Chapter 11: Equal Parts Light and Dark

"Wake up, stay with me

Through the flood and through the fear

Right now I need you here;

I need you to stay strong,

To remind me where I came from and where I belong."

-Are You With Me, nilu

25 ABY

Rey stared blankly down at the parchment in her hands. She'd done her best to smooth the wrinkles formed where Ben's clenched fists had crumpled the paper, but they still traced lines through his precise brushstrokes. In months past she had watched her friend practice his calligraphy and ink drawings for enough hours to recognize his distinct style anywhere. The thought made her throat clench, and she set the paper aside before her tears could worsen the damage already wrought by her meddling.

Stupid, she thought again.

From the moment Ben had shoved her aside and stormed out of the room, Rey had known something was very wrong.

Truly, she had known before—or should have—but it was that final action that spoke volumes. Since the day they had first properly met on the training grounds and he'd gripped her arm to the point of pain, Ben had never laid a hand on Rey in anger. He might have been feared by the rest of the temple, but Rey knew that beneath his dark scowls and derisive scoffs was a kind heart. He couldn't hurt a fly, let alone his only friend.

Am I his friend, anymore? Rey wondered miserably. Maybe I ruined everything. And now he'll leave, just like my parents. Her breath caught. Maybe that's why they left. What if I drove them away too?

She had known when she reached into Ben's mind that it was the wrong thing to do. He had made it clear from the beginning that she didn't belong there, had nudged her gently away whenever she tried to sift through his thoughts or insert her own. He was never rough about it, but she quickly learned to respect the sanctity of his mind.

If it hadn't been for the sudden rush of anger flooding through her, she wouldn't have even tried.

As it turned out, reaching into Ben's thoughts was as natural as breathing. What she'd found there hadn't been.

At first glance, Ben's mind was an open book, pages recently ruffled by the perusal of a casual reader. Everything was laid out in an orderly fashion that reminded her oddly of the spartan interior of his room. It lacked color and depth, and she was shaken by the darkness swelling at its edges, like heavy storm clouds threatening rainfall. It was, in all respects, bleak.

Rey may have been young, but she wasn't foolish. She knew the mind she was looking at was not the mind of her truest friend.

In the midst of her confusion, she had caught a glimpse of the faintest sliver of light and chased after it, causing the invisible, immaterial walls to peel back under her onslaught. And there he was. Her beautiful, kind-hearted boy with his trembling lips and expressive eyes. His fear was so tangible she could almost taste it, swirling around the rest of him. It was like stepping into a foreign land that was somehow oddly familiar.

She was everywhere. Smiling at him out of the corner of her eye as she dog-eared the page of one of Luke's ancient texts, grinning like a fool as she tasted her first jogan fruit, and laughing at some utterly inane joke he had made in passing. It was like standing in a house of mirrors. Ben Solo's mind was a labyrinth of hidden passageways, and she found herself in all of them.

But there had been something else. Even in the hidden places there was a heavy sadness—a feeling that she knew more intimately than her own face. Abandonment. Loneliness. A desperation for the one thing he felt he had been denied—human connection. If she had had the time to linger, perhaps it would have broken her heart. As it was, there hadn't been time to soothe Ben's fears or fill his emptiness with the white-hot joy that his face and his smile and his presence brought her.

Because there had been a third thing—a presence that wasn't hers or Ben's. She could feel Ben's panic mounting, but distantly, as if there was a plate of transparisteel separating them.

Oh, Ben, she had thought, as she turned to greet it.

Being in Ben's head wasn't a physical experience—she could see little, and could only glean vague impressions from most of his thoughts, which flashed like quicksilver minnows as she tried to grasp at them.

But if she could have described the presence, she would have described it as a great eye, pinning her down so that something in her soul shivered fearfully.

There you are, a voice echoed through her mind, a voice that sounded like lightning and ice and the wrenching agony of a broken arm—something Rey had experienced only once, and hoped to never repeat. I have been looking for you, the voice told her.

In a flash, Rey was ejected from Ben's mind. She felt his hand press into her shoulder, instinctively gentle, but with enough force to send her staggering away from the door. Before she had the time to blink, Rey was standing alone in an empty room with a closed door, Ben's scroll rolling at her feet and her heart pounding in her chest.

