26. Confession

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rey attends a meeting of Resistance leaders and is unexpectedly confronted with an uncomfortable subject

"Eighty-seven."

Admiral Madani taps the meeting table twice for emphasis. Tendrils of gray hair fall over her face as she leans forward, her gaze fiery with warning. She scans the room methodically, making eye contact with every Resistance leader gathered around the table.

"Eighty-seven systems in barely over a year." The older woman looks directly at Rey as she articulates the last words. "What were once independent or government-owned mining operations are now the property of the First Order, by negotiation or by force." She continues to scan the room, her jaw hardened in muted fury.

"This isn't about building dreadnoughts and star destroyers. This isn't about finishing Starkiller II." The admiral sits back, shaking her head. "Oh no. What we're seeing here is nothing less than a systematic attempt to control all the precious resources throughout the galaxy."

A Mon Calamari man next to the General immediately scoffs, or at least Rey thinks it's a scoff. It sounds more like a gurgle…

"Nonsense," he says dismissively, smacking his fish-like lips together. "Even the Empire never attempted such a thing. And they were ten times the size of the First Order."

"You do realize…" Another admiral leans forward now, a middle-aged man with gray flecks in his dark hair. "That the First Order is catching up, don't you? They've tripled in size. Their recruitment's exploded in the last three months alone, and according to our intel, most of those numbers are being funneled into mining teams." He casts a glance over to Madani, and she nods, grateful for the support.

"Recruitment numbers aside, it's still not feasible." A young colonel shakes her head, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "There are too many systems in the galaxy. There's no way the First Order can control the resources on all of them. It's just not possible."

"Ok, first of all…" Poe suddenly sits up from his slouched position. "They don't have to control all the resources, just the most valuable ones. That'll be enough to have the galaxy by the balls. But more importantly, think about this." He leans into the meeting table, his eyes fixed on the colonel across from him.

"Right now, the First Order's playing nice. They're negotiating. They're paying for the resources and then some— commissioning building projects, opening up new trade routes. Even when they do take mines by force, they spin it as a kind of law enforcement, rescuing the galaxy from the Outer Rim gangs," he finishes with an air of sarcasm.

"But what do you think's gonna happen once they finish Starkiller II, huh?" He raises an eyebrow, his expression darkening. "How do you think their negotiations will go then?" He looks around the table, beckoning someone to supply the obvious answer.

A crushing silence descends over the room as the Resistance leaders cast their gaze downwards, growing grim and unsettled. Rey joins them, looking intently at her hands clasped in her lap.

"Trust me." Poe sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Their progress right now will look slow by comparison. They won't need to negotiate anymore. All they'll have to do is show up and give systems a choice— hand over your resources or get blasted into space." Admiral Madani nods in agreement.

"Exactly." Madani turns to the General at the head of the table. "If you think about Starkiller, how they can use it to bully systems into giving them what they want, it's really not that far-fetched. What we're seeing now could just be the beginning of a large-scale effort to control the galaxy's economy."

The General listens carefully, sitting back in her chair, her eyes sharp with thought. She's been quiet for most of the meeting, though this isn't unusual.

Rey's noticed this about the General. She spends more time listening than she does talking.

"Admiral Patel," the General finally speaks, nodding to the middle-aged man across from her. "Do you have anything new to report on Starkiller II's progress?"

"Not really." He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "From what we can tell, construction is essentially complete. And yet…" His eyebrows furrow as his voice trails off. "The weapon isn't active yet. We would know if it were. They must be missing something."

"It's kyber." Rey speaks without thinking, but immediately catches herself, looking around the table self-consciously. She's met by a row of knitted eyebrows.

"It must be, right?" She sounds more tentative now. "I mean the first Starkiller was built on a kyber-rich planet for a reason, was it not?"

"Dear, the weapon is powered by quintessence, not kyber." A tall, pale-skinned admiral corrects her, his voice tinged with condescension.

Admiral Patel tsks his tongue, then starts to shake his head.

"That doesn't mean she's wrong." He looks over to Rey. "The Death Star ran on kyber. It's not a stretch to assume the weapon on Starkiller needs kyber in some way. Maybe not the same way, but…" He brings a hand to rub his jaw as he mulls over this prospect.

"If she's right, that's good news," the Mon Calamari man announces, looking at the General next to him. "It means we have time. There's precious little kyber left in the galaxy. It could take years before the First Order gets what they need."

"Wait a minute," Poe sputters. "This is all conjecture. And even if it's not, the First Order could happen upon a massive trove of kyber tomorrow for all we know. We can't wait around hoping the First Order's hit a snag. We've got to act now." He shoots forward in his chair, his eyes intense with urgency.

"It's time for us to take the offense." He twists towards the General. "We're ready. Our numbers are picking up, thanks to Rey." He gestures towards her. "And as long as Starkiller isn't active, the First Order's at a disadvantage. Now is the time to strike. Before another Hosnian Prime, not after."

The General gazes at Poe evenly, taking a few moments to process. Finally, she leans forward, clasping her hands together on the table.

"Poe," she begins in her signature tone, firm yet gentle. "I agree we need to destroy the weapon before it becomes operational." She tilts her head in concession. "But we can't forget that we're fighting a war against the First Order, not Starkiller II. Whatever we destroy can be rebuilt."

"She's right," Admiral Madani says with a heavy sigh, looking over at Poe. "If we go after Starkiller now, the First Order will snuff us out, just like they did before. Then they'll turn around and build another Starkiller." Poe drops his shoulders and sits back in his chair.

"So, what?" He shrugs, sounding exasperated. "What do we do? Just leave Starkiller alone because they could build another one?"

"Of course not." Admiral Patel shoots Poe an admonishing look. "But we need to wait for the right time, when the First Order is weak and destabilized, in a poor position to bounce back." Several Resistance leaders nod their heads in agreement.

"Absolutely," a Cerean colonel with a long, gray beard speaks up. "If we're going to take the offense, destabilizing the regime must be our priority. Then we go after Starkiller."

"So, let's hit them where it hurts." Madani leans into the table with a little fire in her eyes. "They're rabid to get their hands on these resources, so let's do everything we can to slow them down." She twists towards the General in her chair. "Let's send out teams to interfere with their negotiations, convince as many systems as we can to keep their resources independently owned, help them understand what the First Order's doing, what could happen if they gain a monopoly over varium and cortosis and iridium—"

"If we do that," a young colonel interrupts, "we'll make ourselves targets. All of our new bases, our new recruits— they'll be vulnerable. We still have a long way to go before we're strong enough to sustain an all-out war. And our growth is contingent on staying off the First Order's radar. If we start directly interfering with their negotiations…?" The colonel's tone darkens ominously. Madani sighs, exasperated.

"It's going to happen sooner or later, you know." She raises an eyebrow at the young colonel. "We can't lay low forever. We haven't been recruiting and building bases so we can twiddle our thumbs. Dameron's right." She nods towards Poe. "It's time for us to take the offense."

"I agree…" Admiral Patel starts slowly, his tone measured and contemplative. "But perhaps for the time being, we should go about this indirectly, pursue more subtle ways to weaken their regime."

"And what?" Madani huffs. "Just ignore them as they bull their way through the galaxy, devouring its most valuable resources as they go?"

"Admiral," the General suddenly interrupts the exchange, "You're right to be concerned about this issue. It's one we can't and won't ignore. But the others are right. We're not yet strong enough to invite direct conflict with the First Order." She shakes her head firmly. Then she begins to scan the table, making eye contact with the other leaders.

"I understand that most of you believe it's time to mount an offense." Her gaze lingers on Poe as she continues scanning. "So, let's mount an offense. But let's be smart about it. I've fought this kind of war before. This time, I want the victory to last." She cocks her head pointedly.

"We need to plan for the long term," she continues, sitting back in her chair. "We need consider everything we've heard today and piece together the bigger picture, how we can sow seeds of discord on multiple fronts. When we attack Starkiller, and we will." The General raises an eyebrow. "It must be planned strategically. It must be at a time when the First Order's martial forces are stretched thin, when they have their hands full with something that requires them to put out many fires at once."

