Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Liberation Day Comes

The day dawned bright and oppressive at the Praxeum. Hordes of avians chattered from the treetops as deep red Yavin Prime crested the horizon, casting warm light across the temple complex and rousing younglings and acolytes alike to the new day.

Rey had been awake for hours.

Sleep had never really come. Her limbs buzzed with tension, fingers tingling, heart stuttering with every sharp inhale. Her thoughts spun fast and tight, looping through worries too tangled to name.

She was used to this feeling—too used to it. But today, it was worse. The anxiety had stolen what little rest she might’ve gotten, leaving behind only a thick exhaustion that clung to her like the humid summer air pressing in from outside.

Still, she’d hide it.

Just as she hid everything else—every emotion, every crack in her armor that wasn’t befitting the Grand Master of the New Jedi Order. No one suspected how broken she truly was. And that’s exactly how it needed to stay.

Over the years, she’d perfected the mask: composed, graceful, untouchable.

It was a lie.

One that grew heavier, not lighter, with time.

But it was necessary. Vital. The foundation of the Order’s future was built on the myth of her strength—and myths, she knew, had to be maintained.

In the early days, it was easier to tell herself that it wasn’t a lie. That she really was tranquil and balanced in the Force, that she was whole and not a shell of a woman.

She’d been so busy with her duties, with missions, with rebuilding, that she nearly felt normal. The anxiety and the place bound like a tourniquet in the back of her mind fell to the wayside in favor of exhaustion and purpose.

The tightness in her chest would lessen just ever so slightly during those times. Luckily for her, she had been incredibly occupied with little to no down time for a very long time.

For the past ten years, Rey scraped together all the information she could on the old Order, sought out all the Force sensitive beings she could in the galaxy, gathered those willing and found a place safe enough to house and teach them, all so that they could work together to reform the Jedi Order.

It was the only thing that kept her moving, the only thing that prevented her from darker thoughts and utter collapse.

The New Jedi Order was her pride—her purpose. It had become her life’s work, the fire that kept her moving forward. She’d accomplished so much that there were mornings she still struggled to believe it was real—that she had truly continued the Skywalker legacy she was once entrusted with.

The first generation of padawans and acolytes were now knights—leaders in their own right. Some had taken to the stars, serving the galaxy as guardians of peace, just as the Jedi once had. Others chose quieter paths: study, teaching, meditation. Among them were two constants—Tionne Solusar, a near-human historian from Rindao, and a grouchy, sharp-eyed man named Kyle Katarn.

Rey had counted their arrival as one of her greatest blessings. They had found her.

In the early, uncertain days, they came with stories of Luke—how they’d trained under him briefly during the birth of the New Republic, only to step away when the Jedi path didn’t quite fit. Tionne had left after falling in love with Kam, a fellow apprentice. They chose a life together, away from duty.

But now they had returned.

Each of them, in their own time, came to her with the same message:

The Force guided me to return. To you. To the Jedi.

And Rey, who had once stood alone, burdened by legacy, found herself surrounded by those who believed in what she was building—not just because of her name, but because of her vision.

With the help of the older generation returned, Rey’s time had opened up greatly and she was no longer needed like she had been in those first uncertain days.

Sometimes it even felt like she was being placed on a pedestal. Too good for serving. Too important for teaching. Their shining Grand Master.

And with the extra time—extra time she never asked for—came the quiet feelings she thought she buried deep inside her. Anxiety. Restlessness. The loneliness that she swore to herself didn’t exist.

She told herself it was a symptom of idle hands. And so she volunteered to take more off world missions for the Galactic Republic of Free Alliances as they came up. The missions seemed to help…

But it seemed more and more that the galaxy didn’t actually have as great a need for Jedi in this new age as they had in the past, so she was needed less and less. She told herself it was a good thing. After the blood bath that was the Clone Wars, after the devastation of the Empire and the First Order, this peace was a blessing.

Rey remained on Yavin IV most of the time now, tinkering with the machinery and the ships. She led the daily evening meditation with the padawans, acolytes and on-world knights, held private lessons when asked and stood as the shining head of the Order.

But the truth was becoming harder to deny.

They didn’t need her. Not as much as she needed them…

She needed them.

She hated that.

She didn’t want to need anything anymore.

She was exhausted, tired at playing a role that should have fit but didn’t. She was tired of feeling the way she had for the past decade, tired of the endless performance…tired of pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Someone she was supposed to be…

She hadn’t imagined that this would be the way things turned out for her. But this was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? The legacy of the Skywalker name? The responsibility that came with it?

Rey wondered, not for the first time, if it would be better if she stepped down.

Her thoughts turned to the other masters.

Tionne was scholarly. She dedicated so much of her time to rebuilding the Jedi’s archives, even during the years when she wasn’t technically a member of the Order. She was wise, full of quiet light. The younglings adored her. The knights respected her. Teaching came naturally to her.

Master Cilghal, a Mon Calamari senator who survived the Hosnian Cataclysm joined Rey in 36 ABY, nearly fully trained. She was the Order’s diplomat and proved to the Galactic Alliance senate again and again the value of re-establishing the Jedi Order. She managed to bring billions of credits to the Praxeum through donations and grants. It was because of her that everything here was state of the art—why they had cruisers and corvettes and fighters—things  Luke’s own academy had never dream of.

Even Kyle Katarn, an old military man turned Rebellion leader seemed to be better suited. As could Kyp Durron, the newest addition to their ranks.

There were enough qualified masters here. Enough experience. Enough strength.

More than anything, Rey wanted to pass the burden of leadership on to them.

At least then, maybe she could—

But the thought cut short.

Years of discipline clamped down like a vice.

She couldn’t let herself finish that sentence. Couldn’t let herself imagine what came after.

If she did...

She might unravel.

And she wasn’t sure she’d know how to put herself back together.

It didn’t matter what she wanted, anyway. It never did. Not anymore.

She was expected to revive the Jedi Order and so she did.

She was expected to teach and serve and live her life as a Jedi and so she would.

Rey would continue to serve the Order as its leader for as long as she was needed. And when the time came for someone else to take the burden from her, she would pass it on and let herself fade to the background, living a life of obsoletion until the Force called her home.

She inhaled slowly and forced the bubbling anxiety away with a long exhale. She cracked her eyes open and took in a vibrant jungle backlit by the blood red sun.

Yavin IV was so different from Jakku and it would never fail to strike her with its beauty. It was so full of life and so full of the force. It flowed over her like a heavy current, filling every crack and crevice of the Praxeum, fueling the inhabitants and invigorating them.

She forced herself to feel something other than that omnipresent emptiness and came up short of anything but mild apathy. It would have to do.

Rey slowly stood from her secluded spot on the balcony and dressed, sliding into the heavy white robes that set her apart from the others. She stared at herself in the mirror, silently loathing her appearance and left her rooms.

Quietly, she walked down the Master’s dormitory corridor and nodded in greeting to the knights she passed, most of them on their way to the mess hall below. She didn’t stop to chat.

As the turbolift descended with a hum, Rey watched the padawan learners and younglings through the transparisteel panel below playing chase without a care in the world.

Rey was only thirty, but lately, the years weighed on her heavily. Had she ever been that young? That carefree?

With a pang, she realized that beyond the first five years of her life, she hadn’t been. The memory of those long lonely years spent scraping by in the sun-seared sands of a burnished desert surfaced with the bitter feelings of those times.

A childhood of hunger and hardship. Of loneliness and labor. She’d all but forgotten what joy was by the time a little droid came across her path one fateful evening eleven years prior.

Now as Master Rey Skywalker, she was determined to ensure that none of the younglings had to endure what she did. She would make sure that they had a warm bed, plenty of food and the love that many of them had been denied. Most of the younglings taught at the Praxeum were orphaned. No child would starve like she had, no child would feel unwanted here.

A flicker of warmth kindled in her chest as she watched the younglings dash into the mess hall, their giggles trailing like stardust.

But it froze when she noticed the streamers.

Then came the cheery calls of celebration. And the brightly colored pendants and banners, hanging proudly from the high ceiling. Then the gut punch of realization.

Of course. How could she forget?

Tomorrow was Liberation Day.

The anniversary of the Battle of Exegol. The day when the tyranny of the First and Final Orders ended in conflagration and the bravery of average citizens of the galaxy.

The day she died.

The day he died.

The day the bond had shattered. The day everything had changed.

The anniversary that marked the beginning of this miserable half life. Her permanent foray into loneliness…

She lost her appetite in an instant and backed into the same turbolift she’d come down. She couldn’t do this. She would retreat and hide away until the ceremony tomorrow. The other masters would understand. They knew she did this every year. They would leave her alone until absolutely necessary and then leave her be again when she wasn’t needed.

Rey’s hand was hovering above the control panel ready to return to her quarters when someone called her name.

Kyp Durron—the youngest master besides herself—was weaving through the crowd with a grin on his face and purpose in his stride.

“Master Skywalker!” He held his hand up, waving to get her attention. Rey silently swore under her breath for not moving quickly enough. “Rey! Hold up, I need to talk to you!”

She dropped her hand and stepped out of the lift, schooling her face into something neutral.

“Master Durron?” She asked politely, hoping her tone would dissuade him from talking to her.

It didn’t.

He smiled at her, his brown eyes crinkling. For a beat, they reminded her of another pair of similarly hued eyes, ones that held a touch more green and a hint of Corellian whisky. The moment passed in a heartbeat and she could breath again.

“Master Rey Skywalker,” Durron drawled, taking her in with a grin, “Don’t you look lovely this morning? Those early meditations are doing wonders for you.”

Rey rolled her eyes. Flattery was his preamble—whether he wanted something or was flirting.

“What do you want, Kyp?

He sobered a bit. “I was comms just a few minutes ago when we got a ping from a S-161 Stinger yacht. Asked for permission to dock at the Praxeum. Real official sounding.” He eyed her, “so I gave ‘em permission to land. Assumed you knew them.”

“Fancy ship,” she muttered offhandedly, wondering who could possibly be coming to see her at this time.

“No one I know flys anything like that, but I could probably venture to guess that it’s a donor. Or a bureaucrat of some sort…” Rey sighed and dragged her hand down her face. Looks like she wasn’t going to make that escape after all. She would have to hold it together for just a little longer.

“Probably a donor,” Kyp agreed.

“I’ll wait in the landing bay for them,” she sighed. “Did they give you an ETA?”

“Thirty minutes,” he replied turning towards the mess hall. “Could be more depending on how temperamental the atmosphere is today.”

He saluted her lazily. “Happy almost Liberation Day, Master Skywalker! See you around.”

Rey clenched her jaw, refusing to flinch at the innocent well wishes. He didn’t know. No one here really knew why she hated Liberation Day. And no one ever would. As far as they knew, she was simply too embarrassed to be the beloved subject of a galaxy wide celebration.

She left the temple and made her way across the field to the docking bay, nodding at the dock master as she approached. “Morning Bohd, Where is the Stinger assigned to dock?”

Bohd pointed at a far spot at the other side of the bay and grunted, not looking up from his data pad. “B-109.”

She nodded her thanks and watched the horizon for the telltale speck of an incoming ship, especially grateful that the crotchety, old Nikto wasn’t much for talking.

Twenty five minutes later, a sleek charcoal gray S-161 Stinger yacht touched down on the tarmac.

Despite her sour mood, Rey couldn’t help but be impressed by the fine control of the repulsor lifts. The pilot knew what they were doing. She pushed off from where she had been leaning and walked over to the ship, mentally preparing herself for the usual: a tour of the facilities, polite, meaningless small talk and a performance worthy of the grand master she pretended to be.

The ramp lowered and her breath caught in her throat—annoyance dissipating in an instant.

“Finn!” Rey running up the ramp to jump into her old friend’s arms. “I thought you weren’t coming!”

Finn squeezed her back tightly, his face burying into her shoulder. “I wasn’t. But Rose shoved me out the door and told me not to come back until I’d seen you.”

Rey’s eyes burned, her throat tightening in gratitude. Of course Rose knew. She always knew.

“How is Rose?” she asked quickly, desperate to not ruin their reunion with her tears and ready to confront the reasons why Finn was here.

Finn pulled back and examined Rey’s face with gentle scrutiny. He was looking for something. Looking for same thing he looked for every visit. Rey was grateful that he hid his disappointment when it wasn’t there. Instead, he smiled at her.

“She’s…not loving life right now.”

She grimaced in sympathy. “I wouldn’t think so. But there’s medication for it, isn’t there?”

Finn nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Yeah…but the side effects don’t sit well with her. She thinks she can tough out the nausea until it goes away. But she’s only a few months in. And I think she’s spent more time in the ‘fresher than out since we found out.”

“Well I’m grateful that she made you come anyway,” she admitted while as they left the ship and on to the pebbled earth below. She felt selfish for saying it out loud. But it was true.

“Me too, Peanut. I don’t like you being alone this time of year.”

Rey didn’t answer, but the sentiment wrapped around her chest like a weighted blanket. Warm. Familiar. Painful.

Though she didn’t want to be around the other Jedi on Liberation Day, Rey discovered—reluctantly—that being with Finn, Rose and even Poe, dulled the ache the way solitude never had.

Three years after the Battle of Exegol, Rey ended up stuck on Coruscant for Liberation Day and therefore, unfortunately near her friends. The first two years, she managed to avoid them.

During those first two anniversaries, Rey had been busy traversing the stars, discovering old relics and holocrons. Setting up the Praxeum, finding new force sensitives who needed the Order…

She found ways to keep away from the others. To stay alone.

It was the only time she allowed herself to feel the permanent wound inside.

On that third Liberation Day, Rey locked herself in her room on Coruscant to drink herself into a stupor—alone and miserable. She was halfway through her second bottle of gin when her door started pinging.

Finn found her. And called Rose. And called Poe.

She would never forget the shame that burned her face when he walked in, the scent of hard liquor and human sick heavy in the air. When she came out of her ‘fresher, the hotel room was spotless, complete with a fragrant bouquet of flowers, containers of greasy diner food and three very worried friends.

They didn’t know why at the time—didn’t know why she didn’t want to celebrate like everyone else—but they kept her company anyway. And they didn’t press her on the matter either. She hated them for it that day. But loved them even more.

It wasn’t until her next visit, several months later when she finally told them why she hated Liberation Day so much. Told them the truth.

She finally told them about him.

Told them what happened in the heart of the Sith Eternal’s citadel. Told them about Ben Solo’s return—his redemption. She told them of how it felt when they came together, fully immersed in the light. And through tears, she told them about his sacrifice.

It hurt so badly to relive those events, like salt ground roughly into unhealed wounds. But it was also cathartic. Like she was a little lighter afterwards.

After that, they always planned to spend Liberation Day with her.

Poe’s position as the admiral of the Galactic Alliance Defense Fleet prevented him from making it most years, but he still tried. Finn and Rose, while still in the public eye, managed to beg off most of the time and came to Yavin IV either together or separately.

Back in the present, Finn nudged her. “I’m starving. Three days of rations doesn’t sit the same way that it used to. Have you eaten yet?”

She shook her head, still not in the mood to eat but she didn’t want him to miss out.

“Let’s hit up the mess hall.”

“Alright, lets go get you something to eat then,” she said with a smile and led him back into the Praxeum.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Finn asked softly from across her balcony as the dusk darkened the sky to a deep mauve.

Rey’s shoulders tensed as she watched groups of droids and maintenance workers mill around the fields, preparing the Praxeum grounds for tomorrow’s celebrations. She kept him busy all day—showing him the gardens, reintroducing him to the newer Knights, detouring into the archives. Anything to delay this part.

“You mean how you landed here in that fancy yacht?” She asked too lightly. “Sure. How did that happen?”

Finn sighed but played along. “Rose got promoted.”

“Oh right!” Rey remembered hearing something about that recently. “She’s head liaison of the Coalition of Displaced Planetary Citizens now, isn’t she?”

Finn nodded, pride softening his face. “Got promoted about six months ago. And she’s killing it, Rey. I wish you could her in action. I wish you could see all of it.”

Rey’s smile faltered. Here we go again…

“My duty is here.” She said this shortly. Brusquely.

“I know…” he replied gently, “And I’m proud of you. Of what you’ve built here. You’ve done something incredible—you brought the Jedi back.”

“Not alone,” Rey deflected with a blush. It wouldn’t have happened if it was just her.

Finn fixed her with a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Rey, take the credit where it's due. You’ve had help, yes, but none of this would have happened without you.” He said this but his tone was bittersweet. “I just really wish that we could see you more. Especially now with the baby…”

“I need to be here, Finn.”

“You don’t want to be here anymore, Rey.”

He took her silence as an answer. “You hide it well, but I know your heart isn’t in the Praxeum. I know you. You’re exhausted. You’re lonely. And I think its because you never let yourself heal.”

“What else could I possibly be doing? This is what everyone expected of me.” And it was true. All anyone ever expected of her once the war was truly over was to jet off to some remote planet and rebuild the Jedi Order.

“You could take some time off and rent a place on Chandrila with us. The Alliance is keeping the New Republic tradition of rotating the seat of power every decade. Everything is transitioning to Hanna City by the end of the year. You need a break, Rey.”

Rey remained silent and threw her drink back, wincing at the burn.

Finn stayed silent too, watching as a flock of large, golden whisper birds settled into a nearby towering tree for the night. “I wish you would stop punishing yourself for what happened on Exegol, Rey.”

His words stung. Typically Finn stuck to the first topic and eventually Rey would shut it down with all the reasons why she needed to stay on Yavin IV. But this direction was new and untouched and it hurt.

“I’m not,” she retorted shortly. But even as she said this, she knew it was a lie. She knew she was stuck and Finn knew it too.

“When was the last time you let anyone get close?” He pressed. “One of the knights?”

Rey sunk lower in her seat and glared into her glass. “I’ve had a hand in training everyone here. There’s always going to be that master-student divide that I can’t cross…”

“That’s an excuse. You haven’t connected with a single one of the new Jedi you’ve worked with for the past ten years? Not one?”

She lifted her eyes from her glass and glowered at Finn. “No.”

“You need friends-”

“I have friends.”

“Friends you rarely see!” He exploded, “We maybe see you once a year for a couple of days at a time. Months will go by before we get a comm from you and most times, it’s because Rose or Poe or I have reached out first! And when we do see you? It’s always right around Liberation Day—when you’re at your lowest. We don’t get you, Rey. We get what’s left of you.”

“That’s not fair.”

Finn snorted. “Then show us you're fine. Show us that this isn't who you are."

“This is me!” Rey interjected angrily. “This is what is left of me after Exegol! Everything else? The calm, Jedi Master you see? It's all a lie!”

It was silent on the balcony for several heartbeats, the two friends staring at each other. The force was a pulsing mess of emotions, grating Rey’s nerves like forks on china. She clenched her teeth and felt tears prick in the corners of her eyes.

How was it that Finn didn’t understand that? He couldn’t see that this was all she had to give? It took everything she had to project the persona of the Jedi master everyone thought they knew. There was nothing left after that. Nothing but a withered husk.

“Rey…” he began gently, as though he was talking to a wounded animal, “Maybe it's time to let go.”

Her blood froze.

“Excuse me?”

Finn sighed and crouched next to her, resting his hand on hers. She immediately hated how patronizing it felt. “You’ve held on for ten years, Rey. But this grief? It’s stopping you from living…”

“I think it's time to let him go.”

Rey tore her hand from his and shoved past him, suddenly furious. Let him go? He didn’t understand. And how could he? Unless you were in a dyad, there was no comprehension, no possible way of fathoming  the depth of loss, the hollowness in body and mind.

There was no letting go…

There was simply surviving. Living one dark day at a time until at last, a release. And hopefully then, a reunion that would make all the suffering worth it.

Finn took Rey’s silence as permission to continue. “Come back with me to Chandrila. You can take some time off, spend time with me and Rose. Be there when our baby is born…”

Anger still pulsed in her ears and she forced herself again to remember that even though Finn might know what happened on Exegol, it didn’t necessarily mean he understood.

“He was born on Chandrila, you know…” she said slowly as she stared out at the deepening sky, mauve and and indigo blending together. The whisper birds were settled and roosting now, silent as chittering insects took over the jungle symphony.

Finn’s voice seemed hesitant when he answered with a question. “Who was born on Chandrila?”

The deepness of night settled around them, the last traces of Yavin Prime dissipating beyond the dark green horizon. “Ben.”

Rey could feel Finn’s dismay from where she stood.

She turned to look at him, suddenly so tired. “Ben was born on Chandrila. A little over forty years ago.”

Finn’s eyes filled with pity. “Rey…”

She shook her head. “No, Finn. Maybe it's my fault for not making it more clear to you, but I can’t let go. It isn’t that simple. It’s not…possible.”

Her friend set his glass down and lowered himself back into his chair, elbows on his knees as he stared up at her heavy-hearted and pitying. “I know that he saved you. And that you were bonded to him in the force…” Finn exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand roughly over his eyes. “But Rey…you knew him for one year and for almost the entirety of that year, you were enemies.”

Rey leaned her elbows onto the balcony, eyes on the stars. “Do you remember when I told you what a dyad was?”

“Of course. Two halves of one whole, right?”

“In the broadest sense.” She closed her eyes and lightly touched on the spot in her mind so tightly bound it was like a tourniquet. It flared at her pain verging on something excruciating and she withdrew with a grimace. “Ben and I…we were two parts of one soul. We were intertwined together in a way that I can’t even begin to explain. I’m still not entirely sure I understand it…”

“He understood me on a level that no one in this galaxy could ever hope to, and I him. My connection to him, especially at the end…it was like coming home after an age away. He was my belonging, my—“ she cut herself off and bit at her lip. She had to hold it together for just a few more hours. Then she’d allow herself to feel it all.

Shaking her head, Rey continued. “When he died, it felt like my heart, my soul, was carved out. It felt like I lost this vital part of me. A part that I can never get back because he’s gone…”

“I’ve hidden it better than I thought I suppose, but when Ben died, half of me died too.”

“Rey…”

She felt Finn’s distress through the force and ignored it, needing to make it clear to him.

“The only thing that has kept me going since he died was re-establishing the Jedi Order. I may not love it, but I don’t have anything else outside of it. It’s the only thing I have left.”

It was quiet. And then…

“Do you think that he would want you to live like this?” She felt him come closer, “This life you’re punishing yourself with? Alone? Numb and miserable?

Rey recoiled, as though she’d been slapped in the face.

“Does it matter?” she snapped. “He’s gone and I’m here.”

“Rey, I can tell you right now that if he loved you, there is absolutely no way he would want you living like this. He would want you live! To find happiness again.”

“Well I wouldn’t know now, would I?” Her voice rose, “You weren’t in that bond, Finn. You don’t know what we had. So don’t you dare tell me how to grieve him.”

The locked feelings were getting harder to keep down. How dare he presume to know what Ben would have wanted for her?

Finn flinched but pressed forward.“It's been ten years, Rey! He’s been gone for ten years and you are letting grief hold you at a standstill. Rose and Poe agree with me—it’s time to move on with your life—”

“Oh, it’s so nice to know that you’ve all been talking about me behind my back!”

“We’re worried about you!” He shouted back, patience finally breaking. “You’re only thirty and you’re miserable. You’re wasting your life—”

“No! I’m done listening,” Rey snarled, jabbing a finger toward Finn. “You don’t get to dictate how I feel and you don’t get to tell me what to do with my life.” 

Her whole body felt hot, her jaw was clenched like a vice.“I think you should go.”

Her friend stared at her for a heartbeat. She could see the challenge in his eye.

At last, he deflated. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

Rey watched him go, glaring.

When he was gone, she wrenched the whiskey bottle there were sharing from the stone floor and took a long, hard drag. It numbed her roiling emotions. Numbed her pain. Numbed a little bit of her loneliness…

The tears came before Rey finished that bottle and kept coming as she finished another. She kept drinking, feeling sorry for herself until she passed out on the lounge chair, too drunk to dream.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Liberation Day

Rey awoke the next morning with an old, depthless ache inside. Her soul always knew what this day was, what it meant, no matter how hard she tried to forget. There was an echoing beat that resounded within her heart all day long, going unanswered. A vestige of a broken bond.

It didn’t help that she also woke with with a raging headache.

She grimaced and sat up, moving her neck around gingerly, wincing when she caught on the crick she gave herself sleeping on the lounge chair rather than her own bed. Her mouth tasted like dust and regret.

She squinted against the burning, hateful light of Yavin Prime spilling through the doors.

She hadn’t meant to drink as much as she did—only to take away the sting of her fight with Finn. But she had been so angry at Finn. She got carried away.

Hungover. In the worst possible way.

Their argument resurfaced and she closed her eyes, ashamed. Finn was only trying to help. She knew that now. She understood what she was doing was not sustainable. Her entire life revolved around the Jedi Order, but it had become a crutch, not a calling. A lifeline she clung to—not out of love, but out of necessity.

And yet anger simmered below the guilt. He didn’t know what he was asking for. He didn’t get why she couldn’t let go. Didn’t understand why she couldn’t leave the Order. Why she couldn’t take a break or a sabbatical—or whatever he thought would fix her—

She needed to stay here. She had to stay here.

Her chrono went off, reminding her that she would be expected soon for the Liberation Day ceremony.

A lump rose in her throat.

She would have to stand in front of all the Jedi and younglings, exalting the end of the war.  Publicly celebrate the destruction of the First Order…and the death of Kylo Ren…

Her eyes burned and she swallowed tightly, trying to keep her grief at bay. She hated that she still mourned him. Hated that the pain hadn’t dulled over the years.

She should feel joy today. She should celebrate, like the others.

And during the ceremony, Rey would do her best to project joy and hope. She would paste on a smile, channel serentiy and say all the right things. Some of them, she would believe. And some would kill her to say aloud.

After all, it was a time to honor those who fought for the Resistance and gave their lives to save the galaxy from the evils of the Dark Side. They deserved to be honored. They deserved to be remembered…

After she performed—after the nausea set in—she would find somewhere secret and let her feelings go free. The one time of year she allowed herself to feel them. The one time of year she let the mask drop. Just enough to feel the ache—just enough to bleed.

She would let herself feel the pain of Ben’s absence. And then she would rebuild the mask, meet up with Finn, and pretend there was enough of her left to be whole.

Rey found some pain killers and tossed them back, willing them to work fast. With a sigh, she made her way to the private ‘fresher—a perk of being Grand Master—

She pulled on the white ceremonial robes and caught her reflection in the mirror. A pale face stared back—eyes ringed in shadow, lips pressed in a thin, joyless line. She looked like garbage. And she didn’t care.

Without another glance, Rey turned and left her quarters.

The Ceremony Hall was already filling. Beings of every kind were filing in, weaving between rows of chairs set up the night before, dressed in silks and polished uniforms, ready to celebrate.

She froze in the doorway, unable to believe how many people were filling the room.

There were only seventy five residents who lived at the Praxeum and that included groundskeepers and the air field workers.

There had to be at least two hundred people in the Hall today.These newcomers wore finery from across the galaxy: diplomats, dignitaries, envoys from every corner of the New Republic. She spied a contingent of Umbaran stalking down the aisle, nearly colliding with a group of Duros who responded with indignant protests. Further away, Bothan diplomats were taking their seats next to three Quarren excitedly, pointing out all the interesting things they’d seen so far in the Praxeum.

“Master Skywalker!”

Rey turned see Masters Cilghal and Tionne approaching flanked by two other finely dressed beings—a male Selkath with particularly long barbels and a female Pantoran adorned with hair the color of sea foam.

Cilghal arrived first and waved at the visitors with a diplomatic air. “Master Skywalker, if I may interrupt you for a moment, I would like to introduce Galactic Alliance Representative Noru Misagi and Ms. Aris Shen.”

Rey greeted them with a polite smile as she masked her confusion. “Thank you for being here today.”

The sheer number of visitors this year was… unexpected. Usually only a few dignitaries attended.

Cilghal picked up on Rey’s confusion, “Mr. Misagi is a representative of Manaan and Ms. Shen is an representative for Galactic News Network. She’s here to oversee the broadcast of the ceremony today.”

Rey was practiced enough to hide her surprise physically. But she knew that Cilghal and Tionne felt it ripple through the Force. Their shared glance didn’t escape her.

She pushed through. “I certainly hope that I don’t disappoint.”

“Oh you could never disappoint, Master Skywalker!” the Pantoran gushed, golden eyes glinting with enthusiasm Rey could only wish she could match. “Just think of all the younglings across the galaxy watching their hero—the hero of the known galaxy!—broadcast to their homes, honoring the fallen heroes of the Resistance War. It is going to be spectacular,”

Rey flushed under the praise, the walls pressing in as her composure cracked. “You’re too kind, Ms. Shen. Now, if you’ll excuse me—I should prepare.”

Aris Shen giggled, “We’ll leave you to finish preparations, Master Skywalker, thank you for your time.

They swept away, Cilghal trailing behind, and Rey took a shaky breath. Her heart pounded as she turned toward the stage. The sorrow was right beneath her skin today, raw and threatening to rise. Too much. All of it was too much.

“Rey…” Tionne said in her quiet, mild mannered way, “I wonder if I might have a word with you before we begin?”

Rey startled—she hadn’t realized the older woman lingered. “Of course,” she said, trying for a smile. Her heart was beating too quickly, her limbs too shaky. She had to get a grip on the anxiety and quickly.

They moved off to a small side room, usually designated as a place of reflection for padawans before the knighting ceremony took place. Rey sat on the austere bench, hands clenched and Tionne followed, sitting next to her with practiced grace.

The silence between them was broken only by the trickle of a small fountain.

“Rey…” Tionne began hesitantly, “Are you well?” Her quiet concern set Rey on edge. She instantly tensed, feeling defensive verging on hostile.

“I’m fine, Tionne.”

There was an awkward pause that made it clear Tionne didn’t believe her.

“It's just that you seemed surprised by the GNN’s presence. As if you weren’t aware of how large this year’s ceremony was going to be…” Rey felt Tionne’s eyes on her, felt her shift slightly.

“And the thing is, I know that this isn’t news to you. It has been discussed. I can recall two separate occasions where you were in the room when we spoke of it.” She stopped and Rey could feel her eyes on her as though she was waiting for something.

Rey said nothing, feeling embarrassed in addition to everything else.

She continued, her voice quiet and calm. “We’ve all understood that this time of year is difficult for you. You’ve never said why, and we’ve never asked. It was always a private burden. One that never interfered with your duties.”

Her next words were quieter. “But it is now.”

Rey’s jaw clenched. She didn’t want to hear this—not now. Not from her. But Tionne wasn’t cruel. Just perceptive. And Rey knew she meant well.

Still, she bristled.

“I’m fine, Tionne.”

“No,” Tionne said, not unkindly. “You’re not. We barely see you. You take your meals in your room. You haven’t led a private training in weeks. You avoid us. You’re late to meditation sessions. And you always look exhausted. Whatever it is you're carrying—it’s getting heavier.”

Rey bit back a retort, the shame sour on her tongue.

“We want to help,” Tionne finished softly.

“You can’t help,” Rey said, voice low. “No one can.”

“Not even your Resistance friend? He knows, doesn’t he?”

Rey sighed, shoulders slumping. “He knows. But even Finn can’t help me. And he knows that.”

Tionne reached out, resting a hand on Rey’s forearm. “I just wish you trusted us with this, too.”

“I do trust you,” Rey said quietly. “But this... this isn’t something anyone can fix.”

Rey shrugged, keeping her eyes always on the fountain ahead. “I do trust you. But there isn’t anything you can do to help me. Truly.”

There was a low gong sound alerting everyone in the Hall that the ceremony was due to start soon. Rey needed to move to the stage, as did Tionne.

Rey stood and brushed off her white robes. She offered a thin smile. “Don’t worry, Master Solusar. I can keep it together for the ceremony at least. I promise,”

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly.

She left the room and ascended the stage, the weight of the galaxy pressing down on her shoulders. The crowd before her blurred into a sea of expectation. She let the Jedi Master mask fall into place. Let herself become the symbol they needed.

The ceremony began.

She smiled at the right moments—spoke with grace and clarity—

Each word was a knife in her heart. Every word against Kylo Ren felt like glass shards piercing her soul, even though she always reminded herself that Kylo was a mask and not the man she loved. But she delivered them with conviction and when she sat down and felt like she was bleeding out, she felt satisfied that she accomplished her task and awaited the relief that would come as soon as the ceremony ended.

As the ceremony continued, Rey couldn’t help but reflect on what Tionne said to her.

If the other Masters were noticing… maybe she wasn’t hiding as well as she thought.

And that terrified her more than anything.

Hours later, Rey walked down a vine-ridden jungle path past the Palace of the Woolamander, in search for a quiet place.

It was time. Time to release her grief into the world and time to truly mourn Ben Solo. Her arms trembled in anticipation. She had held onto these feelings for a year, and now they pressed against her ribs like rising floodwaters. She was close to bursting.

Through the hazy air, Rey caught sight of crumbling stone covered in thick, verdant vines. An old citadel, half collapsed and reclaimed by the jungle. It would work. She approached warily, feeling out for nearby creatures and predators.

Nothing.

She ignited her lightsaber, goldenrod hue mingling with golden afternoon light and cut through the heavy vines that criss-crossed the gaping entrance. With a half-hesitant step, she stepped past the threshold and entered a dimly lit room.

Inside, the air was cool and dim. A lone shaft of light illuminated a moss-covered altar in the center of the chamber.

Rey thumbed off her saber. She approached the altar, touching the soft green velvet of moss with gentle fingers before kneeling. The stone beneath her bit into her knees.

She was so tired…

But it was time. Finally, it was time to honor the memory of Ben Solo and release everything she had kept locked away..

In the peace of the ancient room, Rey allowed herself to feel what she had restrained for a year. She reached for the empty place in her head where the bond used to be but did not touch it. Where another presence should have lingered, there was only absence—a hollow space, aching and unhealed. The wound never closed.

After ten years, it still bled.

She didn’t expect it to heal anymore. This was pain she would live with. A constant, daily reminder of what she’d lost.

The sorrow began as a trickle—a single tear, unbidden, as she remembered the set of his shoulders. The way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. And then, like a dam breaking, the grief burst forward.

Miserable loneliness gathered around her as she remembered each detail of Ben’s face. The way he looked at her—as if she were something sacred yet deadly. His eyes, always so expressive, as they met over a glowing fire in an ancient stone hut. The warmth of his strong, blunt fingers touching hers as light as a feather. She would never forget the surge of heat that banished the icy feeling in hers.

His voice, deep and smooth as silk…

Tears rolled down her cheeks in hot, silent rivulets. In the early years, she had howled, beat her chest, screamed until her voice gave out. But that only raised questions. Now, she mourned in silence.

Grief swelled and dragged her under. There was no resisting it—not the memories, not the weight of what might’ve been. She remembered how it felt to be connected, fully seen. One mind. One purpose.

Beautiful agony.

Her grief was an ocean, depthless and unforgiving. She did not fight it as it dragged her through painful regret and what ifs. She recalled cruel words with remorse, wondered what could have been if she stopped denying both of them her true feelings, if she had just taken his hand before it was too late. What could they have done together?

Maybe he would have survived Exegol. Maybe he would be here with her now, teaching younglings and passing on knowledge of the Force to others. Maybe they would’ve ended their days together, spent and satisfied, tangled up in one another as the galaxy turned.

It was those thoughts that hurt the most. The futures that would never be.

Some thoughts that were better left untouched. Some were too painful to contemplate. Children. Family. She didn’t touch those.

When Rey emerged from the depths, it was late afternoon when she came out of it. The sunlight was burnished, motes of dust like embers in the reddish orange glow. She needed to leave soon if she wanted to retreat to the safety of her quarters. Before someone tried to convince her to join the festivities.

Rey blinked red, swollen eyes, long since void of tears. Her chest still ached, but the weight pressing down on her chest had lessened. For a while, at least. She pushed off the altar, her knees sore and her back stiff—small prices for the privacy she needed to fall apart.

She would head back and comm Finn—might even apologize for losing her temper. They would drink something sharp like they always did. He might put something stupid on the Holonet for them to watch together, something mindless that she would pretend to watch.

And then when in ended, he would give her one of his massive hugs. He’d remind her that he was still here. Then they would go their separate ways…

She tilted her head back to look out of the broken citadel, thinking about what Finn said.

Was he right?

Rey was miserable. She knew that. And she was miserable because she was still holding onto Ben.

But Ben was gone. He died and he wasn’t coming back. She knew this. And still, she clung to him like a lifeline..And Finn was right. Ben wouldn’t want this for her. He hadn’t given his life so she could live a half-life.

But that was the thing. Could she even live a whole life without him? Was that even possible for one half of a dyad?

Her throat tightened. Somehow, she found more tears.

She wiped them away, angry with herself.

Ten years of this. Was she supposed to endure another fifty?

She didn’t know.

But she would try. Because Ben had given her this life. She wouldn’t waste it.

In that moment, she felt a nudge, gentle but insistent. The Force.

It guided to the altar, sit, it whispered, to her, quiet as the fluttering of butterfly wings.

You want me to meditate? She asked the Force in annoyance, today of all days?

It didn’t answer of course. She huffed but got onto the mossy altar anyway, wishing that she had a drink in her hand. She assumed the lotus position, ankles crossed, palms to the sky. Spine straight.

Rey inhaled deeply through her nose for one, two, three seconds and exhaled slowly. She repeated this and the will of the Force began to align with her.

She tried to clear her thoughts, but her mind kept circling Ben. His voice. His walk. His hands. His warmth.

Frustration prickled.

She was about to give up—

—when the vision pulled her under.

Old memories, sharper and more real than what was stored in her mind flashed by in bits of color. The green forests of Takodana, a dark figure approaching, wielding a scarlet blade that hissed angrily. A cold, sterile room made of dark durasteel, the smell of ozone and leather. A blaster shot through an ancient hut. Hands meeting over a fire in that same small hut, touch starved and shaking with anticipation.

She saw a dark gloved hand extending toward her in a burning room, a mournful voice begging her with a quiet “please.” Waves exploding across the ruins of a fallen giant. Anger like she’d never felt, red light through the spray of ocean followed by fear and regret stronger than she’d ever felt in her life.

At last, Ben’s face, bleeding and broken, but with eyes brighter than the hottest star, full of hope, full of confidence and full of love. A sense of rightness in this connection, of oneness Rey hadn’t felt since. He smiles at her and says her name with so much joy that Rey knows she’s crying. But then his expression changed, joy transforming into horror. Rey followed his gaze around and turned to face what was behind.

Skeletal beings silhouetted by orange flames marched toward her. She couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t make head nor tail of what they were before the vision changed again. Massive swirling monstrosities like a mix between an asteroid and a bacteria, some the size of moons moved in unison, faster and more precise than anything that could possibly be naturally occurring. She saw planets destroyed and others transformed, blue oceans replaced with sickly green.

Over and over she watched herself fight against these beings, only to fail. The Galactic Alliance fell in every fight, every assault and she couldn’t stop it. Even with her knights, they failed, consumed by flame and enmity. There was no stopping what what coming. No future for the people of the galaxy,

The despair of trillions of beings overwhelmed her, suffocating her like the sand of a collapsing dune.

How were they going to stop this? She panted, pulling herself out of the crushing sand that covered her and froze.

Rey watched two beings with their backs to her ignite lightsabers, one blue and the other a familiar goldenrod yellow and she felt the floor drop from beneath her. She knew that presence.

