Chapter 9: Magnetism

"When you were young you used to dream about fires

And scream into the night

To find me standing barefoot at your side

I used to whisper it will be alright

And lay down at your side

And take your tiny hands into mine."

-Forest Fire, Brighton

23 ABY

The attic nook was dusty and cramped, but Rey didn't mind.

She had gone there to find silence, to withdraw into her own mind like a hermit crab retreating into its shell. The Force was quiet—just the thudding pulse of Rey's own heart and the steady movement of a creeping spider, spinning its web in the space before her eyes. Master Luke had told her that one day she would sense the Force in nonliving things—sky, water, earth, and fire—but she was secretly glad that she couldn't, yet. It was hard enough to shut herself off without their incessant chatter.

When she had first gone to her hiding place it had taken surprisingly little time for the other apprentices to locate her. Loren had tried to enter first, and he'd left with three jagged marks like cat scratches on his left cheek. Janneh had followed, and had been dissuaded by a roiling tornado of dirt and cobwebs. Next had come Colt, a silent, steady presence that had almost tempted Rey from her shelter. He hadn't tried to enter, choosing instead to sit cross-legged outside the door to speak to her, but Rey had been too panicked to listen. His words had come out in a funny buzz that had drifted over her without making an impression, and so he too, had left.

Master Luke had been the last, and he'd said nothing. She had only known it was him by pattern of his shuffling steps.

That had been three days ago, and now, finally, Rey had the silence she craved. The hours passed unwatched as she sat her silent vigil, waiting. For what, she wasn't sure. When she'd first fled to the attic to hide, it had been because the fear pulsing through her had been too overwhelming to think through. She had awoken in the infirmary, taken a glance around at the empty room, and been overcome by a rush of returning memories—

Waking early to a sense of deep anxiety that she couldn't shake.

Moving through the day slowly, as if in a fog. Attending her lessons with Master Luke, trying to open her mind to the Force around her. And then—utter silence. Like someone had pressed cotton into her ears and shoved her into a soundproof room. A presence had flickered through her mind—his presence. She had spun and there, standing before her amidst the trees, was a familiar figure.

Ben.

He was slightly stooped, panting. His cerulean saber hummed in the grip of his right hand, while his left arm was cradled protectively across his chest. His face was smeared with grime and she could make out the blooming stain of blood on his pants—his raven hair hung in sweaty strands before his dark eyes, which were scanning the trees desperately, searching for something.

They landed on hers, and sound rushed back into Rey's ears. But it wasn't the lively chatter of living things—it was the clash of weapons and the cries of the wounded. Ben's lips parted slightly as a look of fear flashed across his face.

A wave of terror shook Rey—a premonition, a shock of certainty unlike any she had ever know. "Ben," she whispered, stepping forward. "Ben!" She lifted an arm, reaching for him desperately.

But it had been too late.

The red flash of blaster fire had cut through his shoulder—coming from nowhere and disappearing into nothing as he pitched forward, eyes—wide with shock—still fixed on her face, and she screamed and screamed and screamed as he disappeared before her eyes—

—and then Master Luke was in front of her, his voice raised in concern as he tried to get her attention—

—but she couldn't stop screaming, incoherent and thoughtless, a stream of pleas as she tried to charge past the Jedi master to the place where she had last seen his nephew, standing hunched between a giant fern and a towering tree to its left—

—but he was gone, and she sank to her knees, reaching out desperately into the Force in search of him, seeking him, begging him to answer her, but there was nothing, nothing, nothing—

—and she reacted in fear and rage, twisting something deep within herself and feeling the surge of wind cutting over her face, twigs whipping through the air and catching in her hair, stones shifting around her feet, trees bowing in the gale of panic that was pouring out of her in a never-ending stream—

—and then Skywalker had raised a single hand to her temple and she had flinched and—

—everything had gone dark.

She had woken in the infirmary, where she had experienced a few moments of calm before the panic had come roaring back in a great swell that had sent her scrambling from the room and fleeing to her hiding place in the attic.