"I-" Rey starts tentatively, sitting up in her chair. She can't help but grow self-conscious when everyone at the table turns towards her. "I have an idea for how we might do that, actually."

The General looks over at her, intrigued. She nods to Rey as if to say, "Go on." Rey scoots forward in her chair, clearing her throat.

"Some of you know," she begins in a clear tone, trying to project confidence. "that I'm the leader of a project that does slave outreach throughout the galaxy. Its mission is to develop relationships with organizations that fight slavery and support them in whatever way we can." Rey scans the table, making eye contact with the Resistance leaders. "As it turns out, that mostly means helping with slave rescues. In fact, since I started the project, that's where the majority of our new recruits are coming from. Every time we do a slave rescue, nearly a third of them join the Resistance afterwards." Several eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"These are very valuable recruits." Rey taps an index finger on the table. "They're people who work hard, have a range of skills, and are extremely committed to being part of an organization that cares about others like them. They're concerned with how slavery has been spreading since the First Order destroyed the New Republic. They want to stop it."

"I'm no supporter of slavery," the Cerean colonel suddenly speaks up, turning towards Rey. "But I don't see how stopping it has anything to do with destabilizing the First Order's regime."

"Those two things could be much more related then you think, Colonel." Rey glances over at the Cerean slyly, and he narrows his eyes, doubtful but curious. Rey starts scanning the table again.

"When I started this project," she continues, "I learned very quickly that most of the organizations that fight slavery are very distrustful and very isolated. But…" She raises a knowing eyebrow. "That's starting to change. Because of us. The Resistance is becoming the glue that connects these efforts across the galaxy. More than that, our training bases are becoming a meeting ground of sorts, a place where those passionate against slavery come together, share experiences, and develop relationships. They're building a network." Rey leans into the table. "A network that could in time…" She pauses a moment, a slow smile creeping across her lips. "Orchestrate a large-scale slave rebellion." Several Resistance leaders jerk back, struck by this idea, immediately registering its implications.

"Imagine," Rey intones forcefully, "if every slave market and every operation that runs on slave labor across the galaxy explodes into chaos all at once." She shakes her head. "It'll be a nightmare for the First Order. They'll have dispatch troops all over, especially to systems where they have property to protect." Poe shoots forward in his chair.

"That's when we strike." He points to Rey excitedly.

"Exactly." She leans towards him. "And not only that, but it's very possible a slave rebellion could quickly transform into another kind of rebellion altogether. Given an association between the Resistance and the fight against slavery, given that this will be set into motion by Resistance members who are former slaves themselves, it's not a stretch to count on many of these rebelling slaves joining us and turning their ire in the First Order's direction." At this, Admiral Patel tsks his tongue, scrunching his face in doubt

"I don't know about that," he starts slowly, pursing his lips. "These days, the First Order is building an association as well. After Delphon and now Apatros, many view them as a friend of slaves." Several groans erupt around the table.

"It's true." The Mon Calamari man shakes his head. "They're calling Kylo Ren the savior of Apatros, you know." Poe immediately scoffs.

"You don't think he actually did that, do you?" He challenges caustically. "Lead the slaves out of the mines himself?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe," the Mon Calamari replies. "It matters what the galaxy believes."

"And that," Admiral Madani points to him emphatically. "That's the real problem with this idea, isn't it? We can't expect a large-scale slave rebellion to somehow morph into a rebellion against the First Order when a sizable portion of the galaxy's population is starting to view Kylo Ren as a hero. A hero."

"That man," the Cerean colonel spits through gritted teeth, "is no hero." He slams his fist on the table. "He spent the last decade racking up a body count that rivals Darth Vader's."

"I know, I know." Madani sighs, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "But you must realize that some people are starting to forget. They're starting to forget the man who did those things. More and more, when they see Kylo Ren, they see the heart of Delphon, the savior of Apatros. They see the man who rebuilds their temples and marketplaces, who destroys vicious Outer Rim gangs. They see a leader who brings order and justice." At this, the Cerean colonel grunts.

"That's the biggest shock of all, isn't it?" He looks around the table in disbelief. "If you compare Kylo Ren to Snoke, think about what he's been doing since he came to power…" He shakes his head as his voice trails off. "He's twice the leader Snoke ever was. He realizes that when it comes to controlling the galaxy, perception is half the battle, who people see at the hero and who they see as the villain. So, he's trying to become the hero, trying to change the First Order's image. And it's working."

"It's unbelievable." Poe slicks a hand over his face, sulking back in his chair. "Who knew that little shit would actually be a half-decent leader?" Admiral Patel snorts in response.

"You're not really that surprised, are you?" The admiral looks over to Poe but a second later jerks back, eyes wide, like he just realized he said something he shouldn't have.

A wave of confusion ripples across the room as the Resistance leaders collectively turn their heads to Patel. They stare with knitted eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

The admiral gulps, casting his gaze downward, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. A long silence passes before he straightens, clearing his throat.

"Of cour—" He starts but immediately stops, tugging at his collar as though it's suddenly too tight. Finally, he drops his hand, letting out a nervous exhale.

"Of course, he's a competent leader," he finishes quietly. "He's his mother's son."

The instant the words leave his mouth, Rey feels her heart cleaved in two, an explosion of the cruelest pain imaginable.

But this feeling isn't coming from her…

It's coming from the General.

Rey gasps, twisting around in her chair.

The General's head is bowed, but otherwise, she appears as calm and self-possessed as ever. To look at her, no one would have the slightest clue how much pain she's in, how much her heart is breaking.

But Rey knows. She feels it. She's never felt another person's emotions so powerfully.

With one exception, of course.

An awkward silence descends over the room as the Resistance leaders stare at their hands or at the floor, some fidgeting uncomfortably in their seats. Rey fixes her eyes on the table, literally trembling at the force of the General's emotions.

Suddenly, the General's head snaps up.

"The meeting is adjourned," she announces abruptly, her face hardened into an even expression. "Thank you all for your thoughts. Colonels and team leaders, if you have additional notes, submit them to Lieutenant Connix before you leave. Admirals, we'll take three days to consider what we've heard, then reconvene to decide upon a course of action." The General rises and walks swiftly to the row of consoles at the back of the room.

The leaders gathered around the table glance at one another for a moment. Then, all at once, the room fills with the bustling of chairs sliding against the smooth floor and hushed voices whispering to one another as everyone begins filing towards the exit.

Everyone except for Rey. She sits frozen in her seat, eyes still fixed on the table. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand at her shoulder. She looks up to see Poe just as startled as she is. He knits his eyebrows.

"Are you ok?" He mouths the words. Rey nods briskly in response, trying to appear composed, but Poe doesn't look entirely convinced. He tilts his head with a concerned expression.

"Come on," He whispers, gesturing to the exit. "Let's get out of here. Get something to eat. We'll have our own debriefing." Rey shakes her head.

"I'm a little tired from all this debating," she replies softly. "I need some quiet for tonight. Talk tomorrow on our way back to the base?"

She feels Poe sink with disappointment, but he doesn't show it. He only nods a couple of times, then reaches out for her shoulder, squeezing it gently before he turns and makes his way to the exit. Rey watches him until the door whirs shut, then shifts in her seat to face the back of the room.

The General stands in front of the consoles, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed, still consumed with an unforgivable agony.

Rey rises slowly, carefully pushing the chair out behind her. She stands still for a moment. Then she begins to walk quietly towards the General.

"If you don't mind…" Rey stops abruptly at the sound of the older woman's voice. "I'd like some time alone. Thank you." The General doesn't move, her head still bowed.

"Of course," Rey responds softly. "I just—" She stops, taking a measured breath. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

At this, the General's shoulders droop, and she lets out a sigh.

"I can't hide from you, can I, Rey?" She lifts her head, sounding weary. "It's a curse sometimes, isn't it? Knowing how other people feel." She doesn't turn, keeping her back to her.

"Sometimes," Rey answers quietly. "But usually… It's more like an opportunity." The General tenses, intuitively understanding Rey's unspoken offer— to listen. And to comfort. The older woman gulps again as she takes some time to consider.

Rey's sure she's the last person the General would choose to talk to about this. Though she might feel differently if she knew the truth.

Why Rey is actually the perfect person to talk to.