The figures ran, charging the skeletal army and as they did so, she heard Poe Dameron’s voice. “…so help me, you two are our last hope…” She watched as the battle expanded to the stars, star fighters and star destroyers broadsiding with those rocky ship-like objects, blaster bolts blazing against burning rock.

This time, out of thousands, they won.

A familiar voice yelled her name, one she hadn’t heard since a cold battle on Kef Bir…

“Rey!”

She was surrounded by an eternal and infinite darkness, standing on a incandescent pathway. Wherever she was felt ageless and endless.

She gasped as the vision broke.

“Ben!” She yelled frantically, arm outstretched as though he was within her reach.

The citadel room was darkening quickly and Rey looked around wildly, trying to find Ben, trying to locate the source of the presence she felt so strongly. She could feel him, she knew that she could!

She hadn’t felt him this strongly since the day that he died. She hadn’t felt him at all since he died…

But she deflated, realizing that he wasn’t there.

Ben wouldn’t hide from her…

Disappointment overtook the shock and frenetic anticipation she felt upon coming out of that vision.

Her breathing slowed as the adrenaline left her system, leaving her weak on the altar.

What in the Maker’s name was that?

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: A Quest to Begin

Rey raced past the Palace of the Woolamander, scaring a group of the temple’s namesake and sending a chorus of angry simian howls into the air. She threw a half-hearted apology back at them, her breathing coming in sharp bursts. She needed to get back to the Praxeum and find Finn.

What in the stars had she just seen? What were those things?

Something in her bones told her they weren’t anything the galaxy had faced before. Terrifying didn’t begin to describe them—spiked armor, claws like razors, and eyes that gleamed against a backdrop of flame. Whatever they were, they hadn’t come to negotiate. They were coming to destroy.

She tore through jungle brush and startled a roost of whisper birds. The golden-winged creatures burst into the air behind her, shrieking, wings flapping in panic at the imagined threat. Her feet barely touched the ground, skimming over stone, loam, and detritus, her mind locked in a repeating loop: What was coming? Who was coming? Why did she see Ben?

Again and again, the same questions turned over in her thoughts, fueling her legs even as exhaustion began to creep in.

At last, she broke through the tree line and crossed the bridge onto the Praxeum grounds. Relief washed over her at the sight of the ancient temple, now alive with color and activity. She wiped sweat from her brow and descended toward it—

—only to be confronted by a wave of noise and bodies.

Pavilions lined the grass, alive with hundreds of revelers in celebratory garb. She’d nearly forgotten the celebration—Liberation Day. Any other year, she would’ve quietly veered away, found solitude in the half-collapsed citadel. But today wasn’t like other years. The vision had changed everything. And she was still trying to understand what it meant.

Bright, pulsing percussion music echoed across the field, where padawans showed off tricks to clusters of curious onlookers. Later, there’d be fireworks. The air was thick with the aroma of food—sweet and savory, spicy and sharp. It hit her hard. She hadn’t eaten since last night.

Her stomach growled loudly. She ignored it.

She was still calculating the best route to avoid the crowd when a familiar voice called out to her.

Kyp Durron and Temiri Blagg stood near one of the larger pavilions, waving her over.

Her shoulders sagged with quiet frustration. She didn’t have time for this—but if she ignored them, it would only draw more attention. So she turned and made her way over, working to suppress the nerves that jumped like static beneath her skin.

“Master Skywalker!” Temiri grinned, eyes bright. Nineteen now, and already a full knight, he still had the boyish charm from their first meeting. “Are you actually joining us this year? That would be so wizard!”

Rey managed a faint smile. “Not this time, Tem.” She looked at him again, curiously this time, “Wait, shouldn’t you be on mission? How are you even here?”

Temiri beamed. “Got the intel early and Master Karn let me come back. Couldn’t miss this!”

She let herself study him for a moment—so different from the solemn boy she’d pulled from Canto Bight. His dark hair still swept across his forehead in familiar waves, but everything else had changed. He was taller, stronger. Freer.

She nodded to Kyp. He returned a lazy smile, but she couldn’t mirror it. His relaxed energy only made her more on edge. He didn’t know. No one did. She tried to soften her stance, tried to hide the tension twisting up her back.

“I need to find Finn,” she said, “Have either of you seen him?”

Kyp’s easygoing manner shifted the moment he picked up on her unease. He scanned her face, reading the weight behind her words. “Haven’t seen him lately. What’s going on, Rey? You don’t usually come out after the ceremony. Something happen?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she said carefully. “I need to talk to Finn first. If it’s something worth sharing, I’ll call a meeting.”

Kyp nodded and scanned the party. “I’ll send General Tico your way if I find him.” He paused and caught her eye, serious. “I’ll be waiting for that meeting, Master.”

“Can I come?” Temiri asked from the side, eyes bouncing excitedly between them.

Rey gave him a sidelong glance with smirk. “If it concerns the knights, you’ll know, young padawan.”

Kyp chuckled as Temiri protested, “I’m not a padawan anymore, Master!”

“I know.” She said it softly, a little mournfully. “Send Finn to my quarters if you see him.”

She left the pair, scoped the field out one more time and then made her way into the temple.

The temple buzzed with chatter and laughter. Adrenaline that had fueled Rey the past hour and a half was fading quickly, leaving her raw and shaky. She needed to get away, back to the safety of her rooms before it got to her.

Ten minutes passed before she finally made it through the visiting dignitaries that stopped  her to talk and with a sigh of relief, she ascended to the Master’s corridor.

Finn was waiting for her with trays of food and a bottle of brown liquid.

Of course, he would come prepared, she thought with a small grin, forgetting her worries just for a second.

“Rey?” Finn’s brows furrowed. “You okay? You look like you got in a fight with a Massassi tree and lost.”

Rey glanced down. Mud streaked her robes. Bits of bark and twigs clung to her hair. She reached up, plucked a few out, and flushed. Her appearance was the least of her concerns.

“Something happened,” she blurted. No finesse, just urgency.

Finn froze, dark eyes narrowing as he focused fully on her.

She took his arm without another word and pulled him into the privacy of her quarters.

“What happened?” he asked, gently tugging free so he could set the food aside. “What’s going on, Rey?”

“So let me get this straight,” Finn finally said after a moment of dumfounded shock. “You  had a vision and saw some sort of invasion of people who fly in small asteroids that shoot magma from weird beak things. And they’re going to kick our butts and destroy planets, killing trillions. And you think you saw…” he looked like he was swallowing something particularly bitter as he said the next part, “Ben Solo and you, together, fighting these guys? And you’re both the only way that we can beat these things?” He blinked, looking perturbed. “A dead guy is supposed to save us from these aliens?”

“You don’t believe me.”

Rey felt like she was going to scream and be sick all at once. After all that explaining, she hadn’t expected Finn’s skepticism to hit her so hard. Was it a mistake confiding in him first? Maybe this was the wrong move. Maybe she should have just gone straight to Cilghal or Tionne.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied quickly. But Rey knew him well enough to recognize the doubt on his face. She snorted, her aggravation and impatience with her old friend building rapidly.

“You didn’t have to.” She didn’t have time for this. What if those things were near? What if they didn’t react quickly enough to prepare themselves?

“Okay, maybe I don’t know what to think, Rey.” Finn hesitated and looked out at the dark sky, obviously trying to avoid Rey’s glare. “It does seem weirdly convenient that you had a vision of your dead bondmate on the anniversary of his death. The only day that you allow yourself to process it.” His eyes reconnected with hers pointedly. “How are you sure that this wasn’t brought on by your grief? Or maybe there is some dark side user out there that’s using your feelings against you?”

Rey growled defensively. “It wasn’t! I felt the Force guiding me to meditate. It showed me the vision. This isn’t some grand delusion brought on by my missing Ben! And the Force doesn’t work like that, Finn. You know that. ”

Finn pressed his lips together, examining Rey closely. Probably to make sure I’m not about to snap, she thought to herself bitterly. He stared into her eyes without a word before he glanced away. He dipped his head in acquiescence and then dragged a heavy hand down his face. 

Finn’s shoulders drooped with a sudden unseen weight.

“Okay.”

He met her eyes, dark. Solemn. “I believe you.” He paced the room a moment as though trying to parse through his thoughts.

Finn stopped suddenly and turned to face Rey. “If this threat is real, we need to get to Chandrila as soon as possible. We need to contact Poe and tell him about everything you saw. Everything, Rey. Including all the stuff about Solo. And then we need to find out if GA scouts have seen anything that matches the descriptions of the things you saw.”

Relief hit Rey like a five ton bantha. She sagged into the chair she seated herself in and breathed in deeply, grateful that despite Finn’s misgivings, he was willing to investigate what she told him.

“I need to inform my council before we leave. And set up reconnaissance in the outer sectors of the Rim if the GA needs us.” She wished that they could leave now. Everything in her was urging forward motion. She felt like she couldn’t stay still, like every second she stayed on Yavin IV was a precious second wasted. But she knew that it would be irresponsible to leave without a word to her peers. They needed to be ready for the incoming threat.

“We’re going to need to leave first thing.”

Finn sent her a little smirk, “You better gather the Jedi masters before things get too wild down there because we won’t have time in the morning.” He made to leave but hesitated.

“One last thing.” He stared with a deadly serious expression. “When you talk to your council and when we talk to the Chief of State, we don’t bring up Ben Solo, okay? We’re not even sure if this invasion is going to happen in our lifetime. There’s no reason to bring up the possibility of resurrecting the former Supreme Leader of the First Order yet. That’s a one way ticket to incarceration for you. For now, let’s keep it need to know, okay?”

Rey grit her teeth. “If this threat is real, we’ll need to find a way to bring Ben back. Because without him, we lose. I saw it, Finn. Thousands of scenarios where we fight and they win. The only time we won was when Ben was with us.” She thought of the Galactic Alliance’s reaction and scowled defiantly. “They can’t stop me.”

“I know. And that’s why they don’t need to know about that yet. Trust me.”

Rey’s lips drew to a thin line. “Fine.”

Finn started walking to the blast door. “We’ve got an early start. I want to lift off by 05:00. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow…” she replied while she dove to pick up her data pad and began sending out messages to the on-world Jedi masters, fingers flying across the screen.

Hopefully none of them were too drunk yet.

Probably because Rey listened to Finn’s advice and didn’t bring up the fact that she somehow needed to resurrect Ben Solo in order to save the galaxy, the meeting went well.

Within twenty minutes, all four on-world masters came to her room and intently listened to what she had to say.

“This vision,” Kyp started, elbows planted on knees and expression caught between contemplation and disquiet, “Did it give you any sense of where this is going to happen? Or any distinctive quality about the planets?”

Rey furrowed her brows, trying to piece together the fragments of her visions. “There was a planet riddled with canyons… I saw humanoids with white skin and hair, fleeing from something in terror.” She recalled their horror and her stomach twisted, sick. “That’s as distinctive as I saw. The rest were standard, average looking planets. But I could feel it—they were being changed. Altered somehow.”

Kyp nodded thoughtfully. ““That should be enough to start narrowing sectors. We’ll pull system charts, look for cultural matches. Might take some digging.”

He turned his attention to Kyle Katarn. “Should we start assigning missions?”

Kyle nodded, hand on chin, “Yes. As soon as we’re done here. This is going to ruin a few knights’ evenings, I think.”

Kyp snorted, “They signed up for this, Master, I’d wager they’ll get over it.”

Kyle grinned faintly, like the banter was an old comfort. “Oh, I think so.”

“Master Solusar,” Rey cut in, giving the men a mildly impatient look, “I need you to take care of the running of the Praxeum while I’m gone. I don’t know how long that will be.”

“And…” she hesitated, hating the words she was about to say, “If the need arises, you must evacuate. The younglings, the padawans—they come first. Even if it means we must abandon all the archives we’ve recovered.”

Tionne dipped her head in a solemn bow. “You have my word, Master Skywalker. Every single youngling will be evacuated before we touch the archives. And if that means we lose everything…” Her voice trembled only slightly. “So be it.”

Rey felt a swell of gratitude. Tionne’s life’s work was stored in those archives—decades of recovery missions, historical salvages, cultural treasures. Losing it would be like losing a limb. But the master scholar had her priorities in the right place.

Rey stood slowly and regarded the four masters gathered around her. “I’ll be planetside in three or four days. Once I’ve met with the Chief of State, we’ll reconvene via comms. I’ll update you on everything I learn. Hopefully there will be nothing to tell yet. Hopefully this threat is still years away…”

She didn’t need to say what they already sensed: that she didn’t believe that for a moment.

They stood and bowed back. Leaving one by one until Tionne only remained.

“I’ll comm Kam and let him know you are coming. Shall I tell him what we discussed just now?”

Kam Solusar—Tionne’s husband—had taken a posting on Chandrila as a Jedi liaison to the Chief of State. Though aging and no longer as agile as he once was, he remained a sharp mind and a respected name.

“Yes,” Rey said. “He should be fully briefed. I don’t know if the Chief of State will even believe me. But maybe Kam can help him see reason.”

“When the Hero of the Battle of Exegol comes with warnings of danger, one would be wise to listen.”

Despite the anxiety and restlessness Rey was feeling in the moment, she huffed in amusement. “Unfortunately, our Chief of State has yet to prove his wisdom to me.”

Tionne chuckled softly. “That’s why Kam is there. His presence can only help.” Her tone shifted slightly, eyes narrowing with insight. “I know there’s more you haven’t shared. Something deeper. I won’t press, but for the sake of the Order—and the galaxy—I hope you won’t wait too long.”

Rey felt exposed under the older woman’s insightful gaze but she wasn’t cowed. “I can’t be sure of the rest yet, Tionne. I need to meditate on it more. But I promise, this is not a secret I’ll keep forever.”

Tionne stepped back, her ageless face relaxing with Rey’s reassurance. “I am glad to hear it.” She followed Rey out of the council room and but stopped when Rey made for the turbolift.

“Please take care of yourself, Rey.”

Rey’s throat tightened, worried about what the next days would bring. “You as well Tionne. The Praxeum couldn’t be in better hands.”

The lift door slid shut and Tionne was gone.

Rey stared at the durasteel door, stomach twisting. It was the first time in a long while since she last left Yavin IV. She hated to leave all the younglings here but Tionne was more than capable of taking care of them.

And she had to know… had to know what was coming for them. Had to know if they were already here somewhere, hiding in the far reaches of space. And Ben… she had to know if it was possible that she might get Ben back.

Rey nervously paced for a moment, letting all the feelings wash over her. Anxiety, fear and worry juxtaposed excitement and bewilderment in a dizzying manner.

What if the invasion starts before we’re ready?

What if I see Ben again?

What if we can’t stop the invaders?

What if Ben comes back to me?

All the old feelings she locked away threatened to break through again.

It was too much. Too soon. All the grief she’d kept buried for ten years threatened to break through again. If she let herself feel it fully now, it would destroy her.

And worse—what if this was all wishful thinking? What if Finn was right?

No one had ever come back from the dead. No one except for her—and only because Ben had given his life to save her. If she tried the same, wouldn’t it just repeat the cycle?

She brings him back only to die in his place?

How could the Force want that?

Suddenly she couldn’t contain it anymore. With a strangled cry, Rey summoned a pillow to her hands and screamed into it, again and again, until her throat was raw. When it was over, she collapsed into a chair, exhausted.

She still needed to pack. So with a groan, Rey grabbed a travel bag and began stuffing it with tunics and leggings, underthings, her necessities—a low, sad number.

She reached down to grab one last tunic and jerked back, eyes falling on an threadbare sweater. The black weave had faded over the years and the scent of vetiver and sandalwood was long gone. She’d worn almost every night in those early days but stopped when the seams started wearing through and ever since then, kept it carefully tucked at the bottom of her drawers.

Rey’s fingers trailed over the worn fabric slowly, the knit still as soft as the first time she’d worn it. She knelt down and cradled the sweater, burying her face into it and inhaling deeply as if some molecules of scent were still locked in somehow.

The first tear fell when the scent of her shampoo filled her nose instead. The next, when she found the hole in the fabric that she caused. That dark moment when all she saw was red and all she craved was the death of her enemy.

Rey didn’t think she had anymore tears inside, but she was wrong.

The tears came as her fears about Ben broke through her defenses. What if her instincts were wrong? What if she couldn’t bring Ben back? What if this was all wishful thinking like Finn thought?

If she tried, would the cycle of death repeat itself? Rey gives all of herself to bring Ben back only to die as he revives? If the Force really wanted the pair of them, if the dyad remade was what was required to defeat the invaders, how in the stars was she supposed to make that happen?

It wasn’t possible, was it?

Rey pulled Ben’s old sweater on and set her bag by the blast door.

If this was the path set before her, if she wasn’t being completely delusional—and she decided in that moment that she couldn’t allow herself to believe that—then she would have to figure it out and make it happen.

But before she did that, she needed to know she was right.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: In Which Rey Opens a Spiritual and Political Can of Worms

They were only fifteen hours into their course to Chandrila and Rey felt likes she might explode. She couldn’t stay still—constantly fidgeting with the controls, bouncing her knee, tapping on the yoke, rocking the pilot’s chair back and forth as if any sort of motion might keep her from unraveling.

She just couldn’t contain it.

The skeletal beings. Healthy planets twisted into husks—sickly green spheres devoid of life. Battles raging in the black. The images wouldn’t leave her.

They replayed over and over again—terrible visions on repeat with no relief in sight.

When she wasn’t thinking about the invasion, she was thinking about Ben.

So many questions. So many variables. Too many for her to comprehend.

If she was right about what the Force wanted, then bringing him back had to be possible. There had to be a way. But how much time did she have? How much time did any of them have before the galaxy was swallowed whole?

Sleep did not come easy. And when it came, it was fleeting.

She was making herself sick with worry— and frankly, she was driving Finn crazy.

“Rey, you’ve got to relax,” Finn finally said, patience thinning like stretched wire.

They were at the end of their second shift, Finn at the controls, tired eyes fix on the swirling blue-white of hyperspace. He glanced over at her—annoyance softening into concern. “I’m worried too. But we’re doing our best. These are the fastest lanes we’ve got.”

She stopped bouncing her knee in the co-pilot’s chair and looked at her friend sheepishly. “Sorry…”

So she tried to distract herself— stared out at hyperspace, letting the light hypnotize her.

Just for a second, she tried to breathe—slow, measured, focused. But the moment passed. Her leg started bouncing again.

“Why haven’t we heard back from Poe yet?”

They’d commed him as soon as they jumped, but Poe hadn’t answered. When Finn reached out to his office, a tight-lipped lieutenant simply said that First Admiral Dameron would respond when he was “able.”

Finn exhaled through his nose after ending the call. “Probably off on some covert op with comms down. You’d think he’d be done with that kind of thing by now. He’s First Admiral, and he’s pushing forty-four.”

Rey laughed despite herself. “He’s not that old. Still plenty young to be in the field.”

Finn shrugged. “Sure. But he’s an admiral now. Lot more responsibility. He can’t just run around like it’s the old days.” He hesitated, then added, “Maybe I’m just impatient to get some answers.”

Rey didn’t need to respond. He knew. She fell quiet again, staring out into hyperspace, her thoughts spiraling.

“What are you thinking about?” Finn asked gently.

She startled and met his gaze. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Finn switched the control panel into autopilot and stretched. “You keep going somewhere. I want to know where.”

Rey looked out the viewport again and sighed. “Well, there’s the obvious stuff...”

“Like, ‘what the hell is coming for us’?”

She huffed a laugh, “Yeah. And how much time we’ve got. Do we have years? Weeks? Decades? Is it already too late? I can’t tell.” She shook her head. “It’s been a long time since the Force gave me a vision. But they’re always the same: vague, symbolic, full of questions and never enough answers.”

Finn exhaled and grabbed a ration pack from the seat behind him. “Yeah, I feel you. Except for the vision part. I’m glad I’ve never had one of those.”

Finn was force sensitive but he’d declined full training after getting the basics—preferring instead to use it as a guide. Particularly in his work with rehabilitating former First Order troopers.

He could sense honesty, intent, fear. It made him a natural leader and a perfect fit for the Reformed Stormtrooper Division.

“Yeah, well...this one’s the worst by far. High stakes.” She hesitated. “But the rest of it… you’re not going to want to talk about it.”

Finn chewed in silence, considering. “But we need to talk about it anyway. So lets talk.”

She studied him carefully, trying to gauge his mood. “I’ve been thinking about what you said when I first told you about the vision—the part about Ben.”

Finn finished his bar, expression unreadable. He moved on to the polystarch bread, and Rey’s stomach churned at the sight. She hadn’t eaten that stuff since the end of the war. She didn’t plan to start now.

“But you were so confident that it was the Force. What changed?”

Rey’s shoulders crept to her ears, her apprehension and doubt eating away at her confidence. “I’m scared to be wrong, Finn. If I misunderstood what I saw—If I’m not supposed to bring him back—I don’t think I’d survive it…”

Tears prickled behind her eyes. She blinked fast, furious with herself. Ten years of denial unraveled in one day, and she hated how fragile she’d become.

“Rey…” Finn’s voice was soft. Gentle. A comfort.

She said nothing, waiting.

"I shouldn’t have questioned you. You’ve always had good instincts. You’re not doubting any other part of your vision—don’t start with this one.” He paused, then said, “If you saw Solo standing with you, facing that threat… then somehow, some way, it’s going to happen. It has to. If we’re going to win.”

“But what if I can’t do it?” she whispered. “I’ve missed him for so long. Which I know is stupid, considering everything, but—”

“It’s not stupid.”

She blinked. “What?”

“It’s not stupid that you miss him,” Finn said plainly. “I remember missing you when you left for Ahch-To, and we’d known each other for like, three days.” He cracked a smile. “I may not like it, but I get it. Solo was important to you in ways I’ll never understand. And I’m sorry—for not being there. For not seeing how much it still hurt. You should’ve been able to talk to me.”

Rey stared, stunned. Her throat tightened.

“I…” she swallowed. “Thank you. That means more than I can say.”

“Just don’t be afraid anymore,” Finn said. “You’re going to succeed. I know it. And somehow, with your mystical dyad powers, you’ll save the galaxy and get your happily ever after. I’ll make sure of it.” He stood, dusting off his pants, and gave her a look full of that classic Finn mischief. “Just promise you’ll keep him in line. And I want two punches.”

Rey laughed. “I can guarantee one. But I can’t make promises about the second.”

Relief flooded her—warm and unexpected. Finn believed in her. In Ben. In the vision. It gave her enough courage to breathe, to hope, to meditate and ask the Force for more.

“Really, Finn,” she said, swiping at her eyes with a sheepish smile. “I don’t think you know how much that means to me.”

His grin was soft, real. “Of course, Peanut.”

—————————

Twenty four hours into their course to Chandrila, Rey had just finished her latest shift. She ambled into the spare quarters she’d claimed as her own and sat on the berth with a yawn and a stretch. She wasn’t quite tired enough to sleep, but with the comfort of Finn’s belief in her, her anxiety had eased enough that she knew rest would come—at least for a while.

Before that, though, she wanted to meditate. Her courage wouldn’t last forever. Best to use it while she still had it.

She needed confirmation.

Closing her eyes, Rey drew a deep, centering breath and settled into her meditation stance. She slipped down through the layers of the Force that wove through everything. In this state, she felt each electrical impulse firing through the S-161 Stinger yacht’s systems. The odd, pulsing frequency of hyperspace hummed faintly across her senses. Finn’s presence glowed steady and light in the cockpit.

Deeper still, she reached—seeking counsel. Anyone who might be listening.

What was coming? Were they already here? How could they be stopped? Was she truly meant to bring Ben back? And how, in all the known worlds, was she supposed to do that?

Over and over, she repeated the questions, drifting where the Force willed her… until a familiar presence filled the space.

She opened her eyes in surprise.

A few paces away stood a figure—calm, luminous.

“Master Skywalker,” the figure greeted, wearing a knowing smirk.

Despite herself, Rey flushed. “When are you going to let that go?”

Luke grinned like a loth cat with a bowl of moof cream. “Never. I’m not mad about it though. Especially considering what your real last name is. I just find it amusing.”

Her flush deepened. He’d always found it funny that she took his name. He supported it—wholeheartedly—but the amusement never wore off. And he never let her forget it.

“I know,” she sighed.

He looked exactly the same as the last time she’d seen him eleven years ago—same robes, same blue eyes, same faint glow around his edges. She studied him, wondering suddenly if Ben would look the same. They’d be around the same age now. Her hand lifted to her face as she wondered—was she aging well? Would he recognize her after all these years?

Luke cleared his throat, pulling her back. “Rey, why am I here?”

She blinked. “You don’t know? I thought you knew everything now.”

“That’s not how it works. I’m not omnipresent, or omniscient.” He said it like it should have been obvious, and Rey caught a faint suggestion that he thought she was slow for not realizing it. She resisted the urge to scowl.

“I had a vision yesterday, while meditating.”

Luke sat beside her on the berth and rubbed his beard. “And what did you see?”

She told him everything. The extra-galactic creatures. The bizarre tech. The terraforming. The sheer helplessness, the despair that permeated the vision. The fear in the hearts of those fighting—and in her own.

When she finished, Luke was silent for a long time, eyes focused on something far away. Then he looked at her.

“There is great danger coming,” he said. “I can feel it now—sharpening the currents of the Force. Whatever’s headed your way… it’s ancient. Malevolent. It will show no mercy.”

Rey’s heart sped up. She drew a breath. “When will it be here? How long do we have to prepare?”

Luke shook his head. “I can’t sense that. I don’t know when it begins. Only that I can feel their intent across the void.” He looked at her, grave. “They mean to destroy you all.”

The fear that gripped her was paralyzing. She had suspected this. But hearing Luke say it made it real.

“Control your fear, Rey. You can face this new threat. But you already know that, don’t you?” His tone shifted. “...What aren’t you telling me?”

She forced herself to breathe and speak. “I think I know how to defeat them. But only vaguely. I don’t know the details. The thing is…” she faltered. “I need someone. Someone I can’t reach right now. And I can’t tell if it’s the Force telling me this or just the wishful thinking of a broken heart.”

Luke’s expression shifted from curious to knowing. He sat up straighter, chin lifting slightly.

“You need the Dyad.”

Rey nodded.

“And you don’t know if it’s the Force guiding you…or just you?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know…” She curled in on herself, twisting her fingers. “I did everything I could to push away the sorrow. Told myself I didn’t miss him—except for one day a year. I denied my grief. I tried to move on. But it never went away. It only got worse. I don’t know if it’s my subconscious trying to cope… or if it’s really the will of the Force.”

Luke was quiet. Then: “Hmm. I see.”

He didn’t elaborate.

She turned toward him, only to find him holding back a smug grin. She nearly hissed.

“What do you see?”

He chuckled. “Rey, you are all sorts of screwed up... And this is coming from the guy who ran away to hide on an ocean rock for seven years after screwing up colossally.”

She scowled. “You don’t think I know that?”

He raised his hands. “I think you’re partially aware.”

Her brows lifted, unimpressed. But Luke sobered, amusement fading.

“You spent your childhood holding onto parents who couldn’t return. Then you lost your bondmate, and you had no idea how to process that. So you didn’t. You shoved it down. You’ve never been good at grief, Rey. You pretended you were fine, but that’s not how healing works.”

Her heart dropped. She stilled completely. “So you think this is in my head?”

“What do your instincts say? What about your heart?”

Rey tried to tease apart the chaos inside. “I think it’s the Force. I don’t think it’s just me...”

Luke smiled and patted her knee. “I agree. The Force has shown you that your bond with Ben is the path to victory. A dyad hasn’t been seen in a very long time. And I don’t think it’s coincidence you two were born into a time like this.”

He tapped her knee again, gentler this time, drawing her attention.

“But, Rey… about what you said earlier— All that heartbreak you’ve been burying? It’s not going anywhere. If you don’t confront it, it’ll consume you.”

She wasn't sure she agreed. If she could bring Ben back, wouldn’t all that grief just vanish?

But she didn’t argue. Luke thought she was right. That was enough for now. Relief crashed into her, nearly knocking her breathless.

“How do I get him back?”

She whispered the question. Still not fully daring to believe this was real.

Luke scratched his beard instead of answering. “Tell me about the end of your vision again.”

She described the endless void—the ageless, whispering space with paths vanishing into darkness.

He listened carefully, and when she finished, he nodded.

“Do you know what that place is?”

“No,” she said, frustrated. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Not in any of those Jedi texts you stole from me on Ahch-To?”

She glared. “I read every page. None of them described what I saw.”

“Does the Chain Worlds Theorem ring any bells… Master Skywalker?”

If she were sure he could feel it, she’d have thrown the chrono off her nightstand at his head.

“It doesn’t give any descriptions,” she muttered. “Only theory—” She stopped, breath catching as it clicked.

“I saw the Vergence Scatter?”

Luke smiled. “The World Between Worlds. A place outside time. Where all worlds connect.”

“And is that where I’ll find him?”

“Yes.”

Her exhaustion vanished in a heartbeat, swept away by surging hope. “How do I pull him out? Where do I find it?”

Luke only lifted his shoulders. “I’m afraid I don’t have those answers.” He stood, walking toward the pneumatic door. Before stepping through, he turned back.

“But… as we both know…” His blue eyes sparkled.

“…the power of the Dyad is life unto itself.” He winked. “And that has to count for something.”

Then he vanished.

Rey let out a long, shaking breath. She looked down at her trembling hands, heart pounding in her chest.

She was terrified. Drained. Heartsick. Scared beyond reason.

But for the first time in a decade, she felt hopeful.

Rey walked into the cockpit eight hours after leaving it—and one hour before her next shift began. She was still processing everything Luke had said and the implications it carried.

The place she’d seen in her vision—the endless expanse at the end—was the Vergence Scatter. The World Between Worlds. And somehow, Ben was there. She didn’t know how to access it. And when she managed to do that, she had no clue how to find him. And if she somehow found him? She still had no idea how to bring him back into real-space.

She didn’t know how—but she knew she could. And for now, that was enough.

Once they reached Chandrila, she’d access the archives. She’d speak with Tionne. She’d dig for anything that could help her succeed. But in the meantime, she’d hold tight to the knowledge that she’d been right all along:

The Force wanted Ben Solo alive.

She allowed a small smile as she dropped into the co-pilot’s chair, leaning back and letting the stars bathe her face in soft light.

Finn mumbled a tired greeting when she handed him the meal she’d managed to cook. It was meager—not for lack of supplies, but because she was a truly terrible cook. Luckily, Finn never seemed to mind. They ate in companionable silence, settling into a drowsy haze.

Which was why they both nearly dropped their plates when the hypercomm blared to life.

“Poe!” Finn fumbled to answer it, nearly knocking the dish from his lap. “Where the hell have you been, man?! We’ve been trying to reach you for two days!”

Poe’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh, nice to see you too,” he said, dripping sarcasm—then did a double take when he spotted Rey. “Finn, buddy… is that who I think it is? Or have I finally lost it? That’s Rey Skywalker, right? The same one who’s refused to leave Yavin for nearly four years?”

Finn smirked. “Your eyes aren’t failing you yet, old man. That’s really her.”

“Hi, Poe,” Rey said, waving at the holocomm with her fork. “Where’ve you been?”

Poe placed a hand on his chest, mock-offended. “Where have I been? That’s a funny question coming from our chronically absentee friend.”

“Poe…” Finn warned, casting a glance at Rey.

“No, don’t ‘Poe’ me, Finn. Rey only shows up when it’s Liberation Day, and even then she ghosts right after. I haven’t seen her in years. And now she’s asking me where I’ve been? Please.”

Rey’s face warmed. She hadn’t known Poe was that angry. She’d assumed he was just busy.

“Look, I’ve been a kriffing terrible friend,” she interrupted, cutting through the tension. “I know. I’m sorry.”

That caught both their attention. Poe crossed his arms. “Yeah, you have. When was the last time you called?”

Rey sighed. “I don’t know, Poe. I’ve been awful. But we need to talk. It’s important.”

“Great apology…” Poe muttered.

“Poe!” Finn’s voice snapped, sharper this time. Poe blinked, sobering.

“Okay. I’ll stop. For now,” Poe said. He inhaled slowly, gaze shifting back to Rey. “What is it?”

She glanced at Finn, hoping he’d take over—but he just offered a small wave of encouragement. Rey bit the inside of her cheek. Of course.

“I had a vision on Liberation Day,” she said instead of making a rude gesture ay him. “Something’s coming. A hostile force. Not from the Unknown Regions—beyond that.”

Poe stared, then turned to Finn.

“I believe her,” Finn said.

“What did you see, Rey?”

“Death. Destruction. A race I’ve never seen before. They were tall, with skull-like faces. Their tech was nothing like ours. And their intentions… Poe, they don’t want to rule. They want to annihilate.”

Poe exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. “Alright, Jedi. Do you have anything more concrete than your… Force vision? We’ll need proof if we want the Chief of State—or anyone in the military or senate—to take this seriously.”

Rey clenched her jaw. “No. That’s why we contacted you. We were hoping you’d seen something—odd activity, unknown ships, asteroid-like vessels maybe?”

Poe quirked an eyebrow. “Asteroid ships?” He didn’t laugh, though, which she took as a good sign. “I’ve been deep undercover in the Expansion Region. Haven’t caught up on intel yet. So unless it came in the last few days, we’ve got nothing.”

Rey’s shoulders slumped in relief. She caught Finn’s eye. “We still have time.”

Finn nodded. “We’re en route to Chandrila. Should be there in ten hours. We want to speak with the Chief—”

“Hold up,” Poe cut in. “We can’t just barge into Omas’s office with nothing but a gut feeling. Even I can’t make that fly.”

“But Rey’s head of the Jedi Order,” Finn argued. “If she’s warning of an existential threat, shouldn’t that count?”

Rey remained quiet, her earlier confidence wavering. Poe was right—she had no hard evidence. She’d hoped he’d found something. She hadn’t really planned past this moment.

“What do we do then?” she asked, frustration bleeding into helplessness. “I don’t know how long we have, but they’re coming, Poe.”

Poe studied her, the anger fading from his face. “You’re coming to Chandrila. If there’s nothing yet, I’ll authorize reconnaissance sweeps. We’ll start digging. I doubt anyone would launch an intergalactic invasion without some intel-gathering effort. If it’s out there, we’ll find it.”

Rey nodded. But inwardly she wondered—would those probes even be recognizable? Would they know what to look for?

Then Poe’s expression darkened. “That raises the bigger question: how do we stop them? If they’re as alien as you say, what if we can’t?”

She and Finn exchanged a glance. Rey squirmed.

Poe noticed. “Okay, no. You know something. What’s the plan?”

Finn gave Rey a look—this was her call.

Rey sighed. “I might have a plan. Kind of. But it involves someone… controversial.”

Poe’s eyes narrowed. “Rey.”

“In my vision, I saw many futures. In every one but one, we lose. In the only one where we win, someone essential was there.”

“Who?”

She hesitated.

“Rey,” Poe said flatly. “Who.”

She exhaled, bracing herself. “The only path to victory is by reuniting the Dyad.”

Poe blinked. Once. Twice. His mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again.

“Excuse me?” he finally choked.

Rey didn’t answer.

“You’re telling me,” he said, voice rising, “that we need a dead man to save the galaxy? Kylo kriffing Ren?! The Supreme Leader who blew up planets, who tortured—!”

“Hey,” Finn cut in. “That’s enough. You know how Rey feels about him.”

“Oh, I know how she feels,” Poe snapped. “And I let it go, because he was dead. But now she wants to resurrect him? Not happening. No way. We are not bringing back a Sith Lord—”

“He wasn’t a Sith!” Rey snapped.

Poe glared. “Whatever he was, he’s not the answer.”

Rey’s hands trembled. “Poe, listen to me. I saw it. I spoke with Master Skywalker. This is the answer. Ben Solo is the key. We can’t win without him.”

“Kriffing hell, Rey…” Poe ran a hand down his face. “Back from the dead. How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. But I know I have to try.”

Poe’s voice dropped. “What if he turns on us?”

The words sliced deep.

She swallowed hard. “He won’t.”

“But if he does?” Poe’s voice was low, intense. “Would you be willing to stop him?”

Her silence was answer enough.

“I can’t support this,” he said hollowly. “I’m sorry. I won’t risk Kylo Ren’s return. We’ll find another way.”

Rey tried to speak, but Poe shook his head. “No. We’ll talk more when you arrive.”

The holocomm flickered out.

Silence settled in the cockpit.

“…He’s got a point,” Finn finally said.

Rey turned slowly. “What?”

Finn looked down. “I trust you, Rey. I do. But… Poe’s not wrong. What if Ben hasn’t really changed?”

Rey’s heart ached. “I know he changed. I felt it. We were bonded. I saw who he really was.”

Finn stared at her, long and hard. Then his gaze dropped. “Alright. I believe you.”

He paused. “But if he threatens anyone I love—if he threatens Rose, or our baby—I won’t hesitate.”

Rey pulled her hand back instinctively. She couldn’t blame him.

“I know,” she whispered.

But doubt from her friends wouldn’t stop her.

She knew what she had to do.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: A Threat Looms

Finn went to sleep not long after their conversation. He was keyed up, worn down by the weight of their talk with Poe—and everything that followed. Rey couldn’t blame him.

She wanted to be mad. And for a while, she was—fuming silently as she adjusted controls on the panel, jabbing at buttons with more force than necessary, gripping the yoke a little too hard. But as her anger cooled, she found herself seeing things more clearly—from Finn’s perspective and from Poe’s.

They were worried. They had every reason to be.

Even Poe’s outright rejection of her vision’s solution... she understood it now.

Rey’s fury ebbed, giving way to grim resolve. When she found a way to bring Ben back, he’d earn their trust. Maybe he and Poe would never be close, not after everything—but he’d prove whose side he was on.

It would be fine. Poe would come around, eventually. And Finn—Finn never said she shouldn’t bring Ben back. Not even after Poe’s outburst.

Rey glanced at the navicomp, noting the marked exit on the hyperlane. They had about eight hours left until they broke atmo over Chandrila. Finn would return to the cockpit just as they exited hyperspace in two hours. He’d take them in while she hit the refresher and grabbed a few hours of rest.

Relief washed over her. They were nearly there. Soon, they'd be moving toward answers. Toward action.

She stood and stretched, walking to the rations stash behind the cockpit. This one, thankfully, had nuna jerky—not veg-meat, the textureless wartime substitute she’d sworn off after the war. It reminded her too much of Jakku.

She shuffled back to her chair, cracked her stiff back, and winced as she sat down.

Thirty wasn’t old. She knew that. And most of the time, her body agreed. But long stints in the cockpit weren’t as easy as they’d been in her twenties. Her knees ached at the end of ten-hour shifts, eager to be stretched.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the viewport—and paused.

Did she look older?

It was a ridiculous worry. She wasn’t vain. Never had been. But now, facing the possibility of seeing Ben again, stupid insecurities surfaced.

She was twenty the last time he saw her—her face still round with baby fat, her skin smooth and bright with youth. Now, her features had matured. She ran a finger along her cheekbone, gently lifting.

Were those faint lines by her eyes normal? Or were they the result of ten years of stress and grief she never voiced? Was she imagining them?

She remembered Rose once laughing about her laugh lines at thirty-three. Rey had been twenty-nine then, and her own reflection had still been smooth. But she hadn’t earned those lines—not really. She hadn’t laughed much at all in the last decade.

