37 ABY

Rey dreamed.

In her dream, two figures stood on either side of a circular half-dome, about waist height. The dome was made of stone, flanked by the hazy shape of pillars. Beyond the pillars, she could see nothing. Mist clouded the landscape around her, though she had the peculiar feeling that she was standing at the summit of a great hill.

One of the figures turned to face her, and she recognized with a start that it wore a tunic and robe not unlike her own Jedi garb, although the tunic was stark white and the robe midnight black. Though Rey peered closely at the figure, she couldn't make out any features beneath the shadow of its hood.

"Hello?" she asked hesitantly.

The figure didn't appear to move, but a voice spoke in her mind, ringing through the damp chill of the hilltop with an authority that was both terrifying and strangely comforting.

We await you.

"Who are you?" Rey asked hesitantly, taking a step closer. The figure seemed to recede before her eyes. "Where are we?"

The second figure turned, this one wearing a cloak the color of starlight and a tunic as dark as pitch. The voice rang out again, similar, but different.

A relic has been left in the keeping of a friend. It will guide you here.

"What relic?" Rey asked, as the surrounding fog began to encroach upon the hilltop. "What friend? Please, why are you waiting for me?"

Not just you, the voice answered, though again neither figure appeared to move. Never will you reach us alone.

"I don't understand," Rey said, reaching towards the second figure. She had the desperate sense that they could tell her something, something she needed to know. If only she could reach them.

The flow of the Force has many eddies, the voice answered wordlessly. You are one of them. We await you.

Mist poured over the domed stone, swirling around the two figures like curls of steam and wrapping around Rey's ankles as if it had a life of its own. Her vision was consumed by the swirling clouds, obliterating the pillars around her and erasing the figures from her view. She swallowed hard. The peace of the hilltop felt suddenly broken; the fog around her hid secrets.

"Hello?" she called again.

"Hello," a voice echoed behind her. "I can't believe I finally found you!"

Rey spun on her heel. Out of the mist stepped a young boy, with short, sandy hair. He smiled up at her, blue eyes flashing. His cheeks were still plump with youth, and something about his toothy grin softened the uncertainty in her heart.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Do you know where we are?"

The boy looked around. "I don't know," he told her, radiating honesty. She wasn't certain which question he was answering.

"Why have you been looking for me?"

The boy sighed. "I've been trying to reach him, but the way is blocked. I've been fragmented, you see."

Rey stared. "Sorry—what?"

"Not everything is what it seems," the boy said cryptically, his bright, pale eyes searching Rey's face. "I'm sorry that I can't say more. It takes all of my energy just to appear to you."

"What can I do?" Rey asked. "To help you?"

"Not me," the boy answered solemnly. "No, I am beyond your help. But he is not."

"I'm not sure who you're talking about," Rey told him bluntly. "Who am I meant to be helping?"

"Yourself, in a manner of speaking," the boy answered. "Do you believe in good and evil, Rey from Nowhere?"

Rey twitched, startled that the boy knew her name. "Yes," she answered finally. "Doesn't everyone?"

The boy sighed heavily. "He certainly does. But there is more to it than that." He paused, as if searching for words. "You mustn't give up faith in my—in my—" he frowned, mouth moving soundlessly as if trying to form words that wouldn't come. "Umzukulu," he spat out finally, as if the word cost him great energy. A look of triumph crossed his young face as the mist began creeping in on them again. "Please," he said finally. "Don't let them take him from you. You can't imagine—"

His voice faded into nothing, swallowed by the mist. Thunder rumbled, and the clouds, once a bright, flat grey, took on a darker tinge, like the underbelly of a storm. Lightning flickered overhead. Rey had the strange sensation that she was being watched, but by whom she wasn't certain. Not the boy, certainly. Umzukulu. The word struck a chord in her memory, like a stone dropping into a deep well. She had heard it before, of that much she was certain.

Thunder crashed again, and she looked up in surprise. A vast shadow was stretching out towards her, indistinct through the mist. It was cast by a great pyramidal structure, the sight of which sent a chill down her spine. A voice spoke, rolling and crackling with the storm around her.

