that looking up those numbers and forecasts was the only thing that stopped her from feeling like she was going to be sick last night.

They touch down in the middle of a jungle far denser and impossibly greener than that of Ajan Kloss. Rey stays tucked into Ben's side, her hand clutched tight in his for the entire process of descending, landing, and gently skidding to a halt, not because she needs to — the whole landing is impressively smooth — but because it's just now starting to occur to her that she's going to have to let go of him as soon as they step out of this ship.

Everything will go back to how it usually is — how it has to be if they want to survive — as soon as they leave this room. Ben will return to stiff-backed, penitent stoicism. Rey will drop his hand in favor of keeping hers close to the holster of her lightsaber. Poe will lead, and Finn will lead too, really, and Rose and Jannah and Chewie and every person she's learned to love will once again risk their lives for a war they never asked to inherit.

But the choice to fight, to end it for good, to take whatever steps they must to ensure that it isn't passed down to the generations after them — that's the right choice to make. She knows it.

So instead of wallowing in what-ifs and could-have-beens, instead of sinking deeper into the dread threatening to consume her, instead of letting her feelings push through the bond and infect Ben, she'll do what she has to do — just like she always does. She takes a deep breath and stands up, her feet steady despite the shakiness of her soul.


The beginning of the mission goes well. Jannah and Rose, led by Poe, go ahead of the rest of the group and get a lay of the land.

Rey and Ben rejoin Finn and Chewbacca in the cockpit just as the other three disappear from view into the dense, wet jungle.

The four of them stand in silence, the tension thick enough to be felt even without use of the Force. The only thing that makes it bearable is knowing that they're all uncomfortable for the same reason for once. Finn's barely paid attention to Ben's presence at all, because he's far too focused on the view outside the Falcon, squinting as if he can see farther than the human eye is capable of if he just tries hard enough, and clutching a comlink in his hand.

The rain intensifies, hitting the top of the ship so quickly the drops are nearly indistinguishable from one another.

The crackle of static breaks through the silence, followed immediately by Finn's sharp intake of breath. Rey feels every muscle in her body tighten and then something brushes the side of her hand from her wrist down to the tip of her pinky finger. She looks down just in time to see Ben's smallest finger completing its journey before settling with the lightest of pressure next to hers, barely touching, but there nonetheless.

"Hey team," Poe's voice comes through, slightly muffled by the quality of the audio, mixed with the rain pounding around him.

"How's it looking?" Finn asks.

"Pretty good. Coast seems to be clear."

Rey relaxes at that. With any luck they'll be on and off this planet before nightfall.

"We're not too far from the satellite, I don't think. Judging by how not populated things are so far, I'm guessing there's not too many of whoever's out here. Actually, I think—"

"Behind you!" Jannah's voice cuts in.

And then the last thing she wanted to hear through the comlink — the unmistakeable sound of a blaster firing.

By the sound of it, the laser whizzes past Poe right as he begins uttering a string of increasingly obscure obscenities.

And then their nightmarish audio play is lost to static. Rey shuts her eyes, willing herself to stay calm, willing that calm to extend to everyone else in the room. She's not sure it's working.

A voice cuts through the static — Poe's voice.

"I don't think it needs to be said, but just in case — we need backup now."

There's a moment which doesn't seem to belong to time at all where the four of them stand still. And then, all at once, they spring to action.

Finn lets out a strangled sigh of relief as he hits the button that will lower the exit ramp. Chewie places a quarrel in his bowcaster and settles the weapon in his arms. Ben pulls his hand back as Rey tosses him his lightsaber before grabbing her own.

Some small part of her brain that she'd rather pretend doesn't exist is still screaming at her to stay on board, to let someone else fight this time. But she's not going to listen to it. She doesn't want to and she couldn't even if she did.

Regardless of whether she thinks it's fair or not, this is her fight. And it's Poe's and Finn's and Rose's and Ben's and everyone who stands with the Resistance's fight. And that makes it hers too.

They run to the ramp. Finn gives the signal for them to forge ahead. The other ships will be here soon. They'll have backup if they can't handle this on their own. Because in the same way this is her fight because it's theirs, it's also their fight because it's hers.

Rey and Ben are the last to leave the Falcon. They stand at the end of the ramp, and she doesn't know if it's the bond or simply the fact that they both really do think so much alike, but whatever the reason, they both pause at the same moment.

Rey looks up at him, lightsaber in hand, looking so much like he used to but also nothing like that at all. And he looks back, a familiar, blazing fire in his eyes, soft and hard all at the same time.

We've been here before, Rey thinks to herself. And they have, in a way — a worse way, because she didn't know where he'd stand once the wreckage settled that time. But this time she does. This time she knows the only way they'll find each other on opposite sides of a room is if that's where they both need the other to be.

She nods. He nods back. They ignite their lightsabers.

And then they run.


A week had almost been enough time for her to forget what this feels like. It was almost enough time to acclimatize her to dulled senses and slower reaction times — or perhaps not dulled or slow, but simply normal. She'd almost gotten used to having time for introspection and thinking things through.

But the second they step onto the muddy ground of Akiva, instinct comes rushing back.

She's soaked through in seconds. Her mind vaguely registers that she'll be freezing if they make it back to the ship once this is over. But then that thought is gone, replaced by more pressing matters.

It doesn't take them long to reach Poe, Jannah, and Rose, who have formed a small circle and are already engaged in a shoot out with several First Order members who are using the trees as cover.