She sighed and looked away from her reflection, eyes drifting to the blue-white swirl of hyperspace. It didn’t matter. She looked how she looked.

Still, as she chewed on the jerky, her thoughts drifted again.

If she brought Ben back... what age would he be?

Chronologically, he’d be forty now. But he died at thirty. It stood to reason he’d return at the age he was when he died.

The thought sent a thrill through her. She smiled softly to herself.

“How close are we to our exit point?”

Rey startled, jerky slipping from her fingers. She caught it mid-air, brushing it off before turning to see Finn, bleary-eyed in the cockpit doorway.

“Just over an hour,” she said, swallowing what was left in her mouth. “You look exhausted.”

Finn gave a tired smile. “I was talking to Rose. She’s excited you’re staying with us. Took the day off work to get everything ready.”

“I’m excited to see her too,” Rey said. “It’s been too long.”

Finn’s smile faltered. His gaze dropped.

“I’m going to be a father in six months,” he said, voice low. “And I don’t know what’s going to happen. If anything happens to Rose, or the baby…”

Rey’s heart twisted. She’d been so wrapped up in her own fears—her own mission—that she hadn’t seen how afraid Finn was.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I swear to you, Finn—I will do everything in my power to stop this. I won’t stop until I’m dead.”

“And Solo would probably bring you back again,” he said, trying to smile. “I know, Rey. I’m not stopping either. We’ll make the galaxy safe—before the baby comes.”

“Absolutely.”

There was no other option.

Finn gave a firm nod, then sat beside her in the co-pilot’s seat. Together, they worked in silence until he nudged her toward the back, insisting she get some sleep.

Rey didn’t argue. She shot through the refresher, then slid into the cool satin sheets of her berth, determined to rest before they reached Chandrila.

Coming from a barren desert dirtball of a planet, Rey always felt a special kind of joy when approaching new worlds teeming with life.

Chandrila was no exception. Its vast, sweeping continents were split by deep turquoise oceans and painted with swirling white clouds. It was breathtaking.

But beneath the awe, a deep ache stirred in her chest. This was where Ben had been born—where he had grown from a small babe into a precocious boy with wild black hair and ears slightly too big for his face.

She thought of the old holograms Leia once showed her in secret on hard nights back on Ajan Kloss—glimpses of a boy who had no idea what was coming. She missed those stories. She missed Leia. She wondered what kind of childhood Ben had here. Did he have friends? Hobbies? Was he tutored in politics, or allowed to just be a kid for a while? There was so much she’d never learned. She tried to set the sorrow aside, to focus instead on the fact that she’d soon be walking where he once had. Maybe that would bring her closer to him.

The yacht broke through the atmosphere as the sky blushed with the colors of sunset. From the pilot’s seat, Finn guided them toward a glittering white metropolis nestled between rolling hills and a calm cerulean sea.

Rey took in the view of Hanna City—its wide boulevards, domed buildings, and bustling speeders—as it unfurled beneath them like something out of a dream. She’d been to dozens of planets since the war ended, but oceans still thrilled her the most. She gazed at the shifting blue expanse below and imagined what it would feel like to wade into it. On the shoreline, she could just make out tiny figures—people laughing, playing in the waves.

And again, she felt that sting. She couldn’t picture Ben among them. Couldn’t imagine him ever having that kind of peace, that kind of joy.

But she pushed the feeling down.

They were nearly at the docking bay, a massive facility just outside the city. Rose would be waiting. She could sense Finn’s excitement beside her—his fingers moved with practiced ease over the controls, confirming landing coordinates and initializing the shutdown sequence.

Rey was eager to get off the ship, too. Extended space travel didn’t suit her anymore. They hours they'd spent in transit wasn’t much to a seasoned spacer, but it was plenty for her.

The yacht landed with a heavier thump than expected. Rey shot Finn a look.

He only shrugged, grinning sheepishly, already unstrapping. The ramp was lowering before the engines even powered down.

Rey adjusted her bag and followed him. Halfway down, she stopped—because Rose had already reached him, shrieking with delight as she ran into his arms. He picked her up, spun her, and kissed her deeply, both of them radiant.

Rey froze, suddenly hollow. She tried not to feel jealous. She reminded herself this was good, that their love was real and beautiful and deserved. But somewhere deep in her chest, something cracked.

In another life, that could’ve been her and Ben.

Maybe that was why she’d stayed away for so long. Watching love like theirs unfold was just too painful.

Still, if she brought Ben back… If she succeeded, she’d have a shot at that kind of happiness too.

The thought steadied her. She lifted her head, forced herself to smile, and stepped off the ramp just as Rose pulled back from Finn.

Then Rose spotted her.

“Rey!” she cried, practically launching into her arms. Her hug was fierce and warm.

“Hi, Rose,” Rey said softly, bending a little to return it. “It’s really good to see you.”

Rose stepped back and gave her a once-over. “It’s been way too long.”

She looked over her shoulder at Finn. “Should we head back? We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Finn nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

They piled into Rose’s green airspeeder and took off toward the city, merging into the steady stream of traffic bound for Hanna City.

The Tico’s home was beautiful and understated, filled with warm light and the smell of cooking. On the silver oak dining table—probably worth more than Rey’s favorite speeder—Rose had laid out an elaborate meal.

She insisted they sit, practically shoving bowls of steaming soup from Hay Minor in front of them. Rey dug in without hesitation. After three days of ration packs, real food was a revelation.

“If I eat another bite, I might explode,” Rey said, mouth half-full of fluffy bread soaked in tip-yip curry.

Rose smirked. “Good. You’re going to eat as much as we can stuff you with while you’re here. I’ve eaten at your Praxeum’s mess hall. It’s criminal.”

She poured more jiruusi juice into Rey’s glass. A tart, vibrant flavor filled her mouth as she drank, the table falling into a quiet lull.

Then Rose and Finn exchanged a glance.

Rey saw it—and set her glass down. “What has Finn told you?” she asked, surprising even herself. She’d thought she would let Rose lead. But apparently not.

Rose’s face turned serious. “The basics. You had a vision. There are alien invaders coming. They can terraform our worlds. And we don’t know when.”

She rested a hand protectively over her stomach. “Did Poe have anything?”

Finn answered, his expression grim. “Nothing when we comm’d. He said he’d dig through reports.”

Rose nodded, lips tightening. “Not ideal…”

The weight of it all came crashing down on Rey again. The fear. The pressure. The uncertainty. It was like the gravity in the room had deepened, making it hard to breathe.

“We’re going to meet with him tomorrow,” she murmured. “Hopefully we’ll have more then.”

Rose squeezed Finn’s hand, then turned her full attention to Rey. “But how are you feeling?”

The question took her off guard.

No one had asked that. Not really. Not in a long time. She met Rose’s gaze—open, soft, sincere—and everything inside her cracked.

The tightness in her throat gave way to a hot rush of tears. She tried to stop it, tried to bite down on the emotion, but it was no use. One tear fell. Then another.

She apologized, fumbling, humiliated. But Rose was already beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, smoothing her back.

“It’s okay, Rey. Let it out.”

And so she did.

Eventually, the sobs ebbed. She breathed through the ache and sat up, blotting her eyes. Finn was gone—likely banished to the kitchen—and Rose gave a small, knowing smile.

“He tried to fix it. So I told him to do the dishes.”

Rey hiccuped. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I can go get him back, if you want?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s fine. He’s heard enough, I think.”

Rey blew her nose and closed her sore eyes, grounding herself in the sting.

“Well,” she began with a shaky laugh, “I guess you already have a pretty good idea of how I’m feeling.” Her voice wavered. “But honestly? I don’t even know myself. One minute I’m ecstatic—I can’t believe I found a way to bring him back. And then the next… I remember why it’s possible. What I’d be bringing him back to. A galaxy on the edge of collapse. Whole planets doomed to fall to an enemy we don’t understand. And I realize—we’re supposed to stop it. Somehow. Together.”

She paused, the weight of it pressing on her chest.

“And I feel awful,” she whispered. “How can I take his peace away like that?”

The initial thrill of her discovery had long since faded. What lingered now was guilt. Ben had finally found rest—after a life of turmoil, after pain and darkness and loss. What right did she have to pull him back? To ask him to face another war, another fight, just because she couldn’t let go?

“Maybe he won’t even want to come back,” she said softly. “Maybe… maybe he’s better off where he is.”

She exhaled shakily, emotion rising again despite her best efforts. “But I miss him. Gods, I’ve missed him so much. I’ve felt so alone these last ten years. So broken. And I don’t want to feel that way anymore. I don’t think I can.”

Her voice cracked into a quiet sob. “I just want him back…”

Rose hummed quietly, sliding into the chair beside her. “I don’t know what the afterlife looks like,” she said gently, “but I imagine it’s peaceful. Still… dragging him out of that to be your big heroic solution to the next galactic catastrophe? It kind of sucks for him. Especially after everything he went through.”

Rey wilted under the truth of it, guilt washing over her again.

“But…” Rose continued, placing a hand on Rey’s arm, “if he knew you were in danger—if he knew all of us were—and that he could make a difference? I don’t think he’d hesitate. And if he knew how hard it’s been for you without him… I think he’d fight tooth and nail to come back.”

Rey looked up. “You really think so?”

Rose nodded just as Finn reentered, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. She took them and handed one to Rey, who wrapped her fingers gratefully around the warm fired clay.

“Yes,” Rose said simply. “And if this gives you the chance to live again, to open yourself back up to love and connection… then I think he needs to be in your life. Even if it makes things complicated.”

She offered a small smile. “As much as it pains me to admit that.”

Rey returned the smile faintly, though something else twisted in her chest.

“I know he’s done… horrible things. Under the First Order,” she said. “A lot of people won’t forget that.”

Rose’s smile faded. She sipped her tea before answering.

“He has,” she said at last. “But those records he released on the way to Exegol—about what Snoke did to him, what Palpatine had planned—those helped people see the bigger picture. All the First Order intel and locations that he released, that helped end the war quickly. Still… his return isn’t going to be easy. Not for him. Not for you.”

She set the mug down and looked Rey square in the eye. “There’ll be fallout. Legally. Politically. Socially. A lot of people aren’t going to take it well. People still spit when they hear his name. You’re going to catch a lot of heat—maybe more.”

Rey swallowed. “Is there a but to that?”

Rose’s lips quirked. “But I believe you when you say this is the will of the Force. And I’ll be honest—I might not like him. I might never fully trust him. But if you two can stop this invasion, if he makes you happy, and if it means my kid gets to grow up in a galaxy that isn’t being devoured by darkness?”

She placed a hand over her slightly rounded belly. “Then you have my support.”

“Agreed,” Finn added, reaching over to steal a sip of her tea.

Rey shook her head, overwhelmed. “I still don’t understand how you can put all of that aside. For me.”

“Because we’ve seen what it’s done to you,” Finn said gently. “You’ve tried to carry this grief on your own for a decade. You’ve buried yourself in your work. Avoided everyone. Even us.”

“Liberation Day doesn’t count,” Rose added with a pointed look. “You’ve been surviving, Rey. Not living. And we get it now—we’re not the ones who can help you heal.”

“But Ben Solo is,” Finn said. “And that’s why we’re with you. No matter what.”

Rey felt the tears prick at her eyes again. Two of her three closest friends were on her side. She had expected resistance—rejection, even—and she would have accepted it. But they had embraced her instead. Had offered their love freely, despite the cost.

She wiped her eyes, her voice thick with emotion. “You two are wonderful. Thank you.”

“Rose is mad at me.”

The turbolift had been silent until that moment. Rey looked up from where she was fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. “Why’s she mad?”

“Because I told her I’m going on the recon missions with you and Poe.”

Rey stared. “Finn—those could take months. And Rose is pregnant.”

“I know.” His voice was steady, but his jaw was tight. “But I can’t just sit around waiting for this invasion to start. I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure our baby isn’t born into a war zone.”

Rey felt a pang. His reasoning was noble, but if their roles were reversed, she’d be furious too. “What about your job? What if you're gone when the baby is born? You can’t just... drop everything.”

“But you are.”

That silenced her.

She wasn’t leaving a family behind. The Praxeum could run without her. No one would truly miss her. But Finn? He mattered to so many people.

“The Praxeum doesn’t need me. Tionne and the others will be fine. If it gets bad, Tahiri can step in.”

“Rey, I can’t sit back and do nothing.”

She understood. And she also knew trying to stop him would be a waste of breath. As the turbolift slowed, she fixed him with a hard look. “Fine. But talk to Rose. Really talk to her. You owe her that.”

“I will. I promise.”

The lift doors slid open, revealing the sharp, gleaming corridor that led to the First Admiral’s office—at the very top of the Galactic Alliance Defense Fleet tower.

The Tholothian receptionist looked up, then froze. His indigo eyes widened as Rey approached with a warm smile.

“M-Master Skywalker! General Tico!” he stammered, fumbling with the comm on his desk. “Welcome! The First Admiral said to expect you. Please—take a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here!”

“Thank you, Corporal Wen-Durro,” Finn replied, steering Rey toward the seating area. His tone was calm, but the dozen or so curious gazes now fixed on them didn’t go unnoticed.

They took a seat beside a towering fern, but the stares kept coming. Rey tried not to notice the murmurs, the side glances, or the subtle attempts to get a better look at the infamous "Last Jedi." But she was out of practice. She made eye contact with a young officer—and then a Bothan—and both nearly fainted when she smiled.

She sighed. Another reminder of why she didn’t like leaving Yavin IV.

Poe was making them wait—no doubt on purpose. She was going to have words with him.

Finally, after what felt like forever—but was probably only eight minutes—First Admiral Poe Dameron emerged, flanked by two stern-faced officers. He gave them a weak smile as he approached.

He looked every bit the seasoned admiral now, from his crisply pressed uniform to the silver in his temples. He shook their hands with formal precision, then ushered them into his office. Once the doors slid shut behind them, the mask dropped.

He pulled Finn into a firm hug, slapping his back. “Too long, buddy! How’ve you been?!”

Finn laughed. “It’s been three weeks, Poe.”

“Still too long,” Poe shot back. “How’s Rose? Still sick?”

“Getting better.”

Poe grinned. “And how’s Poe Junior doing? Kicking yet? Are you telling him Uncle Poe loves him every night like I specifically instructed?”

Rey chuckled, drawing Poe’s attention. But the warmth in his face cooled instantly.

“You’re really here,” he said, voice edged with something unreadable.

Finn elbowed him hard. “Seriously, dude?”

Poe winced. “Alright, alright—chill. I’m sorry, Rey. I know I’m being an ass.”

She nodded. Poe’s mood was always half-fueled by emotion, but today it felt heavier. And with their history—shouting matches on Ajan Kloss, stony silences, broken trust—things were fragile.

“I deserve it,” Rey admitted. “I’ve been a terrible friend. I’m sorry.”

She held out her hand. “Can we try again—for the galaxy’s sake?”

He took it. Firm grip. Tense pause.

“If you promise not to vanish again, yeah—we’ll be fine.”

The hurt behind his words was sharper than any accusation. Guilt flared in her chest. He wasn’t angry—he was hurt. She had shown up when she needed them, but never when they needed her.

“I promise. I’ll be around.”

Poe nodded and pulled her into a brief hug. “Good. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

She smiled, letting herself hope. For a moment, things felt right.

Then the moment passed.

Poe returned to his massive kriin wood desk, tapping at his datapad. Holos blinked to life—flight paths, mission reports, Aurebesh scrolling in ghostly blue.

“I wish I had better news,” he muttered. “Scouting squadrons in the Outer Rim haven’t picked up anything out of the ordinary.”

Rey’s heart sank. She had suspected as much from his silence. Still, she’d hoped.

If nothing showed up, that meant the invasion was still far off... right? That they still had time?

Or worse—maybe it had already begun, but their tech couldn’t recognize the threat. What if they were already here, just beyond perception?

The real fear wasn’t in the silence—but in the implications of it.

Without proof, the Senate wouldn’t act. The Chief of State wouldn’t risk a full mobilization over a Jedi’s “vision.” Rey’s title meant little these days. The Jedi Order, for all its effort to rebuild, was a shadow of what it once was. Useful as a symbol. Not as a power.

Poe, sensing her mood, scrolled through more data. “I’m putting as many scouting squadrons under your command as I can. They’ll go wherever you tell them to. I wish I could give you a fleet, but my hands are tied. Without the Chief’s order, this is all I’ve got.”

Rey nodded, gratitude tempered by frustration.

“We’ll find something,” Finn said confidently. “Where do we start?”

Rey hesitated, still not sold on Finn abandoning his family. She hoped Rose would talk sense into him.

Poe was keying in coordinates when the office doors burst open.

Captain Kaydel Ko Connix strode in, pale and wild-eyed. She didn’t acknowledge Finn or Rey—unusual enough to raise every alarm in Rey’s head. Kaydel never skipped a greeting. Not with them.

Poe stiffened. “Captain Connix? Is something wrong? We’re in the middle of a briefing.”

Kaydel’s voice was hoarse, breath ragged. “Admiral. It’s…gone.”

She stumbled to his desk and thrust a datapad toward him with shaking hands. Poe had to grip it with both of his to steady it.

“What’s gone?” he asked.

Kaydel looked up, her face ashen. Her voice cracked.

“Helska IV.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: In Which It Begins

Poe stared at Kaydel, as if her words hadn’t quite registered. “What do you mean, Helska IV is gone?”

Kaydel didn’t answer right away. Instead, she retrieved the datapad from Poe and tapped the screen. A hologram sprang to life, casting the image of a young, wide-eyed soldier above the desk.

“The research base is gone,” she said tightly. “Ten minutes ago, we received a holovid from the outpost on Helska IV.”

Poe scoffed. “You made it sound like the entire planet was destroyed. What happened to the—?”

“Just watch the holovid, Dameron. Save the snark for after.”

The room went quiet as the holovid played. A soldier appeared—young, unshaven, and clearly terrified. He spoke into a jittery feed, the cam shaking in his hands.

“My name is Sergeant Sol Delios. I, along with the rest of my squad, are stationed at the new Galactic Alliance research facility on Helska IV, in the Dalonbian sector—”

An explosion tore through the background, rocking the cam and knocking Delios out of frame. Chunks of stone and smoke filled the air. When he reappeared, his face was streaked with dirt and panic.

“We are under attack! I repeat—we are under attack!”

The view shifted as the cam turned toward a transparisteel viewport. Beyond it, a frozen field was pelted by what looked like molten spheres—glowing, arcing streaks of fiery destruction. Massive shapes were visible on the horizon, moving fast. Unnatural. Predatory.

“—bombardment’s been going on for fifteen minutes. Don’t know how many of my team are still alive. We don’t know what they are—they just came out of nowhere!” Delios’s voice broke. “Please…send help. I don’t want to die here—”

The feed cut out in a blinding flash. Static. Then silence.

The frozen image of the explosion hovered midair above Poe’s desk, casting eerie light across their stunned faces.

Poe was the first to speak, his voice low. “Status?”

Kaydel’s composure had returned, though her hands still trembled. “We’ve tried every channel. No response. It’s gone completely dark.”

She took a steadying breath, watching the holovid loop. “I’ve redirected the closest squadron to the Dalonbian sector. They’ll reach the system within twelve hours.”

Rey’s eyes stayed locked on the projected blast, but her thoughts were spinning. The ships in the holovid—sleek, fast, almost organic—weren’t the same as the ones from her vision. Not the massive spiraling dreadnoughts or the asteroid-like vessels she remembered.

And yet… they felt the same. Not in shape, but in presence. The Force churned uneasily around them, whispering the truth she already knew.

She looked at Finn. He’d felt it too. That heaviness—like the galaxy had just tilted.

This was it.

The invaders had arrived.

Poe and Kaydel were already moving, exchanging commands and comparing data. Rey barely heard them. She let the realization settle over her like a stormcloud. A strange mix of dread and clarity gripped her. At least now, there was no more waiting. No more doubt.

But how much could the Alliance endure before it broke?

How long until she had to act on the impossible? Until she had to bring Ben back?

And more pressingly—could she bring him back in time?

Still, one thought cut through all the fear:

The Chief of State will have to listen now.

“Poe,” Rey said quietly, her voice cutting through the clamor. He and Kaydel turned to her.

She met their eyes. “This is it. I can feel it.”

Poe stared at her for a long moment. Then he exhaled, running a hand through his already-messy hair.

“I was afraid you were going to say that…” He sank into his chair, gaze fixed on the flickering explosion. “Yeah. I agree. This is the beginning.”

Kaydel blinked. “The beginning of what?”

Neither of them answered her.

Poe snapped into motion. He lifted his com to his mouth, speaking quickly. “Pax, get me the Chief of State—now.” He turned to Kaydel. “Start mobilizing more scout squadrons. I want ships in the Dalonbian sector and all surrounding systems within the next six hours. Recon only. These things aren’t stopping at one planet.”

Kaydel nodded, already tapping into her datapad.

“And get high command into Conference Room A,” Poe continued. “All of them. No delays.”

Then he looked at Rey and Finn, his eyes sharp.

“You’re coming with me.”

The meeting with the Chief of State went about as well as Rey had expected—and in some ways, even worse.

Better, because he listened. He authorized military mobilization without hesitation.

Worse, because as they made their way to the Grand Senate, the scope of the attacks expanded. Reports continued to flood in—more planets, more devastation. And that, more than Rey’s warning, was why the Chief of State was so willing to listen.

Seline, a remote outpost world, had been hit mere hours after Helska IV. The Defense Force received little more than fragmented comms and clearer images of the strange, organic-looking ships strafing the settlement. No survivors were confirmed.

Birgis had put up more of a fight. But communications cut off shortly after contact. The scale and coordination of the assault left little hope.

The footage from Birgis confirmed what Rey already knew: these were the invaders from her vision. There were no detailed shots of the attackers themselves, but the twisted silhouettes—their posture, their presence—were unmistakable to her.

The worst, though, was Sernpidal.

A dry, canyon-riddled planet in the remote Julevian system, Sernpidal’s end wasn’t from bombs or ships. The invaders did something to the planet’s gravity—altering it, increasing the pull. Enough to drag its orbiting moon down into the surface, annihilating the world. If anyone survived, it wouldn’t be for long.

Belkadan wasn’t hit with firepower, but something more insidious. Atmospheric changes began days ago—carbon dioxide and sulfur levels rising. No one took it seriously until today, when a scientist, panicked, contacted headquarters in Hanna City. Now the planet was suffocating. Evacuations were underway.

But most ships didn’t make it out. Enemy vessels waited in orbit, picking off escaping freighters like carrion birds.

All the planets targeted—every one of them—sat in the Dalonbian sector, the same as Helska IV.

Rey had known little about Cal Omas, other than that he’d been born on Alderaan, like Leia Organa, and replaced her in the Senate after she was forced out before the First Order War. She’d heard he was usually calm, measured.

But when they arrived at his personal office, Omas was pacing furiously across his luxurious carpet, pale and sweating, his white hair disheveled.

“First Admiral Dameron. General Tico. Grand Master Skywalker,” he greeted, voice strained. He crossed the room in four long strides. “I trust you’ve seen the latest?”

Rey could feel his unease through the Force, ragged and trembling beneath a thin mask of civility.

Poe nodded, jaw tight. “We have, Chief Omas. I expect you know why we’re here.”

Omas dropped heavily into his chair. “I’m expected to address the entire Alliance in less than two hours. Communications have gone dark with five planets. Survivors seem unlikely. We’re looking at casualties in the billions…” He rubbed his eyes, then glanced down at the looping holos of the attacks. “This is the darkest day we’ve seen since the Hosnian Cataclysm.”

His gaze shifted, fixing on Rey with clear intent. “It is... fortunate you are here, Master Skywalker, considering how rarely you leave the Gordian Reach.” His expression sharpened. “Unless you are not here by coincidence?”

Rey stepped forward, calm but wary. “I was granted a vision on Liberation Day. I came as soon as I could.”

“A vision,” Omas repeated coolly, tone distant. “You foresaw these events?”

His voice was clinical—probing like a surgeon’s scalpel. But beneath it, she sensed accusation. The implication: You knew, and you did nothing.

She nodded. “Yes. I saw flashes—of today and what’s coming. This enemy will test us in ways we’ve never seen. They’re pushing toward the Core. If we don’t act now, we’ll lose more worlds. More lives.”

His face went still. “And did your vision happen to show you how to defeat them?”

Rey hesitated. She thought of Ben. Of what it would take to bring him back. She knew this wasn’t the time—or the person—to say it to.

“I have ideas...” she said carefully.

“Master Skywalker has insights, yes,” Poe interjected smoothly, “but we believe the Defense Force will be able to devise strategic responses. We came to get your support to mobilize. But with the new reports, our case speaks for itself.”

Omas leaned back, folding his hands. “You don’t need to convince me. We will act to ensure these invaders are repelled.”

With the Chief’s attention secured, Poe and Rey detailed everything they knew: Rey’s vision, Poe’s reports, the patterns they were beginning to see. Omas listened intently, absorbing it all.

Then he looked to Rey again.

“Master Skywalker, how many Jedi do you currently have?”

“Capable of combat?” Rey said, frowning. “Twenty-four.”

Omas blinked. “I was told you had nearly a hundred Jedi at your Praxeum.”

“We do. But most are younglings and Padawans. Only twenty-four are full Knights or Masters. Kam Solusar is retired—he’s our representative in Hanna City, otherwise we would have twenty-five.”

Omas’s lips thinned. “With the credits we’ve provided, I expected more.”

Rey’s jaw clenched. “Rebuilding the Jedi Order is a generational endeavor. That we have even twenty-four trained Knights in ten years is a miracle. Our first class was only just knighted last year.”

She felt the ripple of anger from Poe and Finn beside her. She sent a subtle pulse of reassurance through the Force. Only Finn might feel it, if he was paying attention.

“And your second class? How many are ready?”

Rey’s expression darkened. “You’re suggesting I promote nineteen-year olds before they’ve been knighted? Send them into battle?”

Omas didn’t flinch. “We need Jedi. Skilled warriors. Are you saying you’ll withhold them?”

“You’ll have every Jedi I can safely deploy,” Rey said tightly. “But I won’t risk children. We are not the old Order—and I will not repeat its mistakes.”

The Chief’s stare was like ice. “I didn’t realize you were outside of my jurisdiction, Master. You’ve taken funding from Galactic Alliance programs and subsidies.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed. “The Praxeum was built outside the Core for a reason. We accept aid—but we do not serve at the pleasure of the Senate.”

Before the conversation could devolve further, Poe interceded.

“Chief Omas, with respect—this is bigger than the Jedi. I’ve gathered every general and admiral for an emergency council. We need your authorization to act. Let’s put this discussion aside and begin planning our next move.”

Omas stood, offering Rey a final cold glance before Poe led him from the room.

Once they were gone, Poe lingered behind.

“I hate that I’m about to say this,” he muttered, not looking at Rey, “but we just lost five planets and billions of lives. In one day.” He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to face this…”

He met Rey’s gaze, eyes defeated. “I was wrong.”

Then he turned toward the corridor but paused. “Do what you have to do, Rey. I’ll deal with the political fall out.”

Rey stared after him, stunned. Finn stood beside her, arms folded.

“Well,” she said, the weight of his departing words settling on her, “I was going to do it anyway. But good to know the First Admiral approves.”

“Not sure how much protection he can give you once you do it,” Finn replied. “But yeah. Nice to see he’s not being a complete ass about it anymore.”

Rey huffed. “Me too.”

They left the Senate building together, Poe disappearing into the chaos of strategy and mobilization.

“I need to head to the Archive,” Rey said. “You should go home. Be with Rose.”

Finn hesitated, then nodded. “I need to check in with my division first. I’ll head home after. Come back when you’re done, okay? We don’t have much time left before things get worse.”

“I’ll see you both soon,” Rey promised, already turning toward the speeder bay.

As Rey took a skycab to the Galactic Alliance Archives, she comm’d the Praxeum to update the other Masters.

“You plan to access the Vergence Scatter?” Tionne asked after Rey shared her intention. Her voice was careful, but Rey could feel the underlying concern.

Rey hadn’t revealed who she planned to bring back—and Tionne hadn’t asked. Not yet.

“Yes,” Rey replied, watching the cityscape grow larger as the skycab descended into the lower lanes. “Do you have any advice on where I should start?”

Tionne seemed lost in thought, her fingers tapping at a datapad. “You’d need to find where the connection is strongest.” Her voice was thoughtful, though a frown tugged at her lips. “But it won’t be easy. Luke believed the dead emperor wanted to access it... but he never succeeded. If a Sith as powerful as Palpatine couldn’t find it, I don’t know how you will.”

Rey clenched her jaw, a tightness in her chest. “I have to. The Force showed me it’s the only way to stop the invaders from destroying us all.”

“I’ll look through the old texts,” Tionne said, her tone softer now, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. “Give me some time. I’ll reach out when I find something.”

She yawned, and Rey winced, suddenly aware that she might have called at an inconvenient time. But there was no time for apologies.

“Thanks, Tionne. How are things back home?” Rey asked, shifting her focus back to the situation at hand.

Tionne shrugged one shoulder. “As well as they can be. The older younglings are scared, but the padawans are doing their best to keep them occupied. Tahiri arrived last night and has been a big help.”

Rey’s expression soured before she could stop it.

“I know she’s not your favorite by any stretch, but she means well—and she’s a good knight.”

“I know,” Rey replied, her voice clipped. “I’m sorry... I just... never mind.” She took a slow breath, trying to calm her frustration. “I should go. I’m at the Archives now. Please contact me if you find anything.”

She ended the call, feeling a mixture of guilt and annoyance simmering beneath her calm exterior.

The skycab set down on a platform, and Rey stepped out, transferring credits to the droid pilot. The weight of the situation settled back on her shoulders as she walked through the sleek corridors of the Galactic Alliance Archives, the walls lined with towering shelves of knowledge, both new and ancient.

Rey found an empty terminal and sat down. Her fingers hovered over the aurebesh keys, uncertain of where to begin.

Typing in Vergence Scatter wouldn’t yield anything useful.

When the New Jedi Order completed their translations of Luke’s ancient texts and submitted them to the Archives, they’d made the difficult decision to withhold sensitive information—especially knowledge that could be dangerous in the wrong hands.

But there had to be something—some thread to pull on. After all, they hadn’t kept everything from the Archives.

She typed: Force nexus points.

The infocache buzzed to life, pulling up dozens of results. Rey filtered out the locations steeped in the Dark Side: Dathomir, Mustafar, Moraband, Malachor, Coruscant, Exegol. Those were all too dangerous, too tainted. Attempting to access the Scatter from any of those places would be a mistake.

What remained were possibilities—potential nexuses that might hold the answer:

Lothal, where a Jedi temple had once stood, rumored to house a gateway to the World Between Worlds. But it had been destroyed by a Rebellion-era apprentice, Ezra Bridger.

Auratera, an ancient nexus, now rendered uninhabitable by environmental catastrophes.

Dagobah, strong in the Force, but without any known temples or significant structures to focus the energy.

Ossus, the world where Luke had once attempted to rebuild the Jedi Order. But it was also where Ben Solo had fallen to the Dark Side.

Rey’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to go there if she didn’t have to.

Devaron came up next, a planet with a hidden Jedi temple, its structure damaged during the Clone Wars but still intact. Could it work?

More planets followed, each with its own potential—but none of them felt right to her. None of them called to her.

A sharp ache bloomed behind her eyes. She closed them, exhaled, and reached out through the Force. Please... show me where to go.

But there was nothing.

The Force, which had once been so familiar, so clear, now offered only an empty silence.

Her sense of urgency pressed down on her like a weight. How many more planets would fall before she figured this out? How long before the invaders drove deeper into the galaxy, pushing toward the Core? How much time did she have before it was too late?

Her fingers trembled slightly as she sent a short message to Tionne, forwarding the list of possible locations.

Then she leaned back in the stiff terminal chair, the glow of the datapad flickering across her face. Cold. Impersonal. The weight of the galaxy pressing down on her.

The Archives had given her all they could.

She would have to think. Meditate. And hope for clarity.

And pray it came before another world died.

Rey walked through a dark tunnel. The walls were rough, uneven, their jagged edges rising and falling in frozen waves beneath her fingertips. The ground was smooth, worn by years of passage. The atmosphere was hot and damp, thick with moisture—unlike the dry, cool caves she’d explored before. The air held the scent of mildew, of fungus, and the faintest breeze brushed her sweaty temples. Still, the Force pulsed with an unrelenting intensity, driving her forward, to a place she could not yet see.

The tunnel twisted, winding through miles of caverns. Rey felt no fear. She knew she couldn’t find her way out on her own, but she didn’t need to. The Force would take her where she needed to be.

The Force would guide her to safety.

It felt like an eternity before she saw light—dim at first, but growing brighter, stronger by the second. Rey began to run toward it, her feet slipping against jagged edges of stone, until, at last, she broke through.

She stumbled into the light.

Bright sunlight streamed through a hole in the rock, the size of a starfighter, illuminating a wide, smooth dome. Parts of the dome had collapsed, revealing rough lava rock behind the crumbled facade. In the center of the space stood a circular platform, surrounded by clear water.

The Force surged here—powerful, overwhelming. It pushed against her like an unseen wave.

The power built to a crescendo that dropped Rey to her knees. The weight of it was suffocating. It was all she could do to breathe, to stay conscious in the intensity of the pull.

Finally, she forced herself to stand.

Rey walked slowly to the platform, her steps tentative, each one heavy with the weight of the Force. She peered into the water. The Force twisted, unstable, fluxing between light and dark.

At the bottom of the pool, scattered among old treasures, something gleamed.

She bent forward, reaching out to touch it—

And froze.

A skull stared back at her, its empty eyes locked on hers, grinning malevolently from the depths.

Rey shot awake, gasping for breath, her body jerking forward in her bed. Her heart hammered in her chest, a cold sweat clinging to her skin. That place—she had to go there. The vision was clear. That was where she would access the Vergence Scatter.

She threw off her covers and scrambled to the datapad on her desk. Her fingers flew over the keys, diving into the list of planets she’d shortlisted earlier, but just as she opened the first file, her comlink chimed.

Rey’s breath caught. She knew who it would be.

“Tionne,” she answered, her voice still tinged with the residual panic of the vision. “I saw it! I saw where I need to go. But I don’t know where it is.”

Tionne’s brow rose in surprise, but Rey sensed her relief too. “Thank the Force,” Tionne said, her voice soft but urgent. “Tell me everything. I might be able to find it.”

Rey explained the vision—the heat, the moisture, the crushing weight of the Force—and Tionne listened closely, only interrupting to ask for clarifications. Rey added every detail she could remember: the dome, the platform, the water, the skull.

Tionne’s expression darkened as she accessed her data pad. Her brow furrowed as she read the reports, her voice skeptical. “It’s not possible…”

“What?” Rey asked, her pulse quickening.

Tionne tapped away at the screen, clearly diving deeper into the records. “The planet you're describing... it's been uninhabitable for thousands of years. Since the last Sith Wars…” She paused, frowning deeply. “Auratera. Located in the Vorzyd sector of the Outer Rim.”

Rey held her breath. Tionne continued, reading from the screen.

“Auratera is steeped in the Force. So strong that it was the site of countless battles between the Jedi and the Sith over millennia. There's a specific region called Acablas…” Tionne’s gaze intensified, her voice quieter. “Acablas is the site of an exceptionally powerful force vergence—one that fluctuates wildly between Light and Dark. Legend says it is where the veil between reality and the beyond grows thin.”

She leaned closer, reading more aloud. “It’s a cenote—an open cavern filled with water. The ancient Jedi stabilized it centuries ago, surrounding it with temples from both sides. Both Jedi and Sith constructed elaborate underground networks to access the cenote. But the nexus there is so volatile, so unpredictable, that it's said to be extremely dangerous—especially for those not trained to handle its fluctuations.”

Rey listened, absorbing every word, though her mind raced ahead. “Uninhabitable?” she asked. “Does that mean no one lives there? Or just that the atmosphere is incompatible with life?”

“I’m not sure…” Tionne hesitated, her pale eyes narrowing as she took in the details. “But Rey, do you feel certain this is where you need to go?”

Rey nodded, the weight of her certainty settling within her. “Yes. I can’t explain it, but this is where I’ll be able to access the World Between Worlds.”

Tionne’s silence stretched out, the only sound in the room the quiet ticking of the chrono. Finally, Tionne spoke, her voice gentle but filled with concern. “Then you must take great care, Rey. Bring life suits. Please. Scan the atmosphere and planet before you land.”

Rey smiled, though it was tinged with a rueful edge. “I will. Don’t worry.” She let out a long breath, the pressure of the moment heavy in her chest. “And you—be prepared. I need you to keep everyone ready for the possibility of evacuation. The invaders are still far off, but they may begin pressing inward. I don’t want to lose anyone. And we need to protect everything we’ve built.”

Tionne’s smile was small but proud. “We’ve already taken precautions, Master Skywalker. If an attack comes, we will be ready.”

Rey’s chest tightened. It wasn’t enough. But it was something. Hopefully, it would be enough.

“Then we will see each other again when I’ve completed my task.” Rey bowed her head, ending the comm as Tionne murmured her farewell.

Rey glanced at the chrono on her desk. It was just after 0400 in the morning. Too early for Finn and Rose to be awake. But the urgency in her heart was undeniable.

She had to go—now.

She couldn’t delay any longer.

She quickly packed her things, leaving a note for her friends on a piece of flimsi—explained where she was going, what she was doing, and apologized for taking some of their supplies.

She left credits to cover the cost, promising to keep them updated on her progress.

Guilt tugged at her, but she shoved it aside. Something inside her urged her forward, relentlessly. She had to go.

The night air of Chandrila was cool and crisp, carrying the distinct scent of the changing seasons. Rey’s datapad led her to a ship depot near the docks where she secured a small, nondescript freighter with cramped crew quarters, a tiny refresher, and an even smaller galley. She paid extra for two life suits—on the Praxeum’s account. She hoped they’d forgive her for that.

As droids prepped the ship, Rey wandered through a droid-run clothing shop. She purchased shirts, pants, boots, and undergarments, far too large to fit her frame.

She hoped to give these to another, her heart aching at the simple, practical purchases. The sight of them reminded her of how much she longed for a normal life—how she wanted to make sure these clothes would see use, to live beyond this mission.

By 0500, she was in the cockpit, double-checking the work of the droids. It was acceptable.

At 0515, she was breaking atmosphere, the ship punching through the clouds, heading into the black. Auratera was charted in the navicomp.

She was on her way at last.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: Acablas

Just over a day after departing Chandrila, Rey finally reached orbit above Auratera—and she was barely holding herself together.

She hovered above the planet in her small freighter, taut with anticipation, but bound by her promise to Tionne: wait for the probes. She was to scan the atmosphere and ensure the environment was safe before attempting planetfall.

The wait was unbearable.

The journey had been smooth but exhausting. She hadn't trusted the navicomp's autopilot enough to sleep more than an hour at a time, and now she was running on nothing but caf and sheer adrenaline. Her body ached. Her eyes burned. Her thoughts drifted between the mission ahead and the ghosts of the past.

But despite the weariness, sleep was impossible.