That was when she knew.

She knew the terrible truth that she had begged for, but now wished she could forget.

Ben Solo had been protecting her. From the monster inside his own head.

He had built his mind into an elegant palace to hide her; a gilded cage to hold the demon in with subtle distractions and misdirection. He had sacrificed his sanity to keep her safe, and in her petty frustration she had flipped back the latch on Pandora's box and released the presence into the world. She half expected shadowy figures to start materializing from the walls.

She shivered.

Stupid, she thought again. You stupid, stupid girl.

A terrifying thought crossed her mind as she crouched in the center of her room, eyes still fixed on the beautiful drawing Ben had presented her with. Was he in danger from the presence, now that it knew he had hidden Rey? Would the presence scrape its way through his mind—just like Rey had, she thought with a painful stab of guilt—and drag out his most private, secret thoughts? Would it use them against him? Did it have power in the physical world, this ghostly wraith that inhabited her friend's mind?

She let out a cracked sob and rocked herself gently. It was a habit that she should have dropped years ago, but she found that even now, in times of dire emotional stress, she needed the comfort of curling into herself and blocking out the world. The steady movement soothed her, and her sobs faded into soft sniffles.

Think, she demanded of herself. What would Ben do?

A niggling feeling in the back of her mind told her that following Ben was the wrong move. His stiff posture, his evasiveness, and his abrupt departure were all signs that he wanted to be alone. Rey usually would have picked up on the signals earlier, but she had missed them in her anger.

Is this what happens every time he goes dark? she wondered. All those times when he wanted me to leave but never said anything—was it because the presence was visiting him? The thought made her shiver again.

Perhaps it was easier for him to cope with the presence when she wasn't there to distract him.

Time, then, she told herself. Give him time to calm down. Tomorrow, when he's settled and the presence is under control—then you can go to him. The thought made rational sense, but Rey's heart still twisted at the thought of not following Ben into the night. Wherever he was now, she was sure she could find him. He'd cut himself off from her the moment he stormed out of the room, but there was still an instinct creeping under her skin, like magnetized iron shavings shuffling towards him. It would be easy.

What would be harder was waiting, keeping her distance. A lump built in her throat at the thought, and she forced herself to stand, taking Ben's drawing in hand and smoothing it gently once more, careful to avoid smudging the still-fresh ink.

It was a beautiful rendition, although Rey was sure she had looked nothing like the graceful, catlike figure flipping across the page. It was a kindness on his part to make her look like a real Jedi.

Delicately, she pinned the parchment to the wall beside her bed, so that she could look at it as she fell asleep.

Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow you will find him. You may have ruined everything, but perhaps he'll give you the chance to fix it. Perhaps you can convince him not to leave.

When Rey woke, it was almost unnaturally silent. She flexed her fingers where they were curled against her cheek, and was comforted by the soft rustling of her sheets. An answering scuffle of feet on bare stone made her blink her eyes open. The room was oddly light—a warm glow from behind her cast shadows on the wall beside her bed. Ben's drawing was half in and half out of the light.

Confused, she twisted over, pushing her blankets back and taking in the bright doorframe and the figure silhouetted in it.

She would have known Ben's shape anywhere.

With a cry of delight, she flung herself from her bed and darted towards him, apologies already beginning to tumble from her lips before she felt a cold wave press into her chest, forcing her backwards on skidding feet.

She froze, stunned. Ben had teasingly Force-pushed her before, twisting strands of her hair or brushing the ticklish spot on the back of her neck, but never this—this icy burst of power that left her feeling chilled to the very bones.

"Ben?" she asked timidly, peering up at his shadowed face. In the strange half-light of the corridor, she swore she could see glistening tracks on his cheeks.

Ben never cries, she thought, fear crushing her lungs. What have I done?

He didn't speak, but took a single stride forward, letting the door slide shut behind him as the floor lights came on.

In the distorted glow that they cast, Rey was shocked by Ben's disheveled state. His dark hair, usually as silky smooth as a raven's wing, was twisted around his head like a crown of thorns. There was a smudge of something shadowy on his chin—blood? she wondered—and his eyes were rimmed with red. His lips were trembling, and she glimpsed a mirrored tremor in his hands, one of which hung uselessly at his side, and the other of which was curled loosely around the un-ignited hilt of his lightsaber.

