Notes: Written for day three of Reylo Week - Emotions. Based on the five main points of the Jedi Code and separated into pieces of Ben and Rey's relationship that fit them, slowly twisting their original intent into something slightly (very) different. I can't use the same warning tags here that I do on AO3, but the thing to mostly look out for is emotional manipulation, present in several forms.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

"I don't understand what peace is supposed to mean in this context."

It felt like giving up to admit it, but at this point, Rey didn't really care. She was tired and confused and lost and Ben wasn't helping, no matter how much he claimed that her blind wandering around the mechanics of the Force was bothering him through the connection between them.

Even now, he was leaning on his side with a half-heartedly annoyed expression, one of his hands fiddling with something that vanished out of her sight somewhere halfway. It served as a good reminder that he wasn't actually in her bedroom, but half a galaxy away and the thought was as comforting as it was unsettling. She was surrounded by people who gave her an endless amount of support, but this? She was completely alone with this. That was how he'd ended up here, apparently – he'd sensed just how clueless she felt and it had somehow drawn him to her and since they still couldn't figure out a way to separate, it was better to talk instead of wait for it to pass as the tension kept building in the silence.

"It means acceptance. Whatever happens – whatever you feel – you need to handle it without losing control of your emotions." His lips curled into a thin, unpleasant smile. "The only way to truly use your power the way the Jedi did, you need to separate it from anything you're personally feeling."

"That sounds—" Inhuman. "Difficult."

The swarm of his thoughts in her mind, as unwelcome now as it had been the first time, overtook her again. His power fed on emotion; all facets of it, although anger and pain were strong contenders for the first place. It was still something he was willing to touch her and it was the earnestness behind the intent that made it all that much more difficult to refuse.

"It's meant to be. It's to help with your self-improvement."

Not that earnest, perhaps. His eyes were curious and assessing, like she'd already agreed and he wanted to see how his lessons were affecting her. It had been like that from the start – he'd never mentioned bringing her back to his Master so that he could teach her. Maybe he'd got what he'd wanted, after all.

"How did you do it?" Another thing she wished she didn't have to ask. There was no one left to ask, though, and she would take what she could get. It wasn't like he wasn't aware that she'd use this information against him, but he didn't seem to care too much.

"I didn't. The students that the Jedi Order trained were taken in from a really young age; raised into the philosophy before they could really form any attachments. It was," he faltered for a moment, "too late for that when I started."

"Right." Of course. It made perfect sense. Rey suddenly wished she hadn't asked. "But— every time I've needed to use the Force, what I felt made it stronger. I was more determined." She remembered Crait; the way the immense weight of the rocks had shifted with ease under her hands at the thoughts of all the people she could help. "Shouldn't it be encouraged?"

"I would say that," Ben conceded, his smile growing wider; almost predatory. "But it's not what you want to hear."

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

"If you face the truths of your reality no matter what, you'll never find yourself out of balance." Although the words were coming out of Ben's mouth, she could tell by the glint in his eyes that they didn't belong to him. "That's the gist of it, as far as I'm aware."

Less extreme than the first part, although no less confusing. Rey had more than a little trouble trying to imagine what the Jedi of old had been like – how could any organisation survive as long as they had when it treated its members like this? It was no wonder that one of them had rebelled eventually, she thought and while the idea was intrusive in a way her other observations rarely were, she couldn't help but agree. Maybe Luke was right. It didn't have to be Jedi or nothing; she could be something entirely new.

Rey discarded the thought as soon as it started really shaping in her mind. It would give him the only push he needed to start insisting on change again – something she very carefully avoided. She'd tried to keep her distance as much as was possible under the circumstances while also trying not to scare him away and it was a fine line to walk; thin enough to be tiring.

"So it's about not lying to yourself?"

