Chapter 2
Aboard the Falcon, Rey punched in the coordinates for Tatooine. Even if Jakku was her first choice, Tatooine seemed like a better hiding spot. She crossed her arms and leaned back in the pilot's chair as the ship gently coasted through the stars, not in any hurry to reach their destination. She smiled before reality set in, and she left the cockpit.
Ben was sitting on a bed, looking at a picture in the ship's second quarters when Rey knocked.
"Come in," he said.
Rey entered with an armful of compression wraps and fluid injections. Ben could not help but notice how gracefully she moved, even when over encumbered. She allowed the supplies to fall on the bed next to him, then sheepishly rubbed her arm.
"You ready for this?" She asked.
"Just let me put this back," Ben replied.
He stood and slowly crossed the room to hang the picture of the racing speederbikes. Rey wanted to help him but kept to herself.
"It's been a long time since I've been in this room. I can't believe how much it hasn't changed," he said.
"Han was quite the creature of habit," Rey said.
Ben nodded, returning to sit on the bed. A tense silence swept through the room. Rey sighed.
"Alright, lay back. I'm going to do your leg first, that way you don't have to hobble around," she said.
Carefully, Rey administered the fluid packs
"So, you're a Jedi master and a doctor now? Is there anything you can't do?" Ben said.
He swung his legs over the bed, wincing through the pain.
"I had some great teachers," Rey said.
"Too bad they couldn't teach you how to smile. Also, your bedside manner needs some work."
Rey's brow twitched.
"For someone in your condition, you're in awfully good spirits. Now try not to move. I've never set a bone before, so I don't know how this is going to turn out," she said.
Ben looked at her, suddenly concerned.
"Are you sure you should be doing this? After you stabbed me on Kef Bir—a cheap shot by the way—was that your first time using the Force to heal?"
"Second, actually," Rey said.
Ben let out a shallow breath.
"Well, it's already broken, so I guess you can't screw it up any worse," he said.
"Be quiet, I need to focus," Rey said.
She placed her hands over his swollen ankle, letting the energy settle in her fingertips. Ben took deep breaths as a burning sensation spread through his veins. The sound of bones rubbing against each other made them both uneasy. Just as the pain was becoming uncomfortable, the sensation stopped. Ben looked down to see the swelling had reduced by half and his skin was no longer purple. He rotated his ankle, surprised to feel only a mild ache. He looked at Rey, who began to wrap one of the compression bandages around the joint.
"Don't move it," she said, "you'll have to let it finish healing on its own."
"I have to say I'm impressed," Ben said, eyeing her as she approached his shoulder.
"It's nothing really."
"Don't be modest. Maybe one day you'll teach me."
"You mean you don't know how to heal? How did you, you know, resurrect me then?"
"I…it's not the same. I don't know how to heal like you do."
"Oh, I see. Personally, I doubt dark side users can learn it."
Her tone was so matter of fact that Ben went quiet and looked at the ceiling. He had forgotten she still viewed him as an avatar of the dark side. He had thought with all they had been through, with all she went through to turn him, that they were on the same team. And yet, it became abruptly clear to Ben, things would not be so simple. He sighed and intertwined his fingers across his stomach as Rey placed her hands over his shoulder.
"Ready?" She asked.
"Go ahead."
"This is going to take some more time, so I'll forgive you if you need a break. Just let me know if it's too much."
Ben chuckled.
"Yes, doctor."
Hours had passed, and Ben stepped into the cockpit of the Falcon, still weak but more able now that his bones were not shattered. He had slept much longer than usual—the call of an actual bed after sleeping on cold rocks for a week was more than tempting.
The cockpit was dim and empty as lights on the control panels blinked in silence. Ben trailed his hand across the top of the pilot's chair and surveyed the room. The coolness of the worn leather beneath his fingertips, the familiar colors of the blinking lights, the musky odor with a hint of citrus; it was all a bit much. Ben sighed and took a seat in the co-pilot's chair.
He watched the yokes as they casually bounced and occasionally turned under the control of the ship's autopilot. To his surprise, nothing was locked. Suddenly a thought crept in; it bubbled to the surface of his psyche like bones in a pond. It would not be difficult to take control of the ship's navigation, or even its internal security system. He could take over the whole ship if he wanted. He could seal Rey in her room and pilot the ship right back to the First Order. All of this was mere inches from his control. Ben watched the vast array of lights, some blinking, some still, and some lifeless. But they were all silent.
