Archive of Our Own ^beta

"I thought this was over." Rey squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that when she opened them, he'd have disappeared back into the ether. Or the Force. Or wherever. "I shouldn't have to look over my shoulder every time I'm about to take off my tunic."

"It's not my fault."

Same voice. Deep and insistent, like the implication offended him.

She opened her eyes, if only to confirm what she already felt in her bones: Ben Solo was standing behind her. Again.

More accurately: Ben Solo's ghost was standing behind her. Again.

"I'm not doing this," he insisted, as he always did. "I can't control it."

Rey ripped the once-white, now-beige shirt over her head. "Here, take a good look." His eyes clearly lowered to her breast band, without pretense. "This is really how you're spending the afterlife?"

It'd started two standard months ago. One morning, as Rey gathered her brown waves into a slightly more grown up version of her usual hairstyle—why shouldn't she make an effort to look nice in front of her colleagues?—his familiar voice sounded from over her left shoulder. Deep. Judgmental.

"You don't wear it down anymore."

After a very un-Jedi-like full-body jump—which sent her tiny mirror clattering to the floor of her quarters—she regained her composure, shut any open doors into her thoughts, and snapped her head around to the left.

"No. I don't."

"I've noticed."

Noticed? Why was he noticing? And why wasn't he glowing blue? Or floating?

"It's simpler to keep it the same everyday." It was the same answer she gave anyone who asked. Her hand instinctively rose to her scalp, smoothing a flyaway.

She always had unruly flyaways.

"I liked it down," he said, his eyes meeting hers. People rarely looked her in the eye these days, after everything that had happened. Like they wanted to give her a particular sort of privacy she'd never asked for.

Rey opened her mouth to respond, but a second later, he was gone.

The brevity of the encounter made it easy to believe that he was simply a figment of her imagination—a leftover piece of Ben Solo, stowing away in her subconscious.

Even as nothing more than a memory, he was still getting under her skin.

His stated preference had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she later wore her hair down to practice her forms behind the base. (The buns had been pulling at her temples, making her head hurt.)

Ben conveniently showed up there, too, offering the occasional—and unwelcome— "pointer."

Maybe because she'd felt Luke move on in the Force with peace and purpose, she assumed all Force users passed in the same manner. They could then appear to living Jedi, bearing sage wisdom and profound, enigmatic statements.

But Ben’s ghost...had thoughts.

Ben Solo, stuck half-in/half-out of the afterlife, was most certainly not at peace. And his purpose was apparently to vent his frustrations to the only living creature who could hear him.

Of course, many of those frustrations had to do with the very person he was haunting.

He assured Rey that he had absolutely no regrets about giving his life for hers; he even opened his mind to her, letting her confirm it.

That didn't mean he was happy about his own...incorporeal state.

In his thirty-odd years, he'd accomplished a lot (his words). But there were so many things he never got to do. Experiences he'd never have...that required a body.

"My life ended literally three seconds after it started," he'd pointed out, pouting over her shoulder in a hangar bay, while she vigorously cleaned a fuel pump until it shone.

It was The Thing that loomed over their interactions. The event he couldn't stop ruminating over. The act she wouldn't tacitly acknowledge…

...but, despite Jedi mind trick-levels of concentration, couldn't forget.

Rey's reluctance to discuss the kiss only added to his capacity for brooding. She wondered if it motivated some of his "surprise" visits.

When she came back to her quarters after a shift, she’d find him reclining on her bed, his feet practically hanging off the end, agonizing over Exogol.

"It's completely illogical," he complained. "You didn't even have the chance to heal me back. It doesn't make sense.”

Sometimes her room would be tidier than when she’d left it.

“I don’t know how you live like this,” he’d say, picking up a discarded piece of clothing from the unswept floor. “I’d give anything to hang up a shirt again. Or have more than one shirt. Or at least have a shirt without a hole in it to wear for all eternity.”

Nor was he shy about expressing his displeasure over Rey’s handling of the aftermath. (Her “handling” of situations involving Ben Solo hadn’t changed much—okay, at all—since she’d lied to Luke on Ahch-To).

In this case, it was less “lying” and more…never mentioning it to anyone ever again.

Rey took every thought and feeling and memory of him and buried it in her mind, just like she’d buried his family’s sabers.

He wasn’t thrilled about that, either, by the way.