Where she had been ever since.

The fear had slowly abated, particularly after she'd figured out how to shut herself off from the Force. After that it had been quiet. She hadn't been able to think, because she hadn't wanted to. The numbness was comforting, in its own way.

As the hours had ticked slowly past, the fuzziness in her head had grown. She knew from her time on Jakku that a person could only live so many days without water. A small, vague part of her mind kept saying that she needed to get up and go in search of food. Her stomach had stopped growling—stopped aching, even—a day previously, and she knew that it wasn't a good sign. But to get food would require movement, and thought, and another small part of her knew that if she allowed herself to move or think, she would have to remember Ben Solo, who was dead because she hadn't been able to convince him to stay.

Just like she hadn't been able to convince her parents to stay.

Just like she had never been able to convince anyone to stay.

The spider continued its journey across its nearly-finished web, almost coming in contact with the tip of her nose.
Rey blinked slowly.

She had been alone, unmoving for so long, and yet she was still exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep, she was plagued in her dreams by Ben's stricken face and the shriek of blaster fire, by the echo of her own screams as she begged her parents not to go, and by the sight of three ships—an ancient Subpro shuttle, a Corellian YT lightfreighter, and a battered X-wing—disappearing into the upper atmosphere as she looked on helplessly.

Each time she was startled awake by the sound of her own sobs. So she waited.

The spider paused.

There was a shuffle of footsteps in the corridor. The hum of voices. One pair of feet departing. Rey heard the creak of door hinges and readied herself to rise up and drive away the offending intruder.

"Rey?"

The voice was so hesitant, so unexpected, that Rey almost thought she had imagined it.

"Rey?"

She jolted upright. It couldn't be.

"Can you please come out? Skywalker is worried about you and I—"

The voice cut off as a large shape came into view. He was stooped over to accommodate his height in the cramped space. He caught sight of her and the mixture of concern and relief in his eyes almost stopped Rey's heart.

She let out a noise like an injured animal and flung herself from her hiding place between two old packing crates. She collided with his legs, clinging to them as a wave of dizziness passed over her. She wasn't sure whether it was a product of dehydration, or shock.

Ben Solo was alive, and he had returned to Yavin 4.

Everything was a mess of confusion for several moments. Ben staggered slightly and Rey was crying, sobbing, her face pressed against his stomach as she released what she as sure was a stream of incomprehensible words.

"Ben—I saw you—I was there—shot—thought you were dead—dead—Ben—"

She dissolved into tears, unable to focus on anything other than the solidness of him under her cheek. Not dead.

"Rey," she heard him exhale. "Shhh, kid, breathe." He sank slowly to the ground, cushioning his descent with one arm. The other, she noticed suddenly, was in a sling. She didn't let it stop her from clambering over him and burrowing into his side, still shaking and sniffling as she fisted both hands in his shirt and refused to release her grip. She didn't care if he scowled or ignored her later—he was alive. Alive.

There were tears dripping down her cheeks and nose, forming a damp patch of fabric over his ribs as he stretched his legs out in front of him and awkwardly draped an arm over her heaving shoulders.

Tentatively, slowly, just to be sure, she loosened her control on the tiny door that held her mind at bay. The Force seeped in gradually, and she seeped out, feeling the hum of the birds and the trees and the spider in the corner but mostly Ben, the warm, enveloping presence of him that surrounded her and drove away the mind-numbing fear that had gripped her for three days without cease.

He was alive. He had come back.

She felt him curl around her slightly, both in the Force and by drawing her closer to his side with one arm.

"It's okay," he said, and she opened her eyes, releasing her hold on the Force as she realized how unsteady he sounded, how uncertain. Drawing back slightly, she looked up at his face, blinking away the tears clinging to her lashes so that she could get a better view of him.

