Chapter Text
Beep. Beep.
A series of low chimes from somewhere in her sparse apartments on the Stargazer alerted Rey to the fact that it was almost time. Her gut twisted violently at the sounds and a dizzying fog clouded her head. They might as well have been a death knell.
Rey sighed and she began to move with a greater sense of urgency; it was almost time.
She moved across the austere apartment past the chrome tables with holopads strewn carelessly across it and her unmade bed, to the chrome wall at the opposite end of it. Mindlessly pressing her access code to silence the alarm, she ignored the mess. Over the course of the last few days, Rey neglected to tidy up her bedroom. Time, it seemed, was slipping away from her. I’ll clean tomorrow, Rey promised herself as she took a seat in front of the black dressing table that had been set up for her.
Rey stared at her reflection in the looking glass warily, as if one wrong move would cause her carefully put-together appearance to shatter to pieces. She did not know how much longer she could keep herself together. Her skin was marred with scrapes and bruises from the Resistance’s last major run-in with the First Order - a battle that she could still see every time she closed her eyes or succumbed to sleep.
They’re overwhelming us! Everyone retreat! She could still hear the final order given amidst the sounds of blasters and cries of the wounded.
If she was being perfectly honest with herself, Rey was tired – tired of running, tired of planning, tired of fighting a battle that could never be won. She did not know how much longer she could go on like this. The circles that had formed around her eyes in the past five years had only deepened and darkened now, and barely noticeable lines had begun to show on her forehead whenever she was in deep thought.
Rey had only lived for twenty-five years, but she felt much older.
Five years had passed since she had last felt truly light and carefree, but five years ago, Rey’s world had been entirely different. She had begun her training to become a Jedi, to help the Resistance topple the First Order once and for all. But Luke Skywalker was gone now, and the Resistance needed to be built once more from the ground up. Even now, five years since the Resistance had been all but leveled, they still had a long way to go before they would be restored to their former strength. It seemed like no matter what she did or said, there was always one more mountain for her to climb.
Her hope for victory - even for balance - was beginning to fade.
Still staring in the mirror, Rey began to twist her long, brown hair into a simple neat plait. She had never truly paid attention to her hair before, opting only for simple hairstyles that kept the annoying stray locks out of her face. But today was a different occasion entirely, one that called for much more pomp and circumstance. With a slight movement, Rey wrapped the plait into a tight bun at the back of her head and secured it neatly in place looking almost regal. Taking another glance in the mirror, Rey appraised herself. But it was hard to recognize the woman in the glass; it did not look like her. She was older, battle-worn; she had lost too much.
She shuddered, an uneasy chill washing over her.
“ I don’t like your hair like that,” the voice came from the edge of the room, and Rey recognized it almost instantly. Her pulse quickened at the sound of the intruder’s voice, as it did every time it reached out to her. She could feel the fury boiling in her, threatening to explode on this day of all days. It took every ounce of strength in her - strength that Rey could not spare - not to outwardly react to his presence.
She had been getting better and better at blocking the voice entirely. She could go days without him appearing now. But he always managed to reach out when she was the most vulnerable. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as the intruder spoke, but she quickly calmed herself down; she would not give him the satisfaction of a response.
“Where are you now?” the voice implored her, as it had for the last few years. He was always fishing for information, hoping that she might give away anything that would compromise the Resistance. She could sense the desperation in his tone today, the desire for an answer, anything from her. This was new. But Rey did not respond; she had not deigned to answer the voice in the last five years and she most certainly would not start today. “Will you still not speak to me?”
Instead of responding, she looked at herself more closely in the mirror. The dark charcoal of her tunic combined with the onyx wrap across her torso made her skin appear pasty and gaunt. The scars and bruises that painted her skin made her look ghastly and aged. Truly, it was not a flattering look at all for her. She’d considered lining her eyes with kohl or using a powder to add some color to her cheeks. But now was not the time to overly concern herself with her appearance. She stood up, dusting off her clothing as she readied herself for the day’s events.