Welcome. Long have I waited.

Rey woke with a start, grasping instinctively for her saberstaff.

It wasn't at her hip.

She jolted upright, scanning the room. She was in a narrow bed, with soft, cream-colored sheets. Behind her, the glow of daylight streamed through the curtains of a tall window, casting brilliant warmth over a long hall, lined with more beds. The infirmary, at the Jedi Temple.

The room didn't keep her attention for long, however. Beside her was a great weight in the Force, like a lodestone pulling her in. A presence that she hadn't felt in years. It made her heart trip with joy, even as she tried to shove the feeling down.

Her head swiveled right, and sure enough, there he was: the familiar tangle of dark hair, face downturned as if he hadn't realized she was awake. Or perhaps, she thought, grimly, as if he couldn't bear to meet my eyes.

A kaleidoscope of pain opened in her chest at the sight of him. She had relived their last moments together a thousand times; poured over every sentence as if doing so might change the past. She had struck him from the register of her memory, only to find him again, lingering in ever darkened corner with a crooked smile that he saved only for her. She remembered her anger, but she also remembered the feeling of home. She hated him and loved him equally, no matter how desperately she tried to sacrifice both emotions to the endless current of the Force. Rather than being swept away as other emotions were, they muddied the waters and returned to her in great waves and quiet eddies, as if her sorrow and joy and endless, beautiful agony were enough to fill the entire infinite reach of universe.

Seeing him on Hux's ship had ripped something open inside of her, leaving a raw, empty space that she longed to hide and share in equal parts. Help me, she had wanted to beg. Leave me. She wanted to tell him everything, and nothing.

Her lips were forming the shape of his name when the door at the end of the hall slid open, and Master Skywalker entered.

Ben's head jerked up, his eyes moving straight past Rey and fixing on his uncle. For a moment Luke's face seemed to spasm, like someone who had flipped a stone and found an adder, prepared to strike. Then his mien smoothed into an emotionless mask.

"I thought I asked you to rest, nephew," he said, striding towards them. "You'll do her no good sitting watch like a weary guard dog."

Ben's hand clenched on his knee. "I couldn't sleep," he said, in a voice dragged over sandpaper. It sent a shiver through Rey, albeit very different from the shiver she had felt in her dream.

Her dream. It rushed back to her in a hazy flood, half there and half erased by the blaze of consciousness. Someone had been looking for her. Or had there been more than one someone?

Luke's gaze fell on her. "You're awake," he said more gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Rey answered automatically. "How did I get her? Where are the others?"

"I imagine my nephew can answer your first question more thoroughly than I can," Luke answered, ignoring her second entirely. "In fact, it's a story I have been waiting to hear as well."

Rey steeled herself and forced a look in Ben's direction. He was staring at his knees again, refusing to meet her eyes. "Luck," he said finally. "I was tracking Ren through the Unknown Regions, when I intercepted a transmission. He said he'd captured a Jedi, so I went to investigate."

A lie, Rey knew, with utter certainty. Though her connection with Ben had lain dormant for years, she could still read him like a book. The hesitation in his voice, the way his eyelashes fluttered as his eyes ticked right. His tells were as familiar as the shape of her own breath.

"Lucky, indeed," Luke said, and Rey sensed that he, too, doubted Ben's honesty. With a sensation of profound relief, she realized that her connection to the Force had returned fully. She could feel it swirling around them like the comforting caress of a mother's hand.

"I should go," Ben said, standing. For a moment Rey caught his eyes as they flicked over her, assessing.

"Not so fast," Luke said, stepping into his path. "First I want to know why you think you have any right to return here."

Ben flinched, and Rey looked up at Luke in shock.

"I was bringing Rey," Ben murmured. The shape of his mouth as it formed her name sent electricity skittering over Rey's skin. "I'll go now."

"You have betrayed my trust," Luke said solemnly. "You have betrayed this Order. But you are weary, from your travels. You will stay until you are well. Your fate will be decided at a later time."