The first thing she noticed was his split lip—the second was the large purple and yellow bruise blossoming like a flower over his right cheekbone. Both looked painful and they made her heart ache fiercely as she took a moment to drink in the shape of his nose, the constellation of beauty marks on his cheek, the way his hair curled against his temple. Something about him was more vivid than any person she had ever met. His dark brown eyes gazed down at her steadily, but she could see the tension in his jaw as he pressed his full lips together.

"I thought you were dead," she said, still shakily but at least coherent this time.

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, almost as if he wanted to laugh. "Sorry to disappoint," he said, making Rey blink in surprise. She had never heard him tell a joke before. She found she rather enjoyed it.

"If you hadn't shut yourself off from the Force like that, I could have reached you," he admonished gently. "I was worried."

The admission caught her even more off guard. "What—?" her voice come out creakily and she cleared her throat. "What happened?"

He shifted slightly, retracting his arm from her shoulders and causing her to lose her grip on his shirt. She suddenly felt cold.

"We ran into some trouble down in the thorilide mines of Csilla," he responded, his eyes leaving hers to scan the room instead. "A group of terrorists had been taking out operations all over the planet, and we were sent in for reconnaissance. We located them and went in to gather intel, but it turned into a trap. They were Force-users, and it was—we weren't prepared." He gritted his teeth angrily, as if biting down on an admission that displeased him. "They had us outnumbered—a fight broke out and—I'm not sure what happened." His voice became tight, and she could tell it was close to breaking. "But I saw you. There."

"I saw you too," Rey breathed. "In the forest, here on Yavin 4. Is that—does the Force sometimes work like that?" Even to her own ears, her voice sounded painfully hopeful. She could feel a sense of unease creeping over her skin, as if he were about the pull the rug out from under her unsteady feet. As if the news he had would be disastrous for them both. She watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"Not exactly," he admitted finally. "At least, not that I've heard of."

"But it happened," Rey said stubbornly. "You were here."

"I know," Ben exhaled. "And I don't understand it. Rey, there are things that you need to know. Things that I need to explain to you, but I'm not sure I can because I don't understand them myself. Something about you—it calls to me. Like we're—"

"Magnets," Rey supplied, her voice filled with trepidation. "We're like magnets. I can feel you pulling on me even when you're a thousand light years away. Do you feel it, too?"

"Yes," Ben said, and it was a breath, a sigh of relief as if he had been holding that single word on the tip of his tongue for years. "Don't be afraid. I feel it too."

Rey swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat. "Then it doesn't matter how," she said resolutely. "Only that it is."

"The others won't understand," Ben informed her. "Master Skywalker and the other apprentices. They'll think it's unnatural."

Rey's face twisted into a furious scowl. "Well they're kriffing sculags," she spat angrily, voice rising, "if they're afraid of something just because they can't explain it."

She felt Ben watching her and glanced up again to take in his expression—equal parts shocked and impressed, as if he hadn't expected such a stream of curse words from a young child like herself. "Sorry," she muttered, and his lips twitched again.

"It is the way of the Jedi to fear the unknown," he said, a frown crowding out his almost-smile. "They are fettered by tradition, if nothing else."

Rey frowned. "Then we won't tell them," she decided. "It doesn't involve them anyways—just us."

She decided then that, in addition to Ben's jokes, she liked the way his face softened ever so slightly on the word "us."

"Your shoulder," she said finally, as the silence dragged out. "I saw—someone shot you."

"Yes," Ben said calmly, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. His dark hair pooled around his shoulders. "It's nothing. Nothing a bacta patch couldn't fix, anyways. Back up arrived just after and the terrorists—the Knights of Ren, they called themselves—managed to escape."

Rey wrinkled her nose, upset that he was more concerned about his escaping enemies than the physical harm to himself. "What's with the sling, then?" she asked.

"Dislocated shoulder," he explained. "Hurts a bit to move around still, but it'll be off in a day or two. Like I said, nothing." His gaze hardened, suddenly, becoming flinty. "What's this I hear about you locking yourself in this closet for three days? Care to explain?"

