Chapter 6: Safe From Me

"We were running out

Through the storms, through the night.

We were running in the dark, we were following our hearts

And we would fall down

We would slowly fall apart

We would slowly fall into the dark."

-Falling Apart, Michael Schulte

23 ABY

"And this is the courtyard where we do saber drills," the gangly boy guiding Rey through the temple explained. His sharp elbows seemed to take up more space than the rest of his body combined. Rey had spent the whole morning dodging them, a task made more difficult by his wild gesticulations.

"Master Luke oversees drills sometimes," he explained. "Other times it's one of the older padawans. Serai is the best—you'll meet her soon. She has good tips on form." He paused slightly, his head tipped slightly to the side, allowing his straight sandy-brown hair to obscure his green eyes. "She says I swing my arms too much." He paused again, tipping his head the other direction. Rey thought abruptly that he looked like a bird, sizing up a bit of scrap. "She's probably right."

"I'm sure it's fine," Rey said encouragingly. "I've never used a lightsaber."

The boy—Colt, he had introduced himself—laughed, his eyes looking at a point just over Rey's shoulder. "We don't use real lightsabers," he said to the empty space. "Just practice blades. Real sabers aren't until we've mastered all of the basic forms."

Rey wilted slightly. Despite her uncertainty regarding a life among the Jedi, one of the things she had looked forward to most was learning to use their famous weapons.

"Colt is right," a voice said from behind the two. Both spun around and came face to face with Master Luke, who was standing in the frame of the door watching them. Rey glanced sideways at her guide and immediately copied his bow, folding both hands in front of her chest as she did so.

"Lightsabers are dangerous weapons," Luke continued as they rose from the position. "They are only suitable for padawans who have developed mastery over the physical body."

Rey nodded solemnly, dropping her hands and surveying the Jedi before her. He was wearing a light gray tunic and a pair of loose-fitting white pants under a dark brown robe today.

"Why don't you show Rey to the mess hall, Colt?" he requested. "Lunch will be served soon, and it's time that she met her fellow students."

"Yes, Master Skywalker," Colt answered stiffly, his arms stalk straight at his sides and his gaze wandering slightly to the side. Luke seemed unaffected by his padawan's drifting eyes as the two younglings scurried off.

Rey had woken early in the medical bay to the sound of shuffling feet. The skin around her eyes had been tight and puffy from crying, so she had scrubbed her face with water from the 'fresher before going in search of the culprit of the noise. In the entrance hall she had found Han and Chewie moving crates.

"The shipment," Han had panted, lowering a large box to the ground. "It's all here. I'm glad you're up, kid. Leia needs to get back to Naboo, and Chewie and I are her only ride."

Rey had done her best to hide her dismay, but some of it must have slipped through, because Han's face had softened. "Don't worry," he'd said. "Luke might seem like a tough old codger, but he's got a good heart. You'll be safe here. And Chewie and I will be back soon enough. Ben's in a state over something, but he's in less of a state than usual, so I figure we can risk another visit." He winked good-naturedly at Rey, as if letting her in on a private joke.

"Are you sure you can't stay a little while longer?" she had asked, hopefully.

Han had crouched. "Is it gonna make it easier for you to watch us leave, if we do?" he had asked gently.

Rey had dropped her gaze. He'd been right.

"We'll be back before you know it," he'd said, bumping her shoulder. Rey shoved down the voice telling her how familiar those words sounded. I'll come back for you, sweetheart. This time it was her fault—she had chosen to stay, knowing full well Han and Chewie would have to leave. It still hurt.

She had followed them out into the misty morning, where Leia had stooped to give her a gentle embrace before boarding the Falcon. Chewie had lifted her up into a giant bear hug, and she had burrowed her face into the soft fur of his neck, winding her fingers through the silky strands and wishing to never let go.

Good bye, for now, quicksilver, he told her, in the rumbling language of his people. Be good for master brightsword.

Rey had sniffled once but nodded, squeezing his paw tightly before releasing it.

Then just Han had been left; he had gripped her shoulder tightly. "Give 'em hell, kid," he'd said. She wasn't sure who he had meant, or why, only that his eyes had twinkled as he'd said it, as if he'd known something she didn't. She nodded, desperate to please him.

He was halfway up the ramp of the Falcon when he turned back. "You know, you remind me of someone," he'd said.

"Who?" Rey had asked.

"Me," Han had responded, and then laughed. "Force knows you'll turn out better than I did, though. Good luck, Rey of Jakku."