She was too close to something she’d secretly longed for since the moment she felt him die. This was her chance. A decade’s worth of yearning, guilt, and buried hope was now spiraling around her like the orbit of the planet below.

She passed the time as best she could, comming Finn and Rose during her downtime. They weren’t exactly happy she’d left without saying goodbye, but they understood. There was no time for drawn-out farewells, and Rey had to do this alone. Still, they had kept her informed—passing along updates the news outlets hadn’t yet confirmed.

Poe had told her just yesterday: all fleets were being mobilized. The Chief of State had been granted emergency powers with unanimous support from the Galactic Council. It was unnerving, granting so much authority to one person, but Poe trusted Cal Omas.

He believed Omas would relinquish the power once the threat had passed.

Rey had to have faith that he would.

Five fleets had already departed toward the Dalonbian Sector. Their orders: intercept and make contact with the mysterious invaders. Learn who they were. Learn why they had come.

Poe didn’t sound hopeful.

Since the first attack, more planets had fallen—though not as completely. Survivors were now flooding into the Mid Rim, stretching resources and patience. Rose, now serving as the lead liaison for the Coalition of Displaced Planetary Citizens, was working round-the-clock trying to stabilize intake routes.

And Finn... Finn was solemn.

His ground troops—former stormtroopers, hardened by a lifetime of battle—were being assembled for the first wave. They’d be among the first sent into direct conflict. His departure from Chandrila was imminent.

And Rey—Rey was waiting. Trapped inside a metal shell, circling a planet that pulsed in the Force like a second heart.

Her fingers tapped an impatient rhythm against the durasteel panel. Her satchel was packed and prepped: ration bars, two canteens of water, and an extra life suit neatly tucked beneath a folded set of larger clothes. She didn’t know what condition Ben would be in, but she was determined to be ready.

Still, she couldn’t move.

Then—at last—the first probe returned.

Rey launched herself toward the terminal, practically yanking the data from the readout.

She blinked.

Stared.

Checked again.

“That can’t be right,” she muttered, hands flying over the controls, pulling up every diagnostic and environmental stat she could find.

The atmosphere was safe?

She turned to the viewport and stared down at Auratera: a swirl of blues and greens, clouds casting pale shadows across oceans and forests.

Could it be?

Had the planet recovered?

She didn’t wait for the second probe.

With a command, her ship broke orbit and dove into the upper atmosphere. The Force surged around her, guiding her without hesitation. She didn’t need coordinates. She didn’t need maps. She simply followed—drawn toward the nexus like metal to a magnet.

Acablas.

It was more than a vergence. It was a call, an old whisper deep in the marrow of the Force. Familiar, comforting—yet tinged with something sharp beneath the surface.

She didn’t question the accuracy of the data again. As her ship descended, she saw them: villages, towns—civilization. Small settlements dotted the lush landscape below, nestled between forested valleys and river basins. Auratera was alive.

The terrain shifted as she flew: vast grasslands gave way to a colossal mountain range that split the continent like a spine. Beyond the western slopes, dense jungle rose like a living wall, tangled and towering. The Force pulsed stronger the deeper she went.

And then—she saw it.

A spire. Stone and worn with age, it pierced the canopy like a dagger.

Rey banked the ship sharply and descended into the jungle. She bypassed obvious clearings, choosing instead a tight copse of trees nearly five klicks from the temple. Cover over convenience. She didn’t want to risk being seen.

The moment the landing struts hit the jungle floor, she was already powering down systems. She ran through the checklist with hurried precision, heart hammering in her chest.

She paused briefly at the life suit, hand hovering over hers.

No.

She trusted the Force. She would be fine.

She snatched her satchel, stuffed a ration bar into her mouth, slung two canteens over her shoulder, and with trembling fingers, lowered the ramp.

Hot, humid air rushed up to meet her, thick with the scent of moss and blooming flora. Her boots hit soil—and for the first time in days, she breathed fully.

Rey had arrived.

It should be noted that traversing dense, wild jungle—even for someone in peak physical condition—was no easy task.

Nearly every step Rey took involved hacking through a snarl of underbrush and creeping vines. Her golden saber hummed a constant tune as scorched leaves filled the air with the scent of burnt vegetation. After only twenty minutes, her tunic was soaked through with sweat, clinging to her skin like a second, less cooperative layer.

Despite the heat and difficulty, the jungle teemed with life. Exotic avian creatures trilled and called from the canopy above, their chorus forming a vibrant, natural symphony that lulled Rey into a steady, constant rhythm. Her mind, however, was far from peaceful.

So much had unraveled in just a week—crises stacking upon each other like unstable stones. And now, the galaxy faced a threat unlike anything she’d seen before. She hadn’t had time to fully process it all.

Her fear wasn’t about survival, not really. It was about failure.

Everything depended on her.

Convincing Chief Omas. Finding the right planet. Unlocking access to the World Between Worlds. Finding Ben. Saving Ben. And if—if—the Dyad could be restored, standing against the invaders that now tore through the stars.

At least the invasion had spurred the Chief into action. And Force bless Tionne Solusar—her research had made this journey possible.

As for the rest... Rey would die trying to succeed.

She had before.

An hour into her uphill trek, she had to stop. Her thighs ached with every step, and her breath came in ragged pulls. Ajan Kloss hadn’t been this grueling—what made this planet so different?

She remembered: Auratera’s gravity was lower than standard. When she’d first stepped off the ship, it almost felt like flying. So she pushed herself. Hard. Harder than she could in 1G.

But now, the oppressive heat and humidity clung to her skin, dragging her down. The Force pulsed stronger here with every step, sapping her stamina.

She took a long drink from her canteen and checked the datapad. She was three klicks in. Another thirty minutes, maybe less. A deep breath steadied her before she pushed forward.

The terrain shifted just after the four-and-a-half kilometer mark. The incline dropped steeply into a vast valley, and there—nestled at its heart—was the temple she’d glimpsed from the air.

Acablas.

The Force swelled in her chest like a tidal wave, growing more intense the closer she came. This vergence—this nexus—was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Ahch-To and Ossus were whispers in comparison. This was a roar.

No wonder the ancient Jedi and Sith had fought over it for millennia.

As Rey stepped into the clearing, the contrast between the two temples flanking the cenote struck her immediately.

The Sith temple was a ruin—crumbling, dark stone and twisted iron beaten down by time. Only its spire remained partially intact, jagged against the sky like a broken tooth.

The Jedi temple was pristine by comparison. Pale stone glimmered where sunlight touched it. It stood intact, as if untouched by time.

Rey sighed and rolled her eyes at the purposeful contrast of the two structures. The Jedi and Sith always had a flair for the theatrical.

But something about the Jedi temple was... off.

She approached warily.

The stonework was almost too clean, too well-preserved. Not ancient, like it should’ve been. This building didn’t look like it had faced millennia—it looked like it had faced maybe a few decades of neglect.

Circling it, she found a sealed blast door embedded in its rear wall, a flashing control panel set beside it. She frowned, reached for the panel—and blinked in disbelief.

It was still operational.

That shouldn’t have been possible. The tech was too recent, barely a century old. It didn’t belong to the era of the old Sith Wars.

The Force pulled at her, urging her to investigate deeper. But the cenote called too.

Reluctantly, Rey turned away and followed a worn, overgrown path to the amphitheater surrounding the sinkhole.

She reached the edge and peered down.

The drop was at least thirty meters. The skylight above the cenote barely illuminated the cavern within, and the surrounding dome extended well beyond what was visible. No handholds. No ledges.

She wasn’t getting down there without going through one of the temples.

As the sun dropped toward the horizon, she made her way back to the Jedi structure.

She pressed a hopeful finger to the control panel. Nothing.

Sighing, she examined the device more closely. Maybe she could find a bypass circuit, something familiar in the layout. She pried at the casing gently—only for the panel to beep angrily in protest.

“Sorry,” she muttered and stepped back.

Fine. Different approach.

She extended her hand and reached for the circuits with the Force—tried to short them just long enough to open the door.

Nothing.

Her frustration mounted. The codes were long gone. Slicing the door open was still an option, but she didn’t want to destroy something so carefully preserved.

But she really didn’t want to be outside when night fell.

Something on the panel caught her eye—a small, unfamiliar recess.

No.

A biometric scanner.

Without hesitation, Rey placed her hand on it.

Pain. A needle jabbed her finger, drawing blood.

She hissed and sucked on the wound, glaring at the device. “You better work…”

It whirred. Slowly. Dated tech doing its best.

Rey waited, glancing around—and noticed something odd.

Though the sun had set behind the mountain range, the light hadn’t fully dimmed. The sky held a strange glow. A second sun perhaps?

Then everything exploded into motion.

A shriek tore through the air as a massive shape dove from the trees—razor talons and a hooked beak aimed straight for her.

Rey barely dove out of the way in time. The creature—an enormous avian with blue-white feathers and deep indigo eyes—snapped its beak inches from where her shoulder had been.

Its eyes were intelligent. Hungry.

Rey ignited her lightsaber.

It shrieked and backed away—

A sudden pull yanked her into the air. She flailed, rising higher as another bird hovered in front of her, wings beating like thunder.

They were using the Force.

She had no time to marvel. As the bird drew closer, she slashed upward, cutting through its face. It screamed—but her distraction cost her.

The first bird struck.

Pain exploded in her side. Claws tore through skin—through muscle.

She screamed as she crashed to the ground, leaves and dirt into digging into the gash.

No time.

The bird struck again—missed her thigh by inches. Rey grunted and threw out her hand, Force-pushing it away in a burst of raw desperation.

The second bird—already wounded—reared back.

Rey didn’t hesitate. She severed its head.

One down.

The first bird charged again.

A soft ping.

The control panel lit green. The blast door hissed open.

Rey didn’t wait.

She staggered, half-limped, half-sprinted to the temple and dove inside just as the bird slammed against the door.

It sealed behind her with a final thunk—followed by the furious screams of a predator denied its prey.

“What the actual kriff?” Rey gasped, pressing a hand to her bleeding side as dizziness crept in.

The pain was white-hot. Her fingers came away slick with blood. She scanned the entry hall desperately, eyes searching.

There. A medpac. Hung on the wall like it was meant for her.

She nearly sobbed with relief, crawling to it and yanking it open. Bacta patches, antiseptics, field injectors.

She patched herself as best she could, then leaned back against a nearby counter, panting.

So...

Giant Force-sensitive murder-birds. Noted.

At least they hadn’t found her earlier...

Her comlink chimed. She groaned and answered.

“What is it?”

Tahiri Veila's face appeared, all perfectly coiffed blonde hair and judgmental smirks.

“Kriff," she swore, "What tried to eat you, Master Skywalker?”

Rey glared at the image in her hand. “Why are you calling me, Tahiri?”

Tahiri shrugged. “Master Solusar asked me to check in. She’s in the vaults. Reception’s awful.”

Rey exhaled slowly through her nose. “I landed on Auratera two hours ago. I’m inside the Jedi temple now.”

“And the blood?”

“A mishap,” Rey said coolly. “With the local wildlife.”

Tahiri scoffed. “You look like you got gored. Heal yourself. You can.”

“No.” Rey’s voice snapped like a whip. “I found a medpac. I’ll manage.”

Tahiri rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. I’ll let Master Solusar know you’re on site. Comm us when you learn anything.” She cut the connection before Rey could respond.

Rey stared at the comlink.

She didn’t get it.

None of them did.

Rey hadn’t used Force healing since Ben died.

It was too dangerous.

Rey chose to rest a while despite her desire to keep moving.

She was too exhausted after her run in with what she now knew was a skysnare bird. After her comm from Tahiri, she read up on the planet in order to prepare herself for any other horrors that might await her when she left the planet.

It had been close to five hours since she got into the temple.

During those five hours, she reported her findings to Tionne. As they spoke, Tionne managed to date some of the tech Rey had found inside.

The technology ranged from one thousand years old to about fifty years ago. Which told them that Jedi inhabited the temple and nearby auxiliary buildings as late as the Clone Wars.

Apparently the toxicity of the planet was a farce to protect the cenote from the Sith. No one had thought to question the truthfulness of the ancient Jedi's proclamations. 

She was lucky.

Now Rey descended to the bottom levels of the temple, trying to find her way into the caverns that must be there. There had to be a way that the temple was connected to the cenote. As she continued her way down the stairs—the turbolift was nonfunctional—she extended her perception, trying to get sense of where to go.

It was harder than it should have been. The nexus point was so powerful that it fuzzed everything else. She finally reached the bottom floor and opened the first door with a wince.

Just a supply closet.

The next revealed a dusty control room and the one after that was full of old junk. Had she the time, Rey would have stopped to explore it. Old habits die hard and all…

She paused in front of a nondescript door with bated breath. This was it, there was no doubt in her mind that this would lead to the caverns.

The pneumatic door did not open for her as the others did. Rey took a good look at the control panel and sighed. This again?

She placed her hand on the panel and flinched when her already sore middle finger was pricked again. The blood sample ascended and the panel began making the same whirring sound the other made as it examined her blood.

For what she assumed were midi-chlorian counts.

Apparently Acablas was not safe for individuals that were not force sensitive, so it made sense that only those with high enough counts were permitted to enter the temple and its hidden caverns. Once the scanner deemed her worthy, the door opened and Rey stepped into the dark, a barometric wind tousling her sweat dried hair. The door closed behind her and Rey was surrounded by black.

The power of Acablas was undeniable.

She couldn’t believe she was finally here. Anticipation tingled in the tips of her fingers. Somehow, someway in the next day or two, she would be leaving here with Ben Solo, newly returned, at her side. A foreign sense of giddiness beat out from her heart, so unfamiliar to her that she needed a moment to place the feeling.

This was it. She was here and now she would act.

Her glowrod barely pierced the dark, illuminating no more than a meter and a half ahead. The path sloped downward—then dropped off again. She'd counted five descents so far, each about two to four meters deep. Nothing too steep, but not shallow either. After hours of wandering through the twisted passages, she estimated she was at least two hundred meters below the surface.

Which meant that, eventually, she’d have to climb halfway up again to reach the cenote.

Doubt began to whisper. Was this the wrong path? Had she chosen wrong?

Then she felt it. A faint tug forward. A whisper of reassurance.

She pressed on.

The air grew warmer. More humid. The slow breeze passing through the cavern was the only thing keeping her from overheating. Would it have killed the ancient Jedi to install climate control?

Then the path shifted again. The incline rose sharply. Rey’s pace quickened, then turned to a sprint. Tears and sweat blurred her vision. Her breath came in quick bursts.

She was so close.

Light.

The early glow of daylight filtered in ahead. The rush of water echoed faintly, bouncing through the stone.

Rey burst from the tunnel and skidded to a stop.

And there it was.

The cenote.

A massive, smooth dome, fifty meters wide and rising seventy high, transformed from natural rock into a sacred chamber. At the very top, a gaping hole opened to the sky—a thirty-meter vertical climb to the amphitheater above. Her earlier decision not to descend from the top had been a wise one.

Mosaics covered the dome’s walls—faded, flaking, forgotten. Once-vibrant images of Jedi and peacekeeping, now decayed. Like the Order that built them.

In the center of the cenote sat a circular platform, ten meters across, surrounded by a wide gap. Beneath, the underground river surged and roared.

This was the place from her dreams.

She knew it. The nexus’s heartbeat pulsed strongest there.

It had to be where the Vergence Scatter would open.

The Force churned around her like a living storm, pressing against her, daring her to bow before it. But Rey held her ground, teeth gritted. She backed against the rough wall, basalt jabbing into her shoulders, grounding her.

Then she ran.

Pushed off the wall, sprinted to the edge of the skywalk, and leapt.

She soared, screamed, and rolled into a crouch as she landed on the platform, half healed side protesting loudly.

The storm quieted.

Here, in the center, was calm.

The Force spiraled around her, vast and complex. It was Light and Dark, death and rebirth, precision and chaos. It was everything. It was alive.

Rey reached out, calling on that power.

Let me through. Open for me.

It shoved her back like a child batting away a fly.

Again, she pushed.

Again, it rejected her.

Frustration—anger—bubbled up. Was she not strong enough? Did she come all this way for nothing?

No. She wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Ben was waiting for her. She screamed, pouring every ounce of willpower into the nexus, pushing harder, bending it—

Stop.

A voice. Sharp. Calm. Unfamiliar—and yet not.

The Force recoiled back into its vortex. Rey’s eyes snapped open. She turned, expecting a Force ghost.

Nothing.

The Sith always failed to reach the Vergence Scatter because they tried to control it. You know better than that, Rey.

The voice was gentle. Familiar. Not quite Ben’s, but close.

Shame pooled in her gut. In her desperation, she had tried to dominate the Force.

“Then what do I do?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Try asking it…

The suggestion was absurd. And yet—wasn’t that the point? She had to let go. She had to trust.

So Rey sat, crossed her legs, and breathed.

Gently, she reached into the Force. Not to demand. Only to ask.

Please help me…

The Force hesitated. Then responded.

What do you want?

To find the World Between Worlds. The Vergence Scatter.

Curiosity.

Why?

Because there is someone I love trapped there. I need to find him.

The Force listened but did not respond.

If I don’t… the galaxy will fall. Everything ends.

It hummed, almost thoughtful. And then—she felt acceptance.

Rey’s heart thundered.

The air shimmered before her, light bending impossibly.

Glass shattered.

A rift tore itself open—darkness beyond it like a wound in reality.

Rey stumbled to her feet.

This was it.

It should not exist.

And yet—it did.

Trembling, Rey stepped through.

Silence enveloped her. The roar of the river faded behind.

The World Between Worlds stretched out before her—an infinite, obsidian void lit by glowing pathways that twisted and intersected in impossible patterns. It felt ancient. Sentient.

Whispers came.

An aged voice rasped near her ear:

“Dangerous, your chosen path is… Caution, you must take…”

Another, crisp and Coruscanti, followed:

“You walk a thin line, young Rey. Tread carefully, for it is easy to get lost here.”

Then the voice from before—calmer now, encouraging:

“There are many paths, and many versions of what you seek, Rey. Rely on your heart… your bond…”

A final voice, female and familiar as wind:

“Your bond will show you the way. Heed its guidance…”

Acablas

Auratera

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: The World Between Worlds

Rey stood, staring out into the void—endless and all consuming. The words of the Jedi echoed around her, some of warning and some threaded with encouragement. One foot shifted forward slightly before stilling.

She blinked, a tremble running through her frame.

Being in the World Between worlds grounded her—terrified her.

She kept her eyes on the abyss, tracing the thin glowing threads that wove through the darkness like veins of glowing starlight. Pathways. Possibilities.

Places to search, to lose herself in.

She found that she could not move, paralyzed by the immense task before her. 

The space was infinite. How was she supposed to find Ben here? And more than that, how was she supposed to find him quickly enough to stop the invaders? It seemed impossible and yet somehow, it was going to work. It had to.

What was it that male Jedi said to her? She must rely on her heart, the force and her bond?

Rey winced, her fingers reaching to brush the back of her head. The bond flared—sharp, immediate, blinding. Touching it was like touching a live wire.

If she held on too long, she would black out. Sometimes, the aftermath would lay her out for days. It was why she bound it so tightly and kept it locked away in the back of her mind. If she didn’t reach for it, it didn’t reach for her.

Still, it lingered—an ache she couldn’t name. Like the itch of a phantom limb. She feared the pain, but she knew she must endure it. Otherwise, finding Ben would be impossible.

She gritted her teeth in determination and yanked the bindings off the broken bond, bracing herself for the impact.

It hit her like a ten ton bantha.

Pain exploded in her skull, the feeling rocking through her like shockwaves. Rey fell to her knees and cradled her head, tears of agony collecting and dripping down her cheeks. She rocked herself but held on, riding the waves of pain, first the size of the tsunami-like swell on Kef Bir down to the gentle waves she saw in Hanna City.

She was shaking by the end of it, teeth clenched in rictus. But she was through the worst of it.

Breath by breath, Rey forced herself to stand and moved on through the nausea, willing the pain to quiet as she continued on the bioluminescent pathway. Her end of the bond felt raw but she could touch it now without the blinding sensation consuming her. She held it gently, willing it to lead her to where she needed to go.

Something stirred at the end of the bond. Something familiar.

Rey’s heart began thundering in her chest and she sprinted toward it, letting the bond guide her.

It lead her to a portal.

The other side was green. A bamboo forest and green plains beyond. Could he be here? Was it really all that easy?

Rey touched the film that separated her from the other side and pushed against it, her hand passing through after a slight bit of resistance.

Instinct took over and Rey stepped through, Ben’s name on her lips.

The soundless void behind her faded from view, but Rey knew that when she needed to leave, she would be able to.

A beautiful green copse of towering bamboo surrounded her, lazily dancing in the breeze. The world she was on felt fresh. Alive.

And brimming with Ben’s presence. He was so close—likely just beyond the bamboo. She took off, a giddy grin growing on her lips. He was going to think she was completely off her rocker, wasn’t he?

Oh, but it didn’t matter! Because they were going to be together again and the part of her soul that had been cleaved in two would be mended. All would be well!

There he was!

Rey stopped short, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes prickled.

Ben stood with his back to her, shoulders broad and imposing. His dark hair curled down the nape of his neck and was short enough that it exposed just a sliver of creamy skin before meeting the collar of his gray Jedi robes.

He was speaking with younglings, who sat cross-legged in front of him, watching aptly as he demonstrated something to them with practiced hands.

Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest. Was it even possible for her to feel this happy?

Rey ran forward a few more paces and called out his name, choosing not to yell it even though she wanted to shout his name from the rooftops in exaltation. “Ben!”

She could feel the smile in the word as it crossed her lips and she didn’t care how silly she seemed. She was finally, at last in his presence after ten years alone and honestly, it was a miracle that she wasn’t sobbing on the dirt right now.

She was so giddy that she didn’t notice the stiffening of his shoulders at first. Didn’t see his hand creep to a chromium saber at his side, until he whirled around faster than a nexu—

And she was flying in the air, colliding with a granite rock.

She barely registered the look of pure rage and fear on his face as she blacked out.

When Rey came to, she was face-down on a cold stone floor. Her arms were wrenched behind her, wrists locked in binders. Every breath sent pain through her ribs.

She tried shifting, wincing at the pull the movement made on her screaming shoulders. She stifled her groan and craned her neck to take in her surroundings, catching the eye of her guard.

The woman looked to be close to Rey’s age, with tightly braided white hair and nut brown skin. She glared down at Rey with pure contempt as if daring her to move again and muttered into her comlink.

“She’s awake.” The woman turned away, though tension radiated from her shoulders. Her hand gripped tightly on the pommel of her lightsaber, like she was itching for a reason to use it.

What the hell?

A dozen scenarios had flickered through Rey’s mind when she’d crossed that portal.

None of them involved a jail cell.

The pneumatic door hissed open.

A bald man entered, his expression unreadable. He said something to the woman—too low for Rey to catch—but the exchange clearly escalated. The woman’s voice rose. Rey used the distraction to sit up. Her shoulders screamed in protest.

She locked eyes with her guard and gave her a defiant look. The woman bristled.

“Let me take the lead on this, Tai,” she snapped.

“He asked me to do it,” the man—Tai—replied calmly.

He. Ben?

“I want to talk to him,” Rey croaked. Her throat was parched, her voice a rasp.

The pair of knights froze and the man, Tai, turned. It was the first time he’d shown any emotion on his face. His expression was a mask of barely controlled fury. “You dare make that demand? After everything you’ve done to us? To him?”

“Everything I’ve done? I’ve only just gotten here.”

The woman, Voe, hissed. “Is that a threat, Palpatine?”

Rey blanched. Palpatine? How could they know that? Unless…

Unless there was another version of her here.

A version that had embraced the darkness.

“I’m not who you think I am—“

Voe cut her off with a harsh laugh. “Oh, aren’t you? You are not Kira Palpatine, heir to the deposed Emperor Palpatine? You are not the very same Kira Palpatine who destroyed Hosnian Prime and more in the name of the Shadow Empire? The same Kira Palpatine who has been scheming to wipe out the Jedi Order? Who has this sick, twisted fascination with my friend? Who killed—“

“That’s enough, Voe.” Tai spoke sharply, voice calmer though his eyes betrayed him. He hated her as much as this Voe woman did.

Rey shook her head, reeling. “I’m not her. I swear.”

Voe scoffed. “I don’t believe you, Palpatine.”

She stepped closer, voice cold. “Now tell us why you’re here and where your transport is. I don’t mind getting… creative.”

“Voe,” Tai warned. “I’m in charge.”

He approached the forcefield. “Why are you here, Kira Palpatine?”

“My name isn’t Kira Palpatine.”

“Then who are you?”

“Rey.”

Voe snorted and leaned against the wall, fingering the hilt light saber. “That’s a load of bantha  poodoo.”

It was Rey’s turn to glare at the white haired woman. “It’s true. I’m not this Kira Palpatine you’re accusing me of being. My name is Rey and I’m here looking for…” hesitated, “For someone,” she concluded lamely.

“Rey who?”

Rey swallowed and thought back to the foolish young woman who, while still fully in the grip of denial over who she was and what she’d lost, chosen a name that didn’t belong to her thinking that it would make everything all better. She looked away, her face growing warm. “I’d rather not say.”

“Rey who?” Tai asked again, more firmly.

His eyes sliced into hers and in spite of her misgivings and embarrassment, felt compelled to admit. “Rey Skywalker.”

Voe burst out laughing and Rey glowered at her. “You can’t be serious,” the other woman breathed, eyes glittering with unkind disbelief. “Rey Skywalker?”

Tai didn’t laugh. He just watched her with his inscrutable blue eyes.

“Seriously, this is so rich coming from her. She’s trying to manipulate us, Tai.” Voe declared over her shoulder. “We’ve got her here, why not end it? He would be grateful for it, I’m sure.”

Rey froze. “That’s not the Jedi way,” she blurted. Was she going to die here? Kriff. Why did the Force draw her to this portal if only for it to end like this?

Voe’s face hardened and she slammed the barrier with a single fist. “As if you would know, Sith!”

“She’s right.”

Both women looked to the bald man who spoke.

Voe sent her sharp glare to her companion. “Come again?”

Tai stepped closer to the force field and stared down at Rey. “She’s right that it isn’t the Jedi way, Voe.”

Rey could feel the man examine her and she stayed still, determined to show them that she was no threat to anyone. That she was not this Kira Palpatine they clearly had so much experience with.

“You look older than her.”

Rey drew back, stung. “Excuse me?”

Tai continued observing her. “Kira Palpatine is about twenty standard years old. You are older than that.”

Rey scowled. She was ten years older than that, but he didn’t need to point it out. She imagined all the fine lines he was probably staring at right now. She must have missed them…

Looking at Voe, he continued, unbothered by Rey’s glare. “Can you not tell? Her face is leaner than Kira’s. And her eyes…”

Voe narrowed her eyes and scrutinized Rey, who held her stare evenly. “They aren’t gold.” She shook her head. “It could be a trick.”

Tai resumed looking down at Rey. “It doesn’t feel like a trick, Voe. Reach out and feel. Does she feel like a Darksider?”

Voe pursed her lips and Rey felt a probing she hadn’t noticed before. Strange. Had the other man been feeling out at her this whole time without her realizing? That would take a very adept hand…

“She doesn’t feel like a Darksider…” Voe finally admitted reluctantly.

Rey saw her chance. “That’s because I’m not. I rejected my heritage. That’s why I go by Skywalker. I need to see Ben.” She swallowed heavily. “Please…”

The pair of knights stared at each other and the seconds passed. Rey began to lose hope when finally Voe relented and gave a single nod. She left without a word and Tai remained behind, still watching her thoughtfully.

“You say you rejected your heritage. Did you always know you were a Palpatine?”

Rey looked away, feeling ashamed at the constant reminders of where she came from. With a sigh she shook her head. “No…”

Tai didn’t say anything more after that and while she waited for Ben to arrive, the dusk deepened into night.

She knew where she was now. After she recovered from the shock of being locked up and interrogated by Jedi, she realized that she was on Ossus. The location of Luke’s old Jedi Temple. Through the stone walls, she could hear children cheering and playing around and she felt a sudden home sickness for the Praxeum and her younglings.

Rey snapped to attention, sensing a familiar presence approach.

She held her breath, feeling her heart beat a little faster as the door hissed open and a towering, broad shouldered figure crossed the threshold.

Ben Solo was just as she remembered him. Dark hair, pale skin littered with beauty marks and eyes full of tumultuous emotion. She felt the tears collect before she could stop them.

“Ben.”Rey’s voice broke over his name as she said it, a weakened wave crashing on rough shore.

And then her heart shattered when she saw him flinch. Because of her.

Tai took his leave, taking a moment to clap a hand to Ben’s shoulder in comfort. He sent Rey one final wary glance and was gone.

They were left alone.

For the first time in ten years, Rey and Ben were together again. She could not believe it. She took him in hungrily, re-memorizing every single forgotten detail.

She thought that she had preserved his memory well in her heart, but there were some things that had been forgotten over the years. Like the permanent crease in his brow from years of scowling. Or the exact shade of his eyes.

But he wouldn’t look at her.

In fact, he was looking everywhere but Rey.

She felt her heart crack a little more at that. She tried to speak, to say anything to get him to just look at her once, but nothing came out. So she stared helplessly at him, completely at his mercy.

The silence dragged on until finally: “Voe says you’re not Kira.”

Rey nodded quickly, her voice rushing out eagerly to confirm that fact. “My name is Rey.”

Something, maybe the sound of her voice, caused Ben to finally glance at her sidelong. “You’ll have to forgive me, Rey, for not being comfortable here. You look so much like her. Sound like her too.”

“But I’m not her. I’m not from here. I’m—”

Ben looked at her sharply, cutting her off. “Where are you from? And how did you get here? I’m surprised the others haven’t asked you that yet.”

Rey shrugged slightly with her shoulders as her hands were still bound behind her. “I’m from a different reality, I suppose.”

“Why are you here?”

Rey met his eyes, solemn. No need to hide the truth. “I’m here because I was drawn to you.”

Ben scowled. Clearly he didn’t like that answer.

But Rey refused to feel embarrassed. Why should she? It was true and he needed to know it.

He started pacing, restless energy filling the room. Rey tried to reach out through the bond, to reassure him, to get a read on him…anything.

Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t right.

She withdrew from him with a sharp intake of breath, as though she’d been burned.

It felt wrong, unnatural even, that he was in the same room as her yet she didn’t feel that sense of oneness she’d come to expect whenever they were together. Her stomach twisted in knots.

What was she doing here? Why was she tormenting this man? Her head spun and she felt dizzy, everything in her telling her this was a mistake.

A mistake, a mistake, a mistake…

“Who am I to you, Rey?” He asked her suddenly, pausing to look at her in distress. Confirmation that her being here was just as damaging to him. Her skin prickled, uncomfortable.

Rey swallowed in an effort to break away from her thoughts. “You were my enemy,” she said softly. “And my equal.”

Ben’s brow’s drew together. “Your enemy? Did you live with the emperor? Were you his heir there too?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. I didn’t know I was a Palpatine until you told me I was. Before that, I spent most of my life as a scavenger on Jakku.”

Ben blinked, startled. “I’m sorry.” He settled on the bench against the back wall and watched her with inquisitive eyes. “How did our paths cross? It seems unlikely what with you being from Jakku.”

Rey bit her lip, wondering how to tell this Ben that he had fallen to the Dark side in her reality. Would this impact him? Would it cause him to spin out? Tempt him to fall? She observed him and felt out with her senses, wincing at the lack of their bond.

“It all started with a brave little droid that had a very big secret…”

She told him about it all. The map. The Resistance. The bond.

“You interrogated me and I fought back. Somehow…we connected and we woke a latent bond…”

Ben leaned forward. “A latent bond?”

Rey nodded slowly. “Apparently, as you discovered much later, we had been connected since my birth. We’re a dyad.”

“A dyad? You and I?” He looked bemused and perhaps a little off put. Her stomach twisted again. “And I…was on the wrong side?”

“Yes…”

He nodded, taking the news better than Rey expected. “And did I stay that way?”

She shook her head. “No… At the end, you turned back to the light.”

He watched her knowingly. “But I died.”

She closed her eyes and felt heavy, hating the reminder even as he stood before her alive and well. “Yes…saving me.”

“I must have loved you.”

Rey’s eyes snapped open and her cheeks flared, heat creeping across her face. “What makes you say that?”

He smiled slightly, leaning against the stone wall looking more at ease now. “Because I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t.”

It was Rey’s turn to avoid Ben’s gaze. “I wouldn’t know, he never told me…”

“He did.”

It was her unintentional use of ‘he’ that cemented the fact that this wasn’t her Ben. Her shoulders sagged, and a shaky breath escaped her.

It was not because of sorrow, but rather because of relief.

He was a variant of Ben.

A wholly light version of him. But it was clear that he wasn’t hers. It was for the best, wasn’t it? This version of Ben could hardly stand to look at her.

Something happened between this Ben and Kira Palpatine that eviscerated him. He hated her, she could tell that much.

It led to her next question.

“Who did Kira kill?”

Ben froze. “Excuse me?”

Rey watched him with sad eyes, “That white haired woman, Voe, accused me of killing someone important to you before she and that bald man realized I wasn’t Kira Palpatine. Who did she kill?”

Ben regarded her, his shoulders stiff and eyes dark. Rey began to believe he wouldn’t answer but he surprised her after a long silence.

He shifted and placed his elbows on his knees, head bowed. “My father.”

Tears welled in her eyes. This time, they were tears of sadness for his loss, but they were also tears of relief that he didn’t carry the burden of his father’s murder here.

“I’m so sorry, Ben.”

Ben huffed, “You’re very different from her. Kira would never express remorse for anything she did.”

He waved his hand. Her binders fell away. The barrier dropped and he stepped through, extending his hand out to her.

Rey stared at it, afraid to take it. “What are you doing?”

He extended his hand again, “I’m not the Ben you’re looking for,” he said gently, but firmly.

Then a sad smile formed at his lips. He laughed softly. “It’s strange… but I strangely find myself wishing that I could be.”

He pulled her up and then backed away. “You need to go back. Find him.” 

She regarded him, unable to move. She was free to go, so why wasn’t she running for the portal in the bamboo?

One knee lifted and the other followed until she stood before him, a mix of emotions she couldn’t parse through flooding her.

They watched each other, two broken people unsure of what to say. Ben broke first. He stepped aside and she passed him, feet moving slowly, as though there was more to be said.

“I—“ she paused, what else could she possibly say to him? “I’m sorry…” sorry that Kira is evil here? Sorry that she came and caused him pain? Sorry that he wasn’t who she was looking for after all? Her eyes caught on her pack and light saber, both looking thankfully untouched. Deft hands swiped them and secured them where they belonged. She turned to leave.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Rey.”

Their eyes held for a heart beat, eyes that should have held nothing but love for her but didn’t. She nodded to him once and turned away.

She hoped he found happiness here somehow…

And then she was off—eyes scanning the bamboo thicket, searching for the portal’s familiar hum.

She crossed the wide grassy field in silence, stars shimmering overhead. The meadow, abandoned for the day, whispered with wind, but the portal still lingered in the shadows—waiting, unchanged, as though it had known she’d return.

Rey paused at its edge, glancing over her shoulder to be sure no one had followed. Then, with a firm breath, she stepped forward.

The moment she passed through, a sharp, crystalline shhhrrack—like ice freezing instantly over a pond—rang out behind her.

She turned.

The portal was gone.

No swirl of light. No flicker of energy.

Just a smooth, glassy surface—unnaturally still.

Frowning, Rey reached for it.

Her hand slammed into solid crystal.

“What…?”

She tried again, harder. Nothing. It was sealed.

Her brow furrowed. One entry? One exit? That’s it?

Panic surged. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, breath hitching in short, shallow gasps.

There’s no going back. No second chances.

The weight of the last twelve hours collapsed on her all at once—the interrogation, the false Ben, the revelation that each portal might only give her a single opportunity.

How did I think I could do this?

Her nails scraped uselessly against the crystal surface, searching for a crack, a seam—anything.

There was nothing.

She curled her fingers into fists. The sharp bite of her own nails grounded her. Pain was real. Pain was hers.

Why? she thought bitterly. Why did the bond lead me here if that wasn’t him?

Shaking, she pressed her trembling fingers to her lips. Her pulse thudded beneath them.

Calm down.

She closed her eyes.

This is still the best way to stop them. The Vergence Scatter exists for a reason. You will find him. You must.

Slowly, she inhaled. Set her jaw. Straightened her spine.

She had come too far. Sacrificed too much. There was no space left for doubt.

She adjusted her pack. Clipped her saber back to her belt.

Then, without a backward glance, Rey walked away from the closed portal.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Fragments of Him

She didn’t know how long she walked.

There was no measure of time in the World Between Worlds. No hunger. No thirst. No fatigue.

Just forward movement.

As she marched on, Rey caught glimpses of lives lived. And lives lost.

A young couple embrace in the shadows of the old Senate building on Coruscant. Their hopes made fragile by the quiet pulse of new life between them.

A sandy-haired youth stands on familiar dunes, twin suns kissing the horizon… He longs for more than a life of dust and duty.

An aged being, diminutive yet full of power, paces with furrowed brows before a young knight, his padawan braid freshly shorn. The young man bows low, burdened with the task of training a former slave boy. Will he be enough for this child, he wonders?

On and on it went. Different paths, different realities.

She stopped when she came across a portal that shimmered with the light of a forest moon. It revealed a beautiful young woman in a green gown standing before a tall man, all roguish charm, beneath the dappled eaves of evergreen trees. They face each other, the promise of a bright future ahead of them, eyes full of love.

Rey stepped closer, fingers tracing over the young face of Leia as she smiled up at a young Han Solo. How happy they looked. So bright and full of hope.

Reluctantly, she pulled away.

It wasn’t her future.

Eventually, the weakened bond, still raw, pulsed faintly. She stopped, searching out a headway. Her eyes examined the starlit paths as her senses ventured all around her.

There! Her eyes flew open, locked onto a new target. A distant portal shimmered with dark light, as if calling to her.

She ran to it, harried by a sense of urgency she hadn’t felt in eons.

When Rey crossed through, she immediately sensed something was off.

The Force felt wrong.

It was dark in the place she came to and she knew immediately she was not planet side. The air smelled of ozone and stale, recycled air. She felt around blindly for a door, a control panel—anything to give her a sense of where she was.

A door slid open, revealing a utilitarian hallway lit by harsh fluorescent lights, the patina of the floor reflecting her face back as though it were a mirror. She looked both ways and reached out for signs of nearby life forms.

It was blessedly empty.

Though she did sense a large group of beings below. Perhaps a mess hall? Or barracks?

She stepped out and ignited her lightsaber, lightly nicking the frame to mark where she came from and then slipped down the hallway, careful to stick to the shadows.

The call of the bond led her to a turbolift—one that felt entirely too severe and eerily familiar. She took in the bright white light panels that contrasted with black durasteel and froze.

I know that when the time comes, you’ll be the one to turn…

Was she…on the Supremacy?

How?

The turbolift door opened and revealed a familiar room no longer draped in scarlet, but in rich fabric the color of pitch. Massive drapes hung from the rafters of the cavernous room and pooled on shining obsidian floors, deadening all sound. It was like a tomb.

A large throne set upon a dais sat in the center of the room, empty. It was austere and all sharp angles, like it had been cut from onyx. Different from the one she’d been forced to kneel before more than a decade ago. 