Rey felt her whole face flame red and became suddenly fascinated with the weave of his shirt so that she wouldn't have to meet his hard stare. "I thought—I mean—I was so scared." She hated herself for the way her voice cracked on the last word.

"Rey," Ben said gently, surprisingly gently, and she looked up only because she hadn't thought he was capable of that sort of kindness. "I'll always come back," he promised. "Don't ever be afraid of that."

Rey wondered whether perhaps he had been reading her mind. How else would he have known the fear that had plagued the last three years of her life—that every person she cared about was destined to leave her and never return?

"But," he said, and his voice was sharp again. "If I ever hear that you've pulled that sort of Sithspit again, you and I will be having words. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Rey squeaked, ducking her head in shame.

"Good," he said. "Now let's go get you some food. And don't call me sir—my name is Ben."

If Master Luke was surprised when Rey entered the mess hall at Ben's heels, he didn't show it. The other apprentices, however, were not so subtle. Eleven pairs of eyes swiveled to her face the moment she stepped through the door. Eleven pairs of eyes watched her cross the room and sit in the chair beside Ben's.

She noticed as she settled into her seat that there was a small black duffle at the foot of Ben's chair, and realized with a stirring of surprise that he had come straight to her upon his arrival at the temple. He hadn't eaten, hadn't put away his things—he had spoken to Master Luke and then he had hurried up the stairs with his damaged shoulder and his slight limp to find her. The thought sent a strange warmth through her chest, alongside a pang of shame. She couldn't bring herself to scan Loren's face for the scratches she had left there. She felt a lead weight of guilt settle in the pit of her stomach.

"More," Ben muttered quietly as she scooped portions onto her plate. She knew the word had been meant only for her, but she caught Serai's gaze snapping to his face. She obeyed.

The meal passed in utter silence aside from the click of utensils and quiet requests for food to be passed. Rey almost thought that she would escape unscathed—that no one would question her momentary lapse of sanity—until Nareek put down his spoon and grinned at her over the table.

"Can you teach us how to do it, Rey?" he asked cheekily. "Make tornadoes and throw things about?"

"What is he talking about?" Kora asked, rolling her eyes in disgust.

"It was wicked, it was," Nareek protested. "She just started yelling and screaming, and things started flying everywhere like in a hurricane. Almost got brained by a rock, I did. Tell 'em, Rey."

Rey flushed and sank deeper into her chair.

"Janneh said she made a dust devil up in the attic, as well," Nareek continued, unaware of the uncomfortable glares he was drawing from the rest of the table. "I've been trying for years and—"

"Nareek," Master Luke said warningly.

"—I can't pick up nothing. But Rey—"

"Shut up," Ben snapped, his deep voice cracking over the table like a whip.

Nareek froze, his face suddenly pale. Rey shrunk lower. The others looked on in surprise.

They washed the dishes in silence.

Rey had hoped that after Ben's outburst at dinner, the other padawans would allow her back into the fold sans teasing. And although they had kept the teasing to a minimum, she could sense a marked discomfort in the way they interacted with her.

Colt was his usual ungainly self, smiling at the ground and complimenting her on her saber forms during drill session. He seemed to sense, as easily as breathing, that she didn't want to talk about the previous three days. Even more incredibly, he seemed to understand her reaction to what Master Luke had described as a "Force vision"—as if he thought it was perfectly normal to slip into a near-catatonic state for three days after a glorified dream in which a boy she barely knew took a blaster bolt to the shoulder.

Nevertheless, she appreciated his lack of judgement, especially in light of the lingering glances and confused stares she continued to receive from the other padawans. She wasn't certain whether they were disturbed by her actions—she had apologized and received full forgiveness from both Loren and Janneh—or by the fact that she had only been drawn from her sanctuary by the dreaded Ben Solo, he of the smoldering glares and the unrivalled bitterness.

She found that she didn't much mind being associated with Ben, if only because she thought they all had him incorrectly pegged. Whatever Ben Solo was, he wasn't a monster.