"Ben?" she asked again, her voice croaking this time as she sought to step forward.

"Stay back," he said, and his voice was so strange, so different. Emotionless steel with an undercurrent of quiet desperation.

She realized then that she could hardly feel his mind.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and then cursed herself for the question. You know what's wrong, you daft idiot, she scorned herself. You went blundering where you had no right to be and now Ben is in danger.

"Perhaps you should tell me," he answered, and his voice sounded like it was being dragged unwilling from somewhere deep in his chest, so quiet that she almost didn't catch it.

Her brow furrowed and her lips parted slightly in confusion. "I'm s-sorry about before—I shouldn't have—"

"Traitor!"

The word was a strangled shout, and Rey couldn't help it—she flinched. She thought she saw an accompanying flinch in his eyes as he turned from her and paced restlessly across the small space of her room.

"Traitor," he hissed, more quietly this time. "I trusted you—I kriffing trusted you—and after—after everything, you—" He broke off with a strangled sob. Rey's heart stopped.

"I'm s-s-sorry Ben!" she stammered, trying to step closer, only to be pushed back again. "I won't do it again, ever, I promise! Please…" She wasn't even sure what she was asking for, only that the look in his eyes told her that she wouldn't get it.

"I should have known it was too good to be true," he spat bitterly, still not looking up from the path he was wearing into her floor. "You're just like the rest of them—worse even! Using me!"

"I—what?" Rey asked. "Ben I don't understand—"

"Don't lie to me!" he bellowed. "I know everything I need to know. I didn't see before, but Snoke showed me."

"Snoke? Is that the presence in your head?" she breathed, taking a step towards him and succeeding this time.

"Don't speak of him!" Ben snapped. "You tried to turn me against him! And you would have succeeded too, if he hadn't shown me your true nature. The darkness in you. Even Skywalker saw it."

Rey shrank back as he thrust a scrap of paper towards her, crumpled and dirty. He released it and let it float to the ground as she reached for it, retracting his hand before their fingers could brush.

Keeping a careful eye on him, Rey crouched and scooped up the folded sheet.

It was a letter.

She scanned it as quickly as she could, noting the dedication at the top—dearest Luke—and the signature at the bottom, in perfect penmanship not unlike Ben's—Leia. The words confused her, and the dim lighting of her room, combined with the Senator's looping writing and something that looked like drops of water smearing the ink, didn't help. In response to your previous letter, she picked up. A great darkness arising—reaching through the galaxy—something the likes of which we have never before seen. If you truly sense that it walks among your students you must act quickly—before it spreads—will warn others in the New Republic—emergency funds to pinpoint the source of this awakening—I sense it too. Stay safe, and all my love.

Rey looked up from the writing, fragments of disjointed text still floating through her mind. "Is this Master Luke's?" she murmured. "Where did you get it?"

"It doesn't matter!" Ben spat. "But it's the only proof I need—proof that what I saw was real. Who are you, Rey from nowhere?"

Rey felt a lump rise in her throat. "W-who am I? I don't know, Ben, you know that I don't know!"

Ben let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a bark of laughter. "What does it matter?" he muttered quietly. "It is not what you are—but what you will become. There is darkness in you. I don't know how I missed it before, but it's there, and soon you won't be able to control it."

"Darkness?" Rey asked, her eyes widening in fright. "Like…like the Sith?"

"Exactly like the Sith," he sniped back. "It will consume you." Here, his voice cracked again, and she saw through the mask of fury to the raging inferno of pain beneath it. "I saw—visions of you. As a darksider." He no longer sounded angry, but his eyes were shining down at her, as if begging her to understand. "I have to do this Rey—I don't have a choice."

"Do what?" she whispered slowly, feeling the cold touch of real fear for the first time since she had seen him silhouetted at her door.

The hum of his saber unsheathing sent the fear coiling around her throat. Its vibrant blue glow cast his face in an unearthly light.

"Ben?"

There were silent tears streaming down his cheeks, but he made no noise. She could feel the agony radiating off of him like a sickness.