“Tatooine? My mother on Tatooine? Really? Was an Imperial trash compactor unavailable?"

Ben seemed to be having some sort of existential crisis—quite literally.

And Rey tried to be patient. Understanding. But seeing him like this began to reopen wounds she’d thought were healed.

And an armband couldn't cover this one.

The first time he dropped in on Rey while she was leaving the 'fresher, she was perfectly willing to believe that it was an accident of the Force. Once.

By the third time, his insistence that he wasn't planning these appearances rang hollow.

"I don't want to do this now," she snapped, her patience worn thin.

"But 𝘐 do?" Only Ben would be able to master the art of skulking around without a physical body. "I'm supposed to be exploring the greatest mysteries of the galaxy. I should be on another plane of existence! Instead I'm inadvertently harassing the only person in the galaxy who I can hold a conversation with."

Rey had to admit, if he were trying to win her over, the drop-ins were a questionable tactic. And she might have believed his claims of innocence more readily if he hadn't begun to mysteriously appear every time she found herself alone with Poe Dameron.

Like the time Ben “just happened to” show up at her side as Poe walked her back to her quarters after an emergency briefing.

Ben muttered things under his breath while Poe talked her ear off, oblivious to their unwitting threesome. (It was first the time Poe was ever oblivious to a threesome.)

Ben appeared with them in the cockpit of the Falcon one day, pacing around behind the captain's chair.

Poe had insisted on settling their disagreement over the efficacy of "lightspeed skipping," so Rey had allowed him the pilot's seat, if only to let him prove himself wrong.

"What the fuck is this?" Ben yelled, as Poe blew wildly through a debris field. "What is he doing to my ship, Rey?"

"Your ship?" she shouted back at him, over the sound of three dissonant wailing alarms.

"I know it's not my ship," yelled Poe, yanking up on the yoke. "Just feels like it sometimes."

Rey huffed and exited the cockpit. Surely there was a mechanical failure or six that needed addressing.

But, of course, she wasn't alone.

"If this is so aggravating for you," she began, after Ben followed her down the engineering access ladder, "why don't you just haunt someone else?"

"You think I want to be here? Do you think this is fun for me? I'm not doing this, Rey."

“Then explain why you always show up just as he's doing something ridiculous." She folded her arms over her chest.

"So you think he's ridiculous?” Ben leaned forward. “Then we agree."

"Funny, you don't seem to spontaneously appear when I'm reviewing schematics with Rose."

His face contorted in frustration and he let out some kind of curse Rey didn't recognize.

He never had an explanation for it. It couldn't be a coincidence.

And yet, one thing Rey knew about Ben Solo is that he’d always told her the truth.

And as Rey began to spend more time with other men—on missions, at meals, wandering aimlessly around the base after meals—Ben’s ghost became saltier.

One night, on another aimless walk to nowhere, her hand accidentally—really! She'd stumbled on a patch of loose gravel!—brushed against Finn’s.

Rey felt a sudden pang in her chest.

Instinctively, she whipped around to see if Ben had followed them. But he wasn’t there.

He reappeared once she returned to the privacy of her quarters. She found him lounging on her unmade bed, staring up at the low ceiling.

Ben didn't make eye contact as she approached.

“Holding hands?" His tone was a click beyond mere sarcasm. "Kind of a pattern with you, isn’t it?”

Rey felt her own anger rising.

"You’re not magically watching when he does something sweet.” She paused, carefully. “Or when he leans in to...kiss me."

Ben didn't take the bait.

"He doesn't kiss you."

"He does," she insisted. For some reason.

"Lying doesn't work when I can see inside your mind, Scavenger."

"Don't call me that!"

"What do you want me to call you? ‘Skywalker?’ "

She felt her hand reach for some loose object to throw at his head, but as soon as her fingers scraped the little cake of soap on her wall shelf, it crumbled into a pile of dust.

“Oh," he said, with aggravating nonchalance. "Did I forget to mention? I’m more powerful than you could possibly imagine, Skywalker.”

“Oh, you’re one to mock someone's chosen name."

“You didn’t even like Luke! What was so objectionable about ‘Rey Solo?’”

“You disappeared.” She unwound her arm wraps, heart pounding. “I felt so...so—”

“Thanks for sparing a whole three seconds to mourn me, by the way."

Rey threw her wraps to the floor, seething.

“You don’t know a thing about how I mourned you. If you hate me so much, why are you doing this? Why don’t you just leave?”