As if she would ever be ready for this.
“ It’s true then, isn’t it?” The voice from the corner of the room called out. The desperation only intensified as it asked the loaded question. Rey turned away from the voice, refusing to look at the man who it belonged to.
“I felt it, you know. When it happened.”
Rey closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the memories from that last vicious battle came flooding back to her. She had almost had her arm broken clean in two by an erratic Death Trooper and had barely missed being shot more times than she could count. The ambush that Rey should have been able to predict. The physical pain of the battle had been horrible, and she had the scars to prove it. But when it was over and the dust had all settled, the anguish only intensified. She had felt it then, too – so potently. Even now, though, days later, the ache in her gut had not yet gone away, and Rey did not know if it ever would.
“ For what it is worth, I’m sorry.” The words echoed through her empty apartments, causing the fury in Rey’s blood to run cold.
Rey had had enough; she did not want to hear any false platitudes - especially from him . Not today of all days. Closing her eyes, she focused all of her concentration on the mental barrier she worked so hard to build for herself. She imagined herself building a stone wall, putting each stone up piece by piece until she was entirely closed off from the intruder. She counted her breaths until she could no longer hear its voice or feel that chilly presence that haunted her so. It was a trick she had taught herself in the last few months to keep herself from going mad.
When she opened her eyes again, she was alone in the sparse apartment. Rey exhaled in relief.
“Son of a bantha,” Rey mumbled under her breath. The careful shields she spent years perfecting, a fortress against intrusion, had been breached. It was a meticulous effort to bar him from her mind after all this time - to keep him away from anything that could compromise the delicate position of the Resistance. The question danced on her lips, an incredulous whisper—how had he managed to break through today of all days?
The faint echoes of chirps from her surroundings sliced through her introspection, a gentle yet insistent reminder that the universe carried on outside her contemplations. The realization pushed her back to the present, to the utter dread lacing the air. Was it really time already?
The heaviness of the moment settled on her like a weight, a mixture of apprehension and readiness. With a deep breath, Rey traversed the space in her apartment and extended her finger to press the button to open the door. Poe Dameron stood before her in a stark black uniform, arms folded carefully behind his back. He looked every bit the soldier — fresh-shaven and neat. But there was no betraying the melancholy in his eyes; he looked just as tired as she felt. Irrepressibly, the corners of Rey's lips arched into a halfhearted smile, as if the tension of the day couldn't completely stifle her natural warmth, “Good morning, General.”
His lips curled only slightly at the recognition of his most recent promotion. “Same to you, Lieutenant.”
Rey gracefully sidestepped, an unspoken gesture inviting Poe into her sparsely decorated chambers. Despite the years spent aboard the cruiser, the walls and corners of this assigned domicile had remained untouched. These rooms had never quite transcended their utilitarian identity to become a sanctuary—a home. Such a fact hadn't bothered her in quite some time, and evidently, it hadn't fazed the man who now stood before her.
His eyes lingered on her as he took in her appearance; a light pink flushed his cheeks. His voice, hushed yet purposeful, carried across the tiny spacey, "I just wanted you to know that we’re currently in orbit. The delegation shuttle is going to be departing shortly. If you still want to be on it, that is."
In his works, she could hear that Poe was giving her the option of backing out. The notion of stepping back, withdrawing from the impending strain, was implicit. Yet, Rey couldn't help but find herself momentarily taken aback by the notion. How could he entertain the possibility that she might choose to be absent on this day? Her voice was resolute as she responded, "Of course I do."
Acknowledging her unwavering resolve with a nod, as if her answer had been anticipated all along. The intensity of his gaze held her in a wordless dialogue before he continued, "I have something for you."
A curtain of bewilderment descended over Rey's features, her curiosity peaked as she watched Poe's hands unfurl from their folded position behind his back. Nestled within his palm lay a creation that radiated delicate beauty—a golden necklace fashioned into the form of an inverted triangle, its graceful contours weaving an intricate pattern. The sight of it prompted an involuntary gasp, her fingers ascending to cover her parted lips. The sigil it bore was all too familiar, its significance tugging at the strings of her heart. "The crest of Alderaan?"