Ben stared at his feet, more subdued than Rey had ever seen him. "Yes, Master Skywalker," he said, so softly that she almost missed it.

Luke glanced at Rey once more, and something like pity crossed his face. "I am sure you have much to catch up on," he said finally. "I will leave you to speak. Rey, when you are feeling quite recovered I would like to see you. There are things I would rather you heard first from me." His eyes lingered on Ben, as if in warning, before he turned in a swirl of robes and left the room.

Silence stretched out in the infirmary. Ben stood with his back to Rey, unspeaking, and she took the moment to examine him. When she had seen him before, it had been under the haze of drugs and in the midst of battle. She had missed the changes in him; the length of his hair, and the way it curled at his nape. The breadth of his shoulders, wider even than they had been at twenty-three. I'm almost the age that he was when we last spoke, Rey thought with a frisson of surprise. He always seemed so old to me then. But we were children. Both of us.

"Where are the others?" Rey asked finally, her voice hoarse with disuse.

Ben hesitated. "Dameron and the stormtrooper are safe," he said eventually.

"What about the other Knights?"

Another pause. "They're here as well."

Rey gritted her teeth in frustration. The stubborn look on Ben's face told her he would give no further details. "How did you stop that lance?" she asked, pivoting completely. "I've never seen anything like it."

Ben's shoulders twitched, but he didn't turn. "It wasn't me," he said. "I thought it was you."

"No," said Rey. "I was—I couldn't."

Ben's posture tightened. She hadn't realized it was possible for him to look more tense than he already had. He was silent for a moment, and she realized that he was searching for words. "What did they do to you?" he asked finally, in a tone that made her wonder if he really wanted to know.

"A drug," she told him. "An extract developed from the ysalimiri. Something to subdue the Force in a single individual without affecting others. They must have still been developing it—it didn't work as well as they—"

"No," Ben cut her off. "I know about the drug. Poe told me." The squeak of leather drew her eyes to his hands, which were clenched into tight fists at his sides. "I mean—what did Ren do to you?"

Rey swallowed hard. "Does it matter?" she asked, remembering the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. "Maybe you'd care to explain what you did to Ren—"

"Of course it matters!" Ben snarled, spinning on her. His face, which had been a mask before, was twisted with something that looked like rage. Or perhaps it was fear? "Did you really think I wouldn't kill him, Rey? After what he—what he did—" His voice choked off, and he looked away, blinking hard. "I would kill him again, if I could."

Rey stared up at him in shock. "Luke didn't train us to be killers, Ben," she said finally. "And I don't know why it matters to you—it wasn't you he hurt."

Ben went oddly still. His jaw, which had been grinding a moment before, stopped. A single muscle twitched below his left eye. "You think I couldn't feel it?" he asked softly, so softly that Rey almost asked him to repeat himself. "You think that just because you couldn't touch the Force meant that I couldn't feel every fucking minute of your pain? Your fear?" He turned his face to her, his dark eyes blazing with anger. "And while you were perfectly happy to make peace with the inevitability of your death, I was racing across the galaxy, wondering how I would live with myself if I didn't make it to you in time. I could kill Ren a thousand times and it wouldn't be enough."

Something in Rey's chest clenched. Tears stung her eyes. "Well," she said, voice cracking. "Perhaps you wouldn't have needed to wonder if you hadn't left in the first place." Ben flinched, as if she'd struck him, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. The anger she had buried years ago was welling up, demanding to be felt once more. "You didn't need to save me this time, Ben. I'm not yours anymore," she said bitterly. "The girl who loved you is dead. You killed her."

Ben made a sound, low in his throat; a ragged breath, a gasp. Without looking at her, he whirled around and stalked out of the room.

Rey made no complaint as the medical droid ran a panel of tests before declaring her physically healthy and dismissing her from the infirmary with firm orders to eat and rest.

Instead, she walked to Luke's study.

He answered her knock immediately with a soft call, and she sank tiredly into the chair across from him. "How are Serai and the others?" she asked immediately.