Snoke’s throne room had changed much since last she saw it. She stepped off the lift and shivered, the air icy around her.

The Force felt wrong in here, worse than it had outside. It was warped. Jagged. Like it had been splintered and reformed against its will.

She hesitated, her feet stilling. Something inside of her begged her to retreat and come back the way she came, to pass through the portal and never look back, but she resisted. The Force brought her here for a purpose. And she intended to find out.

Ignoring her instincts, Rey walked deeper into the room, her uneven breathing loud in her ears. The shadows and gloom of the place jumped at her, filling her with primal fear.

As she approached the black throne, her attention was drawn by something else… A second dais a few meters to the side, ever so slightly hidden by the other. This one held a throne as well. It was smaller, more delicate and made of white stone. There were a few items laid purposefully on the seat, an air of reverence hovering around the space.

Curious, Rey changed course and walked to the throne of white stone. Despair clung heavily to the space. It weighed her down as she neared.

The Force pooled around the dais like blood around a blade, heavy and unmoving. Whatever had happened here, it had never healed.

Her breath caught in her throat. What could have happened to cause such agony?

There were three ornate boxes arranged meticulously on the white stone, the largest being the length of Rey’s forearm and the smallest the size of her palm. Her heart thudded in her chest erratically. Her palms prickled, cold with sweat. What would she find here? Why did everything feel so wrong?

Rey stepped onto the dais and peered down eyes widening at what she found.

The light caught on the hilt of a saber. The Skywalker, still whole. Whole, she wondered? It was broken here…

A carefully folded length of fabric, charcoal gray and rough looking.

She looked into the smallest box. There was lock of hair inside, woven into an intricate knot. Neat. Preserved. Worshipped.

Her stomach turned.

She glanced down and noticed more trinkets she’d missed earlier. Dried flowers, a faded coral. An old Rebellion helmet.

A little doll made of scraps and twine.

She backed away, unsure of what she was seeing. Unable to comprehend why the Force dragged over that precise spot. There was so much pain. 

The lightsaber made sense. When Kylo Ren first laid eyes on the Skywalker saber, he demanded it—claiming it as his birthright.

But the cloth? And the hair?

Whose hair was it?

Her hand twitched upward, fingers reaching instinctively for her own. She didn’t want to look. Didn’t need to, to know who it belonged to.

She already knew…

Rey’s eyes fluttered closed. She was going to be sick.

He made a shrine. For her? As if she were some deity to be worshipped. He’d even gone to her home on Jakku and stolen her things. Why would Ben do that? Unless it wasn’t Ben here.

It couldn’t be Ben here…

The air shifted. Rey pressed her trembling fingers against her thighs. She stiffened her spine.

A familiar presence filled the chamber and she hid her fear. Concealed it behind a mask.

Heavy footsteps thudded from behind her from the turbolift. The cadence was quick. Angry.

They slowed and then stopped all together. Rey felt the Force churning like a storm and then she heard his voice.

“Rey?” His voice trembled as though he were afraid. As though he thought saying her name would cause her to disappear into the ether.

Rey collected herself and then turned to face this variant of Ben Solo that she wasn’t sure she wanted to meet.

He stared at her like she wasn’t really there. Like he had seen her before a thousand times. In dreams, in delusions. A ghostly specter he couldn’t reach. In his eyes, she saw something broken, someone broken.

Kylo looked older. Silver threaded through his temples, starkly contrasting against the inky black of his hair. His skin, always pale before, took on a sallow pallor—grayish almost— like he hadn’t seen sunlight in years.

His eyes were the most changed.

She stared into his eyes, noticing the lack of life in them. The fiery intensity, crackling storm of feeling—was gone. Now they were cold. Hollow. Hardened. Set deeply into his skull, highlighted by the dark circles that ringed them.

“You’re real…” he breathed. He took an uncertain step forward, then another and another.

Rey’s tongue felt heavy. Her breath was locked in her chest. It was all she could do to stare.

He stopped a few paces away, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst.

“I knew the Force would bring you back to me. I knew it.” He looked frenetic, manic energy pouring off of him. He smiled too wide, too brightly. “He stole you from me. He thought he could punish me by taking you from me. But you’ve come back. You’ve come back to me. You’re mine again.”

Kylo didn’t come any closer and for that, Rey was thankful.

The energy around him pulsed like a live wire—wrong, unstable, hungry. It made the back of her neck prickle, alarm bells ringing in her head.

This was not her Ben.

She knew that before she came to this place. So why did she stay? Why hadn’t she run as soon as she saw the delicate throne with relics of herself so obviously obsessed over?

She knew the answer.

And hated herself for it...

She needed to know that her death had broken Ben like his had broken her.

It very clearly had.

Rey stared at him, walking a tight rope between compassion and revulsion. 

“It’s really me…” her voice unsteady as she took in his wide, wonder-glazed eyes.

She needed answers. Needed to know why he was here on the Supremacy, why he hadn’t turned back to the light.

“What is this, Ben? Why are you still here?”

He flinched at his name—Ben— and instantly the wonder shifted to suspicion. “What do you mean, why?” he snapped. “This is the heart of my empire.” He gestured around the dark space, never taking his eyes off her.

“I saw you turn…” she braved a step forward and reached for him.

He stumbled back and turned away from her, shoulders shaking and head bowed. She stopped short and dropped her hands into her lap, heart thundering.

Dangerous. This was very dangerous.

“I would have thought…” he said slowly, his voice quiet over his shoulder, “That you would be grateful. Glad, even…should the Force ever bring you back to me.”

Rey’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

His voice dropped. Low. Cold. “I never forgot you, Rey. Never stopped thinking about you.”

He turned and pointed to the white throne behind her. Gestured to the relics. “I am emperor of the known galaxy and I made you my empress. My goddess. Who sacrificed herself so that I might ascend to my rightful place.”

Rey’s blood turned to ice. The nausea doubled down and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retching right then and there. But he wasn’t done.

“You are worshipped, Rey.” He turned, eyes dark, possessive. “Beloved by everyone."

"My beautiful martyr,” he crooned. 

Then she felt it.

A familiar pressure coiled in the back of her mind—something old, something once sacred. Something precious.

The bond.

He was forcing it open.

Rey gasped as a spear of cold shoved its way toward her thoughts. It wasn’t like before. No quiet invitation. No shared breath across stars. This was violent. Clumsy. His face twisted in concentration, brow slick with sweat, lips drawn back in strain.

It was like he was trying to pick a lock with a crowbar.

Her knees nearly buckled. The pressure built behind her eyes, her temples. A ringing started in her ears.

“Stop,” she whispered, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He was reaching, clawing, demanding access. Demanding her.

“Why. Won’t. You. Submit!” he roared, his voice cracking like thunder, shaking the air around them. His eyes gleamed with fury, with desperation. A cornered animal in the shell of a god.

But the bond—the real bond—didn’t know him. Didn’t recognize him.

It rejected him.

It was like two magnets pressing against each other, wrong ends forced together. A visceral pushback. The Force itself heaved in her chest, a scream caught in her throat.

Rey staggered. Her vision blurred. Blood sang in her ears.

And then—something snapped inside her.

"Enough!" she screamed, and with a cry that echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap, she thrust outward with the Force.

Kylo’s body wrenched violently, his arm thrown back as if struck by a gale. He froze mid-motion, suspended—caught in stasis. Hovering, eyes wide with shock and fury.

He strained against it, mouth twisting into a silent snarl.

Rey stood panting, the air crackling around her, her hands trembling. She stared at him—this man who wore Ben’s face but wielded it like a weapon.

He stared back at her, wild eyes disbelieving. They were both panting, drained by the exchange.

“You’ve grown stronger,” he breathed, anger dissipating to reverence.

She released him and watched him warily. She needed to get out of here. She needed to make for the portal and cross it. Beyond the portal lay safety from this twisted place.

Would he let her leave, though?

She doubted it…

“What happened to you, Ben? You aren’t supposed to be like this,” her voice came as a plead, shaking.

He straightened and straightened his robes. Robes that were threaded through with gold, far more elaborate than the ones he wore before.

“What do you mean?” He smiled at her without any warmth. “I am exactly what I was meant to be. I am what your death made me. Master of all. The Supreme Leader.” His eyes were like chips of ice, black and glittering. It sent a shiver down her spine.

He prowled forward, watching her carefully, a predator on its prey. But the cracks were showing and all she saw was a creature off kilter, coming closer in staggering steps.

Rey’s fingers curled into fists but she would not give ground. Showing any signs of weakness would prove a mistake.

“Why won’t the bond open to me?” He asked casually. As if the bond’s denial wasn’t affecting him, as if he wasn’t being driven mad by the lack of contact with her.

She lifted her chin and inhaled through her nose sharply, the truth crystalline. “Because I am not your Rey. We are not bonded.”

He huffed, humorless and dragged a gloved finger lazily along her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. “But you will be.”

Invisible hands grappled at her, freezing her in place. Her mouth gaped, skin prickling in horror as Kylo grinned down at her, expression feral.

“My Rey died, but you are here now.” His hand drifted down the smooth column of her throat and he inhaled her scent, eyes shuttering closed. “Mmm, you smell just like her…”

Rey clenched her teeth. Tried to pull herself away. She kept her eyes away from him, hating how much this monster looked like Ben. He wasn’t Ben.

Except as much as she tried denying it, he was Ben. A version of him, at least. A version who gave into the dark side in his grief. And that grief twisted him, decayed his soul and gave him reason to give into his darkest inclinations.

Her eyes caught on something in the back of the throne room.

A darkened tank she hadn’t noticed before was stretched high behind Kylo’s black throne. She could faintly see something inside it. Before she could make sense of what she saw, she shuddered and looked away. Whatever was in there, she had a feeling she was better off not knowing.

Kylo noticed though, and pounced on the momentary weakness. “What do you make of my little display?” Rey’s body rotated and she faced the tank, head locked forward. Pricks of cold sweat beaded on her brow, dread rising up.

He gave a lazy gesture and the tank lit up from within.

Snoke’s severed and mutilated corpse floating inside, surrounded by sickly viscous liquid. His hollowed face stared out sightlessly, frozen in an eternal scream. The skin was stretched taut, his skull nearly bursting through. In some places, bone shone through, stark against the bloated skin.

“I made it slow…” Kylo whispered into her ear, his chest pressed against her back. Rey shivered, heart beating erratically, her skin itching to be away from him.

“After he killed you, I made sure his death was excruciating. I wanted him to feel what I was feeling inside.” He chuckled mirthlessly, thumbs rubbing Rey’s shoulder blades. The paths left gooseflesh in their wake. “He was begging for death by the end.”

The Force crackled inside her like a storm waiting to be released. She needed to get away now.

Rey grabbed a hold of her connection to the Force with a sharp jerk and tore free, the air vibrating around her. She whirled around and with a deep, centering breath, force-shoved Kylo into the white throne with a crack, shattering the delicate transparisteel cases that were perched there in a tinkling shower.

He fell to the dais, limp as the rag doll that rested next to his bleeding temple and Rey spun on her heel, sprinting in a mad dash to the turbolift. Time was against her.

How long did she have?

How long?

She gripped her lightsaber, itching to ignite it but she held steady. No need to draw attention to herself if she could get away before Kylo came to. Her eyes jumped to the altimeter, numbers flashing as her descent continue.

Her body buzzed with anticipation as the lift blessedly began to slow, legs tense and coiled, ready to leap through the doors into who knew what.

The turbolift opened and Rey spilled out, sprinting for the hall she first walked through upon her arrival.

Only something wasn’t right.

This was the wrong floor.

The turbolift deposited her four floors too high.

She whirled back and watched the lift shoot back up to the throne room, dread filling the pit of her stomach.

He was awake.

She cursed to herself and immediately began searching for stairs—rails, anything that would drop her down to the next floor.

Her time was running out.

If he found her, she might not escape. Even armed as she was, even as adept and trained as she was, Kylo outweighed her by a good thirty-two kilos. He was stronger than her. Faster than her.

And he was angry.

She could feel the cloud of fury that surrounded him, coming closer by the second.

Sweat dripped down her brow as her breath came in short bursts.

Down the hall, Rey spied a balcony outcropping that opened into the belly of the ship. She took off, feet slipping on the too slick floor.

She grasped the rail and heaved forward, examining her options.

There were none. The wall beneath was solid durasteel. No rails opening to new floors, not even transparisteel windows to smash through. She gulped, anxiety rising as her time fell away. Her eyes stung as sweat collected in the corners. She blinked hard, centering herself on the sting.

There were no stairs nearby. No way over the balcony. Kylo was closing in.

She reached out with her perception, trying to get a sense of how close he was.

And she noticed that there were no beings around aside from his raging signature.

There were no storm troopers.

Which meant—

Rey’s eyes caught on the shining floor and she smirked.

Her saber hummed golden, bathing the black durasteel in warm light. Without hesitation, she drove the blade straight down. There was more resistance that she anticipated. Baring her teeth in a primal growl she continued, unrelenting. Molten metal bubbled up, hissing red hot. The heat bit at her face. Her arms ached. But she didn’t let up.

With a triumphant shout, she force-shoved the glowing disk down to the next level with a resounding clang.

Again.

And again.

Each circle took more effort, each cut left her trembling, but she did not stop. When at last she made it to the correct level, her arms were leaden. But it didn’t matter. She was where she needed to be now.

Rey shot a smug glance up at the four glowing holes she’d carved like a ladder to freedom and left the room without a backward glance, eager to leave this cursed place once and for all. Her heart lifted as she caught sight of the hallway—eyes honing in on the saber-nicked door that marked her escape.

Almost there! She surged forward—

—just as a crackling red blade came slashing down towards her.

Her instincts screamed at her and her golden saber snapped up just in time. Blades collided with a screech. Rey’s shoulder screamed at the impact but she held firm.

Kylo Ren stepped forward with fire in his eyes. Blood still dripped down the side of his head where it had collided with stone, giving his face a haunted, unhinged quality.

Her heart raced, adrenaline making everything sing inside. She was so close. So close. He wasn’t going to stop her. She would die before he stopped her from leaving this cursed reality .

Rey glared at this twisted version of Ben, daring him to make the first move.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he seethed through clenched teeth. He looked betrayed and so, so angry.

“I thought it was obvious,” Rey shot back. “I’m leaving.”

Kylo’s lifted—ready to strike. “I don’t think so.”

And then he lunged.

Rey snarled—parried and slashed back.

This fight needed to end quickly.

She force-shoved him. But this time, Kylo was prepared. He slid back a meter—two at most and ground his heels into the floor. His glare smoldered up at her through dark brows.

“You. Are. Mine.”

She pointed her lightsaber at him like a line drawn in the sand. Her chest rose and fell in sharp pants, a stitch in her side. She spied an inconspicuous pipe running down the ceiling. This was her chance!

Not taking her eyes off of Kylo, Rey wrenched her hand toward it and pulled. It broke as easily as a stalk of wheat in her grasp. Steam erupted—filling corridor in a cloud of white.

Rey took off.

She sprinted for the room that contained the portal—leapt through the threshold and bounded for the shimmering tear in the room that would save her—take her away from this place.

She was nearly sobbing in relief as her right hand reached through to the void.

And then—jerked to a stop.

A massive black hand clamped around her wrist like a vice. Crushing. Bruising.

Rey twisted, catching sight of him over her shoulder—all rage and malice. Her jaw locked.

Not. Today.

She clenched her fist and with her free hand, shoved at him, force rising to meet her command.

Nothing. He held fast.

Panic started to settle in. She shoved again and again and this time—

This time, he stumbled.

Only just, but it was enough.

Rey kicked him, hard, her heel driving into his gut with a crack. Pain exploded in her arm—something inside her snapped—but she wrenched herself free with a scream—

And threw herself into the portal.

The moment she passed through, the world shifted.

Sound folded inward. Light twisted. Her body was weightless—suspended in a web of stars and threads, the Force vibrating around her like a struck chord.

She turned, unable to look away as the portal sealed behind her, relief turning her bones to jelly.

Kylo screamed. Not a word, not her name. Just rage, raw and splintering.

His saber clattered to the floor and he flew at the barrier between them, pounding heavy fists into the solid crystal. “No! No, no, no, no, NO!” His fist crunched into the portal, colliding with a sickening crunch. “COME BACK!” He bellowed, his rage giving way to terror.

Rey couldn’t look away at his unraveling. He crumbled in front of her, pleading, cursing—begging.

And then, stillness.

His hand fell open against the barrier, a man defeated. Dark eyes bore into hers for a lifetime. Still, she stood, watching him silently. They stood like that for seconds, for lifetimes, until the portal shimmered and he faded from view.

Rey inhaled, her breath catching. She blinked away tears she didn’t know were there.

She was free.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: Fragments of Him Part II

Rey walked.

The silence was deeper now, where the sparkling paths crossed and overlapped, like the veins of a leaf.

It was still here, quiet.

There was a certain kind of peace that wanted calmed her, whispered to her that she was safe here. That nothing could harm her. She wanted to believe it. 

Her chest still felt hollow, though. Every step away was a reminder of what she’d seen. What she could never unsee.

Crazed eyes, possessive. They contained the fire of Ben—the intensity too. But none of the softness.

She swallowed and tried to push thoughts away of that reality. But her wrist ached fiercely, protesting her wishes. She cradled it against her chest, refusing to heal it.

It was silly, she knew. She would be using her own life force to repair the damage.

But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. It was like there was a block there. Impenetrable.  

Eventually, she fashioned a sling out of her wrappings and let it rest on her breast as she wandered past immeasurable worlds.

More time passed…

The next world that called to her sang softly, whispering into her heart and her mind. The shape of the portal was gauzy and glowing with a softness that almost seemed shy.

She wanted to pass by without a second glance.

Why should she stop? She’d been spurned twice now. One almost cost her life.

The Force chimed in, cajoling her to stop.

That made her hesitate, her determined pace slowing.

It wasn’t driving her to go in as it had the other realities.

Instead, it invited her to watch. Observe.

She stopped at the opening and stared in, like an exhausted outsider looking into a warm, cosy home in the depths of winter.

Beyond the portal was a large assembly of beings of all sorts. Human. Bothan. Togruta. Iktochi. Quarren. Ithorian. The list went on.

They were all dressed in their finest. Silks and satins. Velvets and Damask.

At the center of the room was a tall human behind a podium. He was addressing the room, eyes alight with excitement—with passion and purpose.

His presence commanded the room—relaxed, charming, self-assured. All attendees sat forward in their seats, anticipating every word that fell from his lips.

There was something familiar about him.

Rey’s breath caught.

Ben.

Or rather, a different version of Ben. One unburdened, full of light and purpose. He was not full of rage. There was no conflict in his whiskey-hued eyes. This Ben was dressed in long, senatorial robes, his hair neatly coifed. This Ben was regal. Calm. At peace.

This was a Ben untouched by the tragedy of the Skywalker bloodline.

She stepped closer unconsciously and ever so slightly rested the fingers of her good hand against the portal.

She stepped closer. He laughed at something someone offscreen said, shaking his head with a crooked grin so reminiscent of Han that it twisted something in her chest.

He looked… happy.

Rey narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”

She placed a hand on the surface of the portal. It rippled under her touch, welcoming.

For the first time since she’d re-entered the Vergence Scatter, she wanted to step through.

She didn’t though.

Rey watched instead, watching the Ben with growing fascination.

He dismissed the assembly with a flourish and the room emptied. Rey watched the uninhabited room, conflicted. She itched to follow him.

Should she?

She looked around, the void quiet. Again the question came. Should she go in? Should she follow this Ben? Could he be hers? The thoughts were unrelenting.

At last, she took a fortifying breath and nodded to herself.

Her toe crossed the threshold and she was transported into a new world.

The smell of lavender and lilac filled Rey’s nostrils, delicate and light. She inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet scents.

She hurried out of the assembly hall, flagged by grand pillars and shimmering chandeliers and onto a massive colonnade that overlooked a massive city of ivory and glass.

It stopped her short.

Patches of deep green peeked through the towering stone buildings, a lovely patchwork of urban life and nature. The hum of speeders, the trilling sounds of birds and the gentle crash of ocean waves beyond was a balm to Rey’s soul. She felt peace here she’d never experienced before.

What is this utopia? Was Rey’s first thought. And then—

This is Ben’s life. She smiled at that, grateful that in some universe, Ben Solo lived in peace and happiness.

She crept forward, instinctively sticking to the shadows, drawn by the steady rhythm of a voice carried on the wind.

Ben.

He was just ahead—standing beneath an elegant awning on a terrace, engaged in easy conversation with a Bothan diplomat. He laughed, and the sound was so normal it almost broke her.

He looked... at home.

This reality suited him…

The Force here was subtle. It was diffused through the air, gentle and unobtrusive. She stared at him and didn’t feel the magnetic pull she’d grown to expect with Ben. Something ached inside her at this realization. This Ben did not feel like hers. Not like the one who fought and died on Exegol to save her, nor the upright Jedi. Or the one who spiraled into darkness after her death.

He was just himself…

And maybe for the first time, Rey was witnessing what Ben could have been like if he hadn’t been weighed down by his family’s complex legacy.

She stepped forward instinctively, wanting to learn who this man was before she caught herself.

But it was too late.

The Force—subtle as a breeze—whispered her presence.

The Ben of this world froze mid-conversation, eyes immediately snapping on to Rey.

Their eyes locked and the diplomat he’d been conversing with turned around, confused. Ben excused himself and walked in Rey’s direction, a confused half-smile lighting his face.

He stopped a few paces away and smiled at her, extending a hand. “Hi, I’m Senator Benjamin Organa-Solo. Do I know you?”

Rey swallowed, mouth dry. She stared at him, wishing she’d stuck to the shadows longer, wishing she was still in the safety of the Vergence Scatter. With a shaky intake of breath, she extended her hand to meet his, noticing how soft his hand was and how rough hers was in comparison. She nearly pulled away out of embarrassment.

“I don’t know…Do you?”

Did this Ben have his own Rey here? Were they happy? She hoped they were. They deserved a peaceful like together.

Her wishful fantasy was broken when Senator Ben shook his head with confused eyes. “I’d like to believe that I wouldn’t forget someone as beautiful as you.”

She must have looked crestfallen because he suddenly took her hand again and held it between his own. “I’m so sorry, have we met and I’ve forgotten? You must forgive me—“

“No—" Rey cut in hurriedly. “We haven’t.”

She pulled her hand reluctantly. “I’m Rey,” she murmured, face heating.

Senator Ben, which is what she decided to call him, smiled, eyes crinkling in delight. “Do you have a last name, Rey?”

“Just Rey,” she said with a little smile. He seemed too rooted in the old bloodlines, too whole. She didn’t want to ruin that with the weight of a name she’d chosen in grief.

“Well, Just Rey, I can see that you’re hurt.” He gestured to her makeshift sling and her face warmed again. “I can help with that, if you’ll allow me. I’ve got a medpack in my office.”

Rey glanced down at her wrist, deep purple bruises blooming up to the base of her thumb and met his eyes. They were warm. Gentle.

She really should go back through the portal…shouldn’t linger in this pastel world, so soft with peace. But the kindness in his eyes made her hesitate. She found that she didn’t want to leave quite yet. Wanted to get to know this Ben who seemed untouched by the Force…

“Alright…” she whispered before she could help it. “You can help me.”

Moments later, Senator Ben pushed open a pair of heavy, wood doors, revealing an elegant, tasteful office.

A wide, dark desk was set before a massive bay window. There was minimal clutter. Only a calligraphy set scattered next to a few real books help up by two stone bookends.

The walls were floor to ceiling bookcases, bursting with more books, stacks of flimsiplast and data tapes. Rey whistled, impressed. She couldn’t recall ever seeing a private library so robust.

It fit though. Her Ben was a scholar as well.

Senator Ben coughed, sounding slightly embarrassed. “I’ve been told my collection is a bit excessive.”

Rey stepped to the nearest shelf and gently touched the spine of a worn leather volume. “It’s wonderful.” Her eyes caught his and she smiled at his expression. He looked surprised. After having so little for so long, Rey could appreciate a collection like this. It was amazing.

She strolled past more shelves, making note of the titles and enjoying an intimate look into this man’s life.

He stood at his desk, medpack in his hands, ready to assist. He wore a soft expression that glowed with pride. He was happy that someone else appreciated what he’d built.

Reluctantly, Rey left the shelves and met him, taking the seat he offered gratefully.

How long had it been since she sat down? How long had she been in the World Between Worlds?

With one hand, she pulled her makeshift sling off her shoulder and winced, her bad wrist complaining at the loss of support. She grabbed the injured joint and cradled it, examining it for the first time since she escaped Kylo’s world.

An angry bruise the shape of a man’s locked hand circled it.

There was a sharp intake of breath and Rey’s eyes up to Senator Ben, whose face was whiter than fresh snow. His eyes darkened, narrowing on the bruising. His lips thinned into a line, bloodless. His jaw flared, teeth clenched.

And for the first time, Rey caught hints of the conflicted man she knew beneath the peace.

The room was deathly silent and Senator Ben’s grip tightened on Rey’s hand almost imperceptibly. She waited for something, anything.

He didn’t say a single word.

A when he finally looked at her, there was no pity, no disgust—

Just compassion.

She ventured out through the bond, suddenly needing to know what this man was feeling but there was—

Nothing.

She reached, instinctively, for the origin.

Or where it should have been.

But there was nothing. Just a smooth, sterile stillness. As if the tether had never existed at all.

How?

She could still detect whispers of the Force around him, he wasn’t completely absent of it. So why was there no bond?

With Kylo, the bond had rejected him, but she still could feel him through it. His aura was vile, turbulent with darkness, heavy and all consuming.

But here? With this kind version of her Ben?

It was like it didn’t exist.

Inside, Rey was reeling. The floor fell out from beneath her, leaving her disoriented and breathless.

Outside, Rey fought to hide her revelation.

She kept perfectly still, trying to pull herself together without the man before her noticing.

“You look like you’ve been in a fight…” Senator Ben finally said neutrally, his dark eyes firmly a-fixed to Rey’s wrist.

She hissed as he pulled a hypo-injector away.

“Sorry, this’ll help heal that bruise faster,” he added apologetically. His eyes flicked up at her and Rey realized he was waiting for her to respond.

She didn’t know how to answer

Not truthfully, anyway…

You’re right, I was actually in a life or death fight with your evil counterpart in some twisted reality where I die and you dive off the deep end. I’m lucky I managed to keep my hand attached to my arm…

For obvious reasons, she couldn’t say that.

Senator Ben prodded some more. “Hope you left your mark on whoever did this…”

Still, she said nothing.

He sighed and met her gaze full on, exasperated. “Look, I just want to make sure you aren’t in an abusive situation, alright? If you are, it’s my responsibility to help as you are a constituent of mine and it would be highly irresponsible to not help where I can.”

Rey started laughing, startling Senator Ben. She pulled her hand away and tested it. It already felt so much better. Looked better too. What the hell did he inject her with?

“What is this stuff?” She asked him, amazed.

Senator Ben’s brow furrowed, “What? It’s neo-bacta.” He said this like it was common knowledge.

Rey thought it highly unfair that this utopian reality somehow also had bacta that was better than what they had.

Maybe she should swipe some…

“Rey…”

“Mmm?” She replied, distracted.

“Are you being abused by someone?”

Rey smiled ruefully. “No, it was just a bit of bad luck.”

She met his eyes earnestly when he didn't answer. “I promise, I drew first blood.”

Senator Ben blinked at her, as though he had no idea what to do with that comment.

She would be lying to herself if that didn’t make something inside her die a little.

Her Ben would have thought that funny.

His dark hair spilled over his forehead as he bent over to wrap her wrist in a flexible bandage. Dark tendrils tickled her forearm and she fought a shiver, hating that her body responded to his touch.

He wasn’t hers.

The sooner she left, the better.

Senator Ben secured the bandage with some medical grade duratape and with impossibly gentle hands, set her hand down on his desk. He settled his own hands in his lap and looked up at her, thoughtful.

Rey pulled her hands to her lap and watched him wistfully.

“Well, I—“

“Would you—“

They both cut off their sentences abruptly, trailing off in awkward chuckles.

Rey gestured, “Go ahead.”

Senator Ben flashed her a dimpled smile and her heart stuttered in her chest. Stop it, she chided herself sternly. Dangerous. This was dangerous.

“I…don’t usually do this. And I know we just met and you can say no. But I was wondering…if you would like to have dinner with me?”

It was Rey’s turn to blink. Did he…did he just ask me on a date? Against her better judgement, her spirits lifted, a strange giddy feeling bubbled into her chest and she smiled at him. He looked so hopeful. So sweet.

Was she actually going to say yes?

“I, uh…yes. Yes, I would like that.” She felt breathless as she said this, not quite believing that this was happening. A little respite surely couldn’t hurt.

Right?

They sat in the corner of a quite cafe just outside of the federal sector of Hanna City. It should be easy enough for Rey to find her way back when this ended.

The thought of this night ending weighed on her, pressing on her chest. She wished she could stay here. Where no war, no invaders loomed on the horizon.

But she couldn’t.

He wasn’t hers.

And she needed to return to her reality. She was needed. Her Ben was needed.

When they first arrived, they were greeted by a cheerful Iridonian Zabrak male. He greeted Senator Ben with a boisterous hello and a big hug. The male stared at Rey, excitement mounting in the Force. “Senator, you did not tell me you were seeing someone! She is lovely! Please, come! I’ll find you a nice little corner—no prying eyes! Lovely, lovely!” He hummed and showed them to their seats, all the while sending surreptitious glances at Rey whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

When Rey returned her attention back to Senator Ben, his face was bright red.

Rey smirked, “You really weren’t lying when you said you never did this.”

He shook his head, dark waves falling across his forehead in a way that made Rey long to brush them aside.

She almost did.

She fisted her hands onto her lap instead and stared at the real candles that flickered golden against the smooth planes of the table.

“I tend to take work home with me…” he trailed, “And that leaves little time for anything else.” Senator Ben fiddled with the data pad the proprietor had handed him and continued. “The only socializing I do outside of work is at a bare minimum, I’m afraid.”

“I understand. I’m the same,” she said without a thought.

Senator Ben looked up at her with a hint of a smile. “And what is it that you do, Just Rey?”

She cringed internally, berating herself for inviting questions. Without looking, she took the datapad from him and kept her eyes fixed on the seasonal offerings. “I’m a teacher.”

“What do you teach, if I may ask?”

“I…uh, I teach certain individuals about maintaining balance.”

He took a sip of wine and watched her knowingly. “You’re a Jedi, aren't you?”

Rey stared at him, heart in her throat. These were exactly the things she wanted to avoid with this Ben. It was going to raise questions that she didn’t think she should answer.

“You know, I’ve met my fair share of my uncle’s knights over the years but I don’t think I’ve ever met you before. I would not have forgotten your face.”

Calm, she needed to maintain calm. Maybe he wasn’t ever really around Ossus and didn’t know all of Luke’s proteges. Maybe he wouldn’t think to ask after her…

That was silly. He would definitely ask after her. She wasn’t stupid, she noticed the way he was looking at her.

Rey’s breath caught. “Maybe…” she trailed slowly over her racing heart, “I’m not from where you are…”

Senator Ben’s expression changed. It was subtle but she saw the way he grew slightly more alert, the way his heart rate increased ever so slightly. She could tell that this excited him.

But he didn’t press.

Rather, he replied, “Well I’m certainly glad you’re here now.

They ordered dinner and Ben spoke about his work more, sensing that Rey was more interested in listening rather than speaking.

She learned that Senator Ben was elected as the junior senator of Chandrila at the age of twenty-five, ten years ago. She learned that he was ambitious but generous and kind hearted. He cared about the people of Chandrila and the people of the galaxy as a whole. He admired the work of his maternal grandmother, Padme Amidala and wished to follow in her footsteps.

Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes when he told her his parents lived fifteen minutes away and that he tried to eat dinner with them once a week if time permitted.

She chimed in occasionally to keep him going as their dinner arrived and they ate their fill. The food was simply amazing. How long had it been since she'd eaten? 

Senator Ben was force sensitive, but he chose not to train with Luke. He mostly used the Force to get a sense of who a person was and their intentions. He was handy with a blaster and a skilled pilot. He wrote on real parchment, practicing his calligraphy when he was stressed and loved it.

“I’m talking too much,” he said after a lull. “Please tell me about yourself. Where are you from?” His eyes widened a fraction and hastily added, “I mean, not in that sense. But, what planet?”

“I’ve enjoyed listening to you, I promise!”

“Rey…”

She sat back, enjoying the sound of her name on his lips and watched him. “No where, really. I’m from a desert planet...”

Ben lifted an eyebrow, “Tatooine?”

She gave him a tight smile and shook her head. “Not that one.”

“And how long did you live there before you began training as a Jedi?”

Rey was quiet for a long moment, rubbing her thumb alone her nails just to be doing something before she finally admitted, “Thirteen years. I was nineteen when I left.”

Senator Ben nodded and sat back. If he was surprised, he hid it well. “A lot of my uncle’s knights started later in life. Its one of the good things about his new Order, in my opinion. No more stealing children from their families…”

“Where I come from, most of the younglings are orphans with no where else to go. I—we— try to give them the best possible life we can. And if they don’t want to stay, we help them find a new path.”

Ben reached forward and took her hand. “That’s wonderful, Rey.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. The candlelight danced, casting soft gold across his features, turning his eyes to liquid amber. For a split second, Rey could almost forget where she was—could almost pretend she was back on Ahch-To, sheltering from the rain, his hand in hers, the Force a live wire between them.

But the moment stretched, and twisted.

And the bond remained silent.

She inhaled sharply and withdrew her hand like it burned. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t sing, either. The connection between them wasn’t absent, exactly—it was just… off. Muted. Like trying to remember the tune of a song you’ve only ever heard in a dream.

Ben didn’t hide the flicker of pain in his expression. But neither did he fight it. He looked at her the way someone looks at a beautiful painting they’re not allowed to touch.

And then he smiled—a little crooked, a little sad. “I’ve felt unmoored since I met you,” he confessed, voice low and careful. “When I saw you on the Senate balcony, I could’ve sworn I knew you. Not your face, exactly. Something deeper. Like… my soul recognized yours.”

Rey’s throat tightened. Her fingers curled into her lap.

Ben continued, gaze dipping, almost embarrassed. “But then every time I try to grasp it—this feeling—it slips through. Like I’m chasing a reflection in glass. And I think maybe… maybe it’s because it’s not you and me that were meant to know each other. Just… echoes of us. Somewhere else.”

His eyes lifted to meet hers again. “Does that sound crazy?”

Rey shook her head, her voice barely audible. “No,” she whispered. “It sounds like the truth.”

Ben’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Why, then?” he asked softly. “Why do I feel like this? Like I’ve lost something I never had.”

Rey looked down, pressing her thumb into her palm, grounding herself in the sensation. Her chest ached with the pressure of everything she couldn’t say.

She could lie. She could deflect, say something vague about Force connections and fate and mysterious timing. But it wouldn’t feel right. Not after the honesty in his eyes. Not when he already knew—on some deeper level—that this wasn’t just a chance encounter.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she said finally, and her voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else. “It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to feel this way about me. Not here. Not now.”

Ben leaned forward slightly, searching her face. “But I do.”

“I know.” Her voice cracked. “That’s what makes this harder.”

He waited, not pressing, just… there. Present. Patient. And it made her want to cry.

Rey drew in a breath and tried to find a version of the truth that wouldn’t break him.

“In another place,” she said slowly, “you and I… we did know each other. Deeply. In ways I didn’t think were possible. We were connected by the Force. Bonded. And that bond? It’s still inside me. It’s what brought me here, through all these… doors.”

Ben didn’t speak. His jaw flexed, but he said nothing.

“And when I saw you,” she went on, more gently now, “my heart remembered. But it’s not the same. You’re not him. And I’m not the Rey meant for you.”

He sat back, his eyes wide. Not in disbelief, but wonder. Like she’d just confirmed something he’d always suspected but never dared to voice aloud.

Silence settled between them, thick with unspoken longing and the ache of near misses.

Then, Rey smiled, small and sad.

“But maybe she’s out there,” she said, “your Rey. Somewhere in this galaxy. Maybe she’s still looking for you, too.”

Ben blinked, a breath catching in his throat.

And then, for the first time since she arrived, he didn’t look at her with yearning, but with gratitude.

“Maybe,” he whispered. Then he looked imperceptibly more sad. “What happened to yours?”

Rey’s lip wobbled and her heart squeezed inside her chest. “He died.”

She felt him get up, felt him come closer until he was right beside her. Before she could look up, before she could ask him what he was doing, he pulled her up and crushed her into his chest, a tight hug that told her everything she needed to know about him.

He was good. He was so kind. And he deserved to find his Rey.

Her arms wrapped around his waist and she let her head relax into his shoulder.

She let herself stay in that embrace just a moment longer than she should have. Let herself feel the warmth of him, the steadiness of his heartbeat. Her fingers curled into the soft fabric of his coat, and for a heartbeat, she pretended it was real. That this was her Ben. That she had found him, and they were okay.

But she knew better.

Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled away.

Ben didn’t try to stop her. His hands hovered briefly, like he wanted to hold on, but let them fall. He studied her, his expression a careful mask, though his eyes said more.

“You’re going back, aren’t you?” he asked.

Rey nodded.

“To find him,” she said quietly. “I have to.”

A beat. His gaze lowered, and for a second, he looked like he might say something more—but then he smiled. It was gentle and a little sad, laced with acceptance.

“I hope you do. And I hope… he’s waiting.”

Rey’s heart twisted. She didn’t know how to say goodbye to someone who wore his face, who was so close and still not quite him.

She turned, already feeling the weight of departure. But before she stepped away, she hesitated, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

“If you ever find yourself looking,” she said slowly, her voice low and unsure, “try the edge of the Western Reaches. There’s a little dustball out there. No name anyone cares to remember… but I called it home for a long time.”

His brows furrowed slightly. Recognition sparked, just faintly.

Then she turned and walked away, the hem of her tunic trailing behind her, the promise of starlight ahead.

And Ben watched her go, the ghost of a name he didn’t know he remembered brushed across the edge of his thoughts.

Jakku.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: Whispers

After leaving the last world, Rey felt wrung out yet lighter somehow.

She really hoped Senator Ben Organa Solo found his Rey. She hoped they would be happy together. Hoped that their reality would be one untouched by war.

Rey moved on, passing portal after portal, but never going in. There was a stillness in this section of the World Between Worlds that was eerie.

The Force was stagnant here.

It still encompassed her, but there was no more movement to it. It felt heavy.

It weighed her down, willing her to look into every portal, but never driving her to go in.

Eventually, it would press her to enter one, right?

Still, she walked, catching glimpses of a million lives.

She saw Ben—alone in a ruined temple, murmuring her name to the wind. He is gaunt and pale. Shriveled with age. Hair white, eyes milky.

She isn’t there. She died on Exegol forty years prior and he survived. A broken half of a whole. On his own on a quiet world, left to mourn in solitude.

Another portal showed her a brighter world:

A cozy little cottage at the edge of some unknown world. She hears it first: laughter—hers. His.

Through the window, she sees them: herself and Ben. His hair is longer, streaked with silver. There are two mugs of tea on the table. Her head is on his shoulder as they look over a datapad together.

They’re happy. Whole. No war. No sacrifice.