Why she's the only one who knows what it's like for her to sit at a table with respected leaders and hear them curse his name, constantly reminding her of the evil that he's done, that he's doing.

Why she's the only one who knows what it's like for her to hear these things, to know that they're true, but also know that they're not the whole truth, that there's another side.

Why she's the only one who knows what it's like to see beyond the mask, the human being under it, someone hurting and broken, someone with an instinct for kindness and compassion, an instinct he can't kill no matter how hard he tries.

But of course, the General doesn't know any of these things. From her perspective, Rey's simply a Force-sensitive girl who can sense her emotions.

"You know…" The General suddenly breaks the silence. She pauses, wrestling inwardly, debating whether or not to continue. She shakes her head. "I'm sure you'll think this is crazy…" She grunts softly. "Even I think it's crazy sometimes." She looks up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath.

"It's not that I don't know who my son is." The General finally turns to face Rey. Her expression is even except for her eyes, dark and churning with pain.

"I know." She nods. "I know what he's done. I know what he's doing. I know what he'll do when he finishes building that weapon. I know he'll use it to force what he wants. And I know—" Her voice breaks, and she immediately looks down.

"I know that he'll use the weapon, just like Snoke did. I know he's capable of that." She nods briskly, like she's forcing herself to accept this.

"But…" Her voice trails off as she churns with a fresh wave of pain. "When I hear about things like… these building projects he's commissioning, what they mean to people. Some of these Outer Rim invasions, what happened on Delphon and now Apatros…" She furrows her eyebrows, both pained and confused, seeming baffled by herself.

"My first instinct—" The words get caught in her throat. "My first instinct is to feel…" She shrugs her shoulders, at a loss. "Proud." She finishes with tears glistening in her eyes. "I know I shouldn't feel that way. I know it's crazy but—"

"I don't think it's crazy," Rey interrupts. "I don't think it's crazy at all."

The General's eyes snap to hers, tinged with surprise and not a little uncertainty. She juts her chin up, studying Rey closely. Rey stares back with an even gaze, trying to focus on nothing but the sincerity of her words. The women observe one another quietly, sensing what the other is feeling.

And there, just for a small, precious moment, they connect in perfect understanding.

Leia doesn't know why. There's no logic to it. There's no reason why this girl should be able connect with her so powerfully on this point, no reason why she should understand how a mother can feel proud of her son, even when that same son has shown himself capable of great evil.

Leia can only figure that this is just one more sign, one more indication of how special this girl is, the great feats of empathy she's capable of.

The General nods deeply to Rey, her pain subsiding somewhat, joined by the comfort of shared understanding.

The older woman turns away, dark eyes growing distant. The seconds pass as she seems to lose herself, lose herself in a lifetime of memories.

"It's the strangest thing," she finally speaks again, shaking her head. "No matter what happens. No matter what he does. Even after Han." She chokes the moment she says the name, squeezing her eyes shut and looking down. She gulps, fighting desperately to regain composure. But she can't stop a stray tear from escaping down her cheek.

"He's still my boy." The words come out as a hoarse whisper. "And I just…" She quickly brushes away the tear with the back of her hand. "I just can't seem to let go… I just can't seem to stop hoping that maybe…" She stares intently into nothing, her face contorted in pain. "Maybe…" The word gets caught in her throat, and she can't seem to bring herself to finish the sentence. She bows her head, consumed by a conflict of emotions, all of the shame and the hope and the heartbreak…

And the love.

Rey watches in utter agony, crushed by the General's emotions as well as her own, an unmistakable heaviness at the pit of her stomach.

Guilt.

"I-I-" Rey stutters the words weakly. The General doesn't move, still focused on the floor.

"I need to tell you something," Rey blurts out the words in a jumble. The General's head snaps up, eyebrows knitted, confused as to why Rey would choose this of all moments to make some sort of confession.

Rey gulps, that heaviness in her stomach quickly transforming into something else— fear.

"I-" Rey catches her breath. "I need to tell you…" Her lungs suddenly feel shallow. "Something about…" Fear escalates into panic, her blood, her nerves, her insides all screaming, a strange dissonance between her mind and her body, her mind determined to finish the sentence but her body aghast that she would even consider it.

The General looks deeply confused now, tilting back with narrowed eyes.

Rey stands frozen, clenching her fists so tightly her fingernails dig into her palms, her body staging a rebellion against her mind, her throat tightening so much she can't speak.

Suddenly, both women jump, startled by the sound of the door whirring open behind them.

Lieutenant Connix bursts into the room, her eyes wide and urgent. She runs straight to the General, halting abruptly at her side, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. The General listens for a few moments then jerks back, alarmed.

"Is the transport ready?" She immediately asks.

"Yes." The lieutenant nods.

"Rey." The General steps towards her, eyes suddenly sharp and focused. "I need to go. I'm sorry for the abrupt departure." She reaches out to take her hand. "Thank you for today. For everything. We'll finish this another time, soon." She gives her a firm nod but doesn't wait for a response, swiftly moving past her to the door, Connix close at her heels.

And then, just like that, Rey stands alone in an empty room, gaping as the door whirs shut.

The silence is deafening.

Rey trembles, breathing heavily like she's been running. She doesn't move but only continues to stare straight ahead, frozen in place.

She glances down at the floor.

Finally, she steps forward, walking slowly, her mind consumed by everything that just happened.

She picks up her pace the second she steps into the crisp, white hall of the base, turning sharply to the right. She's sees no one except for a droid ambling awkwardly in her direction, the old 3PO unit that travels with the General.

"Hello," the old droid greets pleasantly as she passes. Rey nods briefly in acknowledgement but doesn't slow down, continuing briskly past him. She takes another sharp turn to the left but stops dead when she catches sight of a few colonels from the meeting strolling towards her.

She immediately dodges back down the hall, looking up and around, trying to think of another way to get to the guest quarters, one that will allow her to avoid running into anyone she knows. She jogs past the protocol droid, but suddenly halts. She turns tentatively to face him, a question in her eyes. The droid registers her expression, stopping to turn mechanically towards her, his robotic eyes wide and expectant.

"Do you…" Rey starts hesitantly. "Do you know another way to the guest quarters? Maybe a way that is… uh… more remote?" The droid jerks his head back, seeming to contemplate this for a moment.

"You can go through the service hall," he offers brightly. "I can take you there."

"Perfect," Rey answers, glancing behind her as she hears voices approach. "Can we go now?"

"Yes, of course," the droid responds. "Follow me." He resumes his awkward progress down the hall, Rey continuing beside him at a slowed pace, suddenly wishing this were one of the newer models with faster walking mechanics.

"Thank you." She nods towards him. "I've just been in a very long meeting and would rather have some peace and quiet for the rest of the night."

"Oh, I understand completely," the droid responds with a kind of practiced weariness. "I'm a protocol droid, you see. I spend all day talking. I talk to people; I talk to droids; I talk to AC compactors; I talk to oscillating units; I talk to every sort of thing imaginable. And I've been doing this for over sixty years!" The droid exclaims as they turn down a narrow hall.

"So, trust me, I know what it's like to grow tired of talking and listening to people talk," he continues, heavy with fatigue. "Especially after a day of debating those vaporators in the basement. They're the most cantankerous little buggers, you know. Whenever I'm sent to deal with them, I find myself dreading it because I know exactly how it will go. I know it will be hours upon hours of useless blather. They just don't know how to get to the point. It's not in their programming. They just can't stop themselves from going on and on and on, oh!" The 3po unit suddenly halts.

"Here we are." He gestures to a door next to them. "The west service hall. Shall I take you the rest of the way?"

"No!" Rey answers a little too eagerly, then catches herself. "I wouldn't want to delay you more than I already have."

"Oh, it's no bother," the droid responds dutifully as he enters a code to open the door. "It is my pleasure to serve the General and her guests and it has been for many, many—"

"Thank you so much for your help," Rey says hurriedly as the brushes past him into the service hall.

"Oh…" The droid sounds a bit startled. "You're welcome!" He calls after her as she barrels down the hall.

She doesn't look back, continuing swiftly, following along a curve, passing a couple of cleaning droids that scurry by without acknowledging her. She charges on purposefully, not paying much attention to her surroundings, just focusing on the path ahead.