Luke took a moment to look up from his desk. He appeared older than she remembered. There was a sadness in his eyes, something like the pity she thought she had glimpsed before in the infirmary. "We will speak of them soon," he said finally. "But first I want to talk about my nephew."

Rey frowned in irritation. "What is there to say?" she asked. "That you lied to me about where you'd sent him? Or did you really send him to Hosnian Prime and he defected from the Order to hunt dark siders?"

Luke looked at her steadily over his steepled hands. "A bit of both," he said slowly. "You are correct that I wasn't honest with you, Rey. I owe you an apology for that."

Rey blinked in surprise.

"When Ben asked to leave Yavin 4, I thought it was for the best. I was worried that you two had become too close, and that your attachment would distract you from your duties as a Jedi." His eyes narrowed slightly. "You knew this already."

"Yes," Rey admitted.

"I thought that giving him freedom and space to explore his responsibilities independently would bring him closer to the Order." Luke paused, as if wondering how much to disclose. "In some sense, I believe that he thought he was leaving to keep you safe."

"From the Knights of Ren?" Rey asked, scowling. "What vendetta could they possibly have against a girl they'd never met?"

Luke shrugged, hands parting in the air before him. "What vendetta, indeed?" he echoed. "I don't know if the Knights were the primary source of danger, in Ben's eyes."

"Who then?"

"Himself."

Rey blanched. "What? Luke that doesn't make any sense. Ben would never—"

Luke raised both hands in a placating, silencing gesture. "I know," he said. "I know Ben would have never allowed physical harm to you. Don't think that I believe his story about him randomly happening upon Ren's ship. If he inherited one thing from his father, it was his luck." Luke scoffed. "Or lack thereof. I have no idea how he found you in the middle of the Unknown Regions, but I know that it wasn't an accident."

Rey met her Master's penetrating gaze and said nothing. What could she say? Your nephew and I have been hiding an impossible Force bond from you for thirteen years?

"But at the time I agreed with him. Ben may have done everything in his power to keep you safe, but I believed that your connection was driving you both down a path I couldn't follow. You fed on one another; your emotions, your abilities, your discontent with the Jedi Order." Luke raised a hand once again to cut off Rey's protest. "Don't think that I didn't see it," he said. "I simply hoped that you'd both grow out of it. But when Ben asked to leave, I thought, finally we agree on something. Finally, I could give my nephew what he wanted, but also what I thought you both needed. For a time, I thought I was right. You struggled at first, but eventually I saw your connection to the Order begin to grow and deepen."

"But…?" Rey asked.

"But…" Luke sighed. "But, where to begin? I allowed Ben his mission on two conditions: that he would not make himself judge and executioner of the Knights of Ren, and that he would report to me regularly. He broke both of those promises."

Rey swallowed hard, remembering the terrible light in Ben's eyes as he had looked down on Ren's crumpled form and delivered the killing blow. Cold. Merciless. "You told us that Ben had ignored your summons," she said, softly.

"Another lie," Luke admitted. "Although true, from a certain point of view. I had sent Ben numerous missives over the past four years. None of them received an answer."

"Why are you telling me this now?" Rey asked quietly.

"Because I wanted you to hear me admit that I was wrong," Luke told her. "You were never driving Ben from the path of the Jedi. You were holding him in the Light."

Rey grappled with the implications of what Luke was saying. "You don't think that he has fallen?" she said, half incredulous, half dreading his answer.

"I think that he has committed acts that do not align with the nature of this Order," Luke said. "I need you to understand this. I need you to believe it."

"Why?" Rey croaked. "Why must I?"

"Because when I ask my nephew to surrender his lightsaber and leave Yavin 4, I want you to know why."

"What?" Rey exclaimed, halfway out of her chair. "You can't. Luke, it's who he is. We all stray from the path sometimes. Even you once disobeyed your master to rescue your friends. Mistakes can be fixed, it's part of growing up."

Luke met her eyes. "Not all mistakes can be fixed, Rey," he told her gently. "Please sit down."