After his quiet admission that he noticed her—cared for her, even—Rey had assumed that Ben would stop avoiding her like the plague. Unfortunately, he had more practice than anyone at keeping to himself. He no longer glared at her in the corridors or kept a distance from her at meals, but neither did he make any effort to seek her out or speak with her.

It rankled.

Rey did her best to give him space, motivated by a mixture of sudden shyness and an unwillingness to disturb him as he recovered from his injuries. But when his sling was removed and he returned to full training, it became more and more difficult to stay away. Something about being apart from him was strange. She hadn't lied when she had described the tugging feeling she felt towards him—the constant need to be in his presence, to listen to him speak, to feel the Force curl around them and press them together like two halves of a whole.

On the fifth day, she finally gave in.

It was the meditation period, and for her first time since arriving on Yavin 4, she wasn't expected to sit through a private session with Master Luke. He waved her off absently, telling her to find a quiet place and be one with the Force.

Excited by her newfound freedom, she scampered towards the forest, intent on finding a spot amongst the trees to listen to the steady pulse of their existence. She moved aimlessly, but before long she found her feet guiding her down the side of a steep ravine and into an area that she hadn't previously explored.

The forest was nearly silent except for the tread of her boots on dried leaves and twigs. The canopy was cut through by golden beams of light cast by the setting sun, and up ahead she glimpsed a clearing, created by the fall of an old behemoth. She circled its downed trunk and moved noiselessly to the center of the open space. There was a sort of divot in the ground, as if someone had sat there before. She lowered herself into it smoothly, and blinked once in something like surprise.

If she closed her eyes and brought up the image of the dream she had once had aboard the Falcon, the shape and height of the trees she had dreamed were an exact replica of those she was seeing now. In her dream she had hovered slightly above the ground, surrounded by a vortex of slowly spinning stones.

Where am I? she wondered, slipping into the Force like a swimmer slipping into a lake. It grew easier with every passing day.

She could practically taste Ben's presence in the air around her, and she knew suddenly that he had been here—recently. She momentarily considered leaving. It was clearly a place to which he came often—to meditate, if her strange dream was in any way associated with their connection. In the end her curiosity won out, and she shifted to a more comfortable position, exhaled smoothly, and closed her eyes.

The minutes slipped away like dripping honey. She could hear the buzz of insects and the call of a bird somewhere in the distance. Everything was peaceful, except for the slight prickling of the hairs at the base of her neck.

"What are you doing here?"

Rey's head snapped up as her focus deserted her.

Ben faced her from across the clearing, his eyes guarded. His voice hadn't sounded accusatory, so Rey smiled tentatively.

"It seemed like a nice place to meditate," she offered.

Now Ben scowled at her, his dark brows drawing together. "You know this is my place." It was a statement, rather than a question.

Rey wilted a bit. "Yes," she said hesitantly, pushing herself to her feet. "Sorry."

Ben pressed his lips together and the skin under his left eye twitched slightly.

Rey sighed and turned to leave.

"Wait," Ben said abruptly.

She looked over her shoulder.

"I suppose there's room enough for the two of us."

Rey didn't try to hold back the giant smile splitting her face.

Ben rolled his eyes and scowled, but she could sense the faint flicker of pleasure beneath his mask.

Rey quickly found more things to appreciate about Ben Solo.

He was tall enough to reach the highest shelves in the temple library, and he was patient when she asked him to sound out the larger words for her. She loved sitting across from him in a cushy armchair while he did research for his own lessons. He would always leave a book on the table for her—usually one of the simpler ones, a collection of legends or a story about the time of the Jedi. He rolled his eyes every time her eyes lit up at any mention of the Jedi Order, but he didn't rebuke her, just leaned back in his own chair and devoured pages at a rate faster than she could fathom.

When she joined him for meditation, he scowled and grumbled and generally made a fuss, but after a few weeks—on a day when she was running late from a lesson with Master Luke—she realized that he never started without her.