Poe nodded, his heavy eyes meeting hers. “I think she would have wanted you to have it.”
“I don’t k– thank you,” Rey's response struggled to find its foothold, her emotions too intricate for concise expression. But Poe did not seem to mind as he stepped behind her and carefully he rested the delicate crest and chain upon her neck. He understood, perhaps better than anyone else could, the significance woven into this gift.
The warmth of his fingers delicately brushed the nape of her neck, a touch that sent a shiver of sensation dancing across her skin, like the wake of a whisper. His touch seemed to linger on her back, and she could feel his solid presence behind her. As the chain was fastened, securing the emblem close to her heart, his sturdy hands found rest on her shoulders.
"Are you ready?" His words, softened by the echoes of melancholy, carried a weight that Rey could feel in her bones. The gentle pressure of his hand on her shoulder was an unspoken reassurance, a wordless pledge of solidarity amidst the tumult of emotions.
No, I am not. Her internal response, unspoken but resonant, echoed in the recesses of her mind . But she needed to be - if not for herself then for the rest of the Resistance who counted on their leadership. Despite the maelstrom of her feelings, Rey managed a nod.
In a seamless cadence, Rey followed Poe wordlessly from her own apartments on the Stargazer down to the shuttle bay. The air aboard the star cruiser was tense, to say the least, and not a word was spoken between them as they made their way to the delegation shuttle.
No one dared to speak to either officer in the corridors, the atmosphere was a tapestry woven with tension and unspoken condolences. The corridors whispered with hushed respect, each passerby keeping their gaze lowered in a mixture of deference and understanding. The crew members, petty officers, pilots, and mechanics—anyone, really, who had the misfortune of crossing their path —maintained a respectful distance as Rey and Poe moved along the passageways.
Their arrival at the shuttle bay felt abrupt, the gravity of the moment leaving little room for mental preparation. Surrounding the delegation shuttle, a small crowd draped in hues of mourning had gathered. Among them, Rey's eyes found Rose, who was hunched over with her face buried in her hands. Finn's protective arm cocooned Rose, bringing her even close to his chest.
In different circumstances, Rey would have embraced her friends with open arms, welcoming their presence with genuine warmth. However, the traditional attire and solemn expressions that adorned her companions shattered any inclination for casual conversation.
Without a word to her compatriots, Rey boarded the delegation shuttle. Seating herself at the cabin's distant boundary, she sought solace in the corner's chill, allowing it to envelop her. Her thin frame leaned against the wall for a silent source of support. Poe took the seat that faced her. His lips curved into a faint smile, a gesture brimming with compassion, yet Rey couldn't summon the strength to mirror it. The weight of the morning cast a shadow too profound for casual exchanges, its gravity hanging heavily over her head and heart.
The rest of the delegation filed silently into the shuttle. Amidst the assembly, the hushed symphony of safety fasteners clicking into place provided a rhythmic backdrop. The reverent hum of the shuttle's engine added an almost mournful resonance to the scene, an auditory prelude to their impending departure from the Stargazer.
No one dared to speak.
As the delegation shuttle set its course towards the massive planet below, the uncanny stillness persisted. Rey allowed her gaze to fall upon the expanse, sweeping across the canvas that unfolded before her. The panorama was awash with sweeping stretches of green, a vibrant tapestry of nature's bounty, interspersed with sapphire pools that shimmered like scattered jewels. The allure of the planet's beauty was undeniable, a visual symphony of life and color. Yet Rey knew that the evening's events would forever alter her perception of this world.
Amidst the contemplative ambiance, Finn's voice punctured the heavy silence.
"Why Naboo?" His inquiry resonated softly yet carried an unanticipated weight, like the strongest of blades cutting through the tension. The question hung in the air, a mere whisper that somehow seemed to slice through the stifling atmosphere. "I thought the General was from Alderaan."