"Luke," she begged. "Just listen to me, please. I can help him, I know I can! Give me time and I can bring him back to us."

"Rey," Luke said. The sorrow and pity had returned to his face. "I am sorry that I cannot shoulder this burden for you. I am sorry that I must be the one to deliver the blow. Serai and Akava are dead."

Rey froze, mouth open in protest. She felt suddenly faint, as if she were still under the effects of Ren's drug. She sank slowly backwards into her chair. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, no, they're not. They're not. Master Skywalker, tell me that they're—that you've—no." She realized distantly that there were tears coursing down her cheeks. "No."

It was a plea, not a demand.

"I'm sorry, Rey," Luke said, and Rey knew suddenly that he wasn't lying, because there were tears on his cheeks as well. "I truly am."

"How?" she asked numbly, staring at the grains of his desk and trying to ride out the nausea rising in her esophagus.

Luke sniffed once. "After you were captured, Ren left a fleet in orbit around Ilum, to prevent any ships from taking off. The others knew that to send a distress signal, they would need to reach the upper atmosphere. Several New Republic pilots volunteered for the mission, but with Commander Dameron gone, Serai was the mission leader. She has always been gifted—" He stopped, then with visible effort continued. "She was always gifted with Force prescience. She was one of our best fliers and must have thought her abilities would give her an upper hand in a dogfight. She was brave. Honorable. She would never have sent another pilot where she didn't dare go."

Rey wondered suddenly whether Luke had ever wanted children of his own. Whether Serai had been something like the daughter he'd never had. His brightest pupil: a girl who mirrored him in her endless pursuit of what was right and just; the one who had headed his teachings best and most readily. Rey bit back a sob.

"Akava accompanied her because she needed someone to splice through the enemy's communication jamming. He is—was—always better at it than she was. Better than any of us." Luke paused, gathering himself. "It was a two-man craft. They took no one with them to fly wing. They planned to send a message and jump to lightspeed immediately. She didn't want to put anyone else at risk. They got the message through, but they were shot down in orbit."

Rey stared blankly ahead. "They're gone," she murmured. "Gone. It's my fault."

"Rey," Luke said, placatingly. "It's not your fault. No mission is without risk—Serai and Akava knew that—"

"You don't understand!" Rey snapped. "Serai told me not to pursue the Knights without reinforcements, and I ignored her. If I hadn't been captured, they wouldn't have known we were on-planet—"

"And if you had waited for Serai, perhaps you both would have been captured," Luke told her. "Someone else would have risked themselves; someone else would have died. Maybe more people. You knew the risk you were taking, and so did Serai." His voice was surprisingly sharp. "This is how war works—you take risks, and people die, and the end of the day, all you can do is hope that your risks were the right ones. There's no space for regret. Not time for guilt."

"War?" Rey asked tremulously.

Luke steepled his hands, composing himself. "The First Order," he said slowly, rolling the name over his tongue as if testing its shape, "has declared war on the New Republic. As provocation, they cited the unprovoked invasion of a private mining installment and an interstellar cruiser."

"Unprovoked invasion?" Rey demanded. "They attacked first! Since when does the First Order own old Imperial mines?"

"Since the land claim was sold in private auction to a member of the Galactic Senate," Luke said wearily. "One Armitage Hux."

"And capturing and torturing New Republic operatives on a peaceful reconnaissance mission is considered a justified response to trespassing?" Rey asked bitterly.

"Perhaps not," Luke said mildly. "But boarding a First Order vessel without a warrant and killing several squadrons of privately employed defense operatives based on a hunch is generally frowned upon."

"A hunch?" Rey spat, her anger returning full force. It felt good. The anger was easier to handle than sadness. It felt clarifying. "You know it wasn't a hunch. Ben knew exactly where I was."

"Of course I know that," Luke said, a thread of iron entering his tone. "Unfortunately, a vast number of independent star systems do not understand the inner workings of the Force. A great portion of the galaxy is still highly suspicious of any Force-user. The idea that their ships may be boarded at any moment by government-controlled space wizards is enough to drive any normally-reasonable person to side with the First Order."