And then he was gone, and Rey did not cry, because she was out of tears.

Instead, she had returned to the temple, where R2D2 had met her in the foyer. She had spoken to enough astromech droids in the past to carefully piece together his beeps and whistles. She'd nodded silently and let him lead her to Master Luke's study, where the Jedi had been seated behind his desk with a young padawan standing silently before him.

Luke had introduced her to Colt, and bid the boy to show her around the temple—a tour that had ended with their encounter in the courtyard.

"You know," Colt said, taking a sharp right and hurrying down a narrow corridor. "You're the first padawan to join us in almost two years. Janneh was the last."

Rey hummed in agreement. Colt was a peculiar boy. He spoke in fits and starts and rarely made eye contact—when she had first tried to pin his gaze down, he had shifted uncomfortably and rambled about the weather. He was kind enough, all things considered. He hadn't tried to steal anything of hers yet, although Rey didn't have much worth stealing, so she couldn't be sure if that really counted in his favor. Despite his wandering eyes—or perhaps because of them—Colt seemed not to miss a single thing. He pointed out the tiniest objects—a pool of water reflecting rainbow light, a flower poking up through a crack in the flagstones. He seemed fascinated by these oddities, much as Rey was fascinated by him. She wondered if perhaps they might end up being friends.

"Usually there's more of a warning when new students come," he continued. "Usually Master Skywalker goes looking for them."

"Do you think he's angry that I'm here?" Rey asked anxiously.

Colt cocked his head to the side. "Hmm? No, I don't think so. Master Skywalker is harder to read than the others, but he seems peaceful, if wary. He's always wary lately, though, so I can't tell if it's because of you."

"How do you know all that?" Rey asked. "His mood, I mean. Does he talk to you?"

Colt smiled, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. His eyes were trained on the floor. "No," he said softly. "I mean, no more than the others. I'm just good at listening. But not with my ears."

Before Rey could demand a better explanation, the duo rounded a corner and entered a hall containing a single long table. Ten heads looked up simultaneously as silence fell over the room. Rey could have heard a pin drop.

"Good morning," Colt said, and Rey didn't need his listening abilities to sense the discomfort in his voice. He clearly appreciated the attention even less that she did. "This is Rey. She is here to study to become a Jedi."

Rey risked a glance up and was met with ten blank stares. Her greeting died in her throat.

Voices broke out all at once.

"Hello—"

"Who is she—"

"Come—"

"—sit—"

"What's your full name—"

"What planet—"

"Quiet!" a voice snapped. "Stop pestering the poor child."

Rey blinked dazedly, finding the owner of the voice. It was a tall girl with flashing amber eyes and dark brown hair, pulled back in a tight tail.

"I'm Serai," the girl continued. "Come sit down." She gestured to the empty chair beside her, which looked like it had been hurriedly pushed aside as someone had vacated it quickly.

Rey glanced at Colt. He smiled encouragingly at the ground.

On trembling legs, she followed him to the table and sank into the seat beside Serai. The chair was still warm. The back of Rey's neck prickled.

"Welcome, Rey," Serai said. "Help yourself—lunch is only thirty minutes, so I hope you're used to eating quickly."

Rey nodded swiftly, surprised at the presence of rations during this midday gathering. To indulge in a third meal was something that only the richest on Jakku could afford. She helped herself to some of the bread and a strange-smelling cheese that turned out to have a sharp bite. She didn't mind. Food was food.

"Where are you from, Rey?" Serai asked gently. The others seemed too intimidated to cut in now that the older girl had silenced them. If Rey had been forced to guess, she would have placed Serai at around seventeen or eighteen years of age, although it was difficult to judge with off-worlders. Natives of Jakku were often stunted from lack of nutrition, or else prematurely aged by sun damage and lined skin.

"Jakku," Rey said quietly.

"Jakku? What's it like there?" a Twi'lek boy across from Rey asked. His skin was a deep shade of coral and he looked to be about her own age.

"Honestly, Nareek, do you ever pay attention?" the girl to Rey's right asked snippily. "We just learned about the Western Reaches last week. Jakku is a desert." Rey's head swiveled to take in the speaker. She had pale skin, long, silvery hair, and dark blue eyes. She was striking, in a pointed sort of way.

"Relax, Janneh," Nareek responded. "I was just asking."

The two began bickering and Serai sought to regain Rey's attention with a light touch to her shoulder. Rey flinched slightly in surprise, but turned back to the older girl.