Soon, she comes to the end of the hall, a heavy metal door. She presses a panel next to it and emerges into another crisp, white hallway. She looks to the right, then the left, and exhales with relief when she sees the entrance to the guest quarters just ahead.

She moves quickly towards it, the double doors whirring open as she gets closer. She walks into the lounge, keeping her head down, but only notices a couple of people whispering to each other in a corner of the room. She turns, continuing to her quarters, happy to find the hall is quiet, most everyone likely at dinner. When she gets to the door, she pauses a moment, searching her memory for the code. The moment it springs to mind, she enters it and stumbles quickly into the room.

A giant weight lifts from her shoulders as she hears the door whir shut behind her, the comfort of much-needed solitude enveloping her all at once. She closes her eyes and lets out a heavy exhale, tilting her face up to the ceiling.

Then she steps forward towards the bed, plopping down onto it and bringing a foot up to her knee, pulling at the heel of her boot. She casts her shoes to the side, and crawls back onto the bed, resting against the wall as she draws her legs into her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

Quiet. Finally.

But the quiet doesn't bring peace. How could it? Not after that meeting, not after what she just experienced with the General.

Rey sighs, tilting her head back against the wall, running through the scene in her mind, what Admiral Patel said, the General's reaction to it, how broken she felt, everything she told Rey, what Rey almost told her…

Almost.

At this, she gulps, that heaviness gathering again at the pit of her stomach, gnawing at her.

But that's not all she feels. There's something else too. Something that can only be described as…

Relief. Relief that the lieutenant interrupted them at the crucial moment.

Rey groans, dropping her forehead to her knees, the guilt growing even stronger at the recognition of this, that part of her is actually thankful she didn't get a chance to confess the truth.

Rey shakes her head, angry with herself, at a loss as to how she could feel this way, how she could be so selfish when the General is hurting so much…

She struggles inwardly with this contradiction, this grating of guilt against relief, and as she does, a question seeps in from the back of her mind, one that's occurred to her many, many, many times.

But her instinct is to push it away, to avoid facing it.

This is very unusual.

Rey's spent a lifetime alone, with only her inner voice for company. As a result, she's grown quite self-aware. She's spent so much time observing herself, analyzing her own thoughts and choices, why she thinks what she thinks, why she does what she does.

But there are a few things, soft spots, that extend beyond the purview of self-analysis.

And this question is one of them.

Why hasn't she told anyone about the bond?

She's had so many opportunities. So many.

Opportunities to tell Finn. Opportunities to tell Rose. Opportunities to tell Finn and Rose.

Opportunities to tell Daja. Opportunities to tell Jess. Opportunities to tell Poe.

The opportunities keep coming and coming, and yet she lets each and every one of them drift by, going no further than to acknowledge their existence, like nodding cursorily to an acquaintance in passing.

She doesn't know why she keeps letting these opportunities go. All she knows is that she has a deep-seated need to keep the bond hidden, to keep everything about it hidden.

She'll go to great lengths to do this. She'll even lie.

Like she lied about Apatros.

Not a single soul in the Resistance knows she was the one who lead all of the slaves out of the mines that day. They don't even know she was ever on the planet at all.

She didn't intend to lie about it. Just the opposite. She intended to shout it from the rooftops. It's why she let herself get sold to Blood Dawn in the first place.

It was the chance of a lifetime, to infiltrate the mines of Apatros, notorious for being impossible to escape.

She wanted to show everyone that they were wrong. She wanted to give people hope, the hope that there is always a way to escape.

But then she returned to the training base, and everyone was abuzz with the news.

Kylo Ren. The savior of Apatros. Escorted all of the slaves out of the mines himself, rescuing them from a wretched fate, being buried alive.

And she just couldn't. She couldn't tell them.

So, she lied instead, said she got sold somewhere else and had a hard time finding a ship.

She's ashamed of herself for it. She knows it was the wrong choice, lying to her friends, letting him take the credit for what she did.

But there's something inside her, something she hardly recognizes. It's powerful, a vague and unsettling fear.

If she had told everyone the truth, if she told everyone she was on Apatros the day that happened, there would be questions. Lots of questions. And she'd have to answer them. And if she did…

Rey shudders instinctively.

No. She couldn't do that. She couldn't let people get that close to finding out. She must keep the bond hidden, protected.

But today, with the General…

Today was the very first time she felt compelling need to just let it all out, reveal everything— about the bond, what's been happening, the changes both of them are going through, the powerful connection between them, how they feel about each other. Everything.

She's thought about it before, telling the General about the bond.

Because she has a right to know.

She's the leader of the Resistance. She should know the context behind some of the decisions the Supreme Leader is making, Rey's role in influencing him, how this impacts their fight against the First Order.

But more importantly, she's his mother. And she loves him.

Rey wasn't sure about that until today, but it doesn't surprise her. Since becoming a team leader, she's had more opportunities to interact with the General, to see and feel the depths of her compassion.

Of course, she still loves her son, even after everything he's done, all the pain he's caused. Of course, she still desperately hopes that one day he'll come back to her.

That, more than anything, has Rey decided.

She must tell the General about the bond.

She deserves that hope, the knowledge that the Force is working in her son's life, confronting him with his conflict and transforming him as a result.

She needs to know that her son is changing, that he will return to her. In time.

It would be cruel for Rey to let her go on in agony, to let her live with all the pain she felt inside her today.

And, as much as she hates to admit it, Rey can't help but consider a more selfish motivation to confess.

The fact that the General is the one person who might actually understand the situation Rey now finds herself in, how she can love someone who has done and continues to do evil things.

Neither of them should suffer alone. They should be allies, confidants. They can listen to each another, offer comfort, understanding, and much-needed perspective.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

She will tell the General about the bond. As soon as possible.

Rey nods firmly to herself, hardened in resolve. And yet, in the same instant that her mind is determined, that sick, panicked feeling starts to creep in, almost like a gag reflex, an instinctive revulsion against the idea of letting anyone in on what has always been their secret, just between the two of them.

Rey squeezes her eyes shut and tries to squelch the feeling. But it grows, overtaking her body with a kind of nausea. She shifts uncomfortably on the bed, her legs still curled into her chest, frustrated with her inability to control herself, to banish an instinct that she knows is wrong.

She takes a deep breath, trying to slip into a meditative state, a calm self-awareness like being outside her body. She concentrates for a minute, breathing in and out slowly, imagining each exhale purging her body of these negative emotions.

There now. It's starting to fade away.

Wait…

No.

It's just diluting, joined by something else, something stronger. Something very familiar.

Rey immediately groans, slouching against the wall.

Of course this is happening right now.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, yet even as she appears outwardly annoyed, she feels a rush of anticipation. She bites her lip and looks down, eager in spite of herself.

She repositions on the bed, crossing her legs and bringing her hands to rest on her lap. Then, she bows her head and waits, concentrating on his presence drawing nearer.

The thought crosses her mind. How much has changed since this first started happening. She used to dread the bond. Then, eventually, she resigned herself to it, accepted the fact that the Force has a purpose for them. Even then, it was still irritating, usually an unwelcome interruption.

But now…?

Now she actually looks forward to it.

Rey sighs, dropping her shoulders, partly frustrated with herself. Yet another part of her is calm, accepting of what she feels in her heart…

This is part of the process. This is how things are meant to happen.

The growing warmth in her core envelops her just like it always does. And when it subsides, she feels him in the room with her.

For a second, she waits. Then, she looks up.

He's standing a few feet in front of the bed, head cocked, dark eyes warm, the smallest smile twinging his lips.

She's not the only one who's been looking forward to this.

They gaze at one another for a moment, silently acknowledging the shared pleasure of one another's company.

Then, he turns, inspecting the room, taking in the new surroundings. He steps towards the desk, sliding a gloved hand over its smooth, white surface.

"Not exactly how I pictured your room," he comments casually, continuing his inspection.

"It's not my room," she corrects him. "It's guest quarters."

He grunts in acknowledgment but doesn't press any further, instead beginning to walk towards the bed. He stops just in front of it, his black eyes fixed on hers in that way that makes her heart skip a beat. His gaze soon drifts, traveling down to her stomach.