Her pulse races. She gasps for air and breathes in rain. Surviving and drowning at the same time, just like she's done all her life.

Within seconds, without even having to discuss it, she and Ben split up and take spots across the circle from each other, deflecting blasters with the combined use of their sabers and the Force.

The seven of them advance nearer to the satellite, forging a relatively clear path. After the first assault, they only encounter a few scattered attacks. But the reason for that becomes clear as soon as they're in view of their target.

A significantly diminished number of fighters than there would have been a week ago stands at attention, ready for battle. They're all mixed together — commanders and lieutenants and Stormtroopers, their uniforms no longer polished and pristine, but giving off a collective energy that clearly says they feel they have nothing left to lose.

Everything halts for less than the amount of time it takes Rey to wipe the rainwater out of her eyes.

And then it starts back up again.

A week had almost been enough time for her to forget how good this feels.

She takes on anyone who approaches her, acting on instinct alone, trusting it to keep her safe the way it has so far. Her muscles ache, her lungs burn, a blaster shoots past her and nearly skims her arm. She reaches back with the Force and pushes the laser beam away, back towards the shooter, before turning to face another opponent.

She doesn't think. She doesn't have to think. The Force flows through her, giving her everything she needs. She doesn't even feel like just herself anymore. It's as though her lightsaber is an extension of her and the Force is an extension of it — or perhaps she's the extension. Or it goes both ways. The craftsman and the tool, all at once.

Because she can feel everything within and around her. She can feel herself using and being used. She knows without seeing that her friends are holding their own, she can sense the way Finn is tapping into the Force to help guide his shots, and she can feel that tether, underneath it all that says Ben is here, Ben is safe, Ben is on your side.

In fact, he ends up at her side as well. As Poe and Rose advance toward the satellite and the first X-Wing comes into view from above, Rey and Ben find themselves leading the campaign to hold off the attackers.

Now that he's in her line of vision, she can appreciate his skill with a saber in a way she's never had the luxury of doing before. For such a big man, he moves so precisely. There's an artfulness to his swing, the way he moves it through the air and opponents alike. Grace and power all at once, his stance both dignified and animalistic. A lock of hair falls in his face and she wants to brush it out of the way for him, but now is not the time.

A fierce looking woman in a tattered uniform gets a little too close, and Rey snaps out of her reverie and returns to the task at hand.

She fights the woman off with ease — it's all so easy. Someone rushes her, she pushes them back or slashes at them or throws them to the ground. It's easy. And the more she does, the easier it gets. Everything that's been bothering her — that sense of dread, that inexplicable fear — it's all gone, washed away like flecks of dust in a hurricane.

An explosion booms somewhere behind her. She feels the heat of it for a second before it's extinguished by the rain. Two consuming entities battling for dominance.

"Almost there!" she hears Poe say. "Hold them just a little while longer!"

She can do that. She can do that easily.

Their opponents are getting tired, but they aren't giving up. That's okay. She won't give up either.

Bombs drop and ignite. Heats flares around her.

The sound of blasters firing through and at trees tells her the second wave of Resistance fighters — the ones who stayed on board when they ran out — have joined the fray.

A Stormtrooper rushes her. In another life, that could've been Finn. But she can't afford to care about that right now.

Something crashes and falls to the ground with a thud heavy enough to shake the trees.

The only thing she can care about is stopping them, keeping her friends safe, protecting herself.

"Let's go, let's go!" she vaguely registers Finn's voice growing nearer and nearer until he practically runs into her.

An explosion, louder than the ones that came before it, goes off behind them.

Poe, Rose, Jannah, and Chewie race past. Ben knocks out the last person attacking him and rushes to Rey's side.

We have to go, he sends through the bond.

Right. Yes. They do.

They break into a sprint, quickly catching up to the rest of the group, who even now are being shot at.

Two more men rush them, firing more shots than anyone should reasonably expect to deflect. She does anyway.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ben duck and narrowly avoid a laser blast.

A surge of fiery rage swells in her, at being attacked, at running away, at the shards of metal falling down around them.

Another uniformed First Order officer runs at her and she throws her hand out, intending to push him back with the Force. That's all she means to do, and yet… She feels the crackling in her fingertips a second before she sees it.

Lightning.

Force Lightning shooting out of her fingers in a clear, violent stream. Throwing the man into a nearby tree. Disappearing as quickly as it came.

When Rey was nine or ten years old, abandoned and alone on Jakku, there was a night that got so cold, she had thought she wouldn't survive to see the morning. It had been inescapable, that cold, freezing her from the inside out, so all-encompassing she hadn't even had the energy to shiver. She had thought she would never be warm again. She's never felt that way since. Until now.

All at once the dread and fear she's felt for days is gone, replaced with a chilling sense of recognition. This, this is what she's been fearing. This is what's made her stomach drop and her chest tighten every time she looked at the training course or imagined herself in a battle. And she hadn't even known until just now.

She feels herself stop dead in her tracks, her own momentum from running almost knocking her over. And she feels Ben's eyes on her. She can feel him pulling at her through the bond, urging her to keep moving because they're close, they're so close to the Falcon and almost all of their adversaries have been taken out and they just have to get to the ship so please, please run.

She feels someone shoot at her and she feels Ben push the blast right back at their would-be assailant.

She feels all of that, but in a distant, detached sort of way. Because mostly she just feels cold.

"Rey?"

It's Ben's voice that finally snaps her out of it.

She turns and runs, knowing he's right behind her, out of the trees, out of the rain, away from what she's done.