"How old are you?" Serai asked apologetically.

"Eight," Rey responded.

Serai's eyebrows jumped slightly in surprise, but she didn't question the information. "You'll be with the younglings, then," she said. "There are three—four, now. You, Colt, Nareek, and Ninsar." She gestured to each in turn, finishing on a diminutive Mirilian girl with swirling tattoos running across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheekbones. "The middling group is Janneh and Akava—" she pointed across Rey to the silvery haired girl, and then to a Zabrak boy whose horns formed a sharp crown amidst his dark blue hair, "and the oldest cohort is mine. There are six of us—me, Baz, Ben, Kora, Ezriel, and Loren." Here she gestured so rapidly at a series of faces that their names and features ran together—a dark-skinned, surly looking human, a Twi'lek girl with vibrant blue skin, a golden-haired boy with regal posture and clear blue eyes, and a tousle-haired young man whose gray gaze drilled into Rey intently.

"Only Ben isn't here," Serai said. "But he's easy to recognize—tall, dark hair—"

"Shitty attitude," Janneh drawled, twirling her spoon in a bowl of oatmeal.

"Janneh," Serai said tightly. "What have I told you?"

"Oh, right," the silver-haired girl scoffed in return. She turned her dark blue gaze on Rey. "Ben is a tortured soul who deserves our support and respect despite the fact that he's a total asshole."

Rey found herself frowning. "He seems fine to me," she said, with a bit more venom than was totally necessary. Her small hands fisted the fabric of her tunic, twisting angrily.

"You've met him?" the coral-skinned Twi'lek boy—Nareek—asked, angling himself forward slightly.

Rey shrugged uncomfortably, staring down at her lap. "Sort of. His dad brought me here."

"Han Solo was here?" Nareek exclaimed. "And we missed him?"

"I knew it," Janneh said smugly, her voice overlapping with Nareek's continued complaints. "Ben Solo is nothing like his father, nor should you expect him to be."

Rey felt a dark niggling of doubt in the back of her mind. For the second time in as many days, she had been warned to be wary of Ben Solo. Everyone here seemed to either fear or dislike Han's son, a sentiment that conflicted with Rey's strange instinctual certainty that Ben was safety and protection. You've never even spoken to him, a small voice taunted her. You're basing your entire opinion of him off of a couple of letters and an old photograph. He could be dangerous.

She was saved from responding by the large human—Baz, who lifted his impossibly dark gaze from the table and fixed Janneh with an unwavering look. "Shut up," he said, in a voice that was both deep and surprisingly calm.

Janneh sniffed and Serai cleared her throat uncomfortably, plastering a smile on her face. "Well, we should clear up now," she said. "Rey, I'm sure Colt and the others can escort you to your first lessons."

Rey glanced across the table at her guide, who had been surprisingly silent for the majority of the meal. He looked up quickly, as if sensing her gaze, and sent a brilliant smile over her shoulder. Rey felt some of the tension leave her.

The twelve padawans stood with the scraping of chairs and the clatter of cutlery. Rey stared in surprise as Janneh unfolded herself from the chair adjoining her own. She had initially thought that the girl—who looked to be around fourteen or fifteen—was human. Now, however, she wasn't sure. Something about the middling girl screamed alien. She was tall, although not unnaturally so—Rey would have placed her at just under six feet. Her proportions, however, were startling. She had a lean sort of grace that made her look something like the human equivalent of a greyhound—long, slim legs, pointed features, and an astonishing lack of body fat. Rey had always been skinny and underfed, and she was fully aware that is wasn't a good look on her—her life of surviving on scraps had left her with little choice. But Janneh's figure—which might have been described as skeletal or unhealthy on an ordinary human, somehow suited her perfectly. Rey could sense the coiled strength in her limbs despite their lack of obvious musculature.

"What are you looking at?" the tall girl asked, fixing Rey with a withering glare that made her realize that she had been staring, open-mouthed. She snapped her jaw shut instantly and stumbled away from the table, clutching her plate to her chest.

"N-nothing," she stammered. "Sorry."

"Younglings," Janneh huffed, rolling her eyes. She spun on her heel and stalked away gracefully.

"Come on, or we'll be late," Colt said, tugging gently on Rey's sleeve. She spun around and found the other three younglings waiting for her. Nareek and the Mirilian girl—Ninsar—were watching her curiously.

"Sorry," Rey said. "Lead the way."

Colt nodded and took off towards the kitchens, where they deposited their dishes with a service droid.