"How's your wound?" He nods towards her.

"It's fine." She shrugs. "Completely healed." She juts her chin up as if to emphasize its triviality. He stares at her, appearing even, but she can sense him twitch inwardly with annoyance. "How's your head?" She nods towards him.

"Fine," he says absently, turning to take a seat on the bed. Rey scoots forward a bit.

"You had a concussion, didn't you?" She probes as she moves next to him.

"It certainly wasn't the first time," he answers dismissively. She raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

"I hear congratulations are in order," she announces. He looks over at her with knitted eyebrows, confused by this.

"The savior of Apatros," she says the words in mock triumph.

"I did not start that rumor," he immediately insists, sitting up.

"Well, you certainly didn't contest it either," she observes, narrowing her eyes.

"Did you?" He demands pointedly. Rey quickly looks away.

"No," she answers just above a whisper. "I didn't." She stares at the floor.

"Why not?" He asks in a low voice.

"Because…" Rey says the word with conviction but goes no further. "Because…" She starts again more tentatively but still can't finish the sentence. She furrows her eyebrows, searching her mind for what to say.

"Because you don't want anyone to know about us," he finishes quietly. Rey tenses but doesn't respond. Several seconds pass in awkward silence.

"Have you…" Ben purses his lips as his voice trails off. "Told anyone about… any of it? The bond? Me?" She shakes her head, still looking down.

"Hmm," he muses to himself, crossing his arms. Rey twitches a little in annoyance.

"Have you—" She starts accusingly but stops, realizing there's no point in asking the question.

Of course, he hasn't told anyone. Who does he have to tell?

She shifts forward again, squirming inside, feeling very uncomfortable with the subject. She scoots back on the bed to rest against the wall again, and he follows her, sliding just next to her and planting his feet wide in front of him.

More silence.

"So, why haven't you told anyone?" He glances at her with a glint in his eye.

Rey bristles at the question.

"Because, it's no one's business," she responds, irritated. But she soon softens, dropping her shoulders and slouching.

"Though…" Her eyes drift up to the ceiling as her voice trails off. "Just before you got here," she continues hesitantly. "I was thinking…" She shifts, sitting up a little. "I was thinking…" She starts rubbing a thumb and index finger together in her lap. Ben watches, intrigued, curious for her to finish.

"I was thinking about telling your mother," she says finally.

"What!?" He instantly shoots up, eyes wide with panic. "NO! Rey, you cannot do that. You cannot tell my mother about us."

She looks over at him with knitted eyebrows, both annoyed and confused by this reaction.

"Why not?" She demands. "She's your mother."

"Rey," he sputters, already moving to the edge of the bed. He gets up, shaking his head feverishly. He starts pacing the room, growing increasingly alarmed.

"I don't care who you tell." He gestures emphatically. "Tell the traitor. Tell your gambler friend. Tell that Poe idiot. But do not tell my mother. DO NOT."

"Ben," she protests, scooting forward. "Out of all the people I could tell, she's the only one who actually deserves to know, who has a right to know. You should have seen her today—"

"Wait a minute," he cuts her off, halting with a cold pang of fear. "She's not here right now, is she?" He stiffens in terror, glancing from side to side.

"She was." Rey shrugs. "But she had to leave. Some sort of emergency." He gulps, his eyes widening, hardly relieved to hear this. Instead he seems struck, considering some horror in his mind.

Rey watches closely, deeply intrigued.

"Do you…" She tilts her head. "Do you think she would be able to sense you here?"

"I don't know." He shudders, pacing the room again. "But I do not want to find out." He gestures emphatically with a hand. Rey purses her lips, considering this.

"She probably could," she concludes casually. "I mean, by all measures, you're physically here through the bond. Droids can see you, people can see you, medical scanners pick up your vitals—"

"It would be a damn nightmare." He interrupts, covering his eyes with a palm as he continues pacing. He wipes it slowly over his face, shaking his head.

"Why?" Rey sits up, growing baffled. "Would it really be so terrible to see your mother?"

"That—" He suddenly shoots towards her, eyes furious. "Is exactly why I don't want you telling her about us." She leans back as he leans in, pointing a finger in her face. "I cannot see my mother again." He straightens, bearing over her. "I cannot." He glares at her before turning and stalking to the other end of the room.

Rey looks down at her hands in her lap, her mind surging, trying to work out what's going on. A minute passes as he stands with his back to her, tense and deeply disquieted.

"I don't understand…" She breaks the silence. "Why can't you see your mother?" He exhales weakly, hanging his head.

"Rey…" He gulps, crossing his arms, his fear starting to darken into something else. "You of all people… you of all people should know…" His shoulders seem heavy, burdened by a terrible weight. "You of all people should know why I can never look my mother in the eye again," he finishes quietly.

And that's when it hits, that distinctive mixture of anguish and remorse ripping through him, tinged with a strong undertone of self-loathing.

The same feeling he gets every time he thinks about his father.

Rey's heart instantly drops, overcome a strong swell of compassion. She stares at his back, his broad shoulders hunched over, and churns with everything he feels, a harsh reminder of the burden he carries, how much he hates himself for what he did.

A heavy silence descends over the room.

"She loves you," Rey says softly.

"Yeah, sure…" He grunts, looking up at the ceiling.

"She does." Rey shoots to her feet. Ben turns to face her, dark eyes angry and guarded. "I felt it," she insists, stepping towards him. "Today."

"Rey, no." He shakes his head. "I don't know what you think you felt but—"

"Ben," she cuts him off, moving just in front of him. "I wish you could've been there. I wish you could have felt what I felt, how much she loves you, how much her heart breaks for you." He's still shaking his head, not accepting this. "She said she was proud of you." At this, he scoffs.

"Now you're being ridiculous," he spits.

"I swear." Rey looks up earnestly. "If you don't believe me, come in my mind and see for yourself." She juts her chin up. His eyes start to soften, still clouded with anger but also a little uncertainty. He doesn't take her up on the offer, instead stepping to the side, rubbing his jaw with a hand, intense with thought.

"Who—" He stops, struggling to get the question out, somehow eager and reluctant at the same time. "Who did she tell this to exactly?"

"Me," Rey answers. "Just me." He turns to face her, deeply wary of this.

"We were in a meeting of Resistance leaders." Her eyes lock onto his as she steps towards him. "And someone made a comment… about you… about you being your mother's son." His expression suddenly falls. "And…" She gulps, bowing her head. "Her heart just shattered," Rey finishes at a whisper.

"She adjourned the meeting almost immediately. I stayed behind after everyone left just to make sure she was ok." Rey looks up and is met with dark eyes churning in anguish, a mirror of his mother's not twenty minutes ago.

"She told me…" She catches her breath. "That whenever she hears about your building projects, about things like Delphon and Apatros, her first instinct is to feel proud." He furrows his eyebrows, the pain deepening. "She told me… that even after everything you've done, even after Han…" His throat visibly tightens. "You're still her boy."

He instantly brushes past her, walking to the bed. Rey doesn't move, frozen in place. She can't see him, but she can feel him, her body trembling as a storm of emotions rip through her, a torrent of shame and disbelief and heartbreak…

And love.

Rey scrunches her face, overwhelmed with the familiarity of it, with feeling such a deep, unforgiving agony twice in one day. She gasps, unable hold back any longer. Tears spill over her cheeks as she looks down, gripping her own arm just above her elbow. She tries to keep quiet, remaining still.

She gulps, fighting to compose herself, bringing a trembling hand up to her face to wipe away the tears. She takes a breath, holding it in for a few seconds before letting it out slowly. She waits until she regains control before turning around.

Ben sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over with his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. He looks shocked, dazed, but also gripped with a terrible sadness, a deep misery coursing through him, memories from another life flickering across his eyes.

Rey's never felt him like this before, so open, so vulnerable, all of the brokenness he works so hard to keep hidden utterly exposed.

She waits a moment before moving to the bed and quietly taking a seat next to him. He doesn't acknowledge her, just remains still, hunched over, consumed in his inner torment. She glances at him, aching with his pain as if it were her own.