Ben kisses her temple and she closes her eyes like she trusts it will always be this way. Two children—teenagers—groan at their parent’s affection.

Rey almost steps inside.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she keeps moving, keeps walking.

In another reality, Rey sees a cold tomb carved into the side of a mountain.

She knows before she sees the name etched into the stone.

BEN SOLO

He gave everything.
Light, even in the end.

There are fresh flowers at the base of the stone. A worn lightsaber hilt rests across the top.

Rey kneels. She can’t stop the tears.

In this world, he lived and died for the light. And still, she never got to know him.

She walks into a Jedi archive—modern, bright. Peaceful.

Ben is inside, arguing theory with a fellow knight, passionate and witty. He throws his hands when he talks, pacing.

He turns toward her, briefly—startled by her presence. No flicker of recognition.

Just polite curiosity.

He doesn’t know her here.

Not even a little.

And it breaks her heart in a brand new way. She leaves right after that.

She kept walking. Past realities where they never met and wondered why their lives felt so incomplete. Past images of two figures, one tall and broad, one slim and feminine walking side by side in worlds that did not know Jedi from Sith.

Past worlds where they met and lost each other. Lost each other and then found themselves…

One made her pause, heart breaking as she recalled her version of that day:

A ruined throne room. Embers still smolder on gleaming durasteel floors.

She sees him standing amid the ashes, face streaked with blood and soot, saber discarded at his feet.

But his hand is outstretched.

Toward her.

He chose her. Chose to stop running. Chose to fight beside her, not across from her.

And in this moment, they are equals. Both broken. Both brave.

Rey takes his hand, and the vision ends there—with light gathering between their palms.

Rey walked away, tears stinging as she wondered yet again what might have happened if Ben chose her that day instead of the First Order. If they’d left Snoke’s smoking corpse to rot…

She inhaled shakily.

Best not to dwell on it.

More and more realities Rey passed until she felt like she was going to scream.

Where was he? Where was her Ben?

The full weight of her desperation hit her. How long had she been here? How long could she last in this madness? Her friends needed her and she was wasting time wandering endless paths through the stars.

Her breath came in sharp bursts. She ran now, passing more worlds, more realities.

A young Ben Solo with his father, speaking to a terrified and very scrawny girl who was huddled against a fallen ATAT.

Rey, screaming as the Emperor Reborn speared through Ben’s chest with his fallen saber, golden eyes glittering with malice.

Ben in Jedi gray, facing a haughty, cruel woman wearing Rey’s body.

Her laugh echoed as she dueled Ben, taking his hand with one swift swipe of a blood red blade.

Her breath hitched.

The deeper she wandered, the less sense anything made. The more she saw, the less she knew.

Her legs moved on instinct, but her mind was unraveling.

Where was he?

She had seen so many versions of him—so many not hims. Fragments. Ghosts. Strangers in familiar skin. And she’d felt it—she knew—none of them were hers.

Her Ben wasn’t behind any of those doors.

The Force around her remained still. Unmoving. Uncaring.

Like a tide gone out and never returned.

Her heart beat faster.

“Where are you?” she whispered, her voice swallowed by the silence.

No answer.

Her whisper turned to a cry, then a shout.

“Ben?!”

Nothing.

“BEN!”

Her voice echoed back at her, twisted and meaningless in the endless void. She started running again—full sprint now, heart pounding, vision blurred.

Portals blurred past her on either side, each flashing with visions—some peaceful, some horrific. She didn’t look anymore. She didn’t want to see anymore.

Her lungs burned.

The pathways stretched endlessly, cruel in their stillness. No sign. No pull. No purpose.

No him.

Her feet stumbled. She fell hard to her knees, palms slipping on the smooth pathway. She didn’t get back up. She stayed there, hunched and trembling, the silence louder than any battlefield she’d ever fought on.

Tears spilled over and she didn’t wipe them away. “He’s not here,” she whispered hoarsely, voice cracking.

“I’ll never find him.”

It was a whimper, barely audible.

The Force offered nothing. No comfort. No clarity.

She pressed her hands to her head. Her breath came in ragged gasps. This place—it went on forever. She was just a tiny speck in it.

She could walk for eternity and never find him.

The thought crushed her.

She curled in on herself, shaking.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t—”

“Rey…”

She gasped—head snapping up, disoriented. Was she hallucinating? Going mad?

But no…the voice—it was too warm, too real to be imagined.

She looked around her and saw it—

A glowing blue figure leaning down, eyes soft, a weathered hand extending out to her.

“Leia?” Rey’s voice trembled as she took in her old Master.

Her presence pulsed through the Force like a balm. Grounding. Constant. Leia smiled softly and pulled Rey up, “Hello, my dear.”

“How—how are you here?”

Leia folded her hands in her lap and smoothed the white folds of her gown. “We’re all here…” she said, voice calm like a still pool. “In some manner.”

Rey looked around the glittering expanse, overwhelmed. “Do you know why I’m here?”

Her master nodded. “You’re looking for my son.”

Rey swallowed back tears, her misery swelling again. “I can’t find him. I’ve looked through hundreds—thousands—of portals. He’s not—he’s not there.”

“You’re right,” Leia said gently, “You won’t find Ben in those portals.”

Rey felt the panic rise. She had so little time. “Then where? Where is he if he isn’t inside?” Where could he be in not in one of those worlds? “If I can’t reach him, how can I possibly save him?”

Leia’s expression was patient, expectant, like an old teacher reunited with a beloved student. “Those portals are glimpses. Reflections. Possibilities. They are realities woven from threads other than our own.”

“I know you well enough to know that you can figure this out, Rey. If he cannot be found within the portals, where is he?”

Rey stared into the nearest portal, a reality where she and Ben served together as soldiers of the Resistance, Luke the head of a small Jedi Order.”

“If he’s not in the portals…” she trailed, watching them fight across a battlefield to meet each other.

“Then he’s here—“ she looked up, eyes wide and heart racing. “—He’s out here, wandering the paths!”

With that realization, Rey took her first real breath in what felt like eons. Her limbs lightened.

Her old master’s smile grew, dark eyes sparkling as they had when she was alive. “He’s out here, somewhere. Wandering. Reflecting. Learning…”

Rey’s renewed energy flickered, a budding flame faced with a blustering wind. “If he’s out here, why haven’t I found him yet? The bond—the bond has failed.”

Her throat thickened, exhausted tears collected in her eyes. Tired, she was so damn tired. Why hadn’t the bond led them to each other?

If he was here, why did it lead her to those realities? To those not Ben’s?

Leia shook her head. “No. Your bond hasn’t failed, Rey. You just haven’t opened it. Not fully.”

“I thought I had. It hurt. So much…” She scrubbed at her tears, “I’m tired, Leia. So tired. What if I don’t recognize him? What if I already missed him?"

Rey looked at Leia, who had come closer and reached for her hands, enfolding them in glowing warmth.

Instantly, Rey felt buoyed. The frazzled ends of her broken perseverance coming together.  She breathed in, her exhaustion soothed away. Just enough so that she knew she could keep going a little while longer.

Leia’s hands tightened around hers. “You’ll know him,” she said gently. “Just as you always have. In the silence. In the dark. In the truth of the Force.”

And then she pulled Rey close one final time, resting a kiss to her forehead—the way she had once, long ago, on Ajan Kloss.

Leia stepped back, fading with each word: “Open your bond, Rey. Fully. Let it lead you. He’s closer than you think.”

Her final smile lingered even after the light was gone. And once again, Rey stood alone.

She reached for the bond, this time with efficient confidence and opened it. She braced herself against the pain.

It screamed over her, whiting out her vision. She groaned and grit her teeth, panting through the agony.

As suddenly as the pain overtook her senses, it disappeared, the bond pulsing.

Awake at last.

Truly Awake.

It wasn’t whole, not by any means, but it sang to her, golden and clear.

The bond extended beyond her, seeking for something—for someone.

It pulled at her and she grinned.

She knew which way to go.

The bond had changed.

No longer a distant thread—now it pulled. Demanded. It sang in her blood, calling her forward with a desperate urgency she couldn’t ignore.

Rey ran.

Faster than she had ever ran before.

Her breath came in sharp bursts, punctuated by footsteps echoing down the slick paths. Her heartbeat in her ears like a drum.

He was close! She felt it in the marrow of her bones, like an ache deep inside of her.

The fatigue didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered. Not until she saw him again.

She felt alive—pulsing with the drive to find Ben.

So close. So close!

She felt him everywhere. All around her, diffusing his presence into the very atoms of the air. How had she not realized that the bond wasn't opened completely? This feeling was night and day.

The paths blurred under her feet. She tore through them, careening down impossible twists and turns. Urging herself to move faster—be quicker.

He was here.

He was near!

The Force surged around her, wrapping around her limbs, fortifying them. It sparked, electrifying her. Invigorating her.

She pushed herself harder. Forced herself to go faster.

She rounded curve after curve, the corridors of reality twisting around her in impossible angles, time and space collapsing into sheer instinct.

It felt like her boots barely grazed the gleaming surfaces now. Her legs ached with the effort, her lungs burned. But she didn’t let up.

She didn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. Not when he was so close.

Not when she could feel him. Strong. Present.

Alive.

The path ahead narrowed, curving sharply.

Rey dug her heels in, trying to slow enough to make the curve.

She skidded, boots losing purchase on the smooth floor—

Right over the side.

Rey tumbled forward, arms pinwheeling. Her foot hit nothing. The edge fell away, and with a terrified gasp, knew that she was falling, tumbling into the swirling oblivion of the Vergence Scatter.

No!

Her stomach was in her throat. Her heart lurched.

Terror flooded her body. Her bones iced over as she reached upwards uselessly. The crystalline was path just outside of her reach.

It was all over.

The black void would swallow her up. She would be lost to time. Lost to everyone.

This couldn’t be happening…

Not when she was so close.

Not when she was about to see Ben again.

Then—

A hand.

Large, calloused, familiar.

It caught her out of the dark, fingers locking tight around her wrist with a force that nearly jolted her shoulder from its socket. Her body snapped to a stop, weight swinging like a pendulum.

She gasped. Her shoulder screamed in protest.

The void howled beneath her, a thousand stars pulling like a gravity well—but it couldn’t have her.

Not now.

Not when he had her.

Rey looked up—

—and the breath fled her lungs.

Ben.

Alive. Solid. Here.

His eyes met hers, wide with shock and something that looked like disbelief—like hope dared to bloom inside him for the first time in a thousand years.

His grip tightened.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: A Dyad Reunited

Ben’s face was etched with shock, eyes wide, hair tousled and longer than she remembered. He looked like someone caught mid-dream, afraid that waking up would steal her away again.

For a moment, they just stared, breathless.

“Rey—”

His voice was a low, deep grunt, face screwed up with the effort holding Rey up. A balm on her soul even if he sounded terrified right now.

Despite her precarious position, Rey closed her eyes, letting the sound of him saying her name wash over her.

Ten years. Ten years since she heard his voice.

Ben stared at her with wide, frightened eyes and white lips, his grip firm and real.

So real.

Slowly, carefully, as though he couldn’t quite believe she was really there—he pulled her up with both hands, muscles straining with the effort. She scrabbled at the edge, boots slipping on the smooth crystalline surface, but he held firm.

Together, they tumbled backward.

Ben landed hard on his back with a grunt, arms flung wide.

Rey collapsed onto her knees in front of him, hands braced on the glassy path, heart pounding, lungs dragging in precious air.

They froze.

Just the two of them.

Breathing. Staring.

Silent. Awestruck.

Rey lifted her head, eyes meeting his.

Ben’s chest rose and fell like he’d run through the stars to find her.

“Rey?” His voice was hoarse, disbelieving.

A cry bubbled up from her throat and she nodded, tears clouding her vision, coming hot and thick.

“I’m here,” she said at last, her voice choked. “I’m here—“

She was cut off—pulled forward and crushed against a wide, warm body. Solid. Firm.

Rey clung to Ben’s chest, breathing in sandalwood and leather. Bergamot and smoke. She gripped his leather jacket tightly, pulling herself closer, deeper into his arms.

Ben help to her just as fiercely, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other pressing her face into his shoulder, like she would disappear if he let go.

Rey closed her eyes, This is what home feels like. This is what I’ve been missing for so long. Him, in my arms. Warm and alive. Real.

He’s here. For real this time.

This wasn’t some alternate reality Ben, not like the ones in the portals. The bond around them hummed in deep satisfaction—two broken halves reunited at last. Every beat, every pulse of the connection between them confirmed it. It wrapped them up together—encouraged their reunion.

He was her Ben.

And she was his Rey.

For the first time in a decade, Rey really smiled. 

Her smile broke across her face before she could stop it. Bright, too bright. Hope bled into every line of her expression—hope that this wasn’t a dream. Hope that he felt it too.

But Ben?

Ben was not smiling.

Now—his grip slackened. His hands hovered on her shoulders, then dropped like they no longer trusted themselves. His breath hitched. His eyes darted, not just scanning, but searching for something impossible to find. Something that would make sense of this.

Rey tried nodding at him, reassuring him that all was well. She reached for his hands and squeezed them.

He still wasn’t smiling at her. He still didn’t look as relieved as she felt. In fact, his panic seemed to be growing, a mix of disorientation and fear. She felt him stiffen.

Her smile faded, her brows furrowed. “Ben?”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

She felt like she’d been sucker punched in the gut, the air leaving her in a rush. “What?”

He stood too fast, stumbled back a step like her presence burned. His hands flexed open and closed at his sides—desperate to hold her, terrified to do it again. “You shouldn’t be here, Rey. Why are you here?"

She caught guilt on the edge of their bond. His guilt. Guilt over what?

Rey reached out, determined to understand exactly what was a going on but she was rebuffed.

The bond had always been her compass. Now it was a flickering signal, a sputtering flame. It felt open, but unreadable. Where once there was warmth, clarity, belonging… now there was static. A question with no answer.

What does this mean?

He turned away again, his steps agitated.

“I came here to find you.”

“No!” He whirled on her, face agonized, shoulders curling in on themselves. “No, you were supposed to live a long, happy life. With your friends. Your family—” he stopped himself and turned away again.

Rey froze, her hands dropped against her lap, numb. She couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Did he not want her here? Had she drastically misunderstood something vital?

Her stomach dropped and lurched, her gorge rising. The floor tilted under her. It was all she could do to not collapse onto the glittering path beneath her—to not vomit.

Was she wrong?

Did she imagine all of it? The way he looked at her on Exegol? The way he held her and the kiss that had lingered like a promise to a better future?

Had she been holding on to something that only ever existed in her heart?

Ten years.

Ten years of believing he felt it too. And now… now he looked at her like she was a mistake.

Her face went hot with shame. She averted her eyes. Pressed her hand against her breaking heart, trying to keep it together.

Precious memories of a tender kiss surrounded by dust and starlight were suddenly cast in a different light.

She felt like she was dying all over again.

But no.

She had to put her feelings aside. She could fall apart later. Right now, the galaxy was burning, and the only person who could stop it was standing four feet away, refusing to look at her like he used to.

Rey stiffened. Withdrew her hand from her chest and stood. “Family who will die if you don’t come with me.”

He froze, expression alert. “Go with you?”

Rey swallowed, wincing at his tone. “Yes. I need your help. Something terrible has happened.”

Ben shook his head, eyes squeezing shut like he could force the world to make sense. “Hold on. What? What are you talking about?”

“I need your help…We need your help.” She saw him flinch at that. She pressed on. “I came to find you in the World Between Worlds.”

His shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes finding hers again—wide, glassy, stunned.

“You mean…” His voice was fragile, like it might crack beneath the truth. “You’re not… dead?”

The bond pulsed—sharp, bright, raw. Not just relief. Disbelief. Crumbling, desperate hope.

Rey let out a quiet breath. A laugh, half-sob, escaped her. “No,” she whispered, trying to steady her voice. “I’m alive.”

Ben swayed slightly, like the ground beneath him shifted. Like that single truth unmoored something inside him.

“Oh,” he said. Just that. One breath, one syllable.

But it landed like a star collapsing.

In the breaths after, Ben stared at her.

His gaze pinned her in place—steady, unreadable, and so him it made her ache. She burned under it. Just like before. Just like always.

Rey shook herself free of the thought. Wishful. Dangerous. Foolish.

“I had a vision—” she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could weigh them.

Ben’s brow furrowed, gaze sharpening. “Tell me.”

She hesitated. Just for a beat. Then took a deep breath, pressing one hand to her ribs, the other tugging absently at a loose tendril of hair.

“A week ago,” she said, voice thin. “It started a week ago. I saw… it was an invasion. Twisted things—things the Force doesn’t recognize. Ships I’ve never seen before. Not Sith. Not anything I’ve trained for.”

Her grip tightened around her middle. Her body wanted to fold in on itself. Instead, she started to pace. Sharp turns, sharp steps.

“They’re not just destroying. They’re changing things. Systems wiped out, others… twisted.”

She paused. Met his eyes.

“They struck the Dalonbian sector.”

Ben inhaled sharply, his shoulders tensing.

“By the time I reached the nexus point…” Her voice caught, but she pressed on. “We’d lost contact with three planets. The rest—the ones that didn’t disappear—they changed. I don’t know how, or into what, but it was different. Wrong.”

Her throat ached. The words tasted like failure.

“I thought we had time to stop it. Or at least prepare for what was coming…” she whispered. “I was wrong.”

Silence stretched. She could feel his gaze on her, but this time, she couldn’t meet it. Not yet.

“The only path forward,” she said, steady now, “is with you.”

Finally, she looked at him, ready to bare the ache.

“You and me, Ben. The Dyad. That’s what the Force showed me. That’s how we survive this.”

Ben flinched.

Not a visible one. Not to anyone else.

But she felt it. Through the bond. That flicker of guilt. Of shame.

“I caused so much pain,” he murmured, his voice nearly a whisper. “And you expect me to help save the galaxy?”

She stepped toward him, cautious. Her voice softened.

“It’s not about what I expect. It’s what I saw. You were there, Ben. Fighting beside me. You were the key. I can't do this without you.”

Ben shifted, one hand pulling at the frayed edge of his sleeve like it might unravel the whole memory.

“Rey…”

She stopped, not closing the distance.

“I can show you,” she said, quiet now. “Will you believe me then?”

Almost imperceptibly, Ben nodded, lips slightly parted.

She reached for him, fingers barely brushing the front of his tunic. She held herself back, though it killed her to do it.

The bond between them flared open, eager and hungry. Rey let it all pour through.

Flashes of the past came first—unbidden. Takodana’s green forests. A scarlet blade in a dark hallway. A fire-lit hut and hands that trembled when they touched. The sea. The storm. His voice, broken, pleading—please. The love she lost the moment she knew she had it.

And then the vision—

Skeletal armies silhouetted by flame. Ships grown, not built, like tumors in the sky. Planets erased from star maps. Others twisted beyond recognition. Oceans gone green, skies turned black.

They fought and lost. Over and over. Knights fell. Systems burned. Hope flickered and died.

Until—

Two sabers flared to life: one blue, one gold.
Two figures—Rey and Ben, side by side—ran toward the darkness.
So help me, you two are our last hope…

And this time, they won.

The darkness pulled back.

The bond quieted.

Rey blinked.

Ben was staring at her, pale, stunned, still reeling from what she’d shown him.

“This is why we need you, Ben.”

He nodded, halfway in a trance. And then he looked at her, dark eyes helpless. Heartbroken.

“I want to help, Rey…” he said, voice soft, “But how can I?” He gestured at himself with a hopeless laugh, “I’m dead.”

His words hit her with the weight of a freighter.

He was right.

He was dead. In some manner of speaking, though he felt completely alive to her in this moment.

And that begged the question:

How was she going to get him out of here?

Dread settled into her chest, making it hard to breathe. Doubts crept in.

No.

There was no time for that. No time to freak out. No time to worry.

When the time came, she would figure it out. She would get him out.

She had to.

Rey inhaled deeply and met his eyes, trying to project a sense of confidence she didn’t have through their bond.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Ben nodded, but his eyes told her what he didn’t say.

He believed her as much as she did.

They began the trek back to the nexus point shortly after that.

Rey marched ahead stiffly, hands clenched and shoulders scrunched up high.

It had been silent in the hours since their reunion. Rey didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do.

He’d pulled away from her.

But what had she expected? Really?

In all honesty, she had never allowed herself to contemplate what it might mean for them to be together again. He had been dead and she didn’t know if they would find each other in the Netherworld when her time came.

Her vision changed everything.

What was once impossible now became reality. She’d imagined all sorts of reunions.

He would take one look and sweep her into his arms, murmuring words of love in her ears…They would walk away from the Vergence Scatter, hand in hand, tears of reunion still fresh on their cheeks. He would hold her—in the cockpit, in their berth—and not let go for anything…

An familiar ache set in—one that she felt every day for the past ten years. But now, it was different. He wasn’t an abstract thought anymore. Or a memory.

This time he was here—

With her.

Less than a meter away. She could reach out and touch him…

But she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

This ache in her heart was less crushing. Less resounding.

…But it was lonelier somehow.

And that made it worse.

She slowed and traced an old, faded scar on her upper arm, a reminder of the decade between them. A decade of silence. A decade of the greatest loneliness she'd ever known.

Rey sighed. Closed her eyes and let herself wallow for just a second.

If Ben wanted her, wouldn’t she know it? If he felt the same, wouldn’t he have reached for her by now? Wouldn’t she be in his arms again instead of walking through the stars in silence?

She peeked over at him through her lashes and caught a glimpse of his striking profile. Dark hair crested down his forehead in waves. Pale, perfect skin and full, pouting lips pursed in thought. Black brows drawn over honey brown eyes, brooding as always.

He looked exactly the same.

He shifted his gaze to hers and their eyes caught. Rey snapped her eyes back forward, heart thumping against her ribs. A blush warmed her cheeks and she sped up, stomping ahead of him once more.

Stop staring at him like that, Rey reprimanded herself. Staring will make him uncomfortable. Just act normal. You barely had a relationship with him before he died. Did you really expect that he would just jump into your arms after all this time? That he even felt the same?

Then: Don’t make things worse than you already have.

“What have you been up to?”

She asked before she could stop herself and winced at the stupid question.

What has he been doing? Honestly, Rey…

Ben, who took no notice of her internal reprimanding, replied after a beat. “Until recently, nothing.”

She slowed and caught his gaze. “Really? What does that mean?”

Ben shrugged, turning to stare ahead with a somber expression. “I don’t know. I haven’t exactly been self-aware.”

Not self-aware? What the hell does that mean?

“I mean—I haven’t exactly been a person.”

The words hadn’t been spoken aloud.

Rey’s breath hitched. They both stopped.

He heard that. Their bond… was recovering.

Quickly.

And she’d just been thinking about his lips.

Ben stared at her, face unreadable—but the flicker of discomfort was there. He masked it too late.

Kriff. She winced. Kriff, kriff, kriff.

She was a kriffing idiot. He was going to think she was a creep.

“How long have you been you again?” she blurted—too loud, too fast, trying to paste over her thoughts with new ones.

Ben pursed his lips. “I don’t know…” he admitted quietly. Thoughtfully. “Not long? How long have you been here?”

“I…don’t know,” Rey admitted back, fiddling with her satchel strap. She kept walking—too fast, maybe. The path twisted beneath her boots like it could sense her tension. She didn’t look back. “I’m not sure how time works here…”

“How long has it been since I died?” Ben asked from behind her, his tone curious in a detached sort of way.

Rey stopped, her hands gripping her satchel strap tightly. She exhaled in a heavy rush, her shoulders drooped. “Ten years…” she said, feeling the weight of those years settle over her.

He slowed and stopped behind her. 

“I’ve been dead for ten years?”

She nodded jerkily, her throat tightening. “Mm-hmm.” She didn’t trust herself to speak.

Ben was quiet. She could feel him mulling this information over through the bond, though he’d managed to keep his shields up, so she had no idea what he was thinking.

“I would have guessed only a few years.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, curious. “What makes you say that?”

He smiled at her, rueful and it made her breathing pick up ever so slightly.

“Because you look exactly the same.”

Her mouth dropped open. She turned away before he could see her expression—before he could guess at the storm he’d just stirred up.

“Yeah. I’m thirty now. Crazy, isn't it?” A weak laugh slipped out. It sounded a lot more like panic than humor.

She widened her eyes and turned her face into her shoulder to hide her grimace.

Silence again.

Rey plucked at a stray thread on her tunic and fiddled with it. She pretended not to notice that Ben was staring at her. Was he expecting her to say something more?

And what had he meant that she still looked the same? Was he just saying that?

Was it a compliment? An innocent observation?

The bond hummed between them, filled with strained uncertainty.

They kept walking, Ben a half step behind and the silence stretched.

“So…” Ben said eventually, “What’s life been like?”

He said this too casually, like distant acquaintances catching up over a cup of caf. Which Rey supposed, even as her stomach sank, probably wasn’t too far off from the truth…

Ben said it just nonchalantly enough that Rey knew there was another question hidden behind it. She touched at the bond, trying to get a sense of what he really meant.

His shield was sky high and iron tight.

“Oh,” she said uncomfortably, watching him sidelong, “Um, it’s been busy—getting the Jedi Order going again has taken up most of my time…”

That wasn’t untrue. It just wasn’t the whole truth.

She didn’t tell him about the long, quiet nights. The ache. The not-quite dreams that always ended with his voice and no answers.

Ben was quiet. She got the sense he knew she wasn’t letting on to everything, so she hurried on, continuing.

“Everyone’s been busy since the war ended,” she said a little too brightly.

“Finn’s been working with rehabilitated storm troopers. He’s general of the RST division of the Galactic Alliance Defense Force.” She smiled, remembering how hesitant he was to be a part of the program. He’d come so far since then. “He didn’t want to do it, but he’s a natural leader. The troops love him.”

Ben snorted, shoulders tense. “Of course they do…”

She narrowed her eyes at him and continued. “Rose Tico is the head liaison of the Coalition of Displaced Planetary Citizens. Everyone is scared of her, so she pretty much runs the place.”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “Wait—Tico? Not the one who bit Hux on the Supremacy?”

Rey blinked, startled. He knew about that? “…That’s the one.”

Ben gave a short laugh, dry and astonished. “Huh.”

They followed the path for a beat, the silence less awkward now.

“What about Dameron?”

Rey looked at Ben fully now, making note of his semi-hostile tone.

His face was too relaxed, too calm. So she tried to answer carefully.

“Poe is the First Admiral of the GADF now…” Ben’s face twitched slightly but otherwise gave nothing away. She continued, “He’s still as reckless as ever. I swear Command always holds their breath when he takes flight.”

Ben blinked, refusing to look at her. “And you two…are close?”

His voice was measured, but she sensed the underlying tension. It wasn’t really about Poe. Not entirely.

“As close as anyone, I suppose. He’s family.”

She didn’t lie—but she also didn’t explain how Poe had carried her through the worst days—how he’d sat down with her in the mess hall in the earliest days when she stopped eating. Coaxing her to take a bite. Always checking in on her…

Ben didn’t need to know that.

The bond flickered—heat, then stillness. Like something had tried to surge forward but got buried. Rey frowned, glancing at Ben, but he was already looking away.

She assumed it was guilt. Ben had always carried the weight of his choices like lead in his pockets. Maybe hearing about Poe reminded him of everything he’d done.

“He never blamed you, you know,” she offered gently. “Not really. He understood more than he let on.”

Ben’s mouth twitched. He didn’t answer.

“Right…” Ben said eventually. Quietly. “Of course.”

There was something about the way he said it. Careful. Measured. Like it stung—but he didn’t want her to know.

She felt the shift in their bond. A flicker of… jealousy?

Regret?

Rey didn’t press. If he wanted to ask more, he would. But part of her wanted him to ask. Part of her begged him to ask.

Far ahead, a pinprick of light, different from the portals, glowed on the horizon.

Rey squinted. Surely that wasn’t the nexus point. They’d only been walking for a few hours.

The light steadily grew until it had shape.

The patchy frescoes of Acablas’s cenote shown through the hole, copper and sand.

Rey began jogging, eager to get out of the Vergence for once and for all. Ben kept close behind, his booted feet quiet.

They reached the tear where reality bled into the mythical and stared.

Ben and Rey shared a glance—his apprehensive—and Rey nodded. “Shall we?”

“Yes.”

His reply came like a breath. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Rey smiled at him.

As she stepped forward, the world blinked.

A rush of sound, heat, and color flooded her senses—fresh air, jungle birds, the smell of wet stone.

Acablas.

Rey stumbled as gravity returned. Her feet hit the ground hard—solid, real, searing in contrast to the formless void she’d come from. Her lungs filled with humid air, the scent petrichor heavy.

Rey turned, her hand extended out in a gesture.

Ben’s gaze fixed on her hand. He rose to his full height, shoulders squaring. The bond flickered—straining, pulling—as if something ancient stirred just beneath the surface of the portal. He stepped forward, a large palm reaching for hers—

And froze.

Ben’s eyes snapped to hers, wide with panic, trying to tell her something she didn’t yet understand

His hand hovered in the threshold, trembling where it should’ve passed through. The portal rippled around him—solid for him, fluid for her.

Realization set in on her like the icy waters of Kef Bir.

She couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think save for the panic both of them were feeling. Ben’s panic blended with hers, building to a crescendo.

“It’s not letting me through,” he said, voice restrained. He lifted his hand—but the portal repelled it like a solid wall.

“No,” Rey shook her head. “No! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!”

She reached through and grabbed his hand with both hands. It was solid, comforting. It grounded her in the fear of the moment.

Rey pulled and was met with resistance.

Rey’s hands came through until the point where she held his hand, the back of it pressed against the portal’s entrance as if it were made of glass.

The portal shimmered around him, fluid for her, but a mirror’s surface to him, glinting and impenetrable.

“I can’t—I can’t come through,” he ground out as he forced his shoulder into the barrier between them. “I’m stuck.”

The Force surged between them, alive, frantic.

Acablas roared behind her, joining the storm that built around them. She grasped its power and pulled.

And still, Ben couldn’t pass through.

He was trapped.

Just out of reach.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: Escape from Acablas

Rey shook her head, wild with panic. No. Not like this. Not now.

“I’ll get you out,” she swore to him, feeling the promise spread through her entire body like a star igniting in her veins.

Her eyes darted across the cenote, desperate for anything…a sign, a shift, a spark.

The Dyad burned between them. Hot, luminous, alive. Reminding her he was still there, tethered to her like a second heartbeat in her chest.

Rey reached through the portal again and he grabbed her hands, locking them tightly in his grip. Their eyes met and he nodded, trusting her to do whatever it took.

She inhaled deeply. Felt the Dyad bond respond to their connection and pulled as hard as she could. Her blood ignited with the power of the Force and everything felt white-hot.

The power flared, burning brightly around them and she felt something give.

Ben’s fingers broke through.

Something cracked. Not the portal, but reality itself.

There was a shattering sound—sharp and grating—and Ben was pushed back.

Away from the portal.

Rey screamed, the sound ripped from her throat before she even realized she’d opened her mouth

NO!

The Nexus pulsed beneath her feet.

Steady, alive.

Reminding her that it was there.

Her hair whipped around her face, the power of Acablas surging around the portal, growing stronger. Louder.

Ben stared at her helplessly, his hand pressed against the barrier.

She dropped into the Force. Not searching. Listening.

It answered.

Power surged around her, not hers, but the Nexus’s. It was lending itself to the Dyad, pouring its ancient weight into the tether between them.

She reached for Ben, not with hands this time, but with the Force. With memory. With the bond that had defied death once already.

Their eyes met, and something between them snapped.

The portal shuddered—splintering into a million pieces—

Ben stumbled.

Took a breath like it hurt. Like something had torn.

And then—

He was there.

Living. Breathing.

Alive.

The first thing Ben noticed when he stepped out of the portal was how heavy he felt.

The second was that he was starving.

The third—and most important—was Rey.

She stood just ahead of him, arm outstretched, eyes shining with tears.

He felt her, not just through the Force, but through the tether that had once defined them both. She was using that connection—using their bond, their dyad—to bring him back.

He watched her expression shift as realization hit.

Shock.

Disbelief.

Apprehension.

Then—

Joy. Pure joy.

Ben couldn’t believe her happiness was because of him.

He’d only ever been on the receiving end of it once before.

His final memory:

A cold, dirty floor. Silence where there had once been jeering.
Pain. Deep, jagged pain. Every breath, every twitch of his shattered leg.

And then…

A hand. Cool at first, warming with every heartbeat.

Touching his.

It jolted him out of the depths of the Force and into now.

Wide hazel eyes blinking in confusion.

Then:

A smile.

Radiant.

Just for him.

He hadn’t believed it then. That her smile, that joy, was meant for him.

Rey stared at him, her lower lip trembling. Her eyes locked onto his. Wide, shining, trying to tell him something.

He didn’t know what.

All he knew was that they were together. In the flesh.

And he never wanted to let her go again.

He took a shaky step forward, barely in control of his limbs. He drank her in, stunned.

Her throat bobbed with emotion, and his eyes followed the motion—down her neck, her shoulders, her chest—

Blood.

Blood he hadn’t seen in the Vergence Scatter.

“Rey…” he rasped, stepping closer in alarm. His hands hovered over the torn fabric, stained deep red.

What happened to her?

Rey blinked and looked down at herself, only now registering it again. “Oh,” she said with a breathless laugh. “It’s nothing. I slapped some bacta on it. It was half-healed before I went in…”

She tugged at the rip, peering inside. “It’s maybe a little less healed now.”

It didn’t comfort him.

Ben’s chest tightened, his throat suddenly dry.

And then? He remembered. They could heal each other. Through the bond.

Through the Force.

He could fix this. Just one heartbeat, and she’d be whole again.

He stepped toward her, hand lifting.

Rey’s gaze flicked to his hand, and for a second she didn’t move. Then, too fast, she yanked herself back, eyes wide.

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, her posture defensive. She clutched her side and stumbled a step away, like a wounded animal trying to make itself look bigger.

Her eyes—wide, wild—met his, and for a second he felt her panic reverberate through the bond like a siren.

Ben froze, arm half-raised. Confused. Wounded. “Rey… I can help. I can—”

“No,” she said quickly. “I said I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I put bacta on it. It’s not that bad.”

Ben stared at her, the confusion solidifying into something colder. His hand dropped. She was scared…of him. That’s what this was, wasn’t it? She didn’t trust him, not really. Not yet.
And who could blame her?

She was trying to act normal. Calm. But he felt the way her pulse spiked through the bond, the sharp tremor of something buried beneath her words. Fear. Not of dying. But of what he might do to stop it.

He took a small step back, swallowing the knot in his throat. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

He tried breathing, tried to hide the hurt he felt at her sudden withdrawal, so he looked away, trying to get a sense of the place they were in.

Before he could say anything else, the cenote groaned. A low rumble reverberated through the stone beneath them.

They both looked up. A slab of the dome cracked and crashed to the far side of the cavern, echoing like thunder.

Ben met her eyes. “Is that supposed to happen here?”

Rey’s expression was tight, focused now. Alert.

“No,” she said. “I think this is our fault.”

Ben exhaled through his nose. “Figures.” He looked toward the crumbling archways ahead, his nerves sparking. “Then I presume we’ll be wanting to get out of here?”

Rey shot him a look, already backing up. “Obviously!” She sprinted, took a running leap and jumped across the gap between the platform they stood on and the path that edged the dome. “Come on!”

Ben nodded to himself and followed, leaping over the cavern and skidding to a halt behind her.

Rey led Ben toward a nondescript doorway halfway down the passage, dodging crumbling debris as they ran.

He hissed when he noticed a stain of fresh blood on her side. It stung that she wouldn’t let him heal her. Was she afraid of him?

Of course she was.

He hadn’t done much to prove himself to her. One failed rescue attempt that ended in both of their deaths? He wouldn’t take that as convincing proof of trustworthiness if he were her.

And she’d been odd on their journey back to the portal. Like she didn’t really want to be around him. Like being near him was uncomfortable—painful even.

It wasn’t all that unlikely. She told him why she needed him.

Showed him why.

The galaxy would fall without the Dyad.

She didn’t searched the World Between Worlds because she wanted him. Because she missed him. …Right? No—he crushed the thought. She came because the galaxy needed saving.

It was stupid of him to assume anything else.

“Watch out!” Rey exclaimed suddenly, shoving Ben into the jagged basalt wall. He hit it hard, his shoulder crunching painfully.

A huge piece of facade crashed onto the spot where he had been just seconds before.

“You’ve got to pay more attention!” She shouted angrily over the din. She yanked his hand after her and pulled them through the doorway they’d run for.

“Like as careful as you’ve been?” Ben retorted before he could help himself.

Her eyes narrowed. “That didn’t happen down here,” she replied tartly.

He had half a mind to demand where this happened when the floor shuddered. It buckled under his feet, dropping him.

Their bond spiked with panic—his and hers—and Rey was on him in an instant, pulling him upward—yanking him forward— as they rushed deeper into the tunnel.

The crashing thunder of stone chased them with every step.

Rey led the way, only looking back to make sure he was near. To check how close the destruction followed.

They heaved themselves up sharp drop off after drop off. Ben’s hands were scraped and bleeding by the time the sounds of crashing stone fell behind them.

But Rey didn’t let them let up. She was relentless, all gleaming sweat and grit.

He would have been impressed if he wasn’t afraid of getting left behind.

Resurrection, apparently, did not come with stamina. Fantastic.

He wheezed, trying to keep up even as his muscles screamed and seized. He pushed for as long as he could until—“Rey!”

His hair was slick with sweat. The leather jacket he stole from an unsuspecting variant of himself held the heat close to his body, overheating him. His lungs burned, the stale air of the tunnel thick as smoke.

Every footfall echoed like a cannon in his ears. Too loud. Too hot. Too much.

Rey slowed immediately and was on him again. A pang—panic not his own, shot through the bond, thudding in his ribs. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She touched his chest like she was checking for wounds, then stopped herself. Then jerked her hand back like she’d been burned. Rey stepped back, putting distance between them, already a meter away, her hands fisted at her sides.

She muttered an apology and turned away, stalking up the pathway.

What was this hot and cold? One minute she could barely look at him. The next she was tearing open his jacket like she still cared. Like she hadn’t been the one to leave him behind.

“I’m fine," he grit out, “Just can’t keep up.”

Rey looked at him from over her shoulder, her face growing pink.

“Sorry…” she paused and waited for him to catch up.

She looked back along the dark path, expression forlorn and distant. “It was such a powerful nexus…So much pain soaked into the stone. I can’t decide if it’s better or worse that it’s gone now”

Ben stared down the blackness and shivered at the destruction they left in their wake. He wondered if the nexus was the only thing she was thinking of as she stared into the darkness. “If it’s powerful enough to bring someone like me back, it’s probably for the best.”

Rey looked up at him sharply, the bond flaring. She said nothing though.

Instead, she stalked away, the glow of her saber—which Ben was fascinated to discover was the color of daffodils—lighting the bottom of a stairway. The stone was weathered, worn by thousands of feet passing through. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could faintly sense the auras of the Jedi who once walked the path eons ago…

When they emerged from the old stairwell, the basement they’d entered looked relatively unharmed by the collapse of the cenote.

The dust was thick and clouded the air, but aside from that, the building felt stable. They followed the footsteps Rey must have left when she first came to this place and ascended another several flights of stairs before coming into the main hall.