"Don't mind Janneh too much," Nareek said supportively as he stacked his plate on top of Rey's. "She's like that with everyone. Master Skywalker says it's because she's had a hard life."

"Hard, how?" Rey asked, wondering if perhaps Janneh's past was similar to her own.

"She grew up on Temiria," he responded, as if that explained things.

"Te-what?" Rey asked, growing more confused.

"Temiria. It's a planet in the Outer Rims where governmental drafting is still legal."

"Employment on Temiria is funny," Colt cut in quietly. "On Temiria, time is money—literally. Have you ever heard of fathiers?"

Rey cocked her head slightly. She had a vague memory of an advertisement she had once glimpsed in Niima Outpost's sole cantina—an image of a giant four-legged creature with long, pointed ears, underscored by something about betting on the races.

"Sort of," she said.

"Well Temiria is like that," Colt continued. "Except there are no fathiers—instead, kids are recruited by local governments at a young age and go to state-sponsored training camps, where they practice to be in the races. It is considered the greatest of honors. Janneh is only fourteen but she can run a mile in under four minutes."

Rey stared, wide-eyed. "That's impossible."

Colt shook his head, leading the others through an archway and into an unfamiliar room where several desks were set up, facing a blank wall. "Not for Janneh. She was born for it—like everyone on her planet. They're humans, but unusual ones. Racers like Janneh have been bred for generations to provide the perfect combination of speed and strength."

"You mean everyone on her planet looks like…that?"

"Yeah," Nareek said, sliding back into the conversation. "Wicked, right?"

Rey blinked once, twice.

"It's not a happy life," Colt said sadly, sliding into a chair at one of the desks. "That's why Janneh is the way she is. It's a defense mechanism."

Rey felt an upwelling of sadness. The other girl's life wasn't truly so different from her own. It might not have been labelled slavery, but she too had been separated from her family at a young age. Bred, Colt had said. Like animals.

"How did she get here, then?" Rey asked, but the answer to her question was interrupted by Master Luke's entrance in a swirl of dark brown robes.

"Good morning, students," he said briskly, taking his place at the front of the room. "Today we will be returning to our studies of galactic geography. Can anyone remind our newest student of the region we left off in?"

The Mirilian girl's hand shot up in the air, and Master Luke nodded to her once.

"The Mid Rim, sir," she offered, in a lilting voice that was surprisingly smooth for one so young.

"Yes, excellent, Ninsar," the Jedi responded. Ninsar beamed. "How about a little review? The Mid Rim adjoins to which four regions of space?"

Ninsar's hand shot up again. "The Expansion Regions, the Outer Rim, Hutt Space, and the Unknown Regions," she listed rapidly.

"Very good," said Luke. "Now can anyone tell me how many planets there are in the Mid Rim?"

The four younglings stumbled out of Master Luke's classroom two hours later and trooped down to the practice grounds, where Serai was waiting for them.

"What do the other padawans do when Master Luke is with us?" Rey whispered to Colt. "Are there other Jedi masters?"

Colt shook his head. "Only Master Skywalker. The older students are more self-sufficient. They often carry out their own studying or practice sessions—sometimes they even guide our training."

Rey nodded and turned her attention to Serai, who was distributing rolls of cloth to the rest of the cohort. "Unarmed combat forms today," she said. "Wrap your knuckles tight if you don't want scrapes or cuts."

Rey looked down at the fabric in her hands, feeling a sudden jolt of uncertainty. Was she really about to do this? Colt had mentioned that all of the other padawans had been at the temple for at least two years—did that mean they had been practicing combat drills for two years? Was she about to make a complete fool of herself?

The back of her neck prickled slightly. She scratched it and looked over at Colt. His movements were quick and steady, winding the cloth around and around his wrists and palms.

"Ben!" Serai said, glancing up abruptly. "What are you doing here?

Rey spun around so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. Ben Solo was standing several paces behind them, his arms folded over his broad chest. His dark eyes were inscrutable, and they were studiously looking everywhere but at Rey. She bit her lip nervously.

"Master Skywalker suggested that you could use some help with the younglings today," he said, voice curling around the words in a way that made Rey lean forward slightly, eager to hear more. "Something about a new youngling." Here his gaze flickered over Rey so quickly that she almost thought she had imagined it. She felt a flicker of confusion. Yesterday he had stared at her like a dying man catching sight of water in the desert; now he seemed strangely discomfited by her presence. Was it the fainting? she wondered. Perhaps he thinks I don't deserve to be here. She steeled herself, preparing to prove him wrong.

