[Edit: All right, I've been persuaded, there will be a second chapter.]

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From Crait Rey took with her the image of his kneeling form, of the dark-red circles under the eyes raised at her, not even in plea, only in silent defeat; she carried with her the sight of his abrupt movement as if to stand, promptly halted; she brought with her the expression on his face, behind the closing door.

Inside her an emptiness was growing, a void in a place where Rey had believed something could be.

It did not take long for her to feel the pull of the bond again.

The connection found her in her own quarters, lost in thought. Rey had still not gotten used to constant company; her spells of retreat into the familiar comfort of isolation were more frequent than her compatriots were used to, or than Rey herself would have liked. Yet habits died hard, and long-learned loneliness was not easily breached.

(You're not alone.)

Somehow, though, having Ben drawn into her loneliness was a different matter all together.

Especially now.

Once again, he was suddenly there, observing her wordlessly, and the awareness of his presence slowly drained away the brightness and enthusiasm Rey had been working up for the sake of the Resistance.

(It was not that her spirit was faked; but it was hard-won, and at times it was a relief to let it go.)

Then Ben turned his head away from her, in a sharp, decisive motion, and Rey was startled by how much it hurt. (Was it how it had hurt him?) She opened her mouth to speak, yet words evaded; emotions swelled inside of her, yet there was no place to begin, no way of voicing them, no sound that would pass her throat.

She sat down a few feet away from him and fought back tears.

The next time, Rey was training with her staff.

She resolved to ignore him completely, to concentrate on the exercise; but she could feel Ben's eyes on her. The memory came to her unbidden of their brief alliance in Snoke's throne room, and a great sense of loss arrived with it. They had understood one another in a heartbeat, without thinking. Nothing even remotely close had ever happened to her before, and Rey was still unsure of what to make of it, of that utter and complete synchronisation, of that instinctive resonance – except that it had felt heartbreakingly right.

Even if she had not stopped to ponder it at the time.

(How had they come to that?)

One night she woke to the sight of him sitting with his back against her bed. Rey's first impulse was to scuttle away, yet the lack of reaction from Ben calmed down her instantly. For a few seconds she stared numbly at the looming figure and then turned her own back on him, curling up under the covers.

She did not sleep again that night.

The time after that Rey was prepared to wait the connection out in silence once more; but this once, Ben spoke.

"You won't even look at me," he said, and it was the tone and inflection of his voice that caught her before the words themselves: Rey recognised it. Their first connection on Ahch-to; the low, detached voice, the mild interest, the exact cadence as when he had said, You do? Oh, you do.

(She hadn't.)

So Rey did look at him, fully, openly, searchingly. Ben was in terrible state. The circles under his eyes had darkened, his skin, in contrast, paled to the point of sickliness; it was evident he was exhausted, held together – if he was at all – by sheer strength in the Force, or perhaps the strength of his own resentment.

She looked on.

"Have I done this to you?" she asked quietly.

He gave no answer, but the expression that crossed his face was answer enough.

The acquainted, yet no less stinging helplessness assaulted Rey.

"I wanted to help you, Ben!" she cried, desperate to reach him.

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Help me?" his voice rose now, too, dangerously. "You wanted to drag me on a leash to your precious Resistance! And when you saw you had no further use of me, you turned on me!"

The accusation struck Rey speechless.

"I—Was that—" how it seemed to you? "That wasn't—!"

She stopped. He is the only hope, her own words echoed back to her. If I go to him, Ben Solo will turn.

And now Ben was looking at her with a mixture of emotions on his expressive face. Anger. Betrayal. Disappointment. Shame. Hurt.

Loneliness.

(Neither are you.)

"You had your victory," he said roughly. "But I won't be used any more. I'll destroy the Resistance."

"I won't let you," she answered in low voice, after a while; but he was already gone.

(His accusatory words stay with her, rooting deeper each time she ruminates over them.)