"In essence, yes." Ben was sitting closer to her now than he had been when they'd discussed the first rule, as if it was more crucial to drill this information into her somehow. Not that it was this he wanted her to remember, of course; although his explanations were as thorough as it got, it was clear how little respect he had for the ideas behind them. "And to accept things as they are, whether you like them or not. Wilful ignorance wasn't something the Jedi were fond of either."

The bait was just obvious enough for Rey to be able to see it before she fell for it anyway. It was absolutely useless to have this conversation and it never achieved anything and it went directly against the advice they were currently discussing, but she could never help herself. "Things can change."

Her stubbornness made him feel both frustrated and a reluctant kind of hopeful. Rey didn't need to read his mind to be able to distinguish the complicated tangle that her behaviour formed in his thoughts. As long as he was still hanging onto that, she would hope too; she was past pretending that that wasn't the case.

"Is this making you angry?" He went on undeterred, his voice innocuous enough to fool anyone who didn't know better. Rey did, although that never really helped any. "We can try again tomorrow if you want. A Jedi needs to be careful with emotions." The silence that hung between them for an instant or two only served to make her angrier, which, knowing him, had been exactly the point. "Peace, remember?"

There is no passion, there is serenity.

"This one's a lie." Ben's finger tapped on the frail paper, as if she'd forgotten what they were talking about in the meantime. He was laying on his front on her the ground next to her, sprawled out in a way that could only mean that he was actually in bed, and looked awfully comfortable given all the events of the past week or so. "It doesn't mean anything and even if it did, it wouldn't be correct. Passion for something is what drives people in everything they do."

This time, Rey couldn't bring herself up to even try and disprove him. She didn't feel particularly serene; hadn't in a while, honestly.

"You don't have to keep doing this."

"The mantra?" Ben was still hunched over the book, but he'd tensed up all of a sudden. "You still need some work."

She wasn't ready to let him off the hook so easily. "There was nothing on Zephyr Base and you just— There was no point."

She'd seen the footage enough times. The First Order's troops marching into the abandoned rebel base, their leader right in front of them as always. Despite how hectic his decisions were – the connection was two-way, after all, and Rey had caught more than one glimpse into Ben's everyday life – he seemed to be well-respected by most for the courage to lead them if nothing else, but even they must have noticed that it was nothing but pointless wreckage.

"There was something there, just not something anyone else needed." Another nod towards the book. "Serenity, Rey. This one is about acceptance, too. You have to be a guardian of peace, but not take anything – even a destroyed moon base – to heart. It's part of the order of things."

"Which you created." She had no intention of being quiet about it when it still felt like a betrayal despite everything. It was so naive after everything he'd done and completely infuriating – she was betraying herself with it, too – but she couldn't deny it. Accept things as they are, whether you like them or not. It was one of the instructions she was determined to follow, one way or another.

"Yes." His expression made him look as unbothered as he could get, but it was all a maelstrom beneath the surface. "I did because it needed to be done. There's no reason— I don't owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything, but you're still here."

"You don't know what you're doing and you keep trying things you don't know how to deal with. Having that kind of presence in your mind constantly is about as bad as you'd imagine." Despite the condescending tone, the words barely had any bite to them. "If you want to teach yourself nonsense, I'm not going to stop you; just be quieter about it."

"What are my other options?" As if everything else wasn't enough, Rey could feel tears well up in her eyes – always a sure sight of how overwhelmed she was by everything that had piled up all at once. Maybe he was right – nothing lacked passion; not truly. "You being my teacher? Passing on the knowledge you got from a man you murdered?"

Oh, that had dug deep – Ben stared at her as if he'd been slapped.

"He taught me a lot," he conceded, voice much quieter than before. "And took more. He took and took until I had nothing more to give, and then—" His eyes strayed to the side, in the direction of something she couldn't see. "He could have killed you right there, we all knew that. He wanted it to hurt more, so he passed you on to me."

"I thought feeding into things like this was how you—" Rey started, but Ben was already shaking his head.

"There's a line between passion and greed."

"And?"