"Excellent," Serai said briskly. "I was planning to introduce them to flips today—you'll be great help for the demonstration." Her announcement was met with whispers of delight and excitement from everyone but Rey.

Ben nodded once and stepped closer to the group, unfolding his arms and running his gaze over the younglings critically. Rey watched as he examined all three of her companions without meeting her eyes once. She swallowed and returned her attention to the cloth still hanging uselessly between her hands, trying to ignore the deflated feeling in her chest. She wrapped the fabric experimentally around one palm and behind her thumb, scrunching her nose when it folded over and formed wrinkles. She plucked at it irritably, frustration seeping into her movements. They told you, she reminded herself bitterly. Master Luke, and the others—they warned you to stay away from him. They knew he would disappoint you, but you just had to get your hopes up. This is where relying on other people lands you.

Suddenly, a pair of giant hands wrapped around her smaller ones, pulling the cloth out of her grip. Rey's breath got lost somewhere in her chest and was siphoned away, leaving her feeling oddly off-balance.

Ben Solo towered over her despite his crouched position. She felt anxiety creeping up her spine on delicate feet—her life on Jakku had taught her that being at close quarters with anyone this large was a bad idea, unless she was looking for trouble. But oddly, the nervous voice in her mind wasn't chanting run, run, run, the way it usually did. No, that instinct was softened by the warmth and delicacy of Ben's fingers laying the bindings across her palm, flipping her hand, and running them down and around her wrist. All that was left was a feeling of tension that choked down on her dry throat, suffocating any words that tried to make their way out. Ben Solo was standing right in front of her. Ben. The boy—man—whose presence she had felt on the Millennium Falcon, despite the parsecs between them. The illusive figure who had become a sort of imaginary friend to her in the weeks and months before she had ever laid eyes on his solemn, beautiful face.

"You have to keep them snug," he said, drawing her back to the present. His voice was barely a breath, but Rey was almost sure it cracked near the end. "Otherwise they'll roll up and you'll get blisters."

She nodded silently, eyes fixed on his dexterous hands. They were warm—so much warmer than her own, and at least three times the size.

"You'll be fine today," he said, as if sensing her inner turmoil. "The others have been at this longer, but you'll be a natural. Don't worry."

Rey swallowed and nodded rapidly, her heart a flutter of wings in her chest. The fear was sliding off of her like water off a bird's feathers. She could do this. She had been scavenging for three years. She had cracked ribs, broken an arm, and even knocked out two of her teeth while scrambling around in old ship wrecks. She could jump further than anyone her age, and she knew how to get in a few quick jabs with a staff or a hydrospanner or her own fists if someone tried to steal her scavenge. She could do this.

Ben departed as quickly as he had arrived, standing abruptly to stride over to Serai.

"Alright, we're going to start off with our normal warm-up," the older girl said. "The dummies are in the shed—Rey, I'll show you the forms."

The whole class trooped over to a dilapidated wooden shed at the edge of the training field, where Serai and Ben retrieved several weighted leather bags affixed on metal stands. They arranged the dummies in a row, and each youngling squared up before one.

Rey did her best to ignore the flurry of punches and kicks beginning around her as Serai patiently demonstrated a series of blows—right hook, left hook, right kick, left kick, punch directly to the center. The display went on and on, advancing to spinning kicks and elbow-strikes that Rey struggled to memorize. Periodically, she felt a slow prickle beginning at the back of her neck, and could practically sense Ben Solo's silent gaze on her.

"Good," Serai panted, steadying the bag as they finished a round of blows. "You're a quick learner. Keep it up, while I check on the others."

Rey nodded solemnly and returned to her onslaught of the dummy. It barely swayed under her ineffectual blows, each of which seemed weaker than the last. She blew a stray strand of hair out of her hazel eyes and sighed heavily.

"You're only swinging your arms," a deep voice said, just behind her. "Your hits need to come all the way from your core—you need to breath into them."

Ben rounded her to stand beside the dummy. He crouched so that they were at eye-level. His dark irises scanned her face once. Rey counted the constellation of faint moles on his cheek; she got to four before she was interrupted by the light touch of his first two fingers against the space just below her ribs. The tug behind Rey's sternum intensified. "Breathe in here," he instructed.

Rey's stomach swelled with air.

"Good. Now push your breath out at the same time that you strike. And step into the blow." He lowered his hand and stood.

