Chapter Text
Rey tries to focus on the pattering of raindrops outside her window. The fragile glass pane is pushed ajar, beckoning the rumbling storm into her quarters. Shivery, sodden air saturates the small space around her. Slow, rolling thunder drums in the distance and yet again, she's reminded of him, of how the intensity of his emotions and the depth of their power always seemed to be quaking just below the surface.
Seeing him through their connection in the months after Crait had been... difficult. He had oscillated between raging at her with blazing anger to pointedly ignoring her with chilling indifference. Rey wasn't sure which one was more painful. Her own anguish and guilt had churned within her, tearing her apart from the inside out, but his pain had flooded her through their bond, searing her mind and heart.
She rarely interrupted his tirades, only lashing out when he went too deep, struck too low below the belt. But afterwards, when the connection had severed, she had burned with regret over the words she hurled at him. And hardly did she try to break through his icy apathy, though the frigid ache it caused in her chest stung for hours afterwards.
And then things changed.
Once, after he had screamed himself hoarse, she whispered something that struck him like a lightning bolt and rooted him to the spot in the aftershocks. He wasn't entirely sure he wasn't hallucinating. Rey stared at her shoes, tears welling in her eyes, and she finally, finally, told him what had been trying to tear its way out of her throat for weeks.
"I'm sorry."
As her tears fell, so had the mental shields she so carefully constructed. She let him feel her regret, her longing, how deeply she missed him, how she had wanted to trade everything in the galaxy just to keep him.
He was staggered. He had been so caught up in feeling betrayed and cast aside, yet again, it hadn't occurred to him that she was just as conflicted and wounded as he was.
A heavy, strained silence seeped between them for several moments. Then, finally, he sighed.
I'm sorry, too, he murmured miserably through the bond.
In a rush of emotions, he showed her his contrition and how he hated himself for how cruel he had been to her. But he had only ever known one way to process his pain, by weaponizing it. In that soft but severe moment, as he listened to her breathing hitch as she tried to quiet her sobs, he wanted to be different. For her. For himself.
Now, as she lay on her bunk listening to the squall blustering outside, she could see how much progress they had made. It had been slow going, but every time Rey sees him, there's more and more of the real him resurfacing.
Ben.
Her Ben.
He materializes next to her the instant his name enters her head, as if she'd summoned him. She half expected him to be standing a few feet away from her as he normally is. Yet he's inches away from her, curled on his side, his body tilted horizontally, resting in his own bed.
His eyebrows lift swiftly at their closeness, but his expression smooths out again as she offers him a small smile in greeting.
"I'm sorry if I woke you," she murmurs, taking in the shadows lining his eyes.
Ben shakes his head. Flashes of his recent restless nights flit into her mind from his. He hasn't been sleeping much anyways. A worried dent appears between her brows as she studies him.
Rattling sharply, the small stone window shudders delicately as a clammy gust of wind forces its way through her quarters. Raindrops splatter against the stone floor as they spill over the sill, papers ruffle on the small workbench in the corner, the fabric of her unwound arm wraps drooped in a nearby chair flutter toward the low ceiling.
Rey's hair is sloppily tousled by the wind, the ends of her waves lifting and twisting in on themselves as the stormy breeze rushes around her. Ben eyes the dancing tendrils as they flutter around her neck and skim softly against her collar bone. His brow pinches together in a quick flicker of movement across his features and his confusion brushes against Rey's mind.
Are you... outdoors? he asks silently.
Rey feels concern bubbling under his incredulity. She flashes him an abashed smile, like a child caught red-handed.
"No," she mutters. "But my window is open, there's a thunderstorm."
She says this like it's the most natural thing in the world to have her window open to the spilling rain and welcome the drizzly, tumultuous gusts inside like old friends. Ben is perplexed, but before he can press the matter further, she shivers, eyes closing involuntarily as she gently trembles against the chilly, wet wind.
"Are you cold?"
"No," she answers too quickly, giving away the lie. She shivers again.
Yes, she admits in his mind. But I like it. The breeze, the storm. It's... she trails off, unsure of how to explain. Instead, she tentatively presses against the bond, offering him a memory.
He watches as she remembers the first time she'd seen rain. Actual, real, rain, just gushing from the sky. The memory isn't that old, from perhaps a year ago, maybe a little longer. He relives her wonderment as she inspected the tiny lakes pooling at her feet, dotting a worn dirt path in front of her with shallow puddles. Her clothes were already on their way to getting drenched, but she had meditated then, all but flinging herself into the Force. She was eager to feel the pulse of the downpour as it beat a gentle tattoo against the forest. She followed a raindrop as it slid down a broad leaf. She relished the noises from thick, fat droplets heavily pattering onto the ferns lowest to the ground. She traced the path of a steady trickle winding down a nearby vine. A childlike giddiness spread through her, sweeping Ben up in her joy as her eyes flew open in the memory, drinking in the scene around her.
The scene flickers out gently and Ben's eyes refocus on Rey's. She's waiting for his response, feeling slightly juvenile for disclosing how precious this indulgence is to her.