Rey was in a room full of people, and it chilled her to the bone; it was as if she were being caught at something illicit. The jolt of connection startled her into stuttering and tumbling over her words; she excused herself from the conversation, ignoring the surprised inquiry of the pilot she had been talking to.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched understanding show on his face.

"Rey? What's wrong?" Finn chased after her, radiating confusion and concern. "Did something happen?"

"No, no," she lied quickly, too quickly. "Don't worry," she added, and that, at least, was truthful. "It's just, I'll… I need to be alone for a while."

She nearly ran out of the room, accompanied by curious and worried stares. A few calls of "Rey!" and "What's wrong?" reached her; she disregarded them, bolting out the door and down the corridor. After a few minutes she reached a secluded part of the base, a small ledge overlooking a sheer drop. Hoping to the Force no-one would pursue her, Rey leant against the wall.

And there was Ben, standing right next to her.

"Did you run after me?" she asked absently, staring into the distance.

"They don't know, do they?" he asked her back, also without looking at her; what he was staringat, Rey could not say.

"No," she admitted. "Most of them don't know I was on the Supremacy, either."

"Why not?"

For some reason it astounded her that he would not find it obvious.

"How was I supposed to tell them?"

"Are you asking me? They're your friends." Something about the way he said it evoked a wave of sadness in Rey's heart, sadness she was not prepared to deal with at the moment.

(Neither are you.)

"They wouldn't understand," she said morosely. "I barely understand it."

"What's there to understand?" he questioned harshly, turning to Rey. "Didn't you hear? You were manipulated into feeling compassion for a monster. The manipulator is dead, and you can walk away."

No. The words you're not a monster died on Rey's tongue in the sight of the pained anger on Ben's features. She settled for, "If that were all, you wouldn't be here."

"I'm not."

"Besides, he was manipulating you, too. Why aren't you walking away?"

"You know the answer."

"Say it."

Rey held his gaze evenly, without blinking.

"I have nowhere to go," he admitted at last, a note of bitterness distinctly pronounced in his voice. "Satisfied?"

"Come to me," she offered immediately.

"You mean the Resistance. No."

"I mean me," she insisted, lowering her voice.

"You," Ben retorted, "won't even tell your friends how you were connected to me by no choice of your own, for fear they will reject you. So forgive me if I'm sceptical of your brilliant idea to bring me to them in person."

To that, Rey had no answer.

"I wonder what would happen," he continued, his voice lowering, "if I were to take your hand. Would they see me then? What would they say? Their Jedi, their shining beacon of hope, with the most hated enemy?"

The threat, or the quiet menace – which scared her more? Rey could not tell.

"You wouldn't," she whispered. "I know you wouldn't, Ben."

He flinched, ever so slightly; he knew she was right, she understood. Frustration flashed across his scarred face. He turned away from her, and Rey buried her own face in her hands.

Long after the bond had released them, Finn found her, still in the exact same position.

She told him nothing.

"Ben, I'm sorry," she said.

He watched her warily, glancing down from his advantageous height, and it struck Rey once more how wounded he must have been, to fear the connection so, and how lonely to keep returning for more.

"Are you," he said levelly, though the struggle showed clearly on his face.

"Yes, I am." Pause. "I only—" I wanted to be the hero, since Luke Skywalker refused. I thought I could undo his failure of you. "I thought, if I showed you someone believed in you—"

"And do you? Do you?" he demanded.

"I did," she replied truthfully. "With all my heart."

Something flashed in Ben's eyes, yet he did not comment, waiting.

"But I ended up forcing your hand," she finished.

(You decided his choice was made, when it was not!)

He was still gazing straight at her, intently, assessingly.

And you chose. You chose me.

And I didn't, I couldn't choose you. I couldn't follow through.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

(Did you create Kylo Ren?)

(What did I create?)

The Force is not lifting rocks, she remembered fondly. Several stones traced intricate patterns in the air, circling one another, never colliding in their carefully coordinated dance.