"Please don't make this harder than it has to be," he whispered, taking a half step closer. "You forced me to love you, Rey, but this is my duty. I've never done a thing right my entire life and I swear to you that I wouldn't be here if I thought there was another way. I can't let you kill them—can't let you kill me."

When Rey was five or six, still learning the trade of a scavenger, she had once slipped and fallen from a considerable height while picking through the remains of an old Star Destroyer. She had plunged down some ten feet and landed on her stomach. The punch of the hard ground had knocked the breath straight out of her in a powerful whoosh.

It was nothing compared to what she felt as she looked into Ben's dark, uncertain eyes and heard the words kill me.

"Kill you?" she parroted, her eyes widening in shock and her voice taking on a hint of hysteria. "Ben I wouldn't—you know I wouldn't—" For the first time in many months, she recalled the vision that had blossomed before her as her fingers brushed over Luke Skywalker's old lightsaber. A strangely familiar young man with haunted eyes, a raw but healing wound splitting his face into halves—Ben.

Her heart clenched almost painfully. Someone had hurt Ben—had it been her? He had said something to her in the vision, hadn't he? She wracked her mind desperately for the words, and they came to her lips as he lifted his saber overhead.

"I am nothing. But not when I am with you."

He froze, blade still held aloft, tears still marring his pale cheeks.

"You're the only family I've ever had, Ben," she whispered, fixing her eyes on his face—his beautiful, expressive face that was as familiar to her as her own. "I don't ever want to hurt you. If this is the only way to keep you safe, then, just—make it quick, okay?"

She took a long look, memorizing his straight nose and full lips and the sound of his breath stirring the air between them in quiet puffs. She closed her eyes.

There was silence.

And then Ben made a noise of distress so pitiful that she was forced to open them again and watch as his numb fingers released his light saber and it dropped—sheathed—to the stone floor at her feet. He crumpled along with it.

"Rey," he sobbed, his whole body shaking with tears. "Rey. I can't."

She dropped to her knees, lowering a hand to the top of his head, smoothing the hair there gently. "Ben," she whispered. "Please, Ben, don't cry. It will be okay."

"No," he choked out, raising himself up so that they were at eye-level, her kneeling and him crouching. "It's not safe for you here. You have to go—now. Please, Rey. You have to run before—" His voice choked off and he keeled forward, as if in pain.

"Ben!" Rey cried, shoving helplessly at his shoulder and tugging at the back of his tunic. "Ben, what's wrong?"

He tilted his head up to hers, and there was a war raging in his eyes. "Go!" he gasped. "Run, Rey! Don't look back."

"I'm not leaving you," she sobbed as he curled back into the floor, his hands fisting in his hair as if to tear it out by the roots. "I can't."

Foolish child.

The words ground through her mind like blue lightning. The presence swatted aside her defenses and she tried to scream but her voice was locked down inside a throat that struggled to draw air. She coughed once, desperate for oxygen as her fingers scrabbled at her neck.

"No!" The voice sounded like Ben's, but she couldn't be sure through the haze of her panic. "Leave her alone! I don't care if she's Sith—I'll fall with her! She's the only thing I have!"

You are a fool, Ben Solo, and you will die like a cur unless I complete the task for which you were too weak.

"Please," Rey gasped, blackness flickering at the corners of her vision. "Please, Ben."

She could feel his desperation like a deluge of water crashing over her, icy and burning at the same time. "Stop! You don't understand—I need her!"

You do not.

"But I can save her!"

She is a threat to your power—this girl has the ability to undo everything we have worked for. Whether she is light or dark matters little!

There was a feeling like tectonic plates shifting in Rey's mind and an explosion of fury rushed through her from chest to fingertips.

Ben's voice was in her mind this time, and if Snoke was the crackle of lightning, Ben was the echoing boom of thunder. Let her go, you lying scum! You only wanted her dead because you knew she would see right through you! LET HER GO!

There was a crack, a recoiling of power, and Rey felt the pressure on her trachea disappear. She sucked in great gasps of breath, savoring the dizzying relief of oxygen as it flowed into her. The stone floor was a blur under her as she scrambled up, tilted sideways crazily, steadied herself on the corner of her bed.