Members of the delegation looked at each other quizzically; none of them seemed to have the answer. Rey looked up when no one else spoke.
“It was her mother’s birthplace,” Rey's voice was a soft murmur in the contemplative stillness. The collective gaze of the delegation turned to her, surprise etching itself onto their features. "She had told me once, a few years ago, that this had been the place where her own mother had ruled as a Queen and then served in the Republic as a senator. She had always wanted to see the place her mother came from."
Rey recalled that evening perfectly. It had been an evening swathed in frustration and longing, the ache of not knowing her roots a relentless throb. She was once more stewing in anger over the fact that she would never truly know her parents. She had complained about how unfair it all was —her lack of roots and unclear purpose. And Leia, wise Leia , had sat Rey down and told her own story. That she, too, had never known her birth parents, that she had been robbed of the chance to know her true path and the grief that it had caused her.
Your purpose has a way of finding you, Rey, Leia’s words echoed as a balm in her mind, as clear as the day they had been delivered, whether you know it or not.
As memories of the General pooled within her, Rey felt a swell of emotions rise like an ocean tide. Tears threatened to breach the barriers of her lashes, emotions gathering like storm clouds on the horizon. Inhaling deeply, she willed herself to summon the reservoir of strength within, determined to be a vessel of composure in this trying hour. Be strong, Rey, she commanded herself.
Poe's voice interjected like a lifebuoy, deftly diverting the focus from her. "She was a wonderful woman," his sigh held the weight of genuine admiration, “A force of nature.”
The mantle of attention shifted away from Rey, Finn and the rest of the delegation concurring in silent accord. For a fleeting moment, the shuttle's interior held the collective memory of Leia's essence.
“That she was,” Finn nodded, and the rest of the delegation murmured their assent. But after a few more moments, the quiet unease settled over the shuttle once more and left Rey alone with her own thoughts.
The roaring waterfalls and breathtaking lakes of Naboo glistened in the moonlight, half-convincing Rey that the planet was actually made of diamonds. The air had a cool, light breeze about it that seemed to gently kiss her skin whenever it picked up. In her last few years traipsing along the galaxy with the Resistance, Rey had never come across a planet as alluring as this. In any other circumstances, Rey would have been in complete awe of her surroundings. But now, as she stood at the head of the funeral procession, Rey could only feel a hollow resentment at the beauty of the planet.
It mocked her pain mercilessly.
As the casket carrying the great General Organa began to move slowly along the procession route, the Resistance leaders followed closely behind. Rey locked in step with Finn and Poe at either side of her as the somber funeral procession made its way along the brilliant beaches at the lake retreat of Varykino. The Naboo people had lined the streets along the procession route, silently mourning with those that had known the general best. Somewhere in the distance, Rey could hear a deep mourning song being sung in her honor. Naboo was truly a marvelous place, and so peaceful.
Perhaps, Rey thought, she should be thankful that the general was finally at peace.
The Naboo, upon hearing that the General would be laid to rest on their planet, had set up an ornate pyre on the shore of one the great lakes in the countryside. It had been the family retreat of one of the greatest houses during the golden age of the planet, and Leia would find her final resting place there. The delicate dark wood of the pyre was wrapped elegantly into different plaits, interlocking and weaving around one another. It was truly fit for a princess. But despite the fine detail, Rey could not help but shudder at the sight of the funeral pyre.
The congregation unfolded like a tapestry of sorrow, each figure draped in hues of mourning as they moved in a somber procession. Rey's gaze remained steadfast, fixed upon the unfolding scene before her. The pallbearers moved with careful reverence, their movements deliberate as they placed the casket atop the pyre's wooden framework. A stirring, akin to a whisper, tugged at Rey's senses, igniting a chill that mirrored the one that had brushed her earlier that day. No , she silently pleaded, her eyes closing as if in a silent invocation. Not now.