He watched her eat and dutifully pressed extra portions on her when he thought she wasn't getting enough. Perhaps the other padawans would have found it overbearing, would have huffed you're not my dad, stop telling me what to do, but it filled Rey's heart to the brim to have someone to finally take care of her.

He loved to work with his hands—whether he was fiddling with spare parts or practicing his calligraphy, they always seemed to be moving. He tried once to show her how to hold the brush, but after a few clumsy strokes he advised her to stick with a pen until her handwriting improved. Rey didn't take it personally, mostly because she much preferred to watch him create his own masterpieces.

Sometimes she caught him working with a small object—his fingers moving quickly, weaving strands of something together, but he always put it away when he sensed her presence.

"What are you making?" she asked him once, curious.

"Never you mind," he said gruffly, pressing a new book into her hands. "Read this—you'll like it."

And she did. She loved it.

On her ninth birthday—or what she had decided was her birthday, since she had no idea when it really fell—he presented her with a finely woven armband. It was the very same bracelet she had returned to him, but it had been painstakingly repaired, a new length of leather woven in amongst the old to connect the two broken halves. Finally, she knew what he had been working on all those days. He helped her tie it around her bicep and she couldn't stop smiling.

"This was mine, before," he told her. "Skywalker gave it to me. I threw it away when my parents forced me to come live at the temple."

"Forced you?" she asked, eyes wide. She tried to imagine Han forcing her to do anything, and drew a blank.

"I don't want to talk about it," he answered, shifting away and seeming to withdraw into some internal space.

She savored those snippets of his past, scarce though they were, and secreted them away to mull over in quiet moments. She tried to imagine a younger Ben, more care free, her own age. It was difficult. She couldn't imagine him being anything but wise and strong and comforting.

On some nights she would still wake, voice raw from screaming, sheets damp with sweat after another nightmare—about her parents, about Jakku, about Ben.

The first time it happened she was torn from sleep by a pounding on her door, and rose, still trembling from her night terror, just as the panel slid back to reveal Ben, panting, one hand still raised as if he had just pressed it against the locking mechanism. He looked shocked, but also frightened, and swept her into a hug that made her sob against his chest.

"W-what are you doing here?" she asked, when her tears finally abated.

"I—I felt your fear," he stammered. "Like it was my own. What happened?"

"A nightmare," she admitted softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and realizing that he was kneeling on the floor in his night clothes, dark hair wild around his face.

His sigh of relief stirred the hairs on top of her head as he rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

And he had nudged her back towards her bed gently, like someone who was used to dealing with crying, terrified children who woke him in the wee hours of the morning.

"How did you open the door?" Rey yawned, sleepiness replacing her fear. "I thought only I could do that."

"Apparently you and I have more in common than we thought," Ben mumbled. "Sleep now."

Rey fidgeted with the edge of her tunic, fear sparking up in her chest again at the thought of returning to her nightmares.

"I'll be right here," Ben promised, settling with his back against the door frame. "Until you fall asleep."

She huffed slightly but crawled back between her sheets. The last thing she saw before she slipped into unconsciousness was the silhouette of Ben's hunched shoulders against the dim lighting of the corridor.

As the months passed, the frequency of Rey's nightmares plummeted. In the early days they woke her more often than not, but by the time winter came—or what passed as winter, on their jungle planet—she could go weeks without jolting awake to the echo of her own screams.

On the rare nights when they came roaring back in full force to plague her, she could always count on Ben to appear at her door, promising to keep watch until sleep found her again. Usually he sat in the doorframe, a dark sentinel against the ghosts that haunted her, but on the worst days, when she couldn't shake her panic even in waking, he would lean back against the side of her bed, hand outstretched so that she could hold it until she slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber. They never spoke during these meetings, and he always departed as soon as she fell asleep, leaving Rey unbearably grateful that she didn't have to put words to her thanks. He just knew.