Ben was curled on the floor, his whole body trembling. His breath came in short puffs, and when she knelt by his side, he didn't even respond. Gently, she reached out and pushed back one of his eyelids. The rolling white of his eye stared up at her.

I'm sorry, Ben, she thought quickly. Please forgive me.

And she dove into the darkness of his mind.

If Rey had imagined a war was going on in Ben's eyes, it was nothing compared to the turmoil in his head.

The presence was everywhere—scrambling, clawing, and battering at the soft underbelly of Ben's consciousness. She could feel him growing dimmer by the second as it—as Snoke—tore into him.

Mustering her strength, she channeled all of her strength into a single, whip-like command.

Leave him!

The presence froze, and once again she experienced the crawling sensation of being watched. Snoke's great eye leered down at her with brutal focus.

What was that, child?

I said, leave him, Rey reiterated. Leave, and don't ever come back.

A cold, cruel laugh filled the spaces of Rey's mind, a laugh that went on and on.

Your courage astounds me, Snoke said finally. That spit of fire. You could have been truly great, if you hadn't already been ruined by the dogma of that idiotic Jedi. Perhaps I could have trained you, if you had come to me first.

Luke Skywalker is a great man, Rey spat back. And you are a monster.

The presence eyed her carefully for a moment. Yes, I am, he said finally. And now I will kill you, like a monster would. While young Solo watches.

"No!" Ben screamed, and his voice was both in her ears and in her mind, a drawn-out cry of sheer agony that raised the hairs on her arms and ignited a rage in her the likes of which she had never felt. She felt him gathering his strength, preparing himself for whatever was to come. Helplessness clouded his mind and she saw him as he saw himself—a wounded soldier gone to fight in one last, fruitless battle against a power that had pinioned his heart and mind for almost twenty long years.

She was beside him, and she let her mind brush over his, a cooling touch. Together, she whispered to him.

Together, he told her, voice broken and ragged.

"You can't have him," she breathed, knowing that Snoke would hear.

And together they struck.

Snoke roared in fury, batting them aside like a child's play things. Pathetic, he snarled. Weak! You haven't the heart to drive me out young Solo—because you know you need me!

Rey could almost feel Ben wilting, sinking away from her into the depths of unconsciousness.

Desperate, she shoved down the anger in her belly, letting it burn like a hot furnace within her, lending her strength without overwhelming her senses. It was a powerful emotion, but there was something better—something she knew her enemy would never expect.

Ben's wide, dark eyes the first time she had seen him. His large hands, dwarfing hers as he showed her how to hold a pen. The warmth of his presence as he encouraged her, trained her, gave her a home.

The way of the Jedi might have been the way of detachment, but it was a sentiment that Rey would never be able to share.

She gathered the memories close to her, breathing vitality into them, imbuing them with every ounce of her love and affection.

And she shoved them into Ben's mind with the force of a speeding blaster bolt.

For a moment nothing happened.

And then—then—a ripple seemed to buzz through the air around them. In the Force netherworld of Ben's mind, Rey saw a great black space, and beheld the creature living therein—a darkness so all encompassing that she felt it would envelop the very earth she stood upon. But at its center was a light—throbbing steadily and displacing the darkness, subsuming it and forcing it out. Rey knew that the light was herself, for she could hear the answering call in her own chest, could feel the wondrous click of two pieces—long displaced—finally snapping together.

Get out of my head, Ben Solo snarled.

And this time, when they struck, there was no response.

"Ben," Rey murmured, prodding at his still form. "Ben, please wake up."

He twitched slightly, uncurling his fingers from his tangled mess of hair. He was still shaking, and even in the uncertain light, she could tell that his face was as white as a sheet. When his bloodshot eyes met hers, he flinched slightly, as if torn between fleeing and drawing nearer.

Rey solved the dilemma for him by wrapping her arms as far around his shoulders as she could manage. His chest was too broad for a proper hug, and the tips of her fingers barely reached the outer edges of his shoulder blades. He was sitting, and she was standing, and the great weight of his head came to rest on her clavicle.

His body vibrated with a single sob, and she felt tears gathering in the corners of her own eyes.

"Rey," he croaked. "Rey, I'm so sorry."