He grins at her. He can't help it, not when she's being so charming without even trying. He nudges his endearment and affection into her mind, wordlessly thanking her for showing him.
But you're still cold, he counters.
Gingerly, he presses his socked foot against hers, deepening their connection and opening their surroundings to each other. Then he carefully drapes the side of his heavy blanket closest to her across her shoulders.
Instantly, warmth and the scent that is so uniquely his engulfs her. Rey burrows into the blanket, pressing the fabric to her nose as she tries to slyly inhale. She grins widely and flits her eyes up to meet his once more.
"Okay," she concedes. "This is better."
"So, the desert girl loves the rain?" he asks, a teasing lilt dripping into his voice.
She rolls her eyes and her mental response of duh reverberates loudly through the bond.
She sends him a frank explanation in the form of a burst of flashes of her life on Jakku; how her throat was constantly desiccated, how her skin was always seared by sun-scorched metal, how oppressive the blistering heat could feel, even hours after the sun had unwillingly slunk below the horizon.
Even though her tone is lighthearted, he winces. He's unsure if he'll ever not be angry at the suffering she'd endured, if he'll ever stop wanting to wish it all away for her.
In response, he sends her an image of the waterfalls surrounding his mother's estate on Naboo. The cascades roar softly as they tumble into the iridescent pools below. Sunlight glitters on the surface, refracting the light into a thousand shimmering points.
Rey gasps softly at the image, spellbound by the beauty. Ben, in turn, is bewitched by her astonishment and open longing.
"I'll take you," he murmurs aloud, unable to stop himself.
I'll give you anything, the thought floats involuntarily from his mind to hers.
She eyes him playfully.
Anything?
She projects into his head the vision she'd had all those months ago, of him returning to the light, rejoining the resistance, embodying a perfect Jedi. It's different than the last time she showed him, as if it's lighter somehow. Free of the urgent pleading that had saturated her mental tone before. Now, she's teasing him. In the corner of his mind, Ben marvels at her being so candid with him.
Outwardly, he rolls his eyes at her. He looks so much like Han when he does that, she notes fleetingly. He tosses a pitiful attempt at a withering glare at her, yet his eyes shine with a mischievous happiness. Her answering smile is a radiant beam of starlight.
Keep smiling at me like that and we'll see.
She laughs and the sound makes him feel like he's flying.
Oh, is that all it would have taken?
Before he can counter, she changes the subject. She doesn't want to argue with him tonight. Not now. Not when he's finally so relaxed and smiling and open and joking with her.
"What's your favorite weather?" she asks aloud, in an effort to distance their conversation from the direction of their thoughts.
"I don't know that I have one," he answers after a moment.
"Really?"
"I can't think of anything that makes me feel the way the rain makes you feel, I guess," he shrugs.
"Well," she presses, "when do you feel the most peaceful?"
Now. With you. Anywhere with you, his mind supplies automatically.
She blushes. She's not entirely sure he meant for her to hear that, but she can't feel any regret or embarrassment coming off of him.
He closes his eyes, concentrating, as he pulls up the dregs of a smattering of memories.
He's sitting on his balcony as a boy. Knees pulled to his chest as he counts the stars instead of sleeping. The warm breeze rumples his hair. He hears the trees swaying softly, branches bowing obediently to the wind. The memory shifts, and suddenly he's a padawan, sitting outside his hut in the moonlight. His arms are looped loosely around his knees as they splay outward from his crossed ankles. The stars wink down at him. He watches the strong winds raging against the treetops, but the breeze on the ground is slight and he's comfortably sheltered. He closes his eyes and listened to the forest sway around him, feels the foliage lurching rhythmically as the wind whistles softly above him. He was within and without, a peaceful in-between.
She closes her eyes, soaking up his remembered contentment. He watches her face as she sighs and pulls his blanket closer around her. Several tranquil moments trickle by in a relaxed and comfortable silence.
Thank you, she whispers in his head.
For?
Showing me. Letting me see.
He shrugs.
"I…like it," he mumbles haltingly. "I can't remember the last time someone…"
"I know," she tells him. She carefully brushes her fingertips over his cheek, faintly charting the scar she gave him.
Everything with her is different, he thinks mostly to himself. Easy. Relaxed. Light. No manipulation. No politicking. No hidden motives. Just…them. It's overwhelming, comforting, and terrifying all at once.
I know, I feel it too, she answers silently.
Without hesitation, she scoots closer to him and presses her face against his chest.
He should be taken aback, but having her this close feels as natural as breathing. So he drapes his arms around her and hums contentedly, relaxing deeper against his own bed. Tentatively, he faintly brushes his lips against her hairline.
Home, their minds sigh in unison.
The wind suddenly blows harshly into her room once more. She shivers and nestles tighter into Ben's arms.
Sleep, his mind nudges hers. I'll keep you warm.
Rey yawns delicately and gently fists her hand in his shirt. Her mind answers his as she sinks towards sleep.
And I'll keep you always.