“I can’t!” He leapt to his feet. “I can’t leave. And I can’t hate you. And I can’t—" He looked up, working his jaw from side to side. "Touch you.”

Rey froze. Her quarters were silent, except for some voices drifting in from the hallway.

“You...want to—” Rey stared at the hole in his shirt, careful not to lift her eyes higher “—touch me?”

There was a sliver of pale skin behind the hole. He looked so human.

“You kissed me.” He took a breath. “You. Kissed. Me.”

“I—”

“And don’t say it was ‘gratitude.’”

Rey slowly looked up from the hole in his sweater, to his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his mouth, his eyes. She swallowed.

“I thought I wasn’t going to be alone anymore,” she said, through the sting of tears. “For that second, I felt—”

His hand twitched at his side.

Rey’s fingers slowly unfurled. It was pointless, wasn’t it? Trying to touch a spirit? Trying to find something solid in his shadow?

But she couldn’t stop herself.

Her whole life, she’d waited patiently for ghosts to come back for her. This time, she had nothing more to lose.

Ben furrowed his brow, thrusting his hand forward. Rey’s fingertips hovered an inch from his.

“You just told me you were more powerful than I could possibly imagine.” She took a step closer. The friction in the air between them felt real enough. “I can imagine...you touching me.”

It had worked once, against all reason, hadn’t it? What difference did a little death make?

Ben's eyes pored over her face as he extended his finger a little further, just brushing her skin. The contact itself was practically nothing. They almost wouldn’t have perceived it, except—

Maybe it was the touch. Maybe she’d been holding it in so long that her tether snapped.

Rey let her emotions unfurl like a tidal wave and every single thing—every contradictory, forbidden, tender, sorrowful feeling she quietly harbored for Ben Solo came rushing forward.

They crashed into his consciousness. Rey felt him reeling, scrambling to take every bit of it in. She sensed his overwhelming panic that the bond could be severed in an instant. Again.

He gripped her hand tightly enough to convince her that the connection wasn’t just metaphysical force magic. He wasn’t some gauzy mirage in the desert. He felt solid. Real. Very, very real.

He looked into her eyes, with a very noticeable heat, and sent his own thoughts back to her.

Ben must have had, well, infinite time on his hands after passing beyond the mortal realm because his mind was positively bursting with imagery.

And a lot of it made Rey blush.

"Oh, I—" Rey took a tiny step back. "People do that?"

"I think so," he replied, between labored breaths.

Rey felt a pleasurable tension growing in her core. He didn't seem aware that his thumb began to stroke up and down her wrist as they continued to exchange "ideas" through the bond.

"Ben!" Her brow quirked at something very intriguing. "Really?" He tilted his head slightly and gave a little shrug. Apparently, as Supreme Leader, he'd had access to much better holos than she'd ever stumbled upon.

"If we can touch hands," Rey pointed out, looking down at his fingers circling her wrist, "we should be able to touch...other things, right?"

"Yes. In theory."

"Like—shoulders?" she suggested. Rey stood on her toes and tapped her right shoulder up to his left.

"That worked."

"Um. Hips?" She moved her thigh a few inches closer until her belt brushed against his leg.

“Still solid," he confirmed, his voice cracking slightly. "Noses?"

Rey drew in a shaky inhale as he leaned his head toward hers.

"Mm hmm," she breathed. "We can definitely touch no—"

Their experiment with lips was very successful as well.

Because, yes, his mouth felt very real. Rey couldn't help raising her hands and letting her fingers graze over the fabric of the shirt that still bared that frayed hole. It reminded her of horrible things—shock and anger and despair—all shot through with the briefest moment of joy.

What she wouldn't give to share that feeling with someone: to make another person understand what it felt like to die and be reborn. To have someone breathe life into your empty body. To open your eyes, as if for the first time, and see the true face of the person you'd been waiting for all along.

Ben pulled back. Judging from his stricken expression, she realized she must have been pushing this swirling mass of thoughts and emotions across the bond. She opened her mouth to speak—to articulate it in a way she hadn't been able to do in front of any of her friends—but before any words came out, he clutched her shoulders and drew her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding tightly.

She struggled at first, pushing back. No one had ever held her quite like this. She'd spent so many years fiercely protecting herself, her modest possessions, her friends. Nothing ever felt permanent. Safe.