She shifts back on the bed, drawing her knees into her chest, watching him. Then, very carefully, she scoots to the side, sliding just behind him. He tenses slightly, but otherwise doesn't react. She pauses, uncertain. Finally, she extends a hand to rest gently on his back.

At this, he lets out a heavy exhale, hanging his head. Rey moves forward, dropping her legs over the edge of the bed on either side of him and laying her body against is back. She wraps her arms around him, slipping her hands by his sides and clasping her forearms at his chest. He gulps, but doesn't stop her or push her away. Instead, he sits up a little, bringing a hand to Rey's arms around him, squeezing her gently.

She tightens her hold, burying her face in his shoulder. He inhales deeply, Rey rising with his breath, her chest pressed against his back, and falling with his exhale. She loses herself in the rhythm of it, the rhythm of his body, his warmth, his breath, giving herself over to the physical connection as much as the emotional one, the shared agony, a powerful merging that extends far beyond the normal bounds of empathy.

He soon brings both arms into his chest, wrapping them around hers still wrapped around him. As he does, she feels him soften inwardly, the storm somewhat tempered by the comfort of her, the fact that she's experiencing all of this with him, that he's not alone.

They sit together like this, unaware of their surroundings, unaware of time passing. Their eyes are closed, minds focused, losing themselves in this oneness made possible only through the bond.

Eventually, Rey lifts her head, gazing at the back of his neck, still writhing in the most excruciating pain, like being ripped apart at the seam.

She can't even begin to imagine it. Living in this kind of agony, carrying it around with her day in and day out.

How does he live like this? How does he function with this brokenness inside him, this guilt, this remorse, eating at him, diminishing his spirit?

It's killing him. It's just killing him.

"Ben," Rey murmurs, resting her chin on his shoulder. He doesn't move or react. "I think…" She continues softly. "I think it would be good for you. To see your mother again."

He sighs heavily, lifting his head. He waits, reveling in her embrace for a moment more, before he pulls apart her arms and rises. He walks forward, covering his eyes with a palm.

"No, Rey." His tone is quiet but firm. "I've been clear on that point. No."

"But…" Rey scoots to the edge of the bed. "I really think you need to."

"I don't need to do anything," he snipes.

"Yes, you do," Rey insists.

"Why?" He whips around. "Why do I need to see my mother?"

"Because," Rey articulates, looking up with clear eyes. "You need… you need to start the process…" She pauses, searching for the right word. "Of healing," she finishes confidently.

"Healing?" He repeats, half-mocking.

"Yes, healing." She raises her eyebrows. "And to do that, you need forgiveness. You need to forgive yourself. For your fath—"

"NO!" He barks angrily and she jumps, surprised. "NO!" He repeats more coldly, his face hard and determined. "I have no interest in that. I don't want it. And I don't deserve it. NO."

"Ben." Rey's shoulders drop. "You have to. You can't keep living like this, dying inside— Don't deny it." She cuts him off before he can protest, pointing at him. "I feel what you feel through the bond, remember? I know how much it's killing you. It will destroy you if you let it. The only way to stop it is to face what happened. Talk to your mother. Tell her what you showed me. Tell her about that moment, everything that lead up to it—"

"Rey!" He hisses at her. "Did we not make an agreement that we would never speak about this subject again?" He cocks his head. She sighs and crosses her arms, looking down.

"Yes," she mutters begrudgingly

"Good. Then this conversation's over." He turns his back to her, running his fingers through his hair. Rey shifts on the bed, cursing herself inwardly for agreeing to the stupid condition in the first place.

It was a bad choice for the long term. How is she supposed to help him heal if he refuses to talk about it?

She huffs, slouching, her arms still crossed.

"I don't see why I can't simply tell your mother about the bond," she grouses under her breath. Ben immediately throws his head back, exasperated. "Just because she knows, doesn't mean you have to see her." He lets out a groan.

"Why?" He whips around angrily. "What would be the point of that?"

"Because she's in pain, Ben," Rey admonishes, shooting her feet. "You know how you just felt? That's how she feels too." At this, he sinks, that misery starting to seep back in. "She doesn't deserve to feel like that." Rey shakes her head. "She doesn't deserve to walk around with that burden. She deserves some hope." At this, he narrows his eyes.

"What hope?" He demands. Rey glances to the ceiling.

"Just the hope of knowing…" She clicks her tongue, stalling, considering how to continue. "Knowing that…" She squints. "Her son is changing." She looks back and is met with dark eyes like slits, suspicious and cutting.

"Changing how?" He asks accusingly. Rey doesn't answer, just stares, her jaw hardened.

"Changing into…" He attempts to finish in a mocking tone. "Ben Solo?" She flinches slightly.

"Damn it, Rey," he growls, turning away from her. "You have got to let that go." He points emphatically, whipping back around. "I am not Ben Solo. I will never be Ben Solo. And I don't want you filling my mother's head with that nonsense."

"But it's cruel," Rey protests. "It's cruel to let her go on like this, to let her live with all of this pain—"

"And you don't think it's equally cruel to give her false hope?" He cuts her off. "To fill her head with lies about her son coming back to her?" Rey crosses her arms, fuming.

"No." He shakes his head firmly. "You will not do that to my mother. I won't have it. What's done is done. There's no going back. Only going forward. Both of us need to move on, to accept the reality and learn to live with it, not bury ourselves in delusions of reparation." She rolls her eyes.

"Rey," Ben warns, stepping just in front of her, bearing down with cold eyes. "I want you to promise me," he demands. "Promise me you won't tell my mother about what's been happening— about the bond, about any of it." She tenses and looks away.

"Rey," he says again, his tone darkening. "Promise me. Now."

"You don't have the right to keep this from her." Rey looks up, shaking her head. "It's not your decision."

"She's my mother, not yours," he spits back, leaning over her. "I have every right to have a say in what my mother does or does not know. And I don't want her knowing about this. Promise me," he demands again. Rey glares wordlessly, fixed in place just under him. He twitches his jaw, a torrent of rage beginning to rise within, threatening to burst through the surface.

But then, a curious thing happens.

The rage abates. It tempers, enough to reveal what's under it, a desperate, aching compassion. The fire in his eyes dies down to something more like pleading, and Rey feels the smallest chink in her resolve.

His jaw softens, and soon he lifts a hand to her face, his gaze locked on hers. He exhales heavily, closing his eyes and leaning over to rest his forehead on hers.

"Please, Rey," he whispers brokenly. "Please, promise me. Promise you won't set my mother up for more misery, more disappointment. Don't do that to her," he begs.

Rey droops, exhausted from channeling his emotions, this time a tender kind of heart-heaviness. She sighs, the realization washing over her, that this request isn't rooted in selfishness but consideration, his way of protecting his mother, a twisted form of mercy.

And piece by piece, her resolve falls apart, shattered by his desperate pleading, the way he whispers "please."

She begins to nod, and he responds with a relieved exhale.

"Thank you." He strokes her cheek with a thumb. "Thank you." He kisses her forehead and pulls away.

Rey nods wordlessly, but steps back, letting his hands slip from her face. She turns to walk towards the bed, a strong wave of regret already rushing in. She sinks onto the mattress, eyes distant and thoughtful, leaning over to rest her forearms on her knees.

Ben watches for a moment then moves to take a seat beside her. She remains still, attention forward, but she can feel him studying her, reading her.

"You're free tell anyone else, you know" he says flatly. "Just not my mother."

"I don't want to tell anyone else." She twitches.

"Why not?' He has that knowing undertone again. She doesn't answer, just continues staring ahead into nothing.

"Rey." He grunts softly, leaning towards her. "Why haven't you really told anyone about the bond?"

"I told you," she snipes at him. "Because it's no one's business."

"Bullshit," he responds reflexively. "You're the one who claims you talk to people now, tell them things, let yourself be vulnerable. So why not this?" Rey bristles, rising from the bed to step away.

"Why do you care?" She asks defensively. "What's it to you if I tell anyone or not?" She turns to face him as he rises.

"It's nothing to me." He shrugs. "I just want you to admit it."

"Admit what?"

He steps towards her, dark eyes fixed on hers in that way that makes her feel like he's looking into her and not at her.