"So, you're exiling Ben from the Order because he accidentally stirred up a political shitstorm for you and Leia?" Rey asked derisively. "You can't be serious."

"It's not just that," Luke said, passing a hand over his face wearily. "The other members of the Order are angry Rey. They feel betrayed. Ben abandoned them in a time of need and only returned when it suited his own interests."

"They think he should have gone to Ilum first to aid their escape?"

"No, Rey," Luke answered. "They know what I've just told you—that Ben went rogue on his mission. That he cut off contact. Had he answered my summons, he would have been with you on Ilum."

"Oh, so it would've been better if we'd both been captured and tortured?" Rey asked sarcastically.

"No," Luke said patiently. "But the mission could have gone very differently if Ben had been there. He's the best pilot this Order has seen in three decades. His martial abilities alone could have prevented your capture. Poe Dameron is a brave man, but you can't expect me to believe that there's anyone you'd rather have at your back in a fight than Ben."

Rey didn't bother to argue with that. As angry as she was with Ben, knowing that he was beside her on Hux's ship had made her feel safer than she had in years. "And what about the others?" she asked petulantly. "Kora and Nareek? Surely they could've helped if they'd been there."

"Their talents were being put to use elsewhere," Luke said. "On sanctioned missions."

"So, the rest of the Order treated Ben like Sithspawn for two decades until he decided to kriff off, and now they're angry because he wasn't around when they finally realized what a valuable asset he was," Rey scoffed. "Did I get that right?"

"Grief is a strange thing, Rey."

"Grief?" Rey echoed. "Admit it—you're accepting a decision made out of spite and bitterness because it matches your own desires—to be rid of your nephew for good. How can you absolve me of my guilt for disobeying Serai's order, but condemn Ben for ignoring yours?"

"It is about intent, Rey," Luke answered firmly. "Your error was made in good faith."

"And his wasn't?" Rey was on her feet, vibrating with righteous anger. "How many times have you presumed to know Ben's heart? How many times have you been proven wrong?"

Rey wasn't a child anymore, but the sound of the door slamming behind her was still wickedly satisfying.

It didn't take Rey long to find him.

The clearing had been their place since he had first taken her there, so many years ago, when she was still so young and lonely and lost. She sank to the ground beside him, cross-legged. He glanced sideways at her profile without breaking the silence, but moved to wrap an arm around her shoulders when she leaned into his side. Together they stared into the shadowy woods.

"I'm glad you're safe," she said finally, as the first night orchids began to open.

His green eyes crinkled at the corners. "I think that's my line," he said softly. "I was so worried."

"It was easier knowing you'd gotten away," she told him. "You—you and—Serai." The final name came out as a sob.

"Shhh," Colt murmured, pulling her into his chest. "It's okay, Rey. It's okay."

"It's not," she whimpered. "It's not okay. They're gone."

"No," he whispered into her hair. "They're here, Rey. Just look. Look, please."

Rey forced her eyes open. Through the blur of her tears, the glow of the bioluminescent orchids was an infinitely hued rainbow of wobbling light. She blinked once, bringing it into focus.

"They are around us, and with us," Colt explained. "The Cosmic Force flows through every living thing. You, me, the flowers. Serai and Akava will never leave us. You must believe that."

"But it's so hard when you can't see them," Rey whispered back.

"I believe it was you who once told me, 'Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it, you'll never make it through the night.'"

Rey swallowed back her tears. "They deserved better."

"We all do."

They sat in the clearing for a long time after that—two sorrowful shadows leaning on one another as the night fell in earnest.

Sometime around midnight it began to rain, fresh and cold and clarifying. Rey tipped her head back and let the water stream over her, washing away her sorrow, her pain, and her regret. Luke had been right, she acknowledged. In a war, there was no time or space for these emotions. The Jedi feel their hurts quietly and let them go.

What, then, of my hurt? she wondered. Can I defend Ben without also forgiving him? Am I even capable of that sort of forgiveness?

A/N: oh so you thought it would be easy?

brb, planning more shenanigans ;)