And on some level, she knew this was anything but stable. Rey had seen this version of Ben disappear so many times that it was foolish to allow herself any sense of security.

But she was slipping.

Some part of her that had been lonely and neglected for far too long stopped resisting his embrace. They stayed intertwined for a long time, as if there wasn't any possibility of him fading into nothingness through her arms. He absorbed the grief and regret she shared across the bond. Gradually, it filtered away like tiny streams of water disappearing into the ground.

Rey traced her fingertips down the contours of his back. He was invisible to everyone else, but to Rey, his body was as substantial as a durasteel wall. And his mind...his mind was open.

He broke the embrace and took the slightest step back, cupping her chin in his hand. His thumb smoothed over her cheek and brushed across her lips as another sequence of images and sensations burst across her mind's eye... His hands everywhere against her skin, sometimes soft and caressing, sometimes grabbing firmly around her hips in a way that made her stomach feel tight. Soft sheets in some luxurious quarters in another world, morphing into clutter in a mechanical closet on a different base, to grass on a lush green planet, and then her modest bunk in the Falcon.

The constant was that he was always touching her, like he couldn't imagine it any other way, no matter the setting or circumstance. Ben pictured them meeting in different worlds—some made from memories, some pure invention. Rey tended to recreate scenes from the past; she'd never been good at crafting dreamy new places out of thin air—never had the luxury of time to daydream like that. But he had plenty of imagination to spare.

Ben tilted his head down to kiss her again and his thoughts permeated the barrier of her mind every time he pressed in a little more.

His fantasies were blissfully uncomplicated. Clothing came off quickly and easily: she could lift his tunic over his head without undoing a single button, her leather belt seemed to unfasten itself from her waist. The garments fell behind them and disappeared. And then they only had each other, their warm hands tentatively skimming over perfectly unblemished skin.

In reality, they were both unpracticed at undressing other people. He tugged at the leather strap, which only made it tighter. Rey grabbed at his shirt and it somehow still managed to catch on his nose as she tore it over his head. But piece by piece, everything came off, landing in a pile on the floor at their feet.

Rey pressed her lips together. Tense. Suddenly shy in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. She forced her eyes up to his face, but sometimes she glanced lower. Sometimes she let her gaze linger there, triggering another quick volley of, er, thoughts across the bond.

"I've never…" she began, not knowing exactly where that statement was leading. It didn't matter. Ben understood. She could tell they were sharing the same heady emotions—a mix of nerves and eagerness and aching want.

In Ben's imagination, they didn't have battle scars, or calloused hands, or burns. She saw herself through his eyes for a moment: a curious combination of soft curves and strong muscles. He had a seemingly infinite amount of time to explore all of it.

He touched her face and kissed her throat, watching her expression evolve as he dragged his lips over her breasts, to her stomach, and lower still. She was almost vibrating with anticipation, nerves heightening with each breath. He gave her a knowing glance before pushing her back onto her bed and burying his head between her thighs, pressing his fingers into her hips, holding her as still as he could manage.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth opened and the possibility of someone hearing her through the poorly insulated walls never crossed her mind.

Because both of their minds were very much occupied.

With anyone else, she might have felt shame. She might have tried to keep quiet and hold something back. Rey was always holding something back from other people.

Not now.

Her back pressed into scratchy, rumpled sheets in the bed she hadn't bothered to make this morning. He held her legs open at an angle that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and she gave herself permission to take everything he gave her. There were flashes of images and thoughts across the bond, but Rey found it impossible to process them all—because he was also doing something with his tongue that prevented her mind from working properly.

She knew people did this, but she could never quite imagine the physical sensations. Every point of contact between them sparked with heat. Things that felt nice with her own hand suddenly seemed impossibly intense. Vivid. Like he was waking her up. Bringing her back to life.

Again.

In a different way.

Rey heard her own voice, crying out in a strange, raspy tone with words she barely recognized.

The bond thrummed with a shared sense of exhilaration, like they were sprinting toward the edge of a cliff together.

Together. Yes.

She pulled at his shoulder, suddenly longing to feel the weight of his body covering her, pinning her to the bunk. She needed to look into his eyes and feel his breath against the shell of her ear. Feel him inside her, both moving in the same rhythm.

He moved up the bed, kissing up her body until his head hovered over hers. He wasn't quite smiling, but his right eyebrow quirked slightly. Rey wasn't sure if the sense of wondrous disbelief originated with her or Ben, but it burned across their minds.