Ben was seated cross-legged opposite from her, leaning slightly to the back, his lidded eyes fixed on the swirling stones as if hypnotised.

The air of extreme exhaustion lingered about him still.

A few times Rey almost began to speak, but each time she bit her tongue. She was loathe to disturb the silent refuge, the unique occasion when they could sit together in relative peace. Her thoughts returned to the island of Ahch-to; how different it had felt there, after the initial hostility. There, she had been alone, and by some miracle had managed to be alone together with him; there, for a very short moment, all the conflict had seemed removed from the space where there had been only the two of them.

It had been her who had disrupted the gradually building closeness by jumping onto the Millenium Falcon and appearing at his door, and imposing on him a choice.

(Why did it have to be this way?)

Rey continued to turn the stones in the air.

The sharp divide between them was reiterated to Rey when the next time it was him who had company.

Ben glanced at her once, acknowledging her presence; he did not leave the room, nor did he show anything approaching the frantic fright she had experienced when the bond had open to her in a crowded room. Of course he did not; why would he? Was there anyone who would question the Supreme Leader, even if the connection became known? Was there anyone whose opinion of himself he would endanger by risking exposure?

(Neither are you.)

On the other hand, perhaps his aim was to demonstrate his power, to show her that he was not afraid of her overhearing top First Order business, since the Resistance was powerless in any case.

This is where he wanted me, she remembered. He wanted to share it all with me.

With a heavy heart, Rey watched him give orders and receive reports, while sadness slowly welled up in her. Sadness for his inability to understand why she could not accept his offer, for the loneliness they had jointly condemned him to.

The Supreme Leader seemed so different to the man she met through the Force, and it hurt to have to reconcile they were one and the same.

She saw him again at night, slumped against a wall. Still fully dressed, but with his clothes tousled and hair messy, Ben was breathing unevenly.

Rey took it all in, then spoke.

"Don't you sleep?" she asked, raising herself on one elbow.

His head rolled over to face her; in the darkness Rey noticed his eyes were unfocused.

"No," he replied.

"Why?"

"Monsters usually don't."

"I don't think that's right," she said, and the gentle tone of her words surprised her. "I don't believe monsters lose much sleep."

"Have you known many?" he questioned dryly, his head rolling back to stare numbly at the ceiling.

"You're not a monster, Ben," she blurted.

"I thought we were agreed." Exhaustion was heard clearly in his voice, even if Rey could somehow miss it in his countenance. Untangling herself from the blankets, she rose and approached him, forcing him to meet her eyes through the shadows.

"Ben, what's wrong?"

"Whatever could be wrong, I wonder?"

A blush of embarrassment crept up Rey's cheeks, mercifully obscured by the dark. Right. Stupid question.

"No, I mean—" she hesitated, "at the moment."

He closed his eyes.

"Why do you care? Go back to sleep."

"I do care," she insisted. "Tell me, Ben."

A long sigh escaped his lips.

"I am now alone with my thoughts for the first time since I can remember," he admitted softly. "And I almost wish I wasn't."

Comprehension clenched Rey's heart; she stared at him, but he did not move, nor say any more. Carefully, she stepped towards him, crouched by his side, mindful not to startle him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Why do you care," Ben mumbled, but Rey did not respond.

She sat with him through the night, only to wake up alone on the cold floor.

"It must have been a wonder to you," he said. Once again, his focus appeared to be on the stones swirling under her fingers. The exercise had an undeniably calming effect on both of them.

"It was," she conceded. "I had thought it was a legend, and now…" she gestured vaguely with her hand, sending the stones spiralling. He dodged them instinctively, evoking from her half a smile, which soon faded.

"What was it to you?"

He was silent for a long while before finally answering.

"It's… hard to say now. It was just there, and..." he trailed off. "There were times I thought it made me special. There were times I thought it was a curse, and I would've given anything to be rid of it all."

Rey nodded, although she realised it was not something she could truly comprehend, not without having lived through all those dark years he had. It surprised her to hear him continue, however hesitantly, forcing the words out of his throat.