But there was no use fighting it; not in her current state.
Vulnerable and exposed, her emotions roiled beneath her exterior. Like a current of emotion, a voice punctured her consciousness—his voice, a phantom echo that sent a tremor down her spine. " I could feel your grief across the galaxy ," his words reverberated, carrying an uncanny intimacy that defied her immediate surroundings. It was as if he stood right beside her, an invisible presence, his breath teasing the nape of her neck.
Her body stiffened at the proximity of his presence. Of him . The chill that raced along her spine took on an intensity that was almost tangible. A shiver rippled through her, and the sensation intensified as his question took root within her consciousness. "Are you there now—saying goodbye?"
Rey's sharp inhalation seemed to slice through the air, her chest tightening in response to the uninvited intimacy. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, an attempt to anchor herself. The skin of her palms felt the imprint of her nails, the pressure a grounding focus in a sea of emotions. Clinging to the discomfort, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, the sharp sting a physical reminder of what was happening beyond his presence. Anything to divert her focus from the presence that lingered just beyond her sight.
Anything but him.
Poe Dameron's movement from her side broke the spell, momentarily breaking Rey free from the storm brewing at her side. His steps carried him toward the head of the funeral pyre, the glow of embers embracing him in a soft halo. With a conscious effort, her attention remained rooted to his silhouette, to the warmth he emanated in the midst of the flickering light.
As the assembly leaned into Poe's words, Rey listened with a mixture of gratitude and melancholy. His voice, steady and firm, cut through the somber air like a beacon of guidance. "Friends—members of the Resistance," his voice carried a weight that transcended mere words, drawing everyone's attention. "We are gathered here today to honor one of our own. General Leia Organa was more than just a princess or a military leader."
The collective consciousness of the assembly seemed to hang on Poe's every word. Rey exhaled, released in tandem with Poe's speech, carried a sliver of relief. She had been thankful when he had stepped forward to speak today instead of her. She forced herself to focus on the eulogy, but her awareness remained acutely attuned to the presence that lingered, the sensation of Ben's gaze upon her a constant undercurrent.
“I’m not here to antagonize you, Rey,” The words unfurled like a delicate breeze, tinged with an enigmatic familiarity. A tremor coursed through her and her body clenched involuntarily, a quiet symphony of restraint. Every fiber of her being yearned to wrench away from her position at the forefront of the mourners, to put distance between herself and the invisible intruder. But the sanctity of the moment, the gravity of the ceremony, bound her in place—she dared not draw attention to herself amidst the sea of somber faces.
" I'm here because I need to be, " his whispered assertion, threaded with vulnerability, held an unspoken plea. The weight of his presence pressed upon her consciousness. Rey's realization came as a sudden, sobering wave—this wasn't just a turbulent encounter of disparate souls. It was, in fact, his own mother's funeral.
Poe's voice, a lifeline amid the tangled emotions, resounded like a distant beacon. "General Organa was the stuff that rebellions are built on," his words wove through the air, "She was the wisdom that guided the Rebellion to victory against the Empire. She was the hope that lit the way through the Resistance’s darkest hour. She was a hero, and not just because she died in battle. But because of who she was to each of us—what she still means to us."
Although she knew he could not see or hear anything that was going on around her, Rey had to wonder if Ben Solo knew what people were saying about his mother. Did he have any inkling of the eulogies and tributes that were given across the galaxy? Did he sense the weight of his mother's legacy, the impact she had on those who had gathered to honor her?
And then, his voice—a curse meant for her ears alone—resonated like a whispered secret. " I also wanted to say goodbye to her. " The words were a heavy presence, each syllable carrying a weight that seemed to hang in the air around her.
Her jaw clenched involuntarily.
"It's up to us now, to make sure that General Organa did not die in vain," Poe’s voice continued, resolute and painted the future with a brush of responsibility. His gaze seemed to touch upon every individual within the congregation that had gathered to honor their fallen hero. "Leia was the spark of hope in the Resistance. It's up to us to keep the flame that she lit for us."