"Admit the truth," he says, stopping just in front of her, a subtle smile on his lips. "You haven't told anyone because you want the bond to be ours, just ours." Rey flinches a bit, fighting the instinct to look away. "You haven't told anyone because the moment you do, it won't feel like ours anymore, our connection, beyond anyone's reproach, beyond anyone's understanding." He raises an eyebrow, inviting her to challenge this.

She glares at him, hardened, searching her mind for a rebuttal.

But she finds nothing.

Because he's right.

Her shoulders drop the moment the realization hits, that she does want to keep the bond intimate, just between them, their connection, away from the scrutiny of others. She looks down, beginning to process this more fully. The pieces start to come together in her mind, the whole picture, the desire, the fear, the true reason she wants to keep the bond secret…

She covers her mouth with a palm, cringing inwardly.

"Rey." Ben interrupts her thoughts. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he says gently. She looks up and is met with a soft gaze. "Wanting to keep this between us." He lifts a hand to stroke her cheek.

Her heart quickens at his touch, at the tenderness in his eyes. Without meaning to, her gaze drifts down to his lips. A second later they descend, seeking out hers.

She instantly flinches and steps back.

He rolls his eyes, withdrawing his hand, filling with exasperation.

"Rey, why do you keep doing this?" He demands, at a loss. "Why do you keep fighting what you want, what you know is destiny?"

She catches her breath, his question piercing directly to the heart. It inflames a painful contradiction, all of the longing and desire, how right it feels to be with him, the calm certainty that this is what the bond is for, crashing like a wave against all the doubt and the shame, the vague feeling that what she's been doing is wrong, that she should never let things get this far.

She turns away, churning, walking towards the bed with her shoulders hunched into her ears. She crosses her arms tightly around her, almost defensively, like armor.

"Ben." She pushes out an exhale, her shoulders suddenly feeling weighed down. "Have you…" She presses her lips together. "Have you ever thought about this situation from my perspective, I mean really thought about it?" She turns to face him. He twitches his jaw, his gaze wavering, but says nothing.

"Do you realize…" She starts with a heavy breath. "That every day I'm surrounded by people who hate you and everything you stand for?" She raises an eyebrow.

No response. He just stares at her, his eyes growing guarded.

"Do you realize…" She continues, reluctant yet determined. "That every day I hear people worry about what you'll do when you finish building Starkiller?" She tilts her head. Still nothing.

"Do you realize…" She gulps and looks down, her throat suddenly tightening. "That I actually know people whose family and friends were killed on your orders, some by your own hand? That I have to feel their brokenness, their grief, how they'd give anything for just one more moment with their loved ones?" She looks up to find him staring at her with a blank face.

"You don't have to feel that." She shakes her head. "But I do." Her voice breaks slightly as she pats her heart. He maintains an even gaze but she feels him twist inwardly with a mixture of compassion and shame.

"So, could you…" The words get caught in her throat. "Could you maybe… consider what that's like for me, why it's hard for me to give into this when I have to live with that every day?" Her eyes plead with his, begging him to understand. He looks vulnerable now, exposed, his expression reflecting the heavy sinking in his heart.

Rey looks away, her own heart filling with pain. She sighs, feeling depleted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders droop as she stares at the floor, dazed and emotionally exhausted.

Ben doesn't move. Not at first. He just stands for a minute, frozen. A long silence passes before she hears him step to the side, pulling out a chair from the desk and taking a seat. Her gaze drifts tentatively upwards.

He's slouching a bit, his arms crossed, dark eyes glazed over. He looks crestfallen.

"Why…?" He abruptly breaks the silence, shifting in his seat, still looking down and not at her. "If that's what you hear every day… If that's… If that's what you feel…" He furrows his eyebrows, deeply confused. "Then why…?" He shakes his head.

Instead of finishing the question, he drops his arms, leaning over in his seat, sick with insecurity and doubt.

Rey gasps softly the instant she realizes what he's trying to ask, what he can't bring himself to say. She immediately rises and walks swiftly over to kneel just in front of him. He looks up, surprised.

"Ben." She stares at him with clear, confident eyes. "The man I hear about, the man who builds superweapons and orders villages to be destroyed..." She shakes her head solemnly. "That's not the man I see through the bond. That's not who you really are." She leans forward, pressing a hand to his chest, just over his heart.

"That's the man I love," she intones passionately. "You. Everything the bond's shown you to be. And whenever I hear people talk about Kylo Ren, all I can do is hope that one day, they'll have a chance to see the man I see." She withdraws her hand, never taking her eyes off his. "All I can do is hope that one day you'll embrace that part of who you are." She juts her chin up. "Just like your mother does."

He flinches slightly but doesn't look away. He just stares with those expressive black eyes, flickering with all his conflict, all his doubt, but also warmth and vulnerability, the knowledge that someone sees him, all of him, even the parts he'd rather hide.

Rey focuses on those parts in her mind, everything he wishes he wasn't— his kindness, his compassion, his tenderness, his protectiveness, his generosity. She lets herself well with that warm glow, a steady pulsing like a heartbeat, how much she loves him. His eyes gradually soften, the storm of emotions sweeping away until only one his left, the one that reflects what he sees in her.

They stare at one another quietly, almost in reverence, a deep gratitude for this connection that only they can understand.

For once, Rey's not surprised when she sees him melt away before her eyes, leaving behind nothing but an empty chair. She was expecting it, had already felt it in her heart.

The Force accomplished what it needed to today.

She sits back on her calves, placing a palm on the seat in front of her, feeling the traces of his warmth. She gulps, looking down, her spirits sinking like they always do just after he disappears, a familiar trio of emotions…

Loneliness. Longing. Feeling… incomplete.

She sighs and hangs her head, taking some time to give herself over to the feeling, this experience that seems just as much a part of the bond as when he's here with her.

After a minute, she shifts, rising to crawl onto the chair. She straightens, crossing her legs, beginning to review the evening in her mind, everything that happened, everything they talked about. She rests a forearm on the desk beside her, drumming her fingers on the surface.

They were both confronted with some things they needed to see tonight. Uncomfortable things. But necessary things.

He needed to know that his mother still loves him, that she's proud of him. And he needed to know that there's someone else out there who knows who he really is, who sees the man he's capable of being.

And she…

She needed to finally admit the truth.

Why she hasn't told anyone about the bond.

Ben was right. Partially. She wants the bond to be theirs, something pure and untouched by prying eyes.

But there's another side to that, something she's just now starting to realize.

The reason she hasn't told anyone is the same reason hasn't been able to give in to what she feels.

She's ashamed. She's ashamed for letting her guard down, for falling in love in love with a man who's done terrible things, things that are in direct conflict with her values, with the values of those around her.

And as much as she knows that what's happening is meant to be, that being with Ben is her destiny, there's a part of her that worries she's wrong, that giving into this relationship would be wrong. She worries that if others knew about Ben, what's happening between them, she would be forced to accept this, to hear something she desperately doesn't want to hear.

Not telling people about the bond… This has been about avoiding accountability.

Rey continues drumming her fingers, growing increasingly unsettled.

She can't go on like this, constantly fighting an inner war, desperately trying to distinguish what's right from what's wrong, all the while feeling blind, like she can't even see what's in front of her.

She knows what she needs to do.

She stops drumming, laying her palm flat on the table.

In the next instant, she shoots out of her chair, heading straight for her boots lying next to the bed. She sweeps them off the floor and plops down, pulling them on quickly. She rises again, racing towards the door and pressing a panel to open it. She walks into the hall, looking to the right and the left, noticing how quiet it still is. She marches towards Poe's room, hoping he's back from dinner, or will be soon.

She needs to let him know she won't be leaving with him tomorrow.

As she makes her way down the hall, that heaviness returns to her gut, the cold weight of guilt.

But it's of a different nature now.

She takes a moment to acknowledge it, to accept what it means, to remonstrate herself for making a promise she couldn't keep.

But she forges on, determined, her mind set.

This is the right thing to do. It's about time she do it.

Leia sighs heavily as she descends from the ship, her gait slow and beleaguered, a reflection of her inward state.

Exhausted. Depleted. She hates to use the word desperate, but…

How else can she describe this dog-tired heaviness, like she's at the end of her rope?