She was still panting, chest heaving.

Ben swallowed before reaching down to adjust her position. A last-minute wave of nerves rolled through the bond and he paused to reach back up and brush his hand over her hair, smoothing it away from her face. She felt his emotion, so there wasn't any need to articulate it, but he leaned down another inch and softly whispered,

"Need a minute, Skywalker?"

Rey huffed indignantly, smacking him on the shoulder.

"Stop calling me that!" He grinned and she felt her body relax again. "You could disappear at any moment and you want to waste time starting an argument?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Skywalker." He rolled them all the way over, so that Rey was positioned on top, straddling his hips. "I'm here to argue with you as long as you want me."

Strictly speaking, neither of them knew what to do from experience, but they both had certain holos burned in their brains. When Ben felt her nerves returning, he'd start talking. Gentle teasing that broke the serious look of concentration on her face or reassurances whispered in her ear.

"S-slowly," he said, as she eased herself down, taking him in a tiny bit at a time, her palm flat against his chest. He uttered a quiet string of curse words in a dialect Rey only half-understood.

She got the point, though.

She raised herself up on her knees, cautiously at first, feeling every little bit of friction before lowering back down. And then again, with a little more determination, biting her lower lip.

Ben looked up at her with a kind of awe. She'd gotten used to members of the Resistance treating her with the reverence of some kind of minor deity, but this was different. No one had ever given her a look quite like this before.

He grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into the fleshiest part of her body, and guided her up and down along his length, slowly at first, and then with more vigor. Less control.

And a moment later, he lifted his head off the pillow and his feelings burst darkly across her mind like a sudden sandstorm.

I could've had this—

It felt like his hands were everywhere at once...

I never wanted anything more from life—

...running down her back, pressing into her outer thigh, squeezing her breast, making her nipple ache.

All my enemies on their knees, the posturing, every ounce of power in the galaxy—none of it compares to this. Why didn't I just—

His fingers settled in the tight space between their bodies, on the bundle of nerves that was already throbbing. He began to stroke in small circles.

"Ben!" Rey whined. It sounded helpless, yet she felt anything but. "P-please."

His head fell back onto the pillow.

"You're so— Rey, you're so—" Apparently there weren't any words, but she knew they both were on the verge of the same euphoric sensation and she couldn't hold on any longer.

She'd never felt this open to anyone. This giving.

This wanted.

Rey felt herself letting go, plunging over the edge of the dark chasm, pulling him down with her. There didn't seem to be an end to it. Just the feeling of falling. Cold air rushing across her skin, making her body pulse and tremble.

With a loud smack of skin against skin, she collapsed onto her one-time enemy's chest, relieved to find that he hadn't disappeared in that moment.

On the contrary—for a ghost, he was still very solid. And extremely short of breath.

"That wasn't a 'thank you,' by the way," Rey clarified, after she swung her leg back over Ben's body and nestled into his side.

He was half hanging out of her modestly-sized bed, but he really didn't seem to mind. He didn't mind one bit.

"If it wasn’t gratitude," he asked, "what was it?"

"I guess it was an 'I’ve wanted to do that since we touched hands and I saw the man you could truly be' sort of thing.”

“That’s a lie, Skywalker.”

She smacked him on the chest.

"Don't call me that!"

“Hand touch?" he scoffed. "Please. You’ve been wanting to do that since you saw me half naked.”

“Stay out of my mind, Ben!”

“Don’t stay out of mine. Actually, just stay away from my early teenage years.”

She made a mental note to poke around at his teen years, before sitting up on her elbow.

“How are we doing this?”

“Well, you see, Skywalker, when a man loves a woman very much, he—ow.”

"Maybe it's the Dyad. Maybe some part of you is still...trapped inside me?"

"Is it?" Ben raised his eyebrows and glanced down, between their bodies.

"Really?" she muttered. But then she looked up. “You love me very much?”

Rey didn't show up for her shift the next morning. When Rose messaged her, she feigned illness. At least she was true to her word that she couldn't get out of bed.

She was exhausted.

Depleted.

Elated.

It felt like the best kind of dream.

In the days that followed, the rest of the world faded into the background. Rey eagerly volunteered for solo missions. She didn't seem inclined to take walks with Finn anymore. Her friends noticed that she scarfed down meals (not unusual) and hurried back to her room (unusual).