With his final words, Poe lifted up the first of the torches and brought it to the pyre’s edge. Within moments, the flame ignited and began to engulf the entire ornate structure. Rey's eyes followed the undulating flames as the heat that radiated from the fire kissed her skin. As the same time, she could feel a chill envelop her —the lingering touch of Ben's presence. Despite the tumultuous emotions that churned within her, she remained steadfast, her gaze riveted to the consuming flames.
Rey did not know how long she stood there with Ben Solo’s cool presence next to her. Not a flicker of her features betrayed the internal churn of emotions—no signs of discomfort or grief escaped her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She remained a stoic figure, her demeanor as still as a sentinel statue amidst the galaxy's collective mourning for Leia Organa.
Amid the quiet mourning, Poe's return was almost imperceptible. She had not quite forgotten the presence of Ben Solo, mourning his own mother from across the far reaches of the galaxy. She had chosen only to ignore him the best that she possibly could. But it was not until she felt Poe’s warm fingers graze her knuckles that she even noticed that her hands were still clenched tightly into fists. The grip that had been so tight, so determined, eased as Poe's fingers entwined with hers.
"Are you okay?"
Rey swallowed as she steadied her shaking hand caught between Poe’s grasp. She nodded once — perhaps if she believed it enough, it would become reality. She offered a faint smile as she gently disentangled her hand from his. “Not here,” she whispered so only he could hear, “Just not —not now.”
In the wake of her withdrawal, a fleeting shadow of hurt crossed Poe's countenance, swift and fleeting like a passing cloud. He dropped his own hand as he glanced around, eyes skimming the assemblage of mourners. This was not a place for small comforts. "Yeah, you're right. Not here."
Rey's smile held warmth, gratitude dancing in its contours as her hand brushed his arm one final time. She redirected her gaze to the pyre, the flames that licked at the sky, a visual embodiment of both loss and the legacy that endured.
"To General Organa," Finn's voice soared, his glass of Corellian whiskey held high like a tribute offered to the heavens. A crowd had congregated around him Beside him, a small flask of the same amber liquid lay, its contents poured onto the earth as a libation for the departed. "And may the Force be with her always."
There was a roar of assent as the mourners all lifted their glasses in a toast to the fiery general. Rey quietly followed suit, lifting her own glass of whiskey at the toast and bringing it to her lips. Having never been one to truly appreciate a good drink, the burn at the back of her throat caused Rey’s face to contort in displeasure. But the drink was strong, and after only a few brief moments, Rey could feel a quiet warmth spread throughout the rest of her body.
Rey scanned the diverse tapestry of faces that populated the scene—delegates hailing from across the galaxy, disparate voices woven into a shared chorus. The air hummed with a different energy, anecdotes, and laughter intertwining like tendrils of smoke in the breeze, carrying cherished recollections from heart to heart. Yet, beneath the outward mirth, a weight settled within Rey. She lingered in this enigmatic state, allowing her thoughts to dance around the unspoken, a puzzle she dared not unravel completely.
"I can't believe she's really gone," a meek voice whispered from behind Rey. She turned, finding Rose there, her face marked with scars and bruises, an empty whiskey glass in hand. Pity welled up within Rey at the sight of the young officer—Rose had seen the most action in the battle that had claimed Leia’s life. Out of all of them, she looked the worst for the wear.
Rey regarded Rose, her hand finding its place gently on the other woman's shoulder.
"Me neither," she murmured, her voice fragile, “There was always a part of me that believed that no matter what happened, she was invincible.”
Rose's voice wavered as she continued, "I just keep thinking—we should have been able to do something. If only we had known what was coming, we could have evacuated in time." Her voice got higher and higher as she fought back even more tears.
Rey's grip tightened slightly, a silent understanding passing between them. The thought had haunted her own thoughts, a ghost of what-ifs and regrets. To Rose's vulnerability, Rey responded with words she had clung to herself, the mantra that Poe had said over and over again in an attempt to comfort her,. "We were ambushed, Ro'. There was nothing that we could have done."