"Welcome back, General," C3po greets as she steps down from the ramp.

"Hello, 3po," she responds wearily, briefly patting his robotic shoulder.

"I take it things didn't go very well," he observes as they begin walking towards the entrance.

"I see you got a tune-up on your emotional recognition programming," she comments wryly as they amble forward.

"Why, yes I did!" The droid exclaims, clearly pleased to hear this. "I'm so happy you noticed. It's made a phenomenal difference. I'm seeing all kinds of emotional gradients now that I didn't see before. For example, the distinct position of your shoulders combined with the slackness of your face indicates deep discouragement bordering on hopelessness—"

"Thank you, 3po," Leia interrupts. "That's quite enough for now." She shoots him a look as the double doors whir open in front of them.

"Ah!" The droid tilts his head back in recognition. "I see. Of course."

They continue into the wide hall of the base, sparsely populated with a Resistance personnel and droids going about their business. Leia immediately turns to the right, C3po following close behind.

"Shall I have Lieutenant Connix meet you in the conference center?" He asks.

"Not at the moment," Leia answers with a sigh. "Check back with me in an hour, will you?"

"Certainly, General," the droid responds dutifully before turning away.

Leia continues down the crisp, white hall, moving more slowly than usual, her body just as exhausted as her mind.

She knows she should hit the ground running, meet with Connix immediately, start reviewing their connections with the Kuatan government.

But she's just so damn tired.

She can't think straight. She needs to collect her thoughts, reflect, think about the bigger picture.

This is clearly the start of a trend.

It's the third Resistance donor in a month to have their property confiscated by their system's government. It was one of their biggest donors this time, lost his entire business overnight and is now locked in a Kuatan prison on bogus charges of illegal trading.

There's no evidence whatsoever, of course. It's all based on hearsay. But even after hours of debating, exhaustively reviewing the charges, the Kuatan officials wouldn't budge.

Leia shakes her head, remembering the look on the governor's face, the shame in his heart, when she asked him point blank what was really behind all of this.

It was more of a rhetorical question. They both know who's behind it.

But the First Order doesn't want to be seen directly interfering with the Resistance's activities. They want it to seem as though the Resistance is dying all on its own, just a natural by-product of the galaxy's growing trust in their regime. It's all about keeping up appearances…

Leia grunts wryly, her heart growing heavy as a memory from long ago replays in her mind.

She was on Chandrila, waiting to meet with the Fallian shah. She wasn't on a New Republic transport but a dinky old ship she'd borrowed for the occasion.

He was with her, like was so often back on those days. How old was he then…? Eleven maybe?

He didn't understand why she couldn't use her own transport, why she had to conduct her meeting with the shah secret.

"He's the leader of an openly hostile government," she'd told him. "The New Republic can't be seen conducting business with him. It would make it appear as though we condone his actions."

"Then why are you doing this?" He'd asked with a huff.

"Because I want to try to talk some sense into him," she'd replied. "See if we can't sort through this mess." He'd sulked back in his seat.

"Then invite him to the Senate, like everyone else."

"He won't do that," Leia had told him. "He doesn't want it to look like he's giving in to our demands. He has to keep up appearances too."

"That's stupid." He'd crossed his arms, glowering into the floor. "Appearances shouldn't matter. Only the truth should matter."

"You're not wrong, son," she'd said wearily. "But the reality is that appearances do matter. What people see, what people think directly impacts what you are and aren't able to accomplish." He'd rolled his eyes before she finished speaking then shot out of his chair, stalking out of the lounge all high and mighty with his nose in the air.

She'd watched him go, sighing, wondering if he listened to a word she just said.

Now, years later, she has her answer.

Leia bows her head, her pace slowing as a heavy heartsickness crushes down upon her, so deep and so familiar it seems interwoven into her very being, part of who she is now.

A second later, her head snaps up and she quickens her pace, fighting that tightness in her throat.

This is not the time to dwell on such things. She has work to do, a friend to get out of prison.

She charges onward, the door to her study not far ahead. As she gets closer, she slows again, sensing something, a presence she wasn't expecting. She furrows her eyebrows as she presses a panel by the door.

The moment she steps into the room, Rey rises from a chair at the center console, her eyes wide and expectant.

"Rey." Leia walks towards her, concerned. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Rey assures her, shaking her head. "At least… not urgently."

Leia continues towards her, titling her head, sensing the young woman's emotions, a sick anxiety fraying at her nerves.

"Sit down," she commands gently, gesturing to the chair as she pulls out another one close by. Rey nods and takes a seat, gulping as she does.

Leia lowers onto her own chair, watching closely, growing more concerned.

She knows this feeling. She's all too familiar with it. It's the kind of feeling people get right before they give her bad news.

"Tell me, Rey," she presses softly. "Why are you here? What's got you so worked up?" Rey exhales heavily, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"I need…" She gulps again. "I need to tell you about something. Something…" Her shoulders droop as she shakes her head, seeming to admonish herself. "Something I should have told you a long time ago." Leia stiffens, fighting back a faint sense of dread

"Ok," she says slowly. "What do you need to tell me?" She rests her hands lightly in her lap, waiting.

Rey takes a deep, measured breath, furrowing her eyebrows. She stares intently into nothing for a minute before parting her lips to speak.

"There's just—" She leans over to rest her forearms on her knees, looking down and not at Leia. "There's so much to tell. I don't know what to say, where to start." She wrings her hands, churning anxiously.

Leia observes for a moment.

"Can I give you some advice?" She offers, tilting her head. Rey finally looks up.

"Please," she whispers. Leia straightens, squaring her shoulders.

"Start with the worst part." She leans in a bit. "The hardest thing you have to tell me. Then everything after it will be easier." Rey nods, then looks back down at the floor.

"I-" She starts but immediately stops.

"I, um…" She gulps, shifting in her chair.

Leia waits on the edge of her seat, growing impatient, a bad feeling at the pit of her stomach. She resists the urge to lash out, tell the girl to get to with it.

"I-" Rey tenses as though bracing for an impact. "I'm in love with your son," she chokes out the words.

For a moment, the sound seems to suck out of the room, leaving nothing but a silent vacuum.

"What?" Leia jerks back. She must not have heard that correctly…

Rey gulps.

"H-have you ever heard of a Force bond?" She asks weakly, glancing up.

"Uh…" Leia brings a hand to her head, disoriented. "Yes," she answers, rubbing her temple. "It's like a… psychic connection, right?"

"Kind of, except…" Rey looks down. "This one's much stronger." At this, she scrunches her face, hunching over and drawing her shoulders in. The next instant, she bursts into tears.

"I'm sorry." She can barely speak through her sobbing. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you before I let it get this far. But now I'm here and there's no going back and I just—" She croaks, a sob caught in her throat. "I just don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. I don't even know if I can trust myself anymore…" Rey slides from the chair, sinking to the floor.

Leia instinctively slides with her, meeting her with an embrace. She kneels, stunned, as Rey cries into her shoulder. She's still confused, trying to process what she's hearing.

Leia closes her eyes, shutting out the world around her to focus on her heart, focus on that energy inside her.

And just like that, all of the pieces snap together.

The fact that she's found some of her son's decisions of late to be downright bizarre.

The fact that she feels like she's seeing glimmers of him, her boy, Ben Solo.

Her confession to Rey that she's proud of him, that she still hopes to see her boy again.

Rey's sudden need share something afterwards, the way she froze in fear.

Just like she did that time Leia teased her about the man who had her asking what love feels like through the Force.

It all washes over her, the realization, what's been happening, what it means.

Leia bows her head, tightening her hold on Rey. She rocks her gently, trying to give her some comfort, all the while feeling a swell in her chest. She fights a smile so hard her face hurts, but she can't stop it, can't keep her emotions from manifesting on her lips.

She takes a deep breath, then lets go, lets herself smile even as she holds a crying Rey in her arms, tears gathering at the corners of her own eyes, a few escaping down cheeks that seem to glow.

She lifts her head, her expression unmistakable, a reflection of the joy in her heart and something else, something even deeper…

Hope.

Note: The next update will be November 10th. Thank you for your patience!