As their acquaintance grew, Rey came to perceive that Ben faced his own internal battles. Occasionally he would grow silent, his face tense, and Rey knew then that it was time for her to leave. She would stand quietly, brush her hand over his shoulder or his arm or his hand, and exit quickly. Ben never explained to her why she had to go—never even told her that she had to—but she could read it in his eyes the way she read everything else he wanted to hide from her. In those moments he was afraid, and she knew that being near her made it worse.

Master Luke did little to oppose their new closeness. At first Rey tried to hide it by ignoring Ben at meals and passing him in silence in the halls, eyes trained on the floor so that they wouldn't betray her. But she soon realized that she was fooling no one—not Master Luke, and not her peers. How, after all, can you hide your closeness to someone who moves like your own shadow and is in tune with your every thought?

If the Jedi Master was in denial of their growing bond, he was disavowed of that notion one balmy afternoon on the training grounds. Rey and the other younglings were gathered in a circle, trying to lift grains of sand. It was a Force ability that none had mastered, although, like Rey, the others had shown accidental snippets of power during moments of high emotion.

"You must learn control," Master Luke had intoned as he set them to the task. "Passion is the pathway to the dark side—only through peace and balance can you fully master yourself."

Rey had furrowed her brow slightly, confused by the rigidity of the message, but she hadn't commented.

The task was irritating, to say the least. It was warm out, and there was a trail of sweat tracing its way down Rey's spine. Her skin felt itchy, and there was a faint buzz of discomfort surrounding her. She shifted in annoyance.

"Will you stop," Ninsar hissed. "You're breaking my concentration."

"Sorry," Rey mumbled, readjusting her tunic and focusing on the grains of sand. Up, she thought desperately. Go up.

Across the training ground she could hear the chatter of voices. Ben wasn't speaking, but she knew exactly where he was standing, amidst the rest of his cohort, gathered in front of Master Luke's old X-wing. Frustrated with her own task, she decided to listen in.

"That's it, Loren," she heard Luke rumble. "Gather the light around yourself and reach out—again."

Rey watched in awe as the boy's face tensed, the fingers of his outstretched hand curling with strain, and slowly, slowly, the old starfighter seemed to shift, its metal parts groaning until, for a half a moment, she thought she saw it skim the ground before settling. Loren released his stance, gasping and shaking.

"Very good," Master Luke praised, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "Really excellent work. Ben, you're next."

Rey lost all interest in the grains of sand as she watched Ben step forward, his height and broad shoulders dwarfing the older Jedi beside him.

"Relax, and act," she heard Luke say.

Ben extended a hand, and Rey took the opportunity to close her eyes and reach into the Force. It swirled around him, a great vortex with Ben at its center. She could feel him tugging on her, even now, the Force moving through her like a current and rushing into his outstretched palm.

But something was off.

She could almost feel his intention, his will to lift the X-wing from the grassy sward on which it rested, but the flow of the Force around him wasn't quite right. It was like watching a river try to carry a floating leaf downstream, but the leaf kept getting caught in the eddies, battered from all sides. The X-wing rattled slightly.

"No," she heard Luke say, and opened her eyes. "You have to focus, Ben. I know you're strong enough for this—let go of your distractions."

Rey almost growled, deep in her throat, as she watched Ben's brow crease with frustration. She could feel his anger mounting, swelling under the surface. In her mind's eye, tendrils of darkness seemed to seep from the ground around Ben, winding up his legs in frigid tangles. The X-wing rattled more fiercely, lifting off the ground a few inches, a foot, swaying in front of the other apprentices who took a step back nearly in sync.

"No!" Luke snapped, breaking his nephew's concentration. The X-wing hit the ground with a rattling clang that drew the attention of the other younglings to the scene unfolding. "What have I told you? You open yourself to the dark so easily—but you must not. Only the light! If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times! Put aside your anger and breathe. Again!"