“I know — you’re absolutely right,” Rose sighed, her fingers weaving through her dark hair in an anxious motion, “we’d just been doing so well lately at predicting whatever that bastard Kylo Ren has been planning. It’s just hard to think we weren’t able to predict he’d order that attack on us.”
Rey bristled, her hand retreating from Rose's shoulder as her gaze fixated on the empty glass clasped within Rose's grasp. The truth resonated—Rey's unwelcome connection with the First Order's supreme leader had honed her predictive skills and made it much easier to anticipate their enemies’ maneuvers. But, with the intentional closing off of her bond with Ben Solo, she found it was becoming more and more of a struggle to accurately anticipate the First Order’s actions. Could she have, in some way, averted this tragedy?
Her gaze lingered on the vacant glass, an unspoken desire for more of the whiskey stirring within her. The words tumbled from her lips, a parched sound that escaped her throat. "You're right," she conceded, her voice strained by the weight of her thoughts. A dryness clung to her mouth, “Perhaps we should have known.”
Rose, although young, was seemingly perceptive to Rey’s sudden change in mood and politely excused herself from the conversation. Although she liked the young officer, Rey couldn’t help but feel grateful that she had left. Alone now, she sought refuge in the corner of the Naboo hall, seeking a haven for her thoughts. With her now aching head cradled in her palm, Rey's fingers found the pendant of Alderaan, its weight a reassuring presence against her skin. The chain slipped through her fingers, her touch a contemplative caress. Suddenly, the crest seemed heavier than it had before.
“You look like you’ve been through hell.” A cool voice intruded on her thoughts.
"Like you would know," Rey muttered, her words a reflexive response that slipped past her guard. In her grief-stricken state, she had momentarily forgotten just who stood before her—a lapse she swiftly berated herself for. She had vowed that she would never speak to him again. A surge of frustration coursed through her, an internal reprimand for her momentary lapse in vigilance. Great kriffing job, s he cursed herself for being so stupid.
"Perhaps I don't know," Ben Solo's voice lingered in the air, his figure present at the edge of her periphery. Determined in her resolve, Rey refused to meet his gaze in an effort to maintain her distance. She buried her head further in her hand, unwilling to let her eyes betray her intentions. She hadn't truly seen him in five years, and she wasn't about to break that streak now. "But what I do know is that there was nothing you could have done to prevent this from happening. It wasn't your fault."
A torrent of frustration surged within Rey—his ability to unravel her thoughts with such ease grated at her core. How could she have allowed him to read her so effortlessly? Anger at her own vulnerability fueled a sharp retort. "No—you're right. It's your fault."
Ben's response carried a weight, his pause punctuated by a deep breath. " I didn't know she was there when I ordered the attack ."
A scoff escaped the tightness in Rey’s throat, her head still cradled in her hands. “What a load of tauntaun shit,”
“You know it’s true,” he replied, and she could feel his presence take a step closer to where she sat.
Rey's thoughts darted, recalling his earlier condolences, his attempt at participating - if only somewhat - in the procession. She couldn’t deny that there was a genuine, if flawed, connection in those moments. He had mourned with her; their frayed bond told her that much - there was no denying it. Yet, as swiftly as she acknowledged it, she dismissed it. It didn't alter the reality. "Even if it were true—you're still responsible, Ben. Intentions don't erase actions."
“ I-”
“I don’t want to hear it, Ben.” she interjected hotly, a plea laced with exasperation. She needed clarity, not more confusion, and she refused to let him add to the tempest of her emotions. She didn’t need to see the Supreme Leader of the First Order wracked with grief over his mother; over the Resstance Gneral.
“I want you to go.”
Ben's response remained unspoken; Rey shut her eyes, a fleeting attempt to block out the world around her. When her gaze opened again, he had vanished from her sight, leaving her alone in the enclave of the Naboo hall.