"Shh," she hummed, as his arms came around her and his one sob turned into two, and then three, and then it was as if the floodgates had opened and he cried into her shoulder until his tears were spent.

It could have been minutes or hours before Ben finally gathered himself and drew away, putting feet of space between them and leaning back against the edge of Rey's bed. His head tilted back to direct his gaze at the ceiling. Rey watched him quietly, aware of the turmoil taking place in his mind and unwilling to break the silence before he did.

After what seemed an eternity, he finally spoke.

"I owe you an explanation," he said. His voice was rough with tears and Rey felt her lip wobble.

"You don't owe me anything," she said softly. "It was my fault—I—I tried to force you to explain and—"

He cut her off before her voice became too thick with tears to continue. "No, Rey," he said. "I owe you everything. And you deserve to know."

The silence stretched between them for a few interminable moments, so long that Rey was convinced that he had changed his mind. When he spoke again, it nearly caused her to jump.

"It started—well, really, I don't know when it started. Before I can remember. Before I was old enough to understand anything. When I was very young, there was a place—somewhere—" his fingers brushed over his sternum, gaze still fixed on the ceiling—"that was empty. It was like—reaching into the Force, and instead of finding something living, you found an absence. A hole. And it hurt. So much. I was afraid."

Rey crept closer, laying one hand gently over his forearm. He didn't return her gesture, but he didn't pull away either.

"I tried—tried to speak about it," he stammered. "My—Han never understood. And I was—I was scared to tell Leia, because I knew already that she—she saw darkness in me. She tried to hide it, but I know I reminded her of someone—someone dark and terrible who had hurt her once. She and Skywalker, both. They never trusted me." He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. Rey waited patiently. "From the very beginning, Snoke was there. When I was very young, I thought he was me. Just a part of my head that whispered at me to do things—break things—hurt things. I thought it was normal, something that everyone felt. It wasn't until I was older than I realized he was something different. And by then, the others hated me. They called me a troubled child, made reference to the wrongness of me. They tried to hide it, but I heard the whispers. Snoke was the only friend I had." His voice broke slightly. "I was happy that he wasn't a figment of my imagination. He was the only one who trusted me, who saw potential in me despite all of the—bad parts. He didn't fear me."

"I don't fear you," Rey whispered, squeezing his arm gently.

"How can you not?" Ben choked. "I almost killed you!"

"But you didn't," Rey said matter-of-factly.

"Rey, I'm a danger to you," he whispered. "If I had a single unselfish bone in my body, I would leave this place and never come back."

"But you won't," Rey said harshly, her blunt fingernails biting into his arm. "I won't let you."

Ben let out a soft noise that sounded like defeat.

"Tell me the rest," she urged. "If you can."

Ben sighed heavily, running the hand that wasn't trapped under Rey's grasp through his hair. "When I was fifteen I started getting these terrible nightmares. Everything felt so noisy in my head—the Force, Snoke, my dreams. I couldn't make sense of any of it. And I kept getting these strange emotions—flashes of fear or anger or helplessness. I don't—I don't know what was wrong with me. But Snoke—Snoke always said that I needed to learn to use my emotions, rather than pushing them away. He seemed to understand everything. Leia and Han were terrified of me of course—I kept lashing out, losing control of the Force, doing things I didn't mean to. Then, one day, I almost killed a boy."

Rey swallowed, feeling the pulse thrumming in his wrist beneath her fingers. "Why?"

"I'm not even sure, anymore," Ben admitted. "He said something—something about my mother, I think. And it made me furious. I wanted to hurt him, so badly. And Snoke told me that he deserved it. I can still remember the look on his face—the boy's. He couldn't breathe. I didn't know I was doing it, or how to stop it. If someone hadn't come along I would have—I would have killed him, Rey. There's something wrong in me. Don't you understand? I can never belong here, or anywhere else."

"There is not," Rey said hotly. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"Can't you see?" he asked, turning his eyes to her again. "There is a darkness in me. That's why my parents sent me away to Skywalker. I begged them not to make me go, but they thought that only he could prevent it from spreading. Snoke saw it, too, and that's why he spoke to me. I thought he was teaching me how to control it, how to channel it for good, but he only wanted it to consume me. I can see that now, and I hate him for trying to hurt you, but at the same time, I can't hate him because he was the only one to every accept all of me."