Ben’s eyes caught on the blood—dark, dried, streaked from a wide arch into the room beyond. He looked down at Rey, who seemed unaffected by the sight of the dried gore and felt his frustration mount.

She’d been seriously injured.

But she also seemed unwilling to divulge any information, in spite of the worry he knew she could feel through their connection. He tried to let go.

That blood is old, he tried telling himself as though it would comfort him.

Several days old, by the looks of it. He needed to trust that Rey knew her limits.

Instinctively, Ben glanced at her bloodied side and fought to repress his feelings of complete helplessness. His stomach dropped.

She bled more than she’d let on. He could have fixed it. But maybe she’d let him help through more basic methods.

He strode towards the open room that she’d clearly visited when she arrived and found what he was looking for.

An opened medpac and two empty hypo-injectors lay on a counter against the far wall. He picked through it, looking for bacta patches—bacta gel—anything that could jumpstart the healing process for her.

Nothing.

She’d used it all on herself before she entered the Vergence Scatter.

He could feel her watching him from the doorway, a vague sense of amusement drifting down their bond.

Ben looked up and scowled at her. “You think this is funny?”

Rey quirked her brow at him. “You’re overreacting. It looks worse than it is.” He deepened his stare, exasperated.

“I promise,” she insisted with an eye roll. “It was mostly healed when I entered the Vergence.”

“Then why are you bleeding like that?” He stared hard at the bright red that stained her white tunic.

She just shrugged. The infuriating woman!

He flinched as he registered a drop as it hit the stone—dark and wet against the pale floor. Another followed. His eyes tracked it up to her calf, then higher, where a sluggish trail of red snaked down her thigh.

“You’re bleeding,” he said again, sharper than he intended.

Rey shook her head and turned to leave. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t leave a trail.”

She didn’t stop walking. “The jump must’ve torn it back open. I didn’t feel it.”

He did. Now. The quiet hum of pain behind her words, the way her weight shifted just slightly. She was running on adrenaline. And stubbornness.

“It’s superficial.” She argued back, brushing him off. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ve got a medpack in my ship. So lets go.”

She left the room and Ben trailed behind.

They left the temple a moment later, the day bright and hot and full of debris.

The humidity hit him like a punch in the face. He stepped out wilting and regretting the jacket more now than he had in the steaming network of caverns below.

Rey guided them down a rocky path towards a gaping hole four hundred meters away.

It was the source of the debris and with a start, Ben realized that it was where he and Rey had come from only an hour before.

They stopped on the edge and started down. The cenote had become a massive crater, blackened with unnatural cracks.

Dust from the collapse hadn’t settled, hanging like fog across the broken tree line. Every breath scratched the back of Ben’s throat.

The Force spun below, unrecognizable. Closed off. Their return had triggered something. It was dangerous and unstable now. “We need to leave.”

But Rey didn’t move. She stared down at the destruction like she hadn’t heard him speak at all.

He reached out to touch her elbow. Something felt off about this place. “Let’s go.”

She continued to look blankly into the wreckage, her emotions growing turbulent.

Full of disbelief. Worry. Fear.

“Rey.” Ben said again, urgently this time. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. A warning.

He wanted to make for the safety of the treeline now.

Rey inhaled sharply and looked up, eyes not quite meeting his. “Okay.”

They turned, Ben’s skin still prickling when the air filled with a hiss.

It was only then that he realized why something felt wrong.

The jungle had gone quiet. No chittering primates. No insect buzz. No bird call. Just the heavy breath of dust, and their own footsteps crunching over shattered stone.

The hissing sound cut off suddenly.

A click reverberated through the dust and then a whirring sound, like wings beating. Fast—approaching quickly—

Rey’s lightsaber blazed to life, cutting through the dust like a beacon. 

She slashed at the object—a blur the size of Ben’s fist—but it veered at the last instant, darting back into the fog.

There was another click. More wings buzzing.

This time, Ben caught sight of it before it got too close.

He reached for the creature with the Force—seized it midair in a stasis hold. Or he thought he did. It didn’t even twitch. It kept coming. As if the Force wasn’t there at all.

Ben threw all his focus into the Force and pushed hard—too hard. The thing didn’t even flinch. It just kept coming.

A blur of wings and then—

—a flash of motion before his upper arm lit up in white-hot pain. He shouted, stumbling back a few steps.

Warm blood poured freely down his arm and dripped from his fingers, pat-pat-patting onto the loam.

What in the Maker’s name? What was that?

“Ben!” Rey’s voice was panicked.

The thing hovered back for a moment, clicking like it was contemplating another pass before Rey cleaved it in two.

It dropped.

His body locked up—everything in him screamed to duck, to hide, to run. But curiosity won. He stepped forward...

His nose filled with the scent of seared chitin—acrid and sharp.

It was an insect? A beetle of some sort?

The legs twitched, revealing wicked prongs that gleamed with Ben’s blood.

There was another click. Distinctive. Alien and yet somehow familiar.

Ben grabbed Rey’s hand and sprinted them toward the crumbled outer walls of the Sith temple, half-buried in dust and stone. They needed cover—now.

More clicks, more wings beating.

Jungle loam exploded around them as foreign insects impacted the earth around them, missing their bodies by mere centimeters.

They half-fell into the Sith temple remains, ducking under a half-toppled column. Moss and dust coated the old stone. Something whispered through the Force here—something old and angry.

It did not like them here.

When the assault paused, he risked looking over the top to see where the creatures were coming from.

All he could see was the dusty haze Acablas left behind. He scanned the landscape, knowing that there had to be something out there. A hive? A colony? When he saw it—

There was a hulking shape in the distance.

Wicked armor. Wide shoulders.

The being hefted something in curved claws and pushed it into a device that rested on it’s shoulder.

Click.

Another insect launched towards them, flying at impossible speeds.

Ben ducked just before it made impact. He pulled Rey into his chest and bent over her, covering her head with his own.

An explosion rocked through the pillar, jarring his teeth.

He stayed there, panting. What the hell did he just see?

That was no hive.

They weren’t being attacked by a nest of beetles that had been turned up by the destruction of the nexus point as he initially thought.

This was worse.

They were being attacked by something—someone.

There was another barrage of exploding beetles before it ended as quickly as it began.

The smoke reduced visibility to zero. They had no idea how many were out there. If they were surrounded…

And from the jungle beyond, a guttural voice, grating as though the words it said caused pain, called out—in perfect Basic.

“Come out, Je’daii. So that we might rid this galaxy of your filth.”

Rey pulled herself out of Ben’s stranglehold and straightened, eyes wide in disbelief. “What the actual kriff,” she whispered harshly. “It can speak basic?”

“Apparently,” he murmured back. He knew then, just as Rey knew, what the creatures that attacked them were.

The invaders.

Rey looked at Ben with an odd panicked expression before she called out calmly—too calmly— “You speak basic?”

He elbowed her arm and hissed, “Are you seriously talking to them right now?” 

She elbowed him back with a glare. “We need information”, she said to him lowly and refocused on the task at hand.

Then through their bond I need to figure out who these people are.

We need to find a way out of here, he retorted smartly. She flicked him and he scowled.

“Good, then find us a path out. And figure out how many of them are out there. I’ll do the talking.”

Ben’s scowl grew darker. “Fine,” he spat and inched away.

Rey watched Ben slink away from the corner of her eye, silently praying that he would stay safe. It had only been few short hours of being together again, but she already couldn’t imagine life without him. She called to the Force and willed it to protect him.

“Why are you here?” She called out when Ben was out of sight. She hoped to keep them distracted. And giving her all the information they could manage before she and Ben made a break for it.

The grating voice finally called out to them again. “We have watched your kind for an age.” It said smoothly. “Soon, we will unmake you.”

Rey’s blood iced over. “Why?” Rey called, trying to keep her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands. “Why now?”

“Because you are weak,” the voice snarled. “And your galaxy is ripe.”

The voice was closer, colder.

“We are the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Rey froze.

The name hit her like a thrown stone—strange, wrong, but somehow familiar.

Somewhere, buried deep in the texts she’d studied in Luke’s temple—

A footnote. A marginal warning. A single line in an ancient journal. From beyond the edge of stars, a war not felt in the Force.

She hadn’t understood it then. No one had.

But now—

Her stomach twisted.

The beetles. The silence in the Force. The way Ben’s power hadn’t stopped the attack.

They were real.

And they had been watching.

Rey was seconds away from igniting her lightsaber when Ben’s reappeared, face alarmed.

“Seven of them.” He panted as he dropped against the column next to her “Two hundred meters. They’re holding back, Rey. Toying with us.”

Rey felt her stomach drop. “They don’t want to kill us yet,” she guessed, already knowing the answer.

Ben nodded. “They want to see what we do.”

Rey made her decision. “We’re not going to give them a show. We’re getting out of here. Now.”

“I agree,” he said, tensing into a crouch.

She passed a half formed idea to Ben and watched his eyes light up. He gave her a single nod, his hands pressing against the stone, ready to pounce.

Rey held up three fingers and silently count down.

Three.

This was stupid. Were they really going to try this?

Two.

They had no choice. They had intel that needed to get out.

One.

Both of them sprang forward—Ben extending his hands upward and Rey throwing hers forward.

In perfect synergy, a massive column of dust and debris flew into the air as light exploded from Rey’s hand, blinding their enemies.

They hardly registered the angry screams of the Yuuzhan Vong before they sprinted past the ruined cenote and into the dense jungle.

“Run, Je’daii. It changes nothing.” The voice shouted, dismissive.

Rey’s hair stood on end and she pushed them harder—faster. Anything to get them away from these terrifying beings.

“Five klicks!” She shouted as they ran for their lives, “Follow me!”

She wasn’t sure how they did it—Ben’s endurance was shot—but they managed to make it back to her carefully hidden ship in just under twenty minutes.

It probably helped that most of their run was downhill.

Probably helped that they were together again, which somehow always made them stronger—more resilient.

Rey didn’t stop to check for intruders. She didn’t look back. She just grabbed Ben’s wrist and sprinted for the ship, bootsteps thundering on the ramp as it hissed closed behind them.
She was in the pilot’s seat in seconds, fingers flying over switches, skipping every nonessential system check.

The coordinates to Chandrila were already keyed in—she’d made sure of that before landing. She punched them into the navicomp again anyway, just to be sure.

Sweat stung her eyes. Her hands trembled on the yoke.

They shot into the sky like a live round, sublight engines howling, climbing higher, faster, until the stars stretched and twisted and snapped into the infinite swirl of hyperspace.

Only then did Rey stop.

Only then did the silence hit her like a gut punch.

Something was wrong.

No, everything was wrong.

She stared out at the blur of stars, her breath caught halfway in her throat.

Beside her, Ben stirred. “Rey?” His voice was low. Careful. “What is it?”

She blinked. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The words clung to the roof of her mouth, thick with dread.

“I couldn’t feel them,” she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. “In the Force.”

Ben’s gaze snapped to her. She didn’t look at him.

“They were right in front of us,” Rey murmured, hollow. “Close enough to kill us.”

She looked at the bleeding cut on Ben’s arm. “And the Force was silent.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: Wounds and Warnings

They’d only been in the World Between Worlds for three days.

When things finally settled and the ship hummed steady under her hands, Rey checked the chrono on the control panel—relieved to find how little time had passed.

It felt like she'd wandered those endless, shimmering paths for an age.

Searching.

Calling.

Chasing the thread of a bond she thought she’d lost forever.

And now he was here. With her.

Rey glanced sideways, trying to mask it with a few idle taps on the panel.

Ben sat beside her, planted in the co-pilot’s chair, glowering out at the stars like they’d personally offended him.

The sight pulled a quiet smile from her lips.

Some things hadn’t changed. Maybe he really was just this naturally sullen. Somehow, the idea comforted her.

An eternally grumpy Ben Solo. She could live with that.

She had time to get to know him now. All the time in the galaxy.

Her smile faltered.

The memory of their reunion pulled at her gut.

It hadn’t gone the way she imagined.

But what had she expected?

That they’d fall into each other’s arms? That they’d just… resume what she’d started on Exegol?

Only… she hadn’t even had the chance to find out if he wanted to start anything. He’d died before she could ask. Before either of them could make sense of the kiss.

And now?

Now, he was distant. Closed-off. Brusque.

Since they’d left the World Between Worlds, he hadn’t looked at her for more than a few seconds.

And when their eyes did meet, he turned away almost instantly.

She shifted in her seat, shoulders curling in on themselves.

Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe it had always been one-sided.

She focused on the controls. Focused on anything but the man beside her.

The man who was very much alive again. The man who would soon realize… this ship had only one berth.

Heat flooded her face. The realization sank like a stone in her stomach. She stole a glance at the cabin behind them. Then at Ben.

She expected them to share?

Her face went hot. A flush blooming across her cheeks, neck, ears.

A flicker of something lit across the bond and her eyes snapped to him.

Ben’s mouth was pulled into a frown, gaze still fixed out the viewport, but she could feel the question rising from him like a wave.

Mortified, she slammed the bond shut like a slamming blast door.

That was going to have to stop. There had already been way too many moments today when she knew—knew—he could sense exactly what she was feeling.

She was going to have to do a lot better.

Fifteen minutes after they hit the hyperplane, Rey’s adrenaline gave out.

She sagged in her seat, utterly exhausted. Her side throbbed and she felt at the blood-crusted tear in her tunic, wincing.

Her wound had re-opened during their scramble out of Acablas. It was strange though, she hadn’t noticed it while she was in the Vergence Scatter. Had she assumed some other form in the void? She must have…

Rey’s head ached. Equal parts adrenaline fatigue and blood loss. She’d need to find bacta. But first—

“I need to comm Poe,” she mumbled, reaching for the hyper-comm.

Ben’s eye’s were on her in an instant. “You need to take care of your side.”

He said this aggressively, a tinge of frustration edging his voice. She felt his worry, growing by the second as he took her in.

She must look awful right now, judging by the way his side of the bond spiked with fear. “I’ve had worse, Ben. I promise.”

He scoffed, already tugging her out of her seat and back to her cramped quarters. Ben practically shoved her through the door after he activated the auto-pilot. “You said that already.”

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” she huffed as she gingerly sat back onto the berth. “Kriff that hurts.”

“You really should just let—“ Ben was cut off as the hypercom link Rey held started pinging. She was grateful for the comm because she knew exactly what he was going to say.

Again.

The beginning of panic played at the frayed edges of her emotions. She wouldn’t let him do it. Never.

Rey ignored him and his rising frustrations and answered the comm.

Poe’s head projected in miniature above the small disk in her hand. “Finally!” He said when he saw her. “I’ve been trying to contact you since yesterday.” He examined her, eyes widening. “Woah, you look rough. What happened? Did you…manage to capture your asset?”

Rey’s brow rose at the insult and the awkward attempt at being covert. But she nodded with a quick glance at Ben, whose face had darkened. “I found him…” she answered softly.

Poe’s expression went strange. Like he couldn’t decide whether to be relived or disappointed. “Okay,” he said instead, though there was a certain wariness to his voice.

“Poe, we were attacked after we left the nexus point.”

The wariness left Poe’s eyes immediately, replaced by cool military focus. “Tell me everything.”

“The Yuuzhan Vong,” he repeated grimly. “So that’s their name…” He stared off at something Rey couldn’t see.

“And their weaponry—that you could get eyes on—was organic based?”

“Yes. And it gets worse, Poe.” She swallowed, the discomfort of her realization swelling over her again. She looked to Ben, who hadn't moved an inch since she'd answered Poe's comm. “We…can’t sense them. There’s nothing there.”

Poe blinked. “What do you mean? Like you can’t detect them with your mystical force powers?”

She shook her head in confirmation. “No. We had no idea we were being watched when we left the temple. They took us by complete surprise. But there’s more…”

Poe groaned, hand rubbing his jaw in agitation. “More? What is it?”

“They might be impervious to the Force.”

“What do you mean? Like their armor is impervious?”

“Maybe,” But she didn’t think that was the case. “Or maybe they’re not bound by our rules at all.”

Ben shifted in the doorway finally, tense as she said this. His jaw clenched and she could feel the unease rolling off him, cold and sharp.

Poe was silent, processing. “…What the hell kind of species doesn’t register in the Force?”

She felt Ben’s ire rise at Poe’s tone and she shot him a look. He glared back and crossed his arms.

Rey shrugged stiffly. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Yeah.” He inhaled deeply. “I have news on our end. There have been more attacks—or skirmishes— And we aren’t faring well against their tech either. Like you’ve confirmed, the tech we’ve seen is all organic looking.” Poe sighed, looking all sorts of exhausted, “They seem to be using the Dalonbian sector as staging ground. We expect a push from them in the coming weeks.”

“Can we hold?” Rey held her breath as she asked this. Would the Galactic Alliance be able to push back or would the Yuuzhan Vong walk all over them as they had when they first attacked?

She noticed Poe’s jaw jump. He paused a fraction of a second too long. “I don’t know, Rey. I really don’t know.”

The breath left her in a whoosh as the gravity of their situation hit her. But she had to hold on to the hope her vision imbued. They could win.

Ben was back and the Dyad was reunited.

They just needed to figure out exactly what it was that they needed to do to succeed.

“Hey, I want to talk to the former Supreme Leader before you cut comms.” Poe’s expression had changed. Gone was her tired friend, now replaced by a determined Admiral. “Alone.”

Like hell she was going to leave Ben alone with Poe. “You can speak with him, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Poe stared, “Rey. Come on,”

She shook her head. “Ben and I are bonded. I’ll know what you say to him no matter what.”

“...Fine.”

Rey looked to Ben and gave a slight nod.

Ben had gone very stiff during that last exchange. He didn’t want to talk to Poe. She didn’t want him to talk to Poe. But she also realized that eventually he would have to talk to Poe and that maybe it would be wise to do it when they couldn’t physically interact.

He seemed to realize this too.

Ben stalked into the cramped quarters and took the hyper-com from Rey with a look that said we’re talking about this later. She pulled away and took his place at the door.

“Dameron,” he greeted curtly.

Poe stared at Ben, a mix of emotions washing over his face like rain. Finally, he settled on cool detachment. “…Solo.”

“So you’re really back from the dead. I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting that.”

“It would appear that way.”

Poe crossed his arms, eyes darkening. “Rey says you turned. That we can trust you.” He leaned forward, “But here’s the thing. I don’t.”

Rey didn’t move from the doorway, though part of her wanted to throw herself between them and block the transmission entirely.

The air in the ship felt suddenly too thin.

She folded her arms, pretending it was just for warmth.

“You had a last minute change of heart and I am indebted to you for it. We’ve had Rey with us thanks to you. But we also fought a war because of you. A lot of people—good people—died because of it.”

Poe’s words hit like stun blasts. Controlled, but powerful. Rey flinched at each one, even though they weren’t directed at her.

To his credit, Ben didn’t react. Not visibly. But she felt the way his shame folded inward, like he wanted to disappear.

She wanted to speak. To defend him. But she didn’t. Not yet.

Poe needed to say this.

Ben needed to hear it.

And she…she needed to let them both have this moment, no matter how much it hurt.

Ben would have to be strong enough to face his actions. This was only the beginning.

“I can’t take back what I did,” Ben eventually said, his voice low with repressed emotions. “But I can promise you that I will do everything I can to help Rey—to help the Galactic Alliance—“ he amended, “to stop the Yuuzhan Vong and save the galaxy.”

Rey’s chest tightened as he spoke. It was the same voice she’d heard in the Vergence Scatter, steady and resolute.

No lies. No posturing. Just truth.

Just as quickly the pride arrived, it was chased away by Poe’s next question.

“Do you plan to reconnect with any First Order remnants?”

Rey’s jaw clenched. She didn’t blame Poe for asking, but…

Ben had died saving her. He’d lost everything. And now he had to keep losing, piece by piece.

There was no justice in it. Just duty.

That was the cost of redemption.

And he was paying it, one cut at a time.

Ben lifted a dark brow, unimpressed. “You haven’t wiped them out yet?”

Poe glared back, impatience winning out. “Answer the question.”

“I’m done with the First Order,” he replied with a scowl. He slouched in the berth, hand fisting in his pant leg.

Poe exhaled through his nose, then looked Ben up and down. “I don’t trust you..." He paused—a beat. “But Rey believes in you. And I believe in her. So I'm going to put my disinclinations aside for the time being because we’re going to have to work together. Beat the Vong and keep our galaxy safe. Agreed?”

Ben nodded once, curt. “Agreed.”

“Okay,” Poe said with a grim expression. “I’ll see you two on Chandrila—be discrete about it, okay Rey?”

“Yes, Poe,” Rey called back with an eye roll.

She walked over and took the comlink from Ben’s hand. “Goodbye.”

The connection ended and Rey breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Well,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite stick, “that could’ve gone worse. No blasters drawn, at least.”

Ben did not smile back. He seemed shut off—pained. He stood without looking at her. “Let’s take care of your wound now.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

He was shutting down. Retreating. And she didn’t know if she should follow, or give him space.

Instead, she nodded. “Okay.” Then, afraid he would try again, she added, “Bacta only. No using the Force.”

Ben scowled at her from where he sat on the berth. “Rey, I could heal that thing in less than five seconds. I don’t understand why you can’t just let me do it.”

“No.”

He stared at her, a mix of exasperation and angry worry. “Fine,” he grit out and then stood, stalking to the refresher with the air of a man defeated.

Ben returned less than a moment later, medkit in hand. “Sit,” he practically growled and pointed to her berth.

Rey stared back, feeling particularly defiant before she relented and sank onto the side of the berth. 

He settled next to her and for the first time since their reunion, Rey remembered how massive Ben was. Not just in body, but in spirit too. He had a gravity to him, a force that pulled everything into his wake. He bent closer to her as he pulled various meds and tools from the kit and she forgot how to breathe.

Sandal wood. Bergamot.

He smelled like home. Her heart sped ever so slightly when his hand drifted close to her leg, setting a stimshot down beside it.

Rey clenched her hands into fists and willed her breathing to stay steady. He was only close because he was treating her. Not because he wanted to be.

But he was so close. Too close.

And it had been so long.

Too long…

Her hand snatched the bacta gel out of his hands and she stood quickly. She wobbled. “I can take care of this,” she said hastily, trying to steady herself.

“No you can’t.” He leaned forward and pulled her back to the berth but Rey wasn’t having it.

“I don’t need your help.” She needed to get away from him before she did something stupid. She needed air. Real air. So that she could clear her head and figure out how to be a normal human being around him again. “I’m fine,” she insisted.

“You’re not.” His voice was sharp. Not unkind, but edged with something she couldn’t quite name. “That wound’s getting worse. Let me fix it.”

Rey hesitated. He was right.

Her hand drifted toward her side—fingers grazing over the crusted edge of the wrap there. It burned. She was lightheaded. And still, she resisted.

“I can do it myself.”

Ben gave a humorless huff and met her eyes. “But you haven’t.”

She tensed.

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Why won’t you let me heal you?”

The way he said it…this wasn’t about her letting him patch her up with the medkit. It was more.

Rey looked away, toward the small viewport, as if the stars outside might provide her with an answer. A way to say what she’s never really been able to confess…

When she didn’t reply, he tried again, gentler this time. “Is it because of what happened… last time?”

Her stomach twisted and everything inside just…deflated. She sank down next to him, needing more than anything just to feel him right there next to her.

She hated how well he could still read her—how fast he’d gotten back under her skin, back into her mind. But, she supposed, it was also one of the reasons why she cared so deeply for him. Only he had seen past the mask...

“You died,” she said, voice low, choked. “You gave everything to bring me back. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop it.”

Ben’s expression softened, but the anguish in his eyes only deepened. She felt him lean a fraction of a centimeter closer to her and she failed to keep herself away from him this time. Their shoulders brushed.

“I’m not doing that again,” she continued, determined. “Not even for a scratch.”

“A scratch?” He looked furious now. Not at her, but at himself, maybe. At the ache between them. “You’re bleeding through your tunic, Rey. That’s not a scratch.”

“I’ll live.”

“Not if you keep hiding from the Force like this.”

That landed harder than she expected. Her head snapped toward him and she pulled away.

“I’m not hiding—”

“You are.” His voice was low now, steady, eyes boring into hers. “I feel it. You reach for the Force and then you pull back. Like it’ll hurt you.”

“It did.”

There. The truth, raw and ugly between them.

Ben looked stunned, the air seeming to leave him. “Rey…”

She stood and paced away, arms wrapped tight around herself, like she could hold her broken pieces together by force of will. “I use the Force to fight. To protect.”

She breathed in. “But not to heal. Not anymore.”

He stood and strode to her, slow and careful, like approaching a wounded animal.

“But that’s exactly what the Force is for,” he said. “To mend what’s broken. You taught me that.”

She looked up at him then, eyes shining, vulnerable and stubborn all at once.

“Then let me remember it again,” she whispered. “On my own terms.”

Ben stopped, jaw working. After a beat, he offered the medkit out to her.

She took it.

Their fingers brushed, and the contact lingered. Hot. Silent. Full of everything they couldn’t say. Not yet.

She pulled away before she lost her nerve and gestured for him to sit with her, the kit between them.

“I’ll be a good patient if you promise to let me work through that on my own. Okay?”

A peace offering.

Ben looked at the medkit waiting next to her and nodded, a little breathless, a little helpless. But mostly, he looked relieved.

He grabbed the disinfectant and bacta. But he didn’t move after that.

Rey realized he was waiting. Waiting for what?

She blushed.

He needed her to take her tunic off…

Ben seemed to understand that she’d just realized what she needed to do and his cheeks went pink. “I can turn around,” he said quickly.

Rey shook her head. “No, just…give me a second. I’ve gone a little stiff,” she said. It was mostly the truth. Slowly, she reached with her good arm to peel the bloodied side up off of her, wincing when it tugged on the laceration. Eventually though, she managed to get it off.

She held her arm up to give him access and Ben gingerly sat down next to her.

Through his hair, she could see that his ears had gone pink too.

If she hadn’t been so embarrassed herself, she would think that it was absolutely adorable. But she couldn’t stop thinking she was making him uncomfortable.

Instead, Rey let the pain in her side ground her. She hyperfixated on the burn of the anti-septic—on the sting of the hypoinjector that delivered the stimshot—

His fingers worked steadily—efficiently.

“Have you done this before?” Rey asked before she could help herself. How many other people had he patched up before her?

Ben shook his head, his brows drawn in concentration, “Not on anyone else. Just me. Many times.”

“You mean you didn’t use the med bays?”

He glanced up briefly, hair falling into amused eyes, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No. But—you were the Supreme Leader. Surely you had access to the best care?”

Ben applied a generous layer of bacta, instantly soothing the wound with a cooling sensation. “I preferred treating myself. It was safer.”

“Oh…”

She fell silent and Ben set to applying synthskin and bandages to keep everything together.

“There…” he murmured at last, hand lingering on her ribs. “Finished.”

His fingers grazed the skin there, lingering—leaving goosebumps in their wake and for the second time in twenty minutes, Rey felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Their eyes met and Rey shivered. He stared at her, dark eyes deep, intense. Slowly, his hand slid down her ribs and rested at the top of her hip where the bandage ended.

Rey’s head spun, like she was lightheaded. But she knew it wasn’t all from blood loss. Her gaze flicked up ever so slightly, up to his mouth, so plush and inviting when she caught a flash of red from the corner of her eye.

“You’re hurt!”

How could she have forgotten what happened to Ben when they were attacked?

Flashing wings and a sickening impact. The sound of flesh being separated with a blade.

“Now that is a scratch,” he muttered, already dismissing it like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t.

She wished he wouldn’t talk like that.

He stood and pulled his jacket off, revealing a white shirt stained red.

The cut was long, but fortunately not that deep.

“My turn,” she said, already reaching for the antiseptic.

Ben looked down at the spreading red stain on his sleeve, then back up at her with the expression of a man being led to a firing squad.

“I’m fine,” he tried, clearly unconvincingly.

Rey arched a brow and picked up the antiseptic. “You're bleeding through your shirt, Solo. Sit down and take it like a Jedi.”

He sighed. “I don’t remember Jedi being this bossy.”

“That’s because you spent most of your adult life fighting them,” she said sweetly, patting the berth beside her.

Ben muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Still am.”

But he sat anyway, turning slightly so she could reach the wound.

“Shirt off.”

He paused. Froze, really.

“Rey.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen your chest before.”

She flushed, not sure where the cheek was coming from but persisted. 

Ben gave her the most put-upon look in the galaxy, the kind of long-suffering patience one might reserve for a poorly trained nexu kitten. Slowly, dramatically, he peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the side with a sigh that could’ve belonged to a martyr.

“If I die of embarrassment, tell Dameron it was your fault.”

“You’re not dying,” she said, biting back a laugh. “But you are dramatic.”

Somehow, someway, she almost got a smile out of him and the galaxy seemed a little brighter for it.

But as she worked, something changed.

Ben started pulling away from her.

Again.

She could sense it in the way he was holding himself as she applied the bacta patch. Could tell by the way his emotions went muted through the bond.

No, she silently whispered, please don’t pull away from me. Not now. Not yet.

But he gently pulled his arm away when she finished and backed off the berth. “Do you want to hit the refresher first?” He asked, fiddling with his shirt. He wouldn’t look at her.

Rey swallowed heavily around the lump that was forming in her throat. She wrapped her arms around herself, not because she was cold, but so she could herself together.

“No,” she forced a smile she didn’t quite feel, “You go ahead. The ship has been on autopilot for too long.”

He was so stupid.

It was all he could do to not pull away, to not retreat in shame as Rey cleaned and treated his wound with quick, precise movements. She was quiet after the light teasing, seeming lost in her thoughts.

What was he thinking? Touching Rey like that?

She stiffened under his touch. Her eyes had gone wide—like she’d been startled. Like she didn’t want him that close.

She was scared of him.

Still scared…

Why shouldn’t she be? Their history hadn’t been exactly positive. Ben looked down at her carefully—noticed the high color on her cheeks and the stiff set of her shoulders.

She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here.

And what had he expected? She came because the Force told her that she needed the Dyad to save the galaxy from the Yuuzhan Vong. Maybe nothing he did would ever make her feel safe. Maybe, to her, he would always be a threat.

She didn’t come because she wanted him. 

She came because she needed him.

Ten years. Not a whisper. And now she finds him only because she needs him.

If she wanted him—if she had the ability to find him all these years—wouldn’t she have found him years ago? As soon as she could?

He would have…

It hurt him. More than it should. More than he wanted to admit.

He realized with a jolt how unfair he was being to her. She owed him nothing. He deserved nothing.

Rey’s fingers stilled. She was done and quickly, before he got too used to her touch, he pulled away. Stood up and moved as far from her as he could. He refused to look at her. Needed to get away.

“Do you want to hit the refresher first?” Ben asked before he disappeared behind the door, realizing that maybe she should go first.

It was her ship after all. And she was far bloodier than he was.

He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t bear to see the relief he knew would be on her face when she realized she could have some space from him.

Her voice was soft, almost forlorn, when she answered. But that couldn’t be right. “No,” she replied with a smile, “You go ahead. The ship has been on autopilot for too long.” She ran out of the crew quarters then, leaving him behind with the hiss of the door in her wake.

He watched the door long after she left.

Finally, Ben went into the refresher—broken and lost…with the ache of ten years ringing louder than any sound.

————————————-

Rey piloted the ship.

When she left the quarters, she practically ran, in desperate need of air. She sat down hard at the helm controls, gripping the yoke, trying to still her shaking hands. Trying to calm herself.

His touch burned. She could still feel where his hand rested on her hip. Still felt the echoes of the way it made her feel.

It didn’t mean anything. He was just patching her up.

Maybe he only touched her because she was bleeding out and he didn’t want to lose their one chance to fix the galaxy.

She tried not to think. Tried to keep her focus only on steering through the endless tunnel of hyperspace. Tried to think only of what comes next and not on the man she’d just resurrected.

She knew that he would be disoriented when he came back. Knew that it would take time to adjust—to being alive again, to being around her—

But she didn’t think it would be so hard. She didn’t think it would ache so much. Like a deep bruise that throbbed with every heartbeat.

It was her own fault.

Maybe over the passage of time, Rey warped reality. Maybe she’d twisted her perception of Ben’s feelings to match her own…

Maybe it was all in her head.

She gripped the flight yoke harder, the plastoid edges biting into her palms. He couldn’t even look at her when he left. Like she’d done something wrong. Like she was wrong.

She took a breath. In. Out. It didn’t help. The ache didn’t fade. The logic didn’t hold. He hadn’t looked at her like someone he missed.

Only like someone he barely recognized.

Guilt numbed her fingers, leaving them feeling oddly weightless. It was her fault for bringing him back. For all she knew, he was happy in the void. Maybe he didn’t want to be here… Maybe once they succeeded, he would want to leave again…

Lips met, filling the cold dark with sunshine and hints of a bright future. A sense of home, of belonging—

NO.

No, she couldn’t think about that kiss. Not when he was in the other room. Not when he clearly didn’t feel the same way…

Was this really what the Force wanted? A Dyad reunited in silence? In regret?

He could hardly look at her.

Rey squeezed her eyes shut against the burn of tears. This was so stupid. The galaxy was ending. She’d just done something no one had done before and she was in the cockpit crying over a boy?

She laughed bitterly at herself and opened her eyes, catching on the black leather jacket Ben was wearing when she found him—catching on the neat slice the Yuuzhan Vong’s vicious beetle left when it attacked them.

That visual reminder jolted her out of her misery.

She needed to bury her sorrow and get them back to Chandrila. Her hands tightened on the yoke, determination setting in.

She’d survived worse. She could survive this.

—————————————-

Ben stared at himself in the mirror.

Stared at familiar scars scattered across his chest and his shoulders. Stared at broad bands of muscle and the freckles that marked his pale skin.

He raised a shaking hand that felt too large, too heavy to belong to him and touched a face that looked like his but didn’t quite feel like it.

At least, not yet.

This body felt like his old one. It looked like his old one.

But he felt wrong in it, somehow.

Like wearing armor molded for someone else. Familiar shape, unfamiliar weight.

It was his, wasn’t it?

Ben supposed that he was bound to feel like this.

Out of place, out of sorts… He would eventually settle. Ten years is a long time to go without physical form. There would be an adjustment period and then everything would feel right again.

This is what he told himself over and over as he brushed his teeth with the spare toothbrush Rey stored in the ‘fresher.

He’d stayed in the sonic longer than he needed, repeating the cycle over and over as he tried to clear his head.

He’d tried to focus on why he was here again. Why he wasn’t floating around unaware and unencumbered by the problems of the living.

The galaxy needed him. Rey needed him. They might not want him, but he was here now. And he would help.

He wanted Rey to have a life to go back to when this was all over.

With or without him, though he hoped with desperate foolishness that it would be with him.

Ben knew better than to hope, though.

The pneumatic door slid open for him with a quiet swish and he left the cramped refresher behind for equally cramped living quarters. There was one small berth tucked into the largest durasteel wall. A squat locker where he assumed she was storing clothing stood next to it.

He looked down at himself. Naked.

The cleanser hadn’t finished cleaning the clothes he’d been wearing earlier.

With a glance at the door that would lead to the cockpit, Ben sighed.

He wasn’t ready to face her again. Not yet. Not until he could figure out how to move like himself. Speak like himself.

If she’d planned to find him, was it a stretch to assume that Rey stored something for him to wear?

Ben pulled the locker door open and poked around.

White leggings, tunics—even her signature wrap—all packed neatly inside on the main shelf. He wasn’t sure if it made him feel happy or sad that she was still wearing white after all these years.

When she first started, it excited him. She was trying to obviously oppose him through her clothing. Black versus white. Light verses Dark.

Now though, it reminded him of how she’d worn the same hairstyle for thirteen years, waiting for parents who couldn’t come back to her…

Old habits died hard.

He ducked to the next shelf and felt something sharp twist in his chest.

She had brought clothing for him. A couple of utilitarian shirts and pants. Underwear…he flushed slightly at that. Socks. A dark vest.

He pulled a bundle of clothing out and stood to dress but stopped short.

There was something on the top shelf. Something pushed to the back but folded with meticulous reverence.

His heart started beating a little faster as he reached for it, hand trembling.

The breath caught in his throat. He recognized it.

But he didn’t—couldn’t—quite understand why he was seeing it.

Black, or formerly black, fabric unspooled in his grip. The material was soft and careworn now. Lived in.

Threadbare at the cuffs and at the neck, like it had been worn a thousand times over…

His old sweater.

The last thing he wore before he died. The last thing she saw him in, when she held him in her arms as the Force took him. When she kissed him like he was worth saving. Like he was her whole galaxy.

She’d kept it. All this time?

Why?

She could have left it to rot in that destroyed citadel. But instead, she patched it. Wore it. Kept it close. Why? Why would she do that, unless...

NO.

Ben shook his head, forcing the thought from his mind.

The foolish part of him fought him. It yearned for this hidden memento to mean something.

But it couldn’t.

The fabric was like butter under his touch. It was a high quality piece. And Rey was a scavenger at heart. She wouldn’t leave something like this to rot when it could be useful to her.

Yes. That was why she kept it.

Ben stood there in silence, sweater clinging to a body he still didn’t feel at home in.

He didn’t mean to pull it on. He meant to put it away and forget he’d ever seen it.

It smelled faintly like her. Like sun-warmed fabric, Jakku dust, and something greener now. Leaves after rain. Wildflowers blooming in temple courtyards. A life he’d never known, stitched into the scent of the one he’d never forgotten.

He closed his eyes and breathed in Rey’s gentle scent. Felt the threadbare sleeves and the patch job she’d done to close the hole she’d made with his burning red saber.

Ben’s chest rose with a deep breath. Fortifying. Centering.

He didn’t feel whole. Not yet. But with the fabric hugging his skin—her touch stitched into the seams—he felt just enough to keep going.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: Worn Thin

When Rey had first charted their course back to Chandrila, the navicomp told her it would take thirty-six hours.

She’d made it her personal mission to shave off as much time as possible.

Ten hours into that mad dash, she was starting to flag. Her head buzzed and her eyes burned. She blinked blearily and navigated on.

Fourteen hours to go. They were on the Corellian Run now and would get off onto a local Chandrilan corridor in about eleven hours.

Ben still hadn’t come out of the living quarters…

Perhaps resurrection was more tiring than she thought?

Unless he was not asleep?

But Ben wouldn’t be actively trying to avoid her, right? He probably spent a cycle or two in the sonic shower and decided to rest. They’d been through a lot since leaving the portal. The cenote’s collapse, a mad dash through crashing caverns and an ambush followed by a sprint through the jungle to escape said ambushers. It was a lot.

Even for her.

Her fingers drummed on the yoke, wondering if she should go check on him?

But then—what if he wasn’t sleeping?

Rey’s stomach churned with unease, but she remained where she was. Some caf and some food would do her good.

That settled it. She would go to the galley for some caf, grab a ration bar and maybe listen at the door for a moment. Then she would fly them the rest of the way to Chandrila.

She flipped the navicomp back to autopilot and stood, wincing. Her back cracked in symphony with her knees. “And that’s how I know I’m getting old,” she grumbled to herself, turning around.

Ben stood at the cockpit’s entrance, expression sheepish. “Sorry,” he stumbled, “I didn’t mean to leave you out here so long. I fell asleep…”

Rey blinked, staring not at him, but at what he was wearing.