Minutes passed, perhaps more than Ben cared to count. He had been lost in thought, staring blankly out the front view as the ship swam through the darkness of space. His hands stayed planted in his lap, despite wanting to touch the controls, and see if they still worked the way he remembered. But he could not bring himself to do it, as fear set in the moment he considered it. Fear that he was being watched. Fear that he was in a constant state of judgment. So, he leaned back, and flipped on the ship's map. An orange hologram floated before him, showing a plain layout of the galaxy. A single, green dot blinked in the far eastern region of the Outer Rim. He furrowed his brow and expanded on the area. The location was remote and lacked any notable planets.
Tatooine? He thought to himself. Why Tatooine?
He switched off the map. Leaning back in the chair, he put his hands behind his head. Lost in thought, and overwhelmed with nostalgia, watching the monotony of space was a welcomed distraction. For a minute or two, he could almost believe he was someone else.
"What are you doing?" A familiar voice said.
She leaned in the door frame of the cockpit. Ben swiveled in his chair, meeting Rey's eyes. She was draped in a thin, white robe with a thick, beige linen around her torso. Her hair curled around the tops of her shoulders, freshly washed and still damp. She looked at him with mild concern.
"It's been so long. I never thought I'd be in this scrap heap again," Ben said, averting his gaze from her.
Rey nodded.
"I'm sure it's a lot to take in," she said.
For a moment they were quiet, then Rey produced the pile of linens she was holding against her chest.
"Here," she said, "I found some clothes that might fit you. And I'm done with the shower if you'd like to use it."
She handed the pile of clothes and towels to him, which he placed in his lap. He took one look at them before meeting Rey's gaze again.
"These are…," Ben said, his eyes glazing over.
"Yes," Rey said, with a solemn nod.
She turned the pilot's chair and took a seat, leaning forward.
"Ben, can I ask you something?"
Ben met her eyes but said nothing.
"You were willing to give your life for me. Why?" She asked.
Ben snapped out of his thoughts, dropping his shoulders. He looked down and furrowed his brow, letting the tension fill the gaps between them as he pondered an appropriate answer.
"I didn't put much thought into it," he said.
"That's it?"
"Well, what do you expect me to say?"
Rey looked out the front view, fidgeting with her hands.
"I don't know. That's just a huge thing to do for someone. I thought you might have a reason," she said.
They were both silent, looking anywhere but at each other.
"I'll never be able to repay you," she added, her voice low.
To that, Ben narrowed his eyes. The idea of getting even had never occurred to him, in fact, it was borderline offensive. Is that how she truly saw him? Just another lowlife in the galaxy looking to own someone's life debt. He abruptly stood up from the chair.
"Where are you going?" She said, a hint of concern as she watched him leave.
He turned briefly and they locked eyes.
"I didn't save you to get even. I don't want anything from you, Rey," he said.
He turned the corner and disappeared. Rey lept from her chair.
"Ben, wait!" Rey said, walking briskly.
Ben continued with heavy steps.
"Stop!" She said, her voice stern.
Within steps of the bathroom door, Ben stopped and turned with a steely look. Rey approached him and for a moment they searched each other's eyes.
"I don't want to have this conversation right now," Ben said.
"I don't understand what I did wrong. This is something I need to know, Ben, it's worth talking about," Rey said.
"I imagine we'll have plenty of time, since our course is set for Tatooine."
"What's your point? I don't get why you're trying to dodge the question."
"Tatooine is Luke Skywalker's home planet."
"And so?"
Ben turned fully to face her, even taking a step forward to invade her space. He looked down at her, holding his arms tight to his body.
"Rey, is your intention to blackmail and guilt-trip me for the duration of our time together?" Ben asked.
Rey furrowed her brow.
"Excuse me? I flew halfway across the galaxy for you, I healed your broken bones. I've risked my life more than once for you. Why would I do all that just to punish you?"
Ben was silent. The air grew thick and unbreathable.
"After all I've done for you, you don't trust me?" She asked.
Silence. She understood.
"You don't trust me," she said.
She straightened her posture and nodded her head as Ben's silence confirmed her suspicions. The two averted their eyes from each other, Rey looking down and Ben to the side. Just as Ben turned, about to enter through the door, Rey spoke with a new softness Ben had not heard since their conversation on the Supremacy.
