Chapter Text
There's a labyrinth of intersecting pathways and a swirling mist that permeates every inch of this strange place, fathomless yet held aloft eternally. A portal of glowing intent catches Rey's eyes and coaxes her forward. It is yards away but within one step, she is standing in front of it.
The portal's otherworldly sheen promises everything she has been seeking, all garnered away beneath its mirror-like surface. How does Rey know this? She cannot say, only that she understands it innately.
Her fingers reach out, tentative, her touch met by its surprisingly warm surface before being yanked into an intense vertigo. It steals her sight, seizes her limbs, and she lashes out of instinct to fight against the feeling of helplessness. Her life lived up until now passes in flashes behind her eyes, a single image consisting of various memories bleeding into one another. There is one memory that stands above all else: a slow blink of dark eyes, skin ashen with dirt but smooth where her thumb sweeps along the jaw; a plush mouth meeting hers halfway—
Is this what you seek? intones an ancient voice, genderless to the ears.
She need not answer; it's prominent enough in her feelings.
It all happens so fast—within one breath and the next, she is held aloft, sightless but seeing and surrounded by infinite. Rey unravels within herself, the Force reeling her into pandemonium as a headache so fierce rages against her skull; a weightlessness of being plucked from her body overcomes her, then confusion. She feels like air, like energy, like light and dark and the balance in between—she is suspended in nirvana, and then—dropped unceremoniously.
Her back slams into the ground, an 'oof' cleaves from her lips. Everything is once again heavy.
Rey's eyes blink open—it's bright—too bright. But once her eyes adjust, she notices that the sky is a pale blue. Pretty, but unexpected. She is mesmerized, feeling as if this is the first time in a long time she has stopped to appreciate the beauty of it. The sun pours down on her through the tall, looming trees; canopies of leaves attached to long, spiraling branches rustle in hushed, serene tones. It evokes a sense of calm within her.
That comfort is short-lived. Rey scrambles to her feet, her heart hammering in her chest.
There's too much green. Too much sun. Not enough stony terrain. No, no, no, no—it's all wrong! Rey's eyes burn as the panic rises unbidden in her chest, along with a sweeping wave of grief that hasn't entirely left her yet, still so fresh and present after all these years. It's not Exegol, not even close—but why?
Okay, okay—calm down, forces Rey. Nothing good ever happens when you panic. So calm the kriff down!
She looks over herself and recognizes the apparel of tunic and robe made for the sweltering, desert heat of Jakku, and the notable absence of her lightsaber. Okay, no lightsaber. That's fine.
Everything is fine.
Completely fine.
That's when she hears it: heavy footfalls thumping the ground behind her, then the distinctive sound of a lightsaber being ignited—her breath stops.
Three years.
It's been three years since the day her life unraveled. Since then, the bonds tethering her together had kept her sufficiently willful as the passages of time bled from weeks and into months, then from months and into years. Still, even though time has stretched, leaving her soul weary and thin, Rey remembers that day as if it were yesterday; that triumphant burst of happiness that had stolen her breath for the briefest of moments, and had filled her so completely, so achingly in the arms of a man whose face continues to haunt her every step.
Unlike others she has put to rest in her mind and in her heart, that same very man rises like a ghost and manifests in the shape of shadow and glinting metal before her; crimson and luminescent, his cross-guard pulses with the blood of her heart.
She forgets how she should feel at this part, only that she just is.
"You've made this all too easy," he intones brusquely—and Rey's heart lurches. "As if you wanted to be caught."
She knows what happens next, their first encounter difficult to forget.
But the sound of his voice, even modulated, catches her so off guard that it rushes forth emotions previously kept safely hidden away, now ripped open and free to encompass her in a flurry of intense shock and overwhelming elation. Rey doesn't even think to stop herself, overtaken by instinct—her last memory of him rearing at the forefront of her mind and remembering the way Ben's strong arms had readily accepted her.
She breaks out into a sprint, lightning-quick, and Ben's stance shifts into defensive as he raises a gloved hand to freeze her, just like before. But Rey is quicker, uses the Force to give her that extra push, and is suddenly ensconced in the heat of him, her arms wrapping tightly around his torso; she sags, her relief so profound, she fears he might be a trick of the mind. But he is solid, real, alive.
Ben, perhaps more caught off guard than she, swiftly moves to catch her with one arm. He then becomes abruptly still, as if surprised with himself. His force signature exudes awkward unease. She would’ve laughed if she weren’t so focused on trying not to cry, but still, it is futile. "You're alive," she whispers with watery awe. Her vision blurs.
"I, uh—yes?" Ben sounds unsure.
Rey disregards his uncertainty and burrows deeper into him, inhales the heady maleness of him, and sighs. It cracks her chest wide open and allows her tears to spill. She missed his smell.
"Kriff," her fingers clutch tighter into the cape at his back. "Ben—"
That was probably the most incorrect and idiotic thing to say to a man who is unaware that the reason for his redemption has literally just dropped into his arms. A man who is obviously still at the height of his fierce dedication and loyalty to the dark side and Snoke, considering how Ben goes rigid and attempts to push her away. "How do you know—" but he stops as soon as Rey peers up at him. She cannot see his expression, his face hidden behind his mask—but oh, how she yearns to trace the contours of it, to taste his lips once more. "...why are you crying?"
"Because y-you're here," she states simply, unable to stop herself from sobbing.
He is further perturbed; it is palpable in the air around them. "Without a doubt, yes."
Rey let's out another sob and burrows her face into the front of his tunic. "I-It's just—" how can she explain? How can she make him understand? That he’s been gone for three long, agonizing years and Rey hasn’t been the same since?
She hears him extinguish his lightsaber.
He pats Rey on the shoulder—a very awkward pat, his body stiff as a board, and begins to slowly extract himself from her hold. Rey clings tighter in response.
The air ripples with his agitation. "Okay, okay. Fine. You can cling to me all you want, just stop crying," he heaves a sigh when Rey sobs again—although she does try her best to restrain it this time. "Please, stop crying. No harm will come to you, just—I am in search of a map. Do you know of this map?" he finishes a little exasperatedly.
She nods without hesitation—maybe she shouldn’t have done that. Regardless, it is too late.
"Very well, then. I will take you back to my ship. If you're willing, follow me." When he attempts to move away again, Rey refuses to budge. "If you're not, I'll resort to other means to force your compliance."
A rush of panic rises in her throat, and Rey says the first thing she can think of to prevent him from cutting off physical contact. "M-my ankle! I think I bruised it. I don't know if I can..."
She wants to smack a hand to her forehead because really? I can't walk? After you literally threw yourself into his arms? What did you do? Bruise your ankle on the way over??
Ben stares down at her silently, his masked face offering no insight to his thoughts. Although she's certain he thinks of her as an idiot. But then Ben bends down and swiftly sweeps her into his arms. Rey gasps, surprised, but is already melting into the solid warmth of his chest as he begins his trek back towards the sound of blaster fire.
This isn't Exegol, but at least Ben is here.
Granted, a Ben that isn't completely Ben just yet. But she'll make do.