"You idiot," Rey said fondly. "The only one to ever 'accept all of you?' Did you even consider giving anyone else the chance to really know you?"

"I did!" Ben snapped. "I tried! Luke, Han, Leia—none of them ever listened!"

"And what am I?" Rey growled, jerking her hand away from his arm and glaring directly into his eyes. "Didn't I deserve the chance? You didn't even let me try to understand."

"You couldn't," Ben said helplessly, looking away. "You'll never see me the way that you did before—before this. You'll never be able to look at me without being afraid."

"Ben Solo you absolute ass!" Rey cried, leaping to her feet. "Don't you dare try to speak for me!"

He looked suitably chastened, but also mistrustful.

"Have you listened to a single word I've said to you?" Rey asked softly, sinking to the ground again. "You're my family. You're the only person in the whole galaxy that I trust, and every day I wake up expecting you to be gone." Her voice cracked. "Please don't go."

Ben's face fell and he curled a single around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. "Never, kid," he said quietly. "I'm not them. I'll never leave. I promise."

I'm not them. The words echoed in the hollow spaces of Rey's heart, clamoring against all of the emptiness that her parents had left behind. She thought she had hidden those spaces so well, but this was Ben after all, and she'd realized long ago that she couldn't hide anything from him.

Rey blinked hard to prevent the tears from leaving her stinging eyes. "Don't just say it," she whispered. "Prove it."

He squeezed her shoulder once. "I will."

Rey swallowed and burrowed her face into his side. "We're two of a kind, you know," she said, once she was convinced that her voice was steady enough for words. "There's something in me, too—maybe it's the darkness that Luke and Snoke both saw. And it scares me."

"Rey," Ben breathed. "There's no darkness in you. Snoke lied—he must have. He showed his hand, in the end, when he tried to kill you. He feared you—feared the light in you. He knew you would be strong enough to fight him, when I wasn't."

"We fought him together," Rey corrected. "Besides, you said he showed you a vision. Of me—as a Sith."

"I don't believe it," Ben said. "I can't."

"It doesn't matter if you believe it," Rey said softly. "It could still be inside me. I had a vision too—on Takodana. When I held Luke's old lightsaber."

"Luke's old saber? You held it?"

"Yes," Rey breathed. "Han's friend had it. It showed me—terrible things. And you—I think I—"

"Shhh," Ben said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "I don't want to hear it. Whatever happens in the future, I don't want it to be because I'm afraid of some false vision."

"But Ben—"

"No, Rey. I trust you. I should have trusted you all along. I should have known that Snoke was only trying to use me. The darkness Skywalker sensed wasn't in you—it was in me."

"You don't know that," Rey argued. "Maybe it was in both of us."

"Maybe," Ben finally admitted, although she could tell that he didn't believe her.

"We have to make a pact," Rey said firmly, scooting away from him and extending one hand, as if to shake his. "If there's darkness in us both, then we have to promise each other not to let it win. Okay? You protect me, and I'll protect you."

"Rey, I'm not sure that's how it works," Ben said hesitantly, his lips twitching in a sad approximation what she had come to consider his smile. Ben never truly smiled, and so she savored his half-smiles whenever she created them.

"It is, if we want it to be," she pressed, not dropping her hand. "Promise me, Ben. Promise that we'll protect each other."

Ben sighed, shifting to face her. "Okay, Rey. Fine." His great hand engulfed hers. "I swear to shield you from the darkness."

"And I swear to shield you from the darkness," Rey said, her bright hazel eyes meeting his across the space between them. "I swear it on my life."

A/N: Guys, look how much faster I posted this time! Wow! I felt guilty for leaving you with such an awful cliff hanger. Not really much to say here, except that I weirdly enjoyed writing emotionally vulnerable Ben. Does that make me a bad person? Whoops.

Thank you for your continued responses to this story-I love hearing your thoughts/predictions/etc. Last time a couple people told me that this story helped improve their quarantine/working from home experience, and it totally made my week. :) Hope everyone is staying healthy, safe, and sane! As always, feel free to reach out with questions/comments.

Until next time!

-Aspen