"It was as if by the simple fact I was Force-sensitive, I was placed at a precipice, on an edge where I had to fight for balance every single moment, except it was not truly balance, and something kept pulling me… and if I misstepped once, I would fall. Then there was… Snoke..." he paused, wincing. "In the end, it was no use… I began to want to… let it go and soar, in the infinite darkness, instead of fighting to keep my feet on the ground. But that couldn't be, either," he finished bitterly.

The stones fell to the ground, forgotten, as Rey stared at him. He reached for them, but halted halfway through the motion and went on looking at them instead.

"No," she said, almost automatically, horrified. "No," she repeated, more forcefully. "No, Ben, you don't have to fall forever. It's still not too late. I'll help you."

"That's what you said before," he said, and Rey could tell the hurt and betrayal was still alive in his mind.

"I meant it," she insisted, but he only shot her a pained look. "In my vision—" she began, but he cut her off.

"Do you believe your vision was real?" he demanded. "Or was it another manipulation?"

Rey blinked.

"Do you believe your vision was real, or were just saying that to—"

"I believed it was real," he stressed. "And you know it's the truth."

(You're not alone.)

"I also know what I saw was real, and even it weren't, it wouldn't matter! Because what I truly know is that it's possible, vision or not, if you just—" her voice gave out, but she strode on. "—if you just come to me, Ben..."

Raw pain showed on his face, and beneath it she recognised longing, which, she knew, was mirrored in her own eyes.

"Please," she whispered.

At that, his expression changed instantly, closing off. He flinched away from her as if stung, and Rey was left with her a half-outstretched hand, leaning forward, frozen in a statue of hopeless sympathy.

(Neither are you.)

"You thought I was going to kill you," she stated. Tears were brimming her eyes, threatening to fall, but she kept her voice level. Ben was guarded again, visibly uncertain, displaying nothing of the fatigued resignation he had shown at night or the openness of his outburst about the Force.

At this point, Rey could not blame him.

She pressed on.

"What Snoke said… you thought our connection was something special, and it turned out to be a lie. A manipulation." You felt cheated, exposed, hurt. "When I reached for the lightsaber, you took it as confirmation that the bond was not… real." You begged me, and I tricked you, made you believe I'd take your hand, as you'd taken mine. "That I meant to kill you."

Every word she said, and those she did not, reflected clearly on his face; at the last, Ben's expression contorted.

"Why didn't you?" he demanded angrily. "Surely you knew that killing me could save your friends."

Why didn't I?

Rey drew herself up and stared him straight in the face.

"Because," she stumbled, "because what she shared was genuine, and I, I couldn't."

"Was it?" he challenged, desperation thinly veiled with ire.

"Yes," she said, decisively. "It was. It is." She extended both her hands to him, eyes never leaving his features. Surprise, doubt, vulnerability, apprehension – all the emotions he had shown the first time she had offered her hand flickered on Ben's countenance.

"You didn't take my hand." Once more, his voice trembled.

"I didn't," Rey conceded cautiously. Then, in a frenzied attempt at getting through to him, she burst out, "Ben, my friends were dying!"

"Rey, I destroyed everything I had for you!" Ben shouted, finally shouted, and now Rey was really crying, and so was he, large tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I know," she mouthed through her choked throat.

"And you keep asking for more!"

"I know, I know, Ben, I'm sorry!" She hung her head. "I know I hurt you, but—what you asked—I couldn't—It was so much easier on Ahch-to," she muttered. "Then, I could pretend it was just the two of us, but now, now I can't, don't you see?"

"Yes," he whispered hoarsely, at length. "I do."

Rey sighed and began to pull her hands away, but in that moment Ben grasped them with both of his, fully and desperately, and yet with a delicacy that clutched at her heart. Quickly, she raised her eyes at him; his gaze was intense as ever, wounded and resigned.

Then Ben pressed his forehead against her hands, and Rey's heart broke all over again.