Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ow, ow, ow,” Rey whimpered under her breath as her hair was tugged once again.

“Just hold still, it’s all tangled…if I could just get this piece here…”

She stole a glance at her mirror from where she sat cross legged on the floor, straining her neck against Ben’s grasp on her hair.

“Well it hurts,” she snapped, still trying to catch a glimpse of what her hair looked like.

“Well you shouldn’t have asked me to help then.”

She groaned.

He had a point.

There was to be a ceremony tonight on base for the heroes of a recent mission that saved a whole city from a fleet of First Order soldiers…and Leia had asked her at their last training session to help hand out the medals. The reason why was beyond her, she could hardly be considered a resistance hero herself— she seemed to fail every mission she was given. But she had agreed and been told that she should wear something other than her usual…attire. She really didn’t have much else and had somewhat unwillingly accepted the grey dress Leia had sent over to her quarters that now hung on the back of her door, taunting her with its lace and flow-y layers.

It was just like the Force to make Ben appear as she sat in front of her mirror, struggling to recreate the braid that she had reluctantly shaken out a few days ago and replaced with her familiar buns. Her arms were starting to ache, but she was determined to do it. She didn’t know how long he’d stood behind her quietly watching before she noticed the shuffle of his feet coming to stand closer to her, hovering over the place where she sat on the floor.

“You should’ve put that piece under, not that one and you missed picking up that strand—”

Her lightsaber was too far away for her to easily reach this time.

“Yeah well if someone had taken the time to show me how I’d know,” she spat back, glaring up at him.

His face remained in the same locked-in expression that he always seemed to have when observing her. Not quite confusion, but not amazement either. Interest? Interest.

“I could show you now?”

The instinct to roll her eyes was too strong to resist.

“I don’t have the time to learn right now.”

“Why?”

She let go of the hair she was holding with a huff, her hair falling back down out of the twisted jumble that she had put it in.

“There’s an honoring ceremony tonight…I’m supposed to hand out medals,” she explained as if she were embarrassed.

Ben tilted his head. “And you aren’t receiving one?” 

She shook her head. “It’s for resistance heroes.”

His lip twitched and something in his eyes seemed to spark but she couldn’t tell whether it was out of amusement or anger.

“And,” she continued, shaking the rest of her hair out, “it is formal….which means I can’t show up dressed like—”

“A scavenger.”

Her lips pursed but she nodded, wondering if he could feel the discontentment rippling from her.

“There’s something else,” he said all too knowingly, eyes still boring into hers.

Why did the Force always let him be so perceptive? There was always a reason for their bond, always something and she hadn’t the courage to actually ask what was going through her mind but as always the Force was a step ahead.

“I am only capable of one hairstyle apparently and it is not formal in any capacity.”

“And?”

She glanced down, fiddling with a loose string from her boot.

“I don’t suppose you could…assist?”

And that was how she had ended up with Ben seated (very close, mind you) behind her on the floor, his legs on either side of hers and hands entwined in her hair once more.

She was starting to think he had a weakness.

Or maybe she was the one with a weakness.

“Can I at least look at it?” She asked, sinking back down against him as he worked.

“When I am finished you can,” he answered.

Another tug. She winced. Did he have to pull quite so hard?

“It’s been a while, ok?” He’d definitely heard her thoughts again. “I don’t exactly make it a habit of braiding people’s hair.” But as soon as he said it, Rey could feel the realization in his own mind; the realization that slowly it was becoming a habit.

He grumbled as he looped another piece of hair in.

“Do I at least get a clue as to what it looks like?”

“No.” But the Force betrayed him, filling her mind with flashes of two braids circling the crown of someone else’s head like a halo. Soft curls…intricate patterns…the brush of a blue dress as someone walked by…

“You can stop invading my memories anytime now,” he said, his voice tight.

She smiled. She quite enjoyed his childhood memories that his mind was so willing to hand over to her. They made her feel…fuzzy? It was nice. They were warm and full of love and innocence. It was sweet.

“As soon as you stay out of my head,” she shot back inclining her head so he could better work on it.

He tsked his tongue but didn’t say anything more, instead focusing on the braids that he wove. She did her best not to yelp out in pain again, but her face still scrunched up every time he happened to snag a sensitive section.

“There,” he whispered, reaching around to pull a few loose pieces out around her ears.

She lurched forward for her mirror that she had pushed off to the side after he had told her to hide it because her hair was going to be a surprise. She brought it in front of her face, taking in her appearance. It wasn’t quite up to par to the ethereal updo she had seen in Ben’s head, but it was perfect for her. She didn’t do 'put together' and the loose and bumpy strands that decorated the braids were very much her.

“It’s nice,” she said, eyes catching Ben’s in the mirror.

His lips were turned up at the edge and pride was seeping from him as she used the mirror to better look at the other sides of her hair as well.

“Wait,” he said, using her shoulder as an aid to help him stand up from the floor and walking away from her, his eyes looking for something in his world. She stood too, eyes following him around.

“Ah…here!” He exclaimed to himself before turning and coming back. In his hand was a mirror of his own, small and compact. An actual mirror, not a piece of shiny tin.

He held it up in front of her. “Can you see yourself in it?”

She nodded. She hadn’t seen a real mirror in…well, a long time. She felt her face get warmer as she looked in the glass, her reflection staring back at her clearer than she’d ever seen. She took her own tin mirror in her hand and held it behind her head in an attempt to reflect the back of her hair into the real mirror. It worked good enough and she could see the two braids intertwined into each other to make one large circle around her head.

“Is that your…dress?”

She looked up quickly, eyebrow perked, only to see Ben staring into the reflection of her tin mirror in her hand. He hadn’t been able to see the mirror before when it was propped up against the wall…perhaps things had to be in their hands for the other to see it? But she would dwell on that later. Now she glanced back at her tin realizing that it was reflecting the grey dress that hung on the back of the door straight ahead of her.

“Oh, um