"And he should have never crossed it."

Neither of them needed to say it – the lesson was concluded for the day.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

"This one's about balance too." The sound of Ben's voice, even in its most bored drawl usually associated with any concern about the Jedi Code that Rey brought up, was a relief. Without planning on it – or even realising it – she'd got used to the routine of their meetings. It was something that belonged to her and no one else and she hated to think of the looks she'd receive if anyone ever learnt about it, but it felt almost like something inevitable at this point and his self-imposed silence for the last month or so hadn't been easy to deal with. "It's still meaningless in practice, but even more meaningless for you. You're surrounded by chaos."

"I am." It's largely your fault, she didn't say, but she didn't have to – he knew either way the last thing he needed was more encouragement. "But it must have meant something to whoever's written it."

"It was a different world." Ben wrapped the coat he'd thrown over his shoulders even tighter around himself and this time, Rey thought that she could see the edges of whatever frozen wasteland he'd found himself in. "It was foolish of them to try to implement their rules for as long as they did while the world changed around them. That's what killed them in the end."

"So you know everything about that?"

"I know enough."

It was an evasive answer, but Rey had expected no less. Blunt honesty wasn't a very useful trait when all he tried to do was talk his way out of every more direct question he was asked. It was somewhat comforting, really, to be able to identify the pattern of it. I shouldn't get used to this. It was as much of a mantra as the one she was trying to live by, but even more urgent and even less effective.

"Is chaos another thing the Dark Side can work with?"

"In a way. Harmony was helpful for the Jedi because they drew their power from the stability it offered. Chaos— it can come hand in hand with many other things." Through his eyes, Rey could see all the roads that diverged from it. Confusion, pain, terror, impatience, excitement, even something frantic and ecstatic; something that whispered that anything was possible, no matter how ambitious, no matter how far-fetched. "Can you feel it?"

"Yes." If she thought about it long enough, Rey would feel drunk on it; she could already see it coming. "It's not— it's not something you can rely on."

"No," Ben said, quieter now. Hesitant, but encouraged by her silence. He was going to take any moment of weakness and run with it and she hated it, but. For once, he was right. "Go on, you can look more," he encouraged, reaching out as if to pull her along, further into the visions his mind was conjuring for her. "There are so many things you could do, Rey."

He stepped even closer, hand still extended towards her and for the first time in months, Rey responded, clutching onto him like a lifeline.

There is no death, there is the Force.

"I just don't understand it," Rey was saying for what felt like the hundredth time. Ben's presence was a solid, comforting weight against her back as she leant against his chest and for a terrible, unbearable second she wished that he'd been the one to blame for the most recent blow that the Resistance had taken. As it were, it had been just a deserter that also happened to be the leader of a planet they'd sought as a refuge. "So many people died and it wasn't even the First Order. It wasn't war. It was pointless."

Ben hummed, the repetitive motion of his hand running through her hair almost enough to lull her to sleep despite her grief. It wouldn't be too much of a challenge – she was so exhausted and over the last few months, he'd got to know her well enough to know which exactly buttons to push. "Did any of your friends get hurt?"

She shook her head, momentarily comforted by the thought. "Not this time."

"You don't have to worry about that," he said and pulled her closer to himself, his free arm wrapping around her waist until what little space had been left between them was gone. "There are— ways to make sure that you can heal any wounds if they get too critical. Even if they're deadly."

Rey turned around as much as she could to stare up at him. He wouldn't joke about this, not right now – it would be too cruel – but it was still difficult to believe. "How's that supposed to work?"

"Grief can be a powerful tool." It was encouragement and a promise all at once. "But it's a skill that can be taught without that too."

"And you know it?"

"I know enough."

It had become such a typical response by now, but all of their knowledge was like this – mismatched pieces of something they desperately wanted to reign in – and Rey turned around in Ben's embrace, eager for more information on the only thing that she felt she could control; for every bit of what he had that he was willing to share.