"I just thought," she paused, "things might be different. We've been through so much…"
Ben stopped, with his hand on the door frame he gave a small sigh.
"You're right, but I think we only know what we want to know about each other. Like I said, we have time," he said.
Rey nodded, and left him alone, feeling like one step forward had turned into two steps back.
Rey tinkered for hours with some ship parts she kept in her room. It was her form of journaling, as the broken puzzles gave her something to accomplish. But after today's conversation, she found it impossible to focus on the task at hand, and even became frustrated at the most minute details. So many thoughts were swarming through her mind, washing over her like a torrent of violent waves. Floating a few inches off the ground, a feat that was not usually mentally intensive, had become difficult and frustrating as well. So, she sat on the floor.
What had plagued her most, was Ben's sudden coldness in such a short time. She had gone to such great lengths for him, for reasons she still could not pinpoint, and now it was like the wind had changed directions. He had wanted her to stand alongside him since they met, but now she began to second guess if those propositions had even happened.
What had he experienced in death that turned his heart? Or was she wrong to begin with? Rey frowned, and answers came to her. They had been through so much, most of which being terrifying and confusing experiences. She almost balked at how much she had trivialized their interactions over the past few months.
Even though she had been inside his head, she did not know his feelings, or his perspective, or his pain. All she ever saw was snapshots. She can only assume he saw the same and knew just as little. The idea pressed at her mind, and her heart sank.
She suddenly felt stupid for kissing him on Exegol. At the time, in the excitement, it seemed so natural to do so. The connection they had been building, she thought, had been leading to that. But perhaps that was just in her mind alone. And even then, what was she thinking? Was she really going to admit to being attracted to a Sith apprentice? To the former leader of an organization who was responsible for the deaths of countless friends and comrades? To the man who personally killed several of her closest friends? And now her and this man were stuck on this ship for who knows how long, and on the first day they were already off to a poor start.
She sighed and looked around. Mechanical parts were strewn around the floor, mostly unfinished and lacking purpose. The walls were scattered with pictures of her and her friends and the places they had explored. She realized how much she missed them, and how much she wished she had their guidance right now. She had a feeling what each of them might say. And yet, she could not seem to accept their imagined warnings. The reality was she was stuck with Ben, no matter how far they would want her to run.
Several hours of flight had passed and the Falcon had been serenely quiet. Even the occasional bumps and thuds of the engine bay had ceased for now. The cozy hallways of the ship were empty in spirit and sound, and each passing hour seemed to add tension to the air. Cruising through the vacuum of space, this kind of silence was deafening. Both passengers could feel it, along with the presence of each other.
The whoosh of a door opening—a sharp break in the silence, but only for a moment. Light, deliberate footsteps led into the kitchen, before the silence returned.
Ben had awoken from a short nap, and had been lying in bed for some time, staring at the ceiling and contemplating his death. In his mind, he could not visualize the being that had laid his fate out for him; he tried to focus on it, but the colors and shapes would not piece together. Even the words it said to him were lost, and only their meaning remained. The knowledge the figure had imparted on him lingered, along with its final warning.
Balance. What is balance? Ben thought to himself.
He turned his head, tracing the metal structures of the ceiling with his eyes. Ben realized he had never been balanced in his life. He had always been a spitfire like his father, but much more sensitive. He was volatile and he knew it. Balance would be nearly impossible for him, as not even death had led him to it. His time under the tutelage of Palpatine had taught him to embrace anger and passion, but clearly it was not his chosen path. He thought of all the years he wasted, and all the pain he had endured in the pursuit of strength. A well of emotion rose in him—he wanted to break something. He imagined balling his fists and putting a hole right through the wall next to the bed. But his hands remained clasped across his stomach. He imagined how Rey would react.
Rey, he thought.
She was near; part of him was relieved. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"Ben?" Her voice, then a hesitant knock.
Even on her own ship, to him of all people, she was so polite. His fingers dug into the edge of the mattress.
"Come in," Ben replied.
The door opened, and Rey took a few small steps until she was centered in the room. She was holding a plate that appeared to have assorted foods on it. She stretched out her arms, offering the plate to him.
"I'm sure it's been some time since you've had a decent meal," Rey said, looking uncharacteristically meek.