His old sweater.

Questions flooded her already overwhelmed brain, like: why is he wearing it? And does he think I’m an absolute freak for keeping it? Did I just make things even more awkward? But what came out surprised her—

“You found it?“ she half asked, half squeaked as heat crept up the back of her neck. Maybe it meant something? Him in his old sweater? She hadn’t stored it with the things she bought him. It had to mean something.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort and Rey thought she detected the slightest blush rising across his cheeks.

“Yeah…” he trailed, still rubbing his neck, “The other shirts weren’t big enough…”

Immediately Rey’s rising hope fell dead. “Oh…” she looked down at the floor—anywhere but at him… “I’m sorry…I tried to get the right size.”

“No, no, no!” She could hear the panic in Ben’s voice and she glanced up at him. He was closer, his hands extended out like he was trying to placate her?

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to—kriff…” he sighed. “I’m sorry, Rey. I’ve hurt your feelings.”

She shook her head, trying to force her disappointment away for his sake. Had she really thought he’d worn it as some sort of sign?

It didn’t mean anything to him. How could he know that she’d worn that sweater to bed every night for years? That she used to cry into it, begging the cosmos for it to smell like him again?

No.

He’d worn it out of necessity because nothing she bought him fit….

“You didn’t,” she lied. At least he mistook her hurt for something else. Silver lining, right? She had to get out of there. Needed a minute to herself.

“I’m going to get some caf. Starting to feel drowsy.” She paused at the back of the cockpit. “Can I bring you some?”

Ben stared at her, brows drawn together, “Yeah… I’d take a thermos.”

She nodded and retreated down the short hall.

But before she made it to the galley, loud steps thudded behind her.

“Rey—“

Rey’s head snapped around, unable to ignore the siren call of his voice. She held her breath, praying that he couldn’t see her heart pounding through her tunic.

“Yes?” It came out breathier that she intended.

He slowed and stopped too close and still somehow too far away from her all at once. “You’ve been up for who knows how long. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I’m sorry…”

He stepped closer, his hand rising half-heartedly before dropping to his side again. She held her breath, watching it, wondering what the gesture could have been. “Please, let me take over for a while. You need to rest.”

Her eyes shot up and met his. They were concerned. Earnest too.

The weight of her exhaustion hit her in full force and she swayed slightly. “Alright…”

Ben smiled slightly, though she noticed it wasn’t a true smile. “I’ll wake you when we’re on the local lane. Go get some sleep.”

He clapped his hand to her shoulder. And then walked away without a second glance.

As if it hadn’t meant anything.

If that wasn’t humiliating, she didn’t know what was.

She’d waited ten years. Worn that sweater like armor. And now, all she had to show for it was a pat on the shoulder.

Ben spent the next twelve hours going over his brief conversation with Rey and beat himself up over it.

The clothes were too small?

Really?

He hadn’t even tried them on. Was it really that hard for him to say that he wanted to wear it because it made him feel closer to her?

Yes.

That was lightyears harder to say.

So instead, he’d stumbled through the moment like a tongue-tied fool, made her sad, and then patted her on the shoulder like she was a squad-mate instead of the person he—

No. No, he didn’t deserve to think about her like that.

He’d already taken enough from her.

So he flew the ship the rest of the way in silence. Didn’t risk waking her through the bond, though he could feel her presence curled up like a flame banked under ash. Even in her sleep, she tugged at him like gravity.

The final jump dropped them out of hyperspace just beyond Chandrila’s orbit.

The moment the cockpit lights shifted to realspace navigation, the comm crackled to life with docking codes and a friendly-yet-firm security officer demanding identification.

Ben let Rey handle that part. She stirred a few minutes later and took the chair beside him, hair tangled, cheeks flushed from sleep. She didn’t say anything. Just logged her credentials, confirmed her cargo, and nodded stiffly at him before turning back toward the back of the ship.

He’d never realized how much distance could fit into a few silent steps.

She returned just before they broke atmo, clean and in formal robes—still not looking at him.

They landed in Hanna City under tight security, blue and bronze GA insignia gleaming across the tarmac. Uniformed personnel surrounded them the moment the ramp dropped, and Ben had just enough time to note the sleek architecture of Chandrila’s capital before a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

“Hey!” Rose Tico approached with a datapad in hand and a blaster holstered plainly on her hip. She looked tired. Wary. But not surprised to see him. “You must be the dead man.”

Ben blinked. There was no venom in her tone, but no warmth either. Just weariness. Distrust, maybe. He couldn’t blame her…

“I suppose I am.”

Rose raised a brow, not smiling. “Come on. We’ve got a room ready for you. Finn and I pulled some strings to get you off the books so officially, you aren’t here. But let’s be clear—you step out of line and you’re gone.”

She looked at Rey. “You’ll head to the GA complex? Poe is going to a briefing. They want to hear the intel directly from you. Finn will be waiting.”

Rey nodded, barely glancing at Ben. “I’ll be there within the hour. Take care of him for me?”

He tried not to wince. Tried not to track the subtle coldness in her voice.

He couldn’t be seen by any government official—not yet at least. They’d touched on it briefly in the ship. This was the plan. She would share their discovery and he would hide at the Tico’s.

There was no place for Ben Solo at a Galactic Alliance military briefing. He wasn’t part of this world anymore—just a ghost trying to pass for living.

Ben had known he’d be on the sidelines. But knowing it and feeling it were different things entirely.

Rose caught the expression he failed to hide. Her eyes narrowed—not cruel, but sharp with insight. “Come on, then. I promise you’ll see her again in a few hours.”

He stared after Rey, who’d been pulled away from the ship by some GA officials to a large shuttle. She looked over at Ben, brow creased. She gave him a stiff nod and turned away, off to the city center.

Reluctantly, Ben descended down the ramp and followed the diminutive woman to a green speeder, unsure of how to feel about his plight.

Rey was met by Finn at the grand entrance of the Galactic Alliance’s headquarters.

“Rey! Poe said you did it.” He grabbed her hands and held them as if everything in the galaxy hadn’t just been flipped on it’s head. He peered into her eyes intently. “How are you?”

Rey swallowed, not really knowing how to answer. It was small in the scale of things.

Ben was here. The Dyad was reunited. They could face their enemies now knowing that they could win.

How she felt was insignificant.

And yet, she couldn’t quite contain it as Finn hugged her, the weight of the previous twenty-four hours—really the last three days—dropping down on her. “He’s here,” she whispered, still not entirely believing it. “He’s really here.”

Finn pulled back just enough to look at her again. “And… are you okay?”

Rey hesitated. Her mouth opened, then closed. What could she even say?

“I don’t know,” she admitted, voice quiet. “It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for ten years. And now that he’s here, I… still can’t breathe.”

Finn didn’t press. He just squeezed her shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Together.”

She nodded, feeling something inside her crack and allowed him to escort her into the massive chamber.

Rey filled her lungs with the flowery air that was omnipresent in this building and pushed away all her emotions. All the admirals, general and bureaucrats here—they didn’t want this version of Rey. They needed the Grand Jedi Master.

And so, she would transform to meet their expectations, feelings be damned.

“I half expected us to end up in the Senate Chamber,” she half joked as Finn led them through the atrium.

“Senators don’t get invited to these meetings,” Finn muttered with a sideways glance. “This is for people who do things, not just talk about them.”

Rey managed a weak smile at that.

The conference room doors slid open to reveal a wide, curved chamber bathed in cool light. Tiered seating ringed a central holotable, already alight with star maps and data streams. Uniformed officers—some familiar, most not—looked up as they entered. Officers stood in clusters, murmuring.

Kam Solusar was already at the edge of the holotable, hands clasped behind his back, the light from a holoprojection illuminating his face.

Tionne’s image hovered beside him in ghostly blue. Her long hair was braided back, and the faint silhouette of the Great Temple loomed behind her. Rey felt a pang of longing and worry all at once.

“Rey,” Tionne greeted with a small nod, her voice tinny through the comm. “I’m glad to see you safe.”

“And I’m relieved to see you still on Yavin,” Rey replied. “Is everything stable there?”

“For now. But the students are restless. The air is… different.” Tionne’s brow furrowed. “We’re watching the skies.”

“Good. Be ready for anything.”

Poe looked up at the sound of Rey’s voice, Chief of State Cal Omas at his side. “Everyone to your seats,” he commanded, voice full of authority that had only grown over the course of ten years. “Master Skywalker has arrived. She will brief you all on the intelligence she gathered on Auratera.”

There was mass movement and within a minute, everyone was seated. Eyes of all varieties stared down at her, watching intently.

That was abrupt. Rey cast a sidelong look at her friend-turned-First Admiral and stepped around the glowing holotable to its front.

Ben should know what’s happening… The thought struck her suddenly, rising from instinct as much as reason. Whatever the state of their... relationship... he needed to be aware.

His battle-honed mind could pick up on things they might not.

She reached for him through the bond—not with words, but with a quiet, open presence. A request, nothing more: Will you let me in?

At first, all she felt was his apprehension. Then, as he realized what her intention was, curiosity.

You’d share Galactic Alliance secrets with me?

His presence sharpened in her mind—wary, but intrigued. That voice, so rarely heard this way, echoed like thought across water. She had only felt it like this once or twice before.

You’re here to help me. So yes, she answered, letting the words flow across the connection. Listen—and tell me what you notice. If I miss anything... especially about our new enemies... I want to know.

She felt the vaguest sense of amusement drifting to her, almost like a shrug. Okay…

Rey stood before the assembled leaders, letting herself settle into the calm she'd honed over years of war and command. Around her, officers in GA uniforms murmured, datapads in hand, faces tense. The holotable's light cast pale shadows across the room.

“Chief of State Omas,” she said with a respectful nod. “Admirals. Generals.”

“I bring intelligence from Auratera.”

The room began to hush.

“I was ambushed by the invaders. I fought them. I survived their weapons. I saw their faces.”

She let the silence grow thick before continuing.

“They call themselves the Yuuzhan Vong.”

The chamber stirred. Murmurs. A sharp inhale. A shift in posture.

“They are not like anything I’ve faced before,” she said. “Their armor and weapons are alive—grown, not forged. They don’t register in the Force. I felt nothing from them. No presence. No intention. Like striking at a void. And…” she swallowed, remembering the chilling words from the Vong leader. “They said they’ve come to destroy."

That landed like a blow. Across the table, someone muttered, “Force help us.”

Poe stepped forward to add what he’d discovered, his tone brisk, voice carrying.

“We’ve begun to analyze the terrain on planets the Yuuzhan Vong have left behind. What Rey found supports data we've just managed to pull from abandoned Imperial archives and recent probe scans.” He tapped the holotable; a projection of twisted landscapes flickered to life—spores, coral-like structures, entire forests swallowed by unnatural growths.

“They don’t just fight. They reshape. Planets. Ecosystems. Infrastructure. Everything biological is a tool to them. They’re not using machines—they’re using lifeforms. Grown ships. Living weapons. Symbiotic armor.”

He looked around the table, jaw set. “The scouts Rey fought? That wasn’t a strike force. That was a forward feeler. The beginning of something bigger.”

Murmurs broke out, the sound building to a roar. Rey looked to the Chief of State but Omas didn’t speak. His expression was stone.

She forced herself to turn back to the officers.

“The Jedi will stand ready. But we can’t do this alone.”

“Why were you on Auratera, Master Skywalker? According to official databases, the environment is hostile to all lifeforms.”

The question came from a Bothan senator seated near the back. Her voice cut clean through the room's rising hum, crisp as a vibroblade.

Rey felt a jolt in the back of her mind—then a flicker of amusement.

Interesting last name…

Ben’s voice curled through her awareness, dry and amused. She scowled inwardly and pushed him aside.

“The ancient Jedi Order lied,” she said evenly, gaze sweeping the room. “Auratera is safe—protected, even. The Order obscured the truth to keep the planet and its powerful nexus from further Sith incursions.”

“And why were you there?”

This time, the voice came from the front—Cal Omas, eyes sharp beneath iron-gray brows. The room quieted again, more alert now.

Rey met his gaze without flinching. There was challenge in his tone, and she could feel the weight behind the question.

“Does your presence there have anything to do with your—how shall we say—insights into defeating the Yuuzhan Vong?”

The question was pointed. Too pointed. A probe disguised as concern.

Rey saw it for what it was: not curiosity, but containment. Punishing her publicly for refusing to send more Jedi.

He was also making an example of her—testing how far she’d go before revealing something classified, or personal. He didn’t trust her. Maybe he never would.

“My vision led me to Auratera, yes.” She answered carefully. “I was in search of a nexus point—a powerful one.”

“And you pursued this lead without informing High Command?” Omas pressed, voice clipped. “Without informing First Admiral Dameron? Logs show that you left in the dead of night.”

Rey turned her eyes on Poe. He hadn’t said anything to Command? Not a word? He subtly shook her head at her.

“There wasn’t time,” she replied, a mask of calm overtaking her face.

Omas leaned forward, hands folded. “Or perhaps you made that judgment alone—again.”

Rey didn’t rise to the bait. She kept her expression calm, her voice measured. “I followed a lead that presented itself through the Force. It wasn’t a mission I planned—it was one I was pulled toward. A nexus stirred. I listened.”

“So this wasn’t a tactical decision,” Omas said, sharp. “You weren’t seeking intelligence on the enemy.”

“No,” Rey said plainly. “That wasn’t the purpose at first.”

She felt the temperature in the room shift. Some of the officers leaned in; others sat back. Skepticism hung in the air.

“The Force brought me to Auratera for reasons I didn’t fully understand at the time. The encounter with the Yuuzhan Vong... that was confirmation. Coincidence, perhaps—but one that revealed what we’re truly facing.”

She paused, choosing her next words carefully.

“I didn’t go there looking for them. But I found them. Or they found me.”

The murmuring resumed—uncertainty, calculation, even a hint of awe. Rey let the silence settle, aware that every word she spoke was being weighed against wartime paranoia.

She thought of the vision, the blinding presence of the World Between Worlds. Ben.

That’s not for them yet.

“If there’s more to this pattern,” Omas said, voice cool, “you’ll share it before we risk any strategic decisions based on it.”

Rey inclined her head just enough to be diplomatic. “When the timing is right. And when I’m certain doing so won’t compromise the outcome.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t press. Not yet.

Poe stepped in, tapping the holotable. “Regardless of why she was there, we’ve confirmed what she saw over the past twenty-four standard hours. Living technology, terraforming patterns, biomatter displacement. The enemy is real. And they're preparing for something large. We need to plan our next move.”

Rey exhaled quietly, her gaze sweeping the room, relieved that the attention had passed on from her now. Her part was done. Now they would strategize.

Ben stared out the wide windows towards the Galactic Alliance complex, which he could see faintly across the glittering white Hana City.

The meeting seemed to be proceeding well, but even with the new information Rey provided, it didn’t seem that the military knew how to proceed.

If he were being honest, he wasn’t entirely sure how to either.

All he knew that somehow he and Rey were going to stop the invasion.

…If only the Force were benevolent enough to tell them how…

He listened with half an ear as the diplomats and military leaders debated tactics—all shots in the dark—and managed to cobble together some sort of plan. They were going to be reamed. That much was apparent. Maybe they knew something of their enemy’s weapons but the only skirmish so far was the one he and Rey had on Auratera. The fact of the matter was that they just didn’t know how their weapons and tactics would stack up against the Vong.

And they wouldn’t know until the Vong struck again.

His thoughts drifted and turned to Rey. Her choice of last name…

Ben didn’t know what to make of it. Part of him loathed the choice. That name belonged to the past. Another part of him felt envious. If he’d been strong enough to survive, would she be known by a different name?

He dismissed the thought almost as soon as it came to him. There were a lot of assumptions in that sentiment. Foremost being that something would have become of him and Rey…

If he’d survived, he would have just ended up dead some other way. Like on the receiving end of a firing squad.

“You hungry?”

Ben turned to see Rose leaning in the doorway, blaster still holstered in plain view, an obvious unspoken warning.

Clearly she didn’t understand how easily he could overcome that if he wanted to.

She didn’t have anything to worry about. He would never hurt one of Rey’s friends. Especially not one whom he suspected to have been one of Rey’s staunchest supporters over the past ten years.

“Yes,” he replied, looking out at the city again. How long until Rey came back? He itched to see her again—needed to feel her presence fully… He felt unmoored without her.

Hana city had changed so much since he’d last seen it. More skyscrapers, more speeders. But somehow despite all the growth, the tranquility of Chandrila remained.

They’d achieved something amazing since the fall of the First Order. Rey and her friends had restored peace and prosperity to the galaxy. He never could have done that. Not as the Supreme Leader.

Again, the feeling that he shouldn’t be here struck him. Rey’s reality was one of peace now. He had no place in it anymore. He would only bring her grief…

He thought about how she reacted when she saw him in his old sweater. How she hardly looked at him when they landed. How she passed him off to Rose like he was nothing to her…

She didn’t need him. Didn’t want him. Everything here on this world—his homeworld—proved it.

“Are you seriously brooding in front of my window right now?”

Ben looked at his host, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

Rose had returned with a tray in tow, filled with two bowls full of something savory and steaming and a plate of flatbread. “You’re brooding.”

Ben came to the table, noting when Rose stiffened slightly at his approach.

“I’m not brooding.”

She scoffed, not even bothering to look at him. The carafe she carried dropped to the table with a thud as she grabbed the bowls and pushed one to him. “Are you really going to pout until she gets back? Stars, you two are hopeless.”

Ben didn’t say anything. He just sat and stared down at the table.

“Not happy that you’ve been resurrected or something? Don’t want to face what you’ve done?” Rose’s tone wasn’t outright hostile. But it wasn’t friendly either. She was tolerating him for Rey’s sake and her sake alone.

“I want to help. I’m here to do whatever needs to be done to stop the Yuuzhan Vong.” He didn’t answer her questions. Because truthfully, he wasn’t sure how he felt.

“It’s the least you can do.”

Ben nodded absently. “I know…”

He could feel Rose’s eyes boring into the top of his head. He dragged his spoon through the soup, appetite lacking in spite of the wonderful aroma.

Rose sighed and dipped a piece of flatbread into her bowl. “I was really expecting more fire out of you. Rey said you were a combative ass back in the day.”

His shoulders shrugged of their own accord, trying and failing to not let the insult affect him. Was he really surprised that Rey thought that way about him? “Death does that to you, I suppose…”

She snorted, surprising him.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Rose eating with gusto and Ben just pushing the food around, wondering more and more what else Rey might have said about him. He really shouldn’t care. What did it matter what she told her friends?

But it was bothering him. And Rose could tell.

Rose dropped her spoon and leaned back into her chair. “Spit it out, already.”

Ben froze. He met dark eyes partially obscured by an annoyed scowl.“Pardon?”

“Clearly what I said about you being an ass is bothering you. Why?”

“It isn’t” he bit back, temper rising.

She actually laughed this time and he scowled at her. “That is the biggest load of bantha poodoo I’ve ever heard.”

“I guess I just didn’t expect her to say anything about me at all.” He snapped, dropping his spoon and shooting Rose a glare.

She returned his glare with an unimpressed look. He was beginning to understand why Rey left him with Rose.

This was strategic.

Rey left him with a woman who could emotionally suplex him. He almost smirked at the realization.

“She didn’t.”

That hit Ben like a sucker punch to the gut. He felt like he couldn’t breathe—felt like the sky was crushing down on him. And stars, how pathetic was that? To ache over something he should’ve expected?

Why? Why should he feel so injured over something like this? Rey made it clear with her indifference on their flight to Chandrila what he meant to her.

He should have expected this.

Rose leaned forward and fixed him with a level stare. “Let me clarify,” she said, not unkindly. “She didn’t say anything about you because she couldn’t. It hurt too much.”

Ben froze and immediately sought ways to unravel the words. “She seems fine to me,” he replied, too sharp, too quick.

The small dark-haired woman’s expression darkened. Her hand clenched the cup she was holding. “Let me spell it out for you, Supreme Leader, because you weren’t there to see it. Rey hasn’t been the same since you died. She’s been a shell. Going through the motions, surviving out of obligation. But don’t mistake that for healing. She’s been lost. And we all saw it—me, Finn and Poe.”

Rose stood abruptly and collected their dishes without looking at him. “Your death broke her.”

She turned and walked out, leaving him in the quiet wreckage of her words.

Ben sat frozen, staring at nothing.

No retort. No sharp remark.

Just the echo of grief he’d never been there to witness—and the crushing weight of mattering more than he thought.

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: Klaxon Call

Rey sat through every tactic the military brass proposed, every dispute and reluctant compromise.

The problem was, none of them knew what the Vong were truly capable of.

It was all a big mystery to them.

They didn’t know what would work. Didn’t know if their weapons—laser, plasma, or otherwise—could bring down creatures bred to resist the very laws of the galaxy. Everything was guesswork. Theories. Ideas. Whims. All dressed up in polished uniforms.

Still, she listened. And while her ears followed the conversation, a quiet thread of her attention pulled at the knot of a much more difficult question:

The Dyad.

How were she and Ben supposed to stop this?

Why hadn’t the Force shown them how?

Surely, it couldn’t be as simple as just linking hands and unleashing a tidal wave of energy. That wasn’t how the Force worked. That wasn’t how anything worked.

No. There had to be something else. A purpose. A mechanism. A truth buried in the bond between them. Maybe a weakness in the enemy they alone could sense. Or some lost rite—an ancient weapon hidden in the roots of Jedi or Sith knowledge, only accessible through the Dyad.

She needed time. She needed the old texts. Needed to look again with new eyes.Their eyes.

Kam shifted beside her with a quiet groan, grimacing as he adjusted in his seat. He gave her a faintly sheepish smile, the kind that only barely reached his eyes.

She raised a brow.

The old Jedi pointed subtly to his bad knee.

She understood.

The meeting had just crossed the four-hour mark, and it didn’t look like it was letting up anytime soon. Kam’s joints were aching.

Honestly, her back was beginning to stiffen too. And now that she thought of it, she was starving.

There was a flicker in the Force. Unease. Like a current shifting.

Before she could place it—

WAAAH—WAAAH—WAAAH.

A harsh klaxon split the room. Red indicators flashed at the edge of the tactical display. The discussion halted instantly.

A corporal rushed into the chamber, datapad clutched tight in shaking hands.

“Chief—First Admiral—Ma’am—” he stammered, eyes darting to Rey, then to the cluster of officers. “Recon just reported—Yuuzhan Vong vessels have begun leaving the Dalonbian sector—two star destroyer analogs—”

He swallowed.

“They’re heading for the Gordian Reach.”

Rey jumped to her feet, all her instincts telling her to get on the fastest ship she could and fly to Yavin immediately. Then she caught a flash of hologram blue and looked to Tionne, who’s expression had grown grave. But she still sat serenely, just as a Jedi should.

Through the echoing sound of her pounding heart, Rey forced herself to think. Tionne had been working on evacuation plans for over a week at this point. She was reliable and level headed. The younglings would be safe. They could be out of the system within the day.

The rest of the room had gone deathly silent. All attention was on her again. She could even feel her bond with Ben stirring. He knew something was up.

This was her jurisdiction, after all. The Vong were coming after her people. They would want to know what she planned to do about it before anything else.

Poe stared at her, worry bleeding through his even expression.

“Tionne,” she said finally and turned to the hologram, forcing calm into her tone, “How goes the evacuation protocol? Is everything prepared?”

Tionne’s hologram wavered slightly, the jungle behind her blurred with static. “The Praxeum is prepped for evacuation. We were expecting an escort flotilla from Chandrila at 0400 local time. They never arrived.”

A ripple moved through the chamber.

“What do you mean, never arrived?” Poe asked sharply, jumping out of his seat.

Tionne’s expression darkened. “We received their jump confirmation from Chandrila, but after that—nothing. No transponder signals, no hyperspace reversion signature. It’s as if they vanished. It’s why I requested to join this meeting.”

Poe stopped in front of her, shoulders tense. “They had a designated vector, right?” He looked to the Coporal, who watched with drawn lips and wide eyes. “What does nav control say?”

The young man typed furiously into his datapad, foot bouncing erratically.“All readings show a clean jump. But the system hasn’t recorded any ships exiting hyperspace along that corridor.” He looked up, stunned. “Sir, I apologize. We should have caught this immediately.”

Rey’s stomach twisted. “Could it be a malfunction?”

“With five vessels? Unlikely,” murmured Kam Solusar from beside her.

“Then what?” Finn asked. “A black hole? A freak gravitational anomaly?”

“There’s nothing like that on that route,” Poe muttered, brow furrowed. He was pacing now, boots clipping at a rapid pace. “Something else happened.”

Rey stared at the star map, at the empty stretch of space between Chandrila and Yavin IV. It felt… wrong.

“Whatever happened to them,” she said softly, “we have to assume the Praxeum is vulnerable. They’re isolated, and if the enemy is already on the move…”

“We’ll have to go ourselves,” Finn said resolutely.

“Agreed,” Chief Omas replied from his seat, voice tight. “If we wait for answers, we’ll be sending condolences instead.”

Rey met his eyes from across the room and nodded. Whatever issues they had could be put aside for the time being. Now, they had work to do.

“I need ships bigger than the corvettes you sent.”

Omas nodded and then looked to Poe. “What do you say, Admiral?”

Poe stopped, eyes going sharp. “We’ll take two of our star destroyers. And I want Vigil class frigates and CR90 corvettes ready to go within the next four hours. All hands!”

The room exploded with motion. Each with a job to do and no time to do it.

Poe turned to Rey and Finn. “I’m going to need you both with me.” He looked to Finn, “Can you get a regiment of soldiers on the Resolve? Is your division ready to go?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah, Ember legion is ready. They’ve been on standby for a couple of days.”

“Good. Get them to the shipyard.”

Finn gave a crisp salute that felt so unlike him that Rey did a double take. He left, pace brisk, pulling a comm out of his pocket and placing orders into it as calmly as if he were ordering takeout.

He’s grown so much, she thought as the door slid closed behind him. Rey had missed it all...Finn’s transformation from uncertain soldier to confident general.

“Better go get your dark horse, Rey. We’ll be waiting for you on the Resolve. Pushing off in four hours.” Poe said from beside her in a quiet voice. He left her too, immediately swarmed by his subordinates and barking off orders.

“I’m coming,” Kam announced by her side. Rey jumped. She’d forgotten that he was still there. Tionne’s hologram had long vanished. She would be busy preparing the Praxeum for the evacuation and invasion.

“It’s not safe, Master Solusar…” Rey said gently. He was not too old, but he was too feeble to take on this task. He knew it but for some reason, he refused to accept it. “Tionne will be here soon enough. You should be here to greet her when she does.”

Kam Solusar gave a firm shake of his head. “I need to be there. Tionne is strong but even the strongest need help.” He fixed her with a hard stare, challenging and so unlike his calm demeanor. “I must be on that ship. I must.” It was the tone of his voice that cut through to her.

“Alright.” She sighed, tired. “Meet us on the Resolve then. Four hours.”

Kam nodded in grim acceptance. “I will see you there then, Grand Master.”

Rey arrived back at the Tico’s house twenty minutes later. It felt like an eternity, weaving through the skylanes making her way across the massive city.

She felt Ben’s prods through the bond but ignored them. He would know soon enough.

And she needed extra time to process what happened.

Yavin.

The Yuuzhan Vong.

A missing flotilla…

The Vong had something to do with it. She just knew it.

This was a nightmare scenario…

Ships could fly in relative safety in hyperspace. Until now.

It unnerved her—no—it terrified her. No where was safe. Not anymore.

The droid piloting the speeder began descending to the Tico’s private landing pad and Rey breathed in, pushing away her fears. She needed to project strength right now. She was a pillar. A leader. She couldn’t afford showing weakness.

She’d barely gotten out of the speeder when Ben was on her, grabbing at her shoulders, demanding to know what happened—why he had felt her panic suddenly. Why she’d ignored him—

Only then did she realize. He wasn’t just grabbing her in panic.

He was checking her. Shoulders and sides. Making sure she wasn’t hurt.

Ben realized what he was doing at the same time and pulled away hastily. He swallowed uncomfortably but didn’t apologize for his intrusion.

“What happened?”

With him so close, Rey felt clarity come back to her. The panic receded just a bit, replaced by certainty. He was here with her. They could face anything, anything, when they were together.

“They’ve targeted Yavin IV. The Vong are heading there now.” She told him, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the house.

“The old Rebel base? Why does that matter?”

Rey stopped cold, horrified. But of course he wouldn’t know.

She’d never told him where the Order was.

“That’s where the Praxeum is...” she said softly. “Where the students are.”

Ben paled and she felt a spike of alarm vibrate down their bond. “When do we leave?”

"Soon."

She opened the door to her guest room and grabbed her satchel—still packed— then turned to leave, Ben trailing like her shadow.

A few quick strides led her to another room. She opened the door and found a another travel bag on a bed. Must be a loan from Rose.

“Four hours,” she clarified with a distracted mutter, picking up the bag Rose had packed for Ben and heading to the kitchen.

“Where is Rose?” There was no sign of her friend anywhere. No Force signature. Nothing.

“She left about ten minutes ago. Got a comm from FN-2187 and took off right after.”

Rey arched a brow. “His name is Finn.”

Ben gave a small, unapologetic smile. “Old habits.”

She shook her head, opened the cold storage, and grabbed two fizzades. A strange choice, maybe, but she needed the distraction.

Four hours was a long time. She and Ben could be on her ship and in the black within a half hour.

But she begrudgingly understood why she needed to wait for their flotilla.

This was going to lead to a battle. A big one, if she had to guess. And her small ship was hardly more than a private shuttle. One that sorely lacked in the weapons department.

And its hyperdrive engine wasn’t as fast as the military grade ships they were about to embark on.

Ben took the can from her and patiently watched on, though she could detect a slight current of annoyance beneath his still expression. He wanted answers.

“We’re joining a flotilla. The Resolve and its escort ships.” She took a sip and pulled a face as the bubbles burned down her throat. “Poe’s people are moving as fast as they can but it’s still going to take four hours before push off. They’re moving some regiments of ground troops from reserve to the ship too. Finn’s included.”

“What kind of Mon Calamari monstrosity are we flying on?”

Rey set the fizzade down carefully, “Not Mon Calamari,” she said meeting his eyes, “A Resurgent-class star destroyer.”

————————

Ben’s face blanched, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. “Star destroyer?”

The word tasted like rust in his mouth. Of course they would repurpose the past. Turn it into something new. Something useful.

He was saved from dwelling on this discovery by the arrival of the Ticos, who burst into the house mid argument—

“Absolutely not, Rose!” FN—Finn, he corrected himself—practically shouted as they charged into the kitchen. Rey met his eyes, her mouth falling open. Perhaps it was best for them to retreat to the safety of their host’s backyard?

“You can’t just leave me here, Finn. I know how to handle myself. I’m an excellent shot and—“

“You were an excellent shot, Rose. When was the last time you had to pick up a blaster? Ten years? You’ve been working a desk job since the war ended.” He shook his head with finality. “No. We don’t know what these things are capable of. And I need you to stay here, safe on Chandrila.”

Unfortunately for both he and Rey, the Rose and Finn were blocking the exit. They were doomed to listen to their hosts fight. They exchanged uncomfortable glances and tried to become inconspicuous.

Rose scowled at her husband. “You wouldn’t try to make anyone else stay…”

“They’re not pregnant with my baby, Rose! You are!”

Ben subtly tugged at Rey’s sleeve. She shook her head. “They’ll hear the door,” she whispered.

“So we die here?”

“Like heroes,” Rey whispered back solemnly.

The small woman slammed her fists onto the stone counter-top, the loud snap grabbing their attention like a chokehold.

“So? That means you get to control me?”

Ben cringed. It’s a trap, he tried to say, don’t do it.

But Finn did it…

“You’re not a soldier anymore, Rose. You’re a mom.”

If it was possible for a human being to melt away out of sheer second-hand embarrassment, Ben would have done it.

Oh shit, a horrified and somehow horribly amused voice called through the bond. Ben’s eyes snapped up to catch Rey valiantly covering her face up with her hands. Her shoulders shook though and he knew she was barely holding it together. He really said it. He’s gonna die. And we might be collateral.

Rey, Ben hissed through the bond, Do you seriously think that this funny right now?

She peeked at him through her fingers and gave the slightest nod.

Ben had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.

The room had gone deadly silent. Rose glared at her husband with enough fury that Ben was honestly surprised that Finn hadn’t combusted.

“What did you say to me?” Her voice was low. Scary enough that Ben’s arms prickled with gooseflesh.

Never in his life did he imagine fearing for FN-2187. But now? Now, he did.

Finn took a step back like a man facing down a rancor. “I—I just meant—you shouldn’t be risking yourself in your condition—”

“My condition?” Rose repeated, eyes wide with disbelief.

Ben mentally began drafting Finn’s eulogy. Rey, beside him, made a strangled noise into her fizzade can.

The Tico’s argument continued, their visitors completely forgotten.

Rose took a breath, calm and terrifying. “I may be carrying your child, Finn. But I don’t belong to you. You don’t get to decide who I am now.”

Then she grabbed her blaster off the hook near the door. “I’m going. You can either help me pack, or get out of my way.”

Ben whispered, “I vote help her pack…”

And Rey—darling, wonderful Rey—immediately sprang from the room like a startled nuna in a minefield.

She didn’t walk. She bolted, disappearing down the hallway before Finn could clock the tremble in her shoulders or the way her breath hitched with barely-contained laughter.

Ben remained frozen, staring after her, half in awe and half in fear for his own safety.

Finn turned his glare on him, eyes narrowing.

Ben decided it was in everyone's best interest to also exit the room—with less nuna and more dignity.

The star destroyer loomed before them, a jagged silhouette against the black of space—colossal, cold, and all too familiar.

Ben’s skin crawled as they approached.

A Resurgent-class. Nearly three thousand meters long. Nineteen thousand crew. Three full regiments of ground troops.

One of his.

Rey didn’t speak, but he felt her. Felt the quiet gravity of her presence at his side. She stayed close, her knee brushing his when his foot bounced, his nerves slipping through the cracks in his composure.

She didn’t offer words of comfort, and he was grateful for that.

Words wouldn’t help. Not here.

He didn’t want to board that ship.

Didn’t want to breathe recycled air that had once carried his orders.

Didn’t want to walk those halls with ghosts for company.

He didn’t want to be reminded.

But the past had a long reach. And this time, he was walking straight into its hands.

The only bright side was that this specific ship was not his specific ship.

The Steadfast was wreckage. Dead and buried on Exegol. And yet, here he was, walking into its twin’s shadow. If he could burn Exegol again, erase every blueprint, every order, he would. But ghosts didn’t burn. Not really.

As if Finn could detect Ben’s trail of thought, he chimed in beside him, eyes on the massive ship that grew larger with every passing moment.

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” Finn asked, quieter than expected. “Coming back to one of these.”

“I thought they all died with him."

Finn gave a slight smile, like he knew how unnatural this all felt. “What, did you think we would just scrap it all? All that tech gone to waste?”

Ben didn’t reply. His jaw tightened as his stomach churned.

They passed into the hangar, the shuttle powering down with a groan. The soldiers and crew members around him gathered their rucksacks and satchels, murmuring in practiced efficiency. He stayed seated, unmoving. Completely rooted in place by memory.

The shuttle’s ramp opened, revealing a familiar hangar bay. It was brighter now. The walls were white and accented in blue. But even with a new paint job, he knew that everywhere he turned on this beast, there would be reminders of what he’d been. Of everything he was trying to escape.

His soul ached with sickening shame. Flashes of the monster he'd been rose up before he could fully force them back down. He grit his teeth and made himself move.

Aside from the change in color, it was nearly identical to the ones he once commanded—sterile, angular, humming with old ghosts.

Finn followed him down the ramp, slinging a bag over his shoulder. “We stripped the insignias, gutted the brainwashing tech, rewired the command protocols. Turned a few old TIEs into long-range scouts.”

Ben stared ahead, silent. Rey walked next to him, steadying him—helping him remember that he wasn’t Supreme Leader Kylo Ren anymore. Anchoring him. Her presence reminded him of who he was now. Who he could be.

He lingered a moment, eyes drawn to familiar walls—he remembered shouting orders. People flinching. Standard issue boots marching in time over metal grates.

“I remember what it was built for. What places like this mean.”

Finn stopped, growing sober. “So do we. That’s why we’re using it for something better.”

“Good.”

He left it at that. Unable to speak anymore.

They were approached by a young lieutenant carrying a data pad. The Zabrak didn’t give him a second glance as he assigned him quarters in the officer’s corridor next to Rey and Finn. Which was odd seeing as he was not a member of the Galactic Defense Force or the Alliance.

Dameron must have taken care of it. Must have ordered spare quarters for him. Hopefully he’d managed to craft some sort of identity of some sort—a Jedi ambassador maybe?— for him to take on while onboard.

Hopefully no one recognized him.

He hadn’t shown his face to the public ever. Hux and Pryce took care of the public side of things for him when he was the Supreme Leader.

The troopers stationed on the Steadfast on the other hand, would have seen his face regularly. They were long dead, though. Lost on Exegol.

But the odd transfer did happen. He worried that someone might recognize his cadence of his voice, the way he walked. The way he moved...

Probably best to stay confined to quarters as much as possible.

“General Tico—“ the Zabrak called out as the trio marched away.

Finn spun, “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, um—about the quarters—your wife, I mean, Ambassador Tico—she’s listed separately—”

“I’ll take care of it,” Finn cut in quickly. “Thank you.” He sped ahead, leaving Ben and Rey behind.

Seems like the lovebirds still haven’t solved their baby-sized crisis. Ben projected to Rey.

Rey shook her head sadly in reply, staring after her friend and his hunched shoulders.

As the fight continued, they both had hidden outside with their bags, practically begging their transport to arrive while the sounds of shouting echoed through the house.

It ended with Rose storming out, her travel pack in tow and Finn refusing to answer any of Rey’s questions.

“They’ll be alright,” Rey eventually said with a sigh. “Finn will realize he’s being an over protective idiot and Rose will forgive him.”

They hopped into the nearest turbo lift and began ascending towards the bridge and officer quarters.

“That’s not been my experience…” he muttered. Too many fights had ended with silence and a slammed door. Sometimes silence was forever.

Rey looked at him sharply. He forgot that she didn’t share his knowledge—or his opinion—of his parent’s rocky marriage. The look she was giving him was a mix of pity and resolve.

“Regardless of your experience,” she replied, “Finn and Rose will be fine. They’ve come through worse before.”

She said nothing more, but Ben couldn’t help wondering what they’d been through that was worse than this. He released the thought. It wasn’t his place.

“Leia told me…they were happiest when you were with them…” Rey said quietly, her shoulder so close that it would brush his arm if only he leaned a little. He didn't.

Ben scoffed, pulling away slightly. “They could have fooled me.”

How many times had he overheard arguments over him? Because of him? No, they were almost certainly happier when he’d finally been banished to Ossus.

“That’s not true,” she turned—grabbed his arm and looked up at him, earnestly.

She’d heard his thoughts, he realized belatedly.

They really needed to figure out how to control this.

Her eyes locked on his, vivid green mixed with copper brown and unflinching. He couldn’t move if he tried. “Your mother said that when you were sent away, that was when their marriage failed, Ben.”