Chapter Text
He always comes to her at the worst moments, it seems.
After the Supremacy, he’d thought their connection was gone. Severed with his master’s death.
On Crait he saw her again, and he’d felt something like regret.
He regrets a great many things lately.
He can’t make out where she is. Not that he’s trying, exactly, but to pretend he isn’t curious is just lying to himself.
Wherever it is, she has a cot or a pallet to sleep on, going by the blurry edges of what look like sheets bunched up around her lap.
“What are you doing?”
She sighs.
“It’s really none of your business.”
He notices the fragile book resting in her lap, her fingers gently brushing along the pages.
“Are you...did you take those from Skywalker...from Luke?”
Her huff of exasperation is like a jab in the ribs.
“I thought I said it’s none of your business.”
He makes a sound that could have been a laugh, coming from someone else.
“Why even bother reading those? You’re stronger than they could have ever have dreamed to be.”
She finally looks at him then. Frowning, as always. But...sad.
He wasn’t expecting sadness.
“And I suppose you think that’s, what, flattering? You think that’s a compliment?”
He almost replies, but her expression stops him. He doesn't think she's sad now.
He’s still not sure how to read her. He’d thought -- once, briefly -- that they had come to an understanding.
“I meant it as one, yes.”
She sighs again, and looks away. Back to the Jedi books.
“Why are you here?”
He makes that almost-laughing sound, and she looks back to him. The frown is gone.
“Being here wasn’t my idea. I have obligations--”
Her hand raises to halt him and she looks down at the book.
He hadn’t expected that to hurt.
“Oh, I forgot. You’re the supreme leader now. Go on then. Leave me alone, Kylo. Rule the galaxy.”
She doesn’t hear anything from him for a few minutes, but she knows he’s still with her. She decides to continue reading until their connection abates, feeling spiteful.
He’d betrayed her on the Supremacy. There’s no other word for it.
She wishes, desperately, that there was.
The silence finally goes on too long, and his presence lingers. She closes the Jedi book gently, sets it aside, and looks at him again.
He’s simply sitting across from her, gaze trained on his own gloved hands. She’s not sure she’s seen him so still since they met, and it unsettles her.
“Is...something wrong?”
Her concern is genuine, he knows, but he can’t stop himself.
“It’s really none of your business. ”
She scoffs at that, dismissing his barb.
“I can’t help if you won’t talk to me, Ben.”
He clenches his hands so tightly the leather of his gloves creaks.
“Make up your mind already. Am I Kylo or am I Ben? What are you trying to accomplish, Rey?”
She looks away, but then back to him. Sighs again.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Done what?” he growls at her, and looks back at his hands.
“Taunted you. Told you to leave me alone. Neither of us really wants that.”
He inhales sharply and looks back to her, and the sincerity there is as painful as the saber wounds she’d given him on Starkiller.
He looks at his hands again.
“I don’t think you can help me, Rey.”
He can feel her frown trained on him.
“What do you mean?”
He drags one hand through his hair, still staring at the floor.
“Actions have consequences. Being supreme leader doesn’t preclude that.”
“Ben. Look at me.”
He exhales slowly. When he looks up again, she’s moved closer -- so close he could almost touch her, if she’d let him.
She frowns again.
Oh, he wishes she’d stop that.
“You don’t have to be anything, for anyone. Be Kylo, if that will suit you. Or be Ben.”
He can’t breathe with her looking at him like this. Still sad, but hopeful.
“Luke is...gone. You defeated Snoke. You don’t have to be what they tried to make you.”
He wants to look away from her, but he finds that he can’t. The little bit of light in her room highlights the undertone of green in her eyes, and he feels hypnotized.
“What about you?”
She stares at him for a second, shocked.
“I...I don’t get to decide that for you. Be whatever -- whoever -- you want to be.”
He shakes his head, amusement coloring his voice.
“No, Rey. What about you ? What are you going to be?”
She smirks at that, and shifts backward slightly.
“Well. Probably not a Jedi, to be honest.”
He looks at her sideways, almost smiling himself.
“Should I pretend to be surprised?”
She huffs and rolls her eyes.
He’s not surprised by that either.
He hesitates before speaking again, but he’s curious, now.
“Did you take the lightsaber with you? I didn't see it when I woke, before.”
He expects her to be angry at mentioning it, but instead she seems sad again. The frown is back and he immediately regrets asking.
“Yes. But I can’t repair it.”
He scowls down at the floor.
“Repair it? Are you saying it’s broken?”
He looks back to her and she’s nodding, not looking at him.
“I think…”
This time she’s the one watching her own hands for a moment, palms up, as if she’s dismayed by their failure to repair the old weapon.
But then she looks at him again, and something is different.
“I think I’m going to build a new lightsaber. Do you...do you think Luke would mind if I used this Kyber crystal?”
He stares at her for half a breath before replying. He hadn’t expected that.
“No. I think he’d like that.”
“What about you?”
Something in him dares to hope, and this time he does smile, if only a little.
“I think I’d like that too.”