Rey could sense Ben's conflict, his irritation only building under his uncle's tirade. She could feel him trying to put aside his emotions, even as they swelled in him and reached across the space between them, curling around her like icy fingers. He extended his hand again and the eddies returned, buffeting the X-wing but never moving it. It felt so wrong, so unlike him, that before she had the chance to think of what she was doing, she found herself on her feet, striding across the field.

Master Luke didn't see her as she approached; he was too busy watching Ben with a fierce expression on his face. The other apprentices looked up, startled, but Rey didn't spare them a glance. Quickly, decisively, she closed the distance between her and Ben.

One of his hands was extended towards the starship, trembling with strain. His eyes were open but unseeing, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple as he struggled to focus his energy. His other hand was clenched at his side, knuckles white, tendons jumping under the skin.

It was for this hand that Rey reached, curling her small fingers around his wrist and sliding them downwards, forcing his palm open so that she could grasp it firmly. His grip was clammy, but so was hers.

The X-wing stopped trembling.

In her mind's eye—in the place where she viewed the Force, like some great, roiling storm cloud of energy—Rey felt something shift, align, right itself. The current of the river smoothed, the eddies disappeared, and she felt a massive rush of energy swirl through Ben as he exhaled and pressed.

The X-wing lifted from the ground, delicately, like a feather caught on the breeze. It rose up and up and up until Rey had to tilt her head back to get a look at it.

Something around her was singing. She felt weightless, just like the starship. She felt the Force pulsing through her like a heartbeat. She felt Ben's large hand wrapped around hers at the same time that she felt Rey's tiny hand cradled in her own. It was as if she had been a vessel lost at sea, with a broken rudder angled crosswise to the pull of the current so that she was buffeted and tossed and torn by the storm; but now a hand had reached out and secured the broken piece, adjusted its angle so that she slipped effortlessly through the gale, which wasn't really a gale after all, but rather a calming breeze that sped her over serene waters.

When she opened her eyes again, the X-wing had returned to the ground and Master Luke was staring at her with an thunderous expression. Ben's hand was on her shoulder, and although he seemed steady beside her, she could feel the slight tremor in his fingers. She knew that he was terrified of his uncle's reaction. She wished she could comfort him.

"What, exactly," Master Luke asked, deathly calm, "was that?"

Ben opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He closed it again.

"Balance," Rey snapped, suddenly furious with the older Jedi for the way he had belittled Ben. "Do you have a problem with it?"

The look of stunned surprise on Master Luke's face was reward enough for Rey's belligerence. His flashing blue eyes grew so wide that she could see their whites all the way around. She thought for a moment that she caught a flicker of fear in them.

"Rey," Ben hissed, squeezing her shoulder once. The silence stretched thin.

"Be careful," was all Luke said, his tone icy. He turned on his heel. "Class dismissed."

Rey felt Ben staring down at her, and she looked up, forcing a smile onto her face. "You're pretty good at that," she said, pointing at the old X-wing.

Ben scoffed, and it was the closest thing to a laugh she had ever heard from him. "With your help, maybe." She could tell the admission pained him, as fiercely independent as he tried to be.

She shrugged. "That's what friends are for. Can you help me finish my book before dinner? I'm stuck on a big word."

The slight curl of his lips was the only reward she'd ever needed.

A/N: So sorry for the long wait after that cliff hanger! COVID-19 is a bitch. I hope you've all been healthy/safe! I had to move out of my dorm and fly across the country, so it's been an eventful past week. On the upside, should have lots more time for writing now. I hope that this chapter makes up for the long break-not a lot of plot, I know, but tons of good Rey & Ben (guys they're finally friends omg I'm so excited!). Several of the scenes in this chapter were what inspired the story as a whole, so you know I was excited to write it.

As always, please share your thoughts. A few scenes got rewritten 3-4 times because I wanted them to not be uncomfy for anyone. I'm going for ~sweet older brother~ vibes with Ben at this point, so lmk if I pulled it off! I've really enjoyed reading all of your kind comments and suggestions. You guys are the best!

Thank you to kittystargen3 for the beta.

Stay safe!

-A