Rey nodded and turned to face the dummy. She breathed in deeply, feeling her core contract as she brought her fists up, keeping her chin tucked as Serai had showed her. With a whoosh she exhaled, stepping forward and twisting her body in a single fluid movement.

Her fist hit the dummy with a magnificent puff of dust, and the bag rocked back.

Rey dropped her arms to her sides and turned to Ben, grinning in delight.

He nodded once, stiffly, and turned to walk down the row of practicing padawans. His cold attitude wasn't lost on Rey, but she could have sworn that just before his face had angled away from her, she had caught sight of a slight curl to one side of his mouth.

Serai brought the younglings together again after several more minutes of warm-ups.

"Right," she said, clapping her hands. "We're going to get started on flips—just simple back flips for now, but we'll progress to more complex moves as you master these. The flip is absolutely vital to a Jedi's repertoire—a Jedi must be quick on her feet in a battle. The Force can help you to sense an unexpected attack, and a neatly executed flip can help you react to one in a way your enemy won't anticipate. But you can't expect to perform that sort of move gracefully—even with the assistance of the Force—if your body isn't used to the motion."

With no further explanation, she turned sideways and launched herself into the air, twisting gracefully through two full rotations before landing, cat-like, on the soft earth.

All four of the younglings stared, awestruck.

"One day, you'll all be able to do that," Serai said confidently. "For now, we're going to be giving each other a little help." She motioned to Ben, who moved silently to her side.

"Ben is going to give me a boost as I flip—it'll give me the momentum and the height to land on my feet rather than my stomach," she explained. In a graceful movement, she threw herself backwards, tucking her arms and her legs in. Ben extended both hands, quick as a snake, and pressed up into the middle of her back, vaulting her easily heels over head so that she landed squarely on her feet.

"Like that," Serai said lightly, as if she not just performed a perfect backflip. "Remember that this is an act of teamwork—your partner is counting on you to do your part, so don't betray that trust." She tucked a strand of hair behind her hair. "Rey, you came on just the right day, because now the four of you can pair off. Nareek, you work with Ninsar; Rey with Colt."

The four younglings shuffled a few feet apart and eyed each other with no small degree of trepidation. Although all four had initially been excited after watching Serai's demonstration, they were nervous now that it came time to replicate the feat on their own.

"I'll go first, if you want," Colt offered generously. "It's okay if you drop me—I know I'm a lot taller than you."

Rey scowled. "I can do it," she snapped. "Just worry about yourself."

Colt looked a little hurt, and Rey softened. "Sorry. You can do it. I've got your back."

Colt swallowed once and nodded. Next to them, Nareek landed flat on his stomach, expelling all of his breath in a single rush. Colt looked vaguely queasy.

Rey positioned herself to his side, hands extended in preparation. She could feel eyes on her back again, and she tried not to let it distract her.

Colt gathered himself, crouched, and sprang backwards.

Rey bent her knees slightly and pushed upwards, hard. Colt was tall, but he was also rail-thin. The force was enough to suspend him in the air for an extra half-second, allowing him to complete his rotation and come down on his feet—or nearly. He staggered forwards wildly, trying to regain his balance, and Rey caught his shoulders.

Colt panted breathlessly, withdrawing quickly as if uncomfortable with her touch. "Thanks," he said. "That was actually…sort of fun."

Rey smiled happily.

"Your turn."

Rey clenched her fists and readied herself. Planting her feet firmly, she copied Colt's crouch, sucking in a deep breath. She had a brief vision of landing directly on her face but shook it away. She was going to be a Jedi, and Jedi were fearless. Steeling herself, she swung arms up swiftly as Serai had demonstrated and launched herself upwards and backwards, arching her spine and praying.

A feather-light touch ghosted over her back and she felt herself falling. Panicking, she tried twisting to the side to avoid landing on her head. The ground rushed towards her and—

—a warm rush of air caught her, softening her fall and lowering her gently to the ground.

Rey scrambled up, panting and brushing grass off of her sleeves. Ben was towering over Colt, a furious glare on his face. The other youngling was practically cowering.

"Pull that Sithspit again and it'll be you on the ground, kid," he snapped. "Do your job."

Colt's head bobbed rapidly in terror as he scurried to obey. Ben's eyes flicked once over Rey and then away. "Again," he ordered.

Rey lined up next to Colt and prepared herself once more. She wasn't sure exactly what had happened. She knew Colt hadn't given her much of a boost—was Ben blaming him for her failed attempt?