"I've been tired," was the excuse, even though it was also kind of true. "Trying to get to bed earlier."

When Rose pressed her on it, she claimed "Force stuff" and the issue was dropped. Again, not a total lie. Ben was, indeed, very powerful with the Force.

There were moments when Rey allowed herself to live in the belief that Ben was real. That they could go on like this indefinitely. If they could touch, if she could run her fingers through his hair, if he could hold her—finally—for more than a few seconds...

...if they could talk for hours, share the deepest kind of intimacy... If he could make her feel like that as a ghost, what difference did it make? And it seemed as though he always appeared exactly when she needed him. Like he could anticipate her innermost desires.

"I don't think it's the Force that’s bringing me here, Rey," he said, as they lay in bed, watching one of the suns rise over the base through the little window in her quarters. "Or the Dyad. I thought it could be, but...there's a pattern to it."

"Are you finally going to admit it?" Rey glanced up at him. "I mean, I have noticed that you don't ‘happen to’ show up just before I take off my tunic anymore.“

“It’s not me doing this, Rey.”

“Couldn’t have shown up when I was trying to build my lightsaber, huh?"

Ben laughed, but there was something hollow in it.

"I show up exactly when you want me to be there. When you're lonely. When you want to talk about the past. When you want to be kissed."

"Exactly."

He looked at her like he was waiting for her to reach an unspoken conclusion.

"Rey, I’m trying not to do that thing where I tell you things about yourself that you've known all along but couldn't manage to say."

“Hey, at least you don’t keep things from me like the rest of your family.”

Ben placed his hand against her cheek.

"It's you. You...summon me. Every time."

Her head snapped up indignantly.

"I do not!" Rey looked around the room, as if she could find a clue there—some evidence that he was wrong. “Wouldn’t I know?”

"Maybe you don't even realize you're doing it. But it's draining you—bringing me here, over and over. And over."

“No." She sat up. "No! Why would I have 'summoned' you as I was leaving the 'fresher?"

"If I had to guess? I'd say you wanted me to, uh, see you."

Her cheeks felt hot.

"What about when I took a walk with Finn? Why would I have wanted you there?"

He swallowed, and she hated the way she could see the emotion in the movement of his throat.

"You might have...felt guilty."

"Guilty?"

"About moving on with your life. Connecting with people in a way we never had the chance—"

“But we have the chance now!” she shouted.

“Rey. I’m a ghost.”

"Okay." She shook her head. "Okay, so what if it's me? What difference does it make? Do you...not want to be here?" Rey felt her face scrunch up into the first stages of an ugly cry.

"I want to be with you, Rey. More than anything. In this world or the other side. I want to be with you as a living person. I don't want to be your secret ghost. I don't want to be hidden away. I don't want to use up your own life force just so we can lay here and make fun of Luke's hair. That's why you're so tired all the time."

"How do you know I'm not just tired because we've been—" she motioned with both hands, tears already dampening her lashes "—you know?"

"That's not how the Force works, Skywalker." She rolled her eyes. "I wanted to share a life with you. Just not...literally."

"Isn't this 'sharing'?" She gestured at the bed.

"I wanted us to take care of each other. Share meals together. I wanted to meet your friends, maybe make them not want to murder me. I wanted to—" he inhaled deeply "—maybe someday have a..."

He trailed off and pushed an image toward her.

That was when the first sob came out. Ben put his arms around her and held her head to his chest.

"Hey, I have a bone to pick," he said, clearly trying to lighten his tone. "Would it have killed you to tell your Resistance friends about my sacrifice?"

She didn't laugh.

"I'd rather have half of you than nothing at all," she said finally, after her breathing steadied.

"No." He tipped her chin up so that she had to look in his eyes. "I want you to have all of me. I can’t have a life as a ghost. It’s kind of implied in the name.”

"Then what do we do?"

“There's something out there that can bring us together again. For real. We're a fucking Dyad, right? We've performed feats no other force users have. That thing we did last night? You think my grandfather would've tried that?"

He wouldn't have.

"I'll learn the secrets, Rey—when I’m one with the Force. There are legends. People come back. I had to read ancient Jedi texts for over ten years; it has to count for something on the other side. I mean, I was kind of a big deal on this plane of existence, so...I like my odds."

"I don't care about this plane of existence. You're a big deal to me."

He leaned down and kissed her in a way that felt like it used up too much life force. She didn't care.