Ben was suddenly aware of how tight his stomach felt, and how complacent he had been with feeling hunger. Denying was useless, as the food was already staring him in the face. He cautiously accepted the plate, feeling rather humbled. Unlike him, Rey had not been too prideful to approach him with a generous act of kindness. In a way, it bothered him how kind she was to him. In his mind, he was unforgivable.
"Thank you," he said.
It was all he could muster through his shame. He paused for a moment, expecting she might leave, but Rey only looked at him. At his hesitance, her eyes widened.
"Oh, I can go if you want," she said with some urgency.
"I don't mind," he paused, "are you not eating?"
"I ate as I was cooking. It's a habit, I guess."
Ben nodded and began to eat as delicately as he knew how. For a moment there was silence, as Rey fiddled with her fingernails.
"I'd like to tell you why we're headed to Tatooine," she paused, "I had no ill intentions about it. I only thought it might be a good place for you to disappear or something, unless…," Rey said.
Ben eyed her intently.
"Unless?" He asked.
"Well, unless you planned on returning to lead the First Order," she said.
He reached a hand up and ran it through his hair a few times, looking away from her. For some reason, it was not the answer he was expecting. Rey watched him, anxiously awaiting his response. She noticed how lush and dense his hair was, having been washed and treated to some rest. He was beginning to look more like the monster she met on Ilum.
"I'd be lying if I said I never thought about it. I'd have executive control over everything if I wanted but," he paused, setting the plate next to him, "I just don't have any fight left in me. Ever since I—we killed Snoke, I wanted to stop. I really did, Rey."
"So, why didn't you? You had the power to call it off at any time," she said.
"No, not exactly. General Hux was looking for a reason to usurp me; had I shown resistance to the plans he would have had the evidence he needed. I'd be on a prison transport right about now. I know it's not the answer you would have wanted, but you asked for the truth."
"It's just…so many died. People I cared about, Ben."
"I know. There's nothing I can say that will change that," he paused, "Rey, I need to tell you something. Something that happened when I died, I think it's the reason I'm alive at all."
Rey looked up from the floor to meet his eyes, which softened at her teary gaze. He swallowed and looked away.
"I saw something—someone when I was dead. I think the Force was trying to tell me something. I was sent back because we were apart; I guess giving my life for you wasn't enough. I don't know what it means but I'm here, and I shouldn't be," he said.
Rey wiped a tear with her thumb, her eyes narrow and searching. She waited for him to continue.
"I was returned knowing I'd have to spend the remainder of my life atoning for what I've done. I don't know what will happen to me if I don't, but I barely know where to begin," he said.
He ran his hand through his hair.
"Rey, I don't expect to ever prove to you that I can do better. If you dump me on Tatooine, I won't hold a grudge. If you kill me, well, it would probably be the closest thing to retribution you'll get for your friends, because I can't bring them back. I think you're the only one who can help me, and without you, I'll never accomplish this. I guess I'm saying I need you, Rey."
Rey's shoulders dropped as she searched his eyes, looking for somewhere to go from here. His eyes did not plead, nor ask for sympathy, for they were as empty and lost for words as he was. She held her breath, and tried to sort her emotions, mostly struck with sadness and a sense of finality. She probed his mind to which he did not resist. Finally, she sighed and shook her head.
"I don't know if I can help you, Ben, but Luke, Han, and Leia sacrificed their lives for you, and for this moment, and I can't let them die in vain. I still don't understand the connection between us, but I will try to help you if you're ready to do what's right," she said.
They looked at each other, full of emotion and questions. Finally, Ben reached out his hand. It was not as he had done several times before, as he wanted nothing from her in this moment but to feel her physical presence. He needed to know this moment was real and not some ethereal machination. He prayed she would see his sincerity this time.
Looking at his open palm, Rey was immediately reminded of the other times they had shared this exchange. Each time was in a moment of extreme stress and urgency, but this was the opposite. Ben looked as if he might wait for millennia for her answer, and he closed his eyes, leaving his fate in her hand alone. The open door awaited her, but she could not bear to look at it. She was focused on his face, and the lines in his palm, and the way Han's clothes fit him perfectly. She looked down at her own hand. She looked at her broken nails, scars, and callouses from years of work and war. She never had time to notice these minor details before, but this time was different, and that's what she told herself as she placed her hand in his.