The Force Finds Balance | a REYLO fan fiction

1 | everything must die

Rey should have relished the shower. She should have taken at least a few moments to breathe in the hot steam. But her mind was swirling with questions for General Organa. For some reason, she felt ashamed that chief among these questions had nothing to do with the fate of the Rebellion. She wanted to know how Leia remained so centered and strong in the face of so much darkness and death. She had lost every man she loved to madness, murder, and sacrifice. How can she go on, knowing what she may have to face in order to save the galaxy from falling into tyranny?

Finding a large cloth to dry herself, Rey's mind wandered to the last moment she saw Ben's face, puzzling over all she had learned of him, and why her heart yearned to open for him in spite of his cold actions. Rey convinced herself it was the good in him calling her, asking to be healed. Why did he resist?

Then, just as Rey finished the thought of him, the fine hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Sensing a presence entering the other side of the room, she swiftly turned toward the wall and drew the yardage of cloth crosswise over her body. She threw a slitted glance over her shoulder to meet Ben's pensive yet unapologetic eyes, drilling into her aura, intense as ever.

"These connections seem increasingly opportune, Ben," she said, tying the cloth around her neck.

"Can you control it yet?" he said.

Rey lowered her eyes, and set herself to menial arranging of her things.

"We may as well talk," said Ben with a kinder tone than Rey felt comfortable enduring.

"I've said all I care to say to you," Rey lied poorly. She knew he could already anticipate her emotions, and that it was only a matter of time before he could also read her thoughts without prying them from her. She knew, because his feelings and thoughts were leaking into her own perception. "I won't help you end the Rebellion, Ben. How could you think I would?"

"What's wrong with an end?" asked Ben, swaying closer to her. "Even death--what's wrong with it? Everything must die."

The breath in Rey's chest started to swell. Her eyes filled with salty tears that stung in her eyes. As they rolled down her cheeks and dropped heavy onto the meaningless objects in her hands, images of the flaming-red light saber and Han Solo's dying gasp swirled with the memory of her own reflection in the icy glass she questioned at Temple Island on Ahch-To. Utter disgust filled her, and then anger. It was a deep anger born of betrayal. She could feel the surge of frustration become powerful in her fingers. She dropped what she was holding and stomped over to Ben's visage. 

So close to the black fabric of his shirt and the sight of his milky neck, Rey could feel a heat coming from his body. Or was it her own heat? She could tell her cheeks were flushed. Rey could hear the dry sounds of droids, troopers, and evil machinery rattling faintly behind him. 

Although she intended to ward him off with this challenging stance, Rey knew in an instant that to be this close was no longer a good idea. Something was different. She could feel her own grief of Han's death, but also a rising relief over it--a peace not her own. It sickened and soothed her. 

"It's not the death," spat Rey. "It's the murder I can't stomach."

"Your righteousness has blinded you to the truth," said Ben with sharp consonants. "Wake up. Wake up!"

There was no doubt in his mind he was right about her. So many years connected to the Force had made him sure of a few things. But he knew his eyes had betrayed him the moment Rey's brow drew its self into a question. She was beginning to understand that he was not insisting, but begging. 

"Please," he whispered, lowering his face to her mouth, defeated by the melting light in her wet, hazel eyes, and the freshly-washed skin of a woman who had spent most of her life drinking in sun rays and breathing fresh air. Finally, Ben became numb to all else but the desire to taste that vital skin, pulsing with nature and indignation. 

Their cells anticipated the merge, tingling with magnetism and current as their fingers had that stormy night in the hut near the fire. Ben gave in to the shame of having relished that memory over and over. In his pride, he could not bring himself to speak it, only offer his mouth to hers in complete surrender.

 "Come to the light, Ben," Rey's voice was soft, and Ben could feel the vibration of her words echoing in the back of his throat. "It's closer than you think."  

Every moment, she could feel Ben's inner spar with Kylo Ren. She feared he was losing to the dark side. The outline of vision she had seen about his fate wasn't getting any clearer. She knew that if he lost that battle, she may have to kill him for the good of all. But then also, how she couldn't bear to do it. Not now. Not the way they now knew each other.

Rey was caught in a vortex of conflicting desires. The closer he drifted, the stronger the urge to receive him. As the familiar anticipation of touch crawled up her neck and flooded her lips, an unfamiliar rage boiled within her. It was a rage so furious, she almost lost herself inside it. This couldn't be. Why, why couldn't she have known Ben was a black hole? 

But even as her sight was filling with darkness, she wasn't afraid. Peace was all she felt on the other side of that rage. That unnerving peace in the red light of Ben's saber through his father's body. Some knowledge about death was on the other side of his kiss, on the tip of his tongue. 

Rey couldn't bear to know. She slapped him. Instantly, the link broke, leaving only a little thread  between them, over which this last sentiment was conveyed straight into Ben's heart:

"You disgust me," said Rey. "Don't ever touch me again."

Fear lingered like an oil on her skin. She shuttered, and quickly dressed for her meeting with Leia.

Alone again in his chambers, Ben's broken and terrified heart bled tears through his eyes. The depth of this emotion came in giant waves that seemed increasingly more difficult to control. Ben smashed his fist into the wall until his glove was sliced through and his knuckles were bleeding. The pain helped him center on the hate in his core and rest in the familiar calm of the knowledge that his father, his weakness, was dead. And if Rey would not turn, then she would have to die. If Ben and Rey could not be aligned, there could be no peace. This he knew for sure. 

"The next time I touch you will be the last," Ben muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve and heading for the bridge of the destroyer.