"That was a gratitude kiss," he confirmed. "Thank you for loving me."

"So what do I do while you figure out how to get back here?"

"I want you to see everything. Eat better food. Stay strong in the Force so I can reach you. Make friends. But not with Dameron—"

"Ben, he's not interested. He and Finn—"

"You'd be surprised what he gets up to."

"So...do you just—" she swallowed "—disappear again?"

"I can't." He looked in her eyes and she knew what he was asking her to do. "I'm not controlling it."

"I don't even know how I'm doing this. I'm not sure I can."

"I need you to let go. We'll find each other again. Soon. Worst case, I show up every few years glowing blue and dispensing unhelpful generalities."

"Floating?" She sniffled.

"Obviously."

"You promise?"

"Do you honestly think I want to spend all of eternity trapped between my mother and Luke, all three of us wearing white robes like some kind of Force cult?" He stroked her hair, gently running his fingers down her scalp. "I'll come back. You're actually not very good at hiding from me. I always find you."

"I let you."

Rey must have fallen asleep in his arms. When she woke up, she was alone in her room. The sun had long since set and her stomach growled. The promise of food was about the only thing that could tempt her out of bed. She sobbed for a while and then forced herself to get up.

She got dressed and didn't look over her shoulder. She combed her hair and left it down.

It was finally time to tell her friends about someone they never really knew.

She would probably cry, speaking his name out loud. And maybe they wouldn’t understand at first.

And that was okay. It might take time.

But it didn’t seem right to keep him locked away anymore.

He gave his life for her. He was her first kiss. First...other things.

He was kind of a big deal. To the galaxy. To her.

And she knew, absolutely, that she would see him again.

When Rey returned to her quarters after a quick dinner, she found an unexpected visitor waiting for her. “Oh, Force! Did I—?”

It’d been a long week. A tough mission.

Rey hadn’t been feeling any lonelier than usual. Not consciously, at least. And she’d only thought about kissing Ben a normal amount. Well, what she considered to be a normal amount.

Not enough to pull him back. And yet—

Ben’s ghost was lying there, his foot hanging over the right edge of her mattress.

He looked up from the dusty Jedi text she kept next to the bed. She hadn’t made it past the first chapter.

“Still can’t manage to put your shirts away?” he observed, eyeing the floor littered with bits of clothing.

“I wasn’t expecting a guest,” Rey replied, shutting the bedroom door.

“Good thing I’m not a guest, then.” He picked up a stray shirt from the floor with the Force and folded it neatly. “By the way—this book? Full of lies.”

“You turned up right as I was about to step into the ‘fresher. Quite a coincidence.” She paused. “Although I guess that says more about me than it does about you.”

He tossed the book aside, barely suppressing a smirk.

“Maybe I just got lucky this time.”

Rey sat down on the bed beside him and lifted her tunic over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Ben didn’t make a disapproving comment. Just a tiny sigh.

She felt his fingers in her hair, which she now wore loose nearly every day. He still felt real. So real.

She allowed herself that brief moment of contact, knowing she had to end it soon.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to let go. To stop hanging on and send him back to the place where he was supposed to be. For now.

And then she didn’t feel his hand anymore.

Rey breathed deeply, blinking her eyes open. She didn’t want to turn around and see the rumpled sheets behind her. Not just yet.

This was exactly why she tried to avoid accidentally summoning him. This utter emptiness. She felt it in her bones—the stillness. Total silence.

Until—

“Nice try, Skywalker. Good effort.”

“Hey!” She whipped her head around.

There was Ben, still lounging, unmoved. It was like releasing him into the Force had absolutely no impact on his presence.

“You’re hard to get rid of today.” She couldn’t hide the relief in her voice. There wasn’t any reality in which she actually wanted him to go.

“Go ahead and keep trying. I'm not going anywhere.” He lay back and stretched out, making himself comfortable. “Actually I’ll be here for a nice, long human lifespan, but you’re cute when you’re concentrating really hard. So please, try again, Skywalker. Try to get rid of me.”

Rey’s throat tightened, like her body understood what was happening before her mind could catch up.

He promised he’d find a way back. And Ben Solo hadn’t lied to her yet.

“Stop calling me that,” she whispered, voice quietly shaking.

“If you don’t want me to call you ‘Skywalker’—” he grabbed her hand “—I could start calling you ‘Solo.’”