Shaking her head to drive away her useless ponderings, she bent slightly, extended her legs fully, and threw her arms and head back, this time with slightly less abandon. A hand pressed firmly into the middle of her back, and she came down—

—softly, on her stomach this time.

"Again," Ben said impatiently.

Rey rose and positioned herself again.

Again, she hit the ground on her stomach.

"Keep going," Ben said, folding his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes.

They continued in this pattern for another ten minutes, with each of Rey's flips ending with a gently cushioned fall onto her knees or stomach. After one particularly bad attempt, Ben made an angry noise in the back of his throat and waved at them to stop. He ran one large hand through his wavy black hair, revealing for a split second a pair of large ears. Rey bit back a smile.

"Enough," he said, irritation seeping into his voice. "You see the problem, don't you?" His question was addressed to both of them, but his gaze was on Rey. She shrugged uncertainly.

"The first flip would have been perfect," he said. "You committed to it. But beanpole over here," he jerked his head at Colt, who looked way abashedly, "didn't do his job. So, you stopped trusting him, and now your attempts are all half-assed."

Rey blushed and looked at the ground. Ben was right—she had had difficulty throwing herself into the exercise with so little preparation, and her doubt was even stronger now, after her initial failures. She felt ashamed. She had wanted desperately to prove herself to Ben, and here she was flopping on the ground like a fish out of water.

The dark-haired apprentice sighed heavily through his nose, as if he had never been more put out in his life. "Come here," he said, beckoning to Rey as he took a knee. "Try it one more time. I'll catch you."

Rey swallowed once and stood in front of Ben Solo, trying to hide the shaking in her hands and knees. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face, and for a split second she felt the presence in her mind—the soft caress of a thought. Encouraging, this time. Something in her chest swelled.

She crouched slightly, lowering her hands.

"Commit to it," Ben whispered.

Rey exploded upwards, flinging herself recklessly into the flip. For a moment she hung in the air, weightless, before gravity took effect. Just as she was beginning to panic, she felt it—a pressure, steady and unwavering, right in the middle of her back. Calm flowed through her in a dizzying rush—for a moment she was suspended, as if Ben had somehow reached out and connected her to both the earth and the sky. She was a livewire, with the Force pulsing through every inch of her, as if he was conducting it into her like electricity. Everything around her felt perfectly still; if she had wanted to, she could have counted the leaves on the trees or decided exactly which blades of grass her feet would crush when she hit the ground.

The moment passed as quickly as it had begun, and Rey tucked her legs, curled, and landed perfectly on two feet.

Breathlessly she looked up at Ben, eager for his approval, but he was already standing and moving away. Her face fell.

"That was excellent," Colt said. "Show me how you did it!"

"I-I don't know," Rey said. "It was just…easy, suddenly. Let's keep practicing. Do you want to go again?"

When the lesson was done, Serai gave them a few words of encouragement before dismissing them for afternoon meditation. Ben Solo was already halfway across the field, making a beeline for the temple.

Realizing that her three companions were engaged in a lively argument, and that Serai was busy putting the dummies away, Rey sprinted after him.

She could tell that he knew she was coming by the way his shoulders curled over a bit, but she pressed onwards, skidding to a stop beside him and reaching out to touch the side of his leg, which was even with her shoulder.

"Ben—er—Ben," she gasped, uncertain whether they were on a first name basis. "Thank you for helping me, earlier. I know I'm not much good yet but—"

Ben had stopped walking, and he tilted his face down to look at her. She realized with a shock that his eyes were guarded, like two flecks of black ice in his face.

"What do you want?"

"I-I'm not sure," Rey admitted.

Ben set his jaw and looked somewhere over her head.

"I'm Rey," she said hesitantly, extending a hand. "I—"

"Honestly," he said tightly, still refusing to look at her, "I don't give a damn who you are. Only that you showed up here with my good-for-nothing father."

Rey glared up at him. "Mr. Solo isn't good-for-nothing," she argued. "He and Chewie rescued me on Jakku!"

"Did they, now?" Ben asked in a deceptively smooth voice that cast shivers down Rey's back. "And whose fault was it that you were in trouble in the first place?"

Rey set her jaw mulishly. "I don't know what your problem is," she said. "I came to say thank you. I—you used to live on the Millennium Falcon, didn't you?"

Ben raised a single dark brow. "I hardly see how that's relevant."

"I lived there, too," Rey said. "For months. You wrote your name—on the wall. So I knew the Falcon was yours, like it was mine."

A strange look crossed Ben's face, a mix of vulnerability and something even harder to read. Then his eyes hardened again.

"Look, kid," he said. Coming from him, 'kid' was not an endearment—it was an insult. "I don't want anything to do with you. I have to help train you because it's my job, not because I want to be your best friend. So, whatever it is you want, just spit it out and leave me alone."

Rey's bottom lip trembled slightly. "I—I just—"

She felt the presence again in her mind suddenly, but this time it wasn't gentle. This time it pushed thoughts aside, shuffled around, and grasped at things until it found what it was looking for. Then it seized onto those feelings—her loneliness, her sorrow, her longing for a friend, the sense of safety she felt whenever Ben Solo walked into a room—and drew them forward.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the presence was gone, and Rey was left swaying in front of a tormented young man with something crumbling in the depths of his eyes.

He turned on his heel and stalked away.

"Wait," Rey cried, starting after him again. "Please—"

Ben spun around, the shutters slamming down over his gaze again. "Listen to me, scavenger," he spat. "I don't want to be your kriffing friend. You and I—we're nothing to each other, got it? I told Skywalker to send you away—I told him you were no good for this place, but did he listen? No. So now we're stuck with you."

"You—you told him to send me away?" Rey asked tremulously.

Ben's hand descended on her wrist, gripping it with enough strength to bruise, and she felt something being pushed into her mind, a vision of a room—Master Luke's study—and the Jedi himself, standing behind a desk. She could feel Ben's anger, not just sense it. She could feel his conflict and pain and frustration.

"She is nothing but a scavenger girl!" he spat. "There are a hundred others like her—perhaps a thousand. Send her away with Han—"

—the memory skipped suddenly, for that was what it was, a memory.

"Send the girl away," Ben said coldly. "Or you will live to regret it."

Rey's eyes snapped open and she realized that Ben had released her arm and was already halfway across the field. She watched him go silently, tears making track down her cheeks.

The other three padawans caught up with her then, plucking at her sleeves and asking her what was wrong, what had he said, why was she crying?

Rey just shrugged and brushed them off, told them she had dust in her eyes from all of her falls. She didn't tell them that the tears weren't really tears of sadness, but tears of frustration, confusion, and compassion.

Because when Ben Solo had forced his memory into her mind, she had felt his anger. She had felt it like a knife in her mind, in her heart.

But she had felt all of his other emotions as well—his fear, his helplessness, his conflict, and most importantly the overpowering urge he felt to protect her. And she had heard, like a whisper in the back of his mind, the words that he wanted to say but couldn't.

Hide her. Protect her. Keep her safe from me.

A/N: Hello friends! Another chapter, as promised! I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry that the Rey-Ben interactions haven't been super fluffy yet-they'll get there eventually (and then it will be non-stop, 24/7, so much baby-Rey/teen-Ben (EXTREMELY PG) fluff that you beg to get on with the story already). I hope I have done a satisfactory job of depicting their interactions!

I know I introduced a lot of new characters this chapter-I promise I'll do my best to give good descriptions when I bring them all up in future chapters (since I'm sure none of you have them all memorized at this point, nor were you meant to). I don't have strong images of them all in my head yet, but Colt started giving me strong Eddy Redmayne-vibes about a page into the chapter (any Newt Scamander fans out there? this one is for you). Serai is 100% Alexandra Daddario, and I imagine Janneh as looking something like Kristine Froseth. Let me know if you pictured other faces while you were reading! (These are all the adult castings, obviously-they're kids now, so just imagine younger version of those actors or something).

ALSO, VERY IMPORTANT: I changed the story title! "Dream About Fires" is in reference to the song "Forest Fire" by Brighton, which originally inspired this fic. The former title "Home," was also derived from that song-give it a listen if you have time!

If you have time, feel free to let me know how I'm doing/offer constructive criticism/hit me up with your predictions for future chapters! I want to give a huge thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers so far-you all have been so very helpful! I'm trying my best to respond to most reviews (especially the longer ones!) but some of you are guests or have disabled messaging (I think?) so I just want to give all those folks a shout out here, especially "A Fan," whose kind reviews have made my day on multiple occasions. Thank you all! And special thanks to kittstargen3 for continuing to beta! Her comments on this chapter were fantastic, and really helped make all the Rey-Ben interactions come across as (hopefully) not creepy! Have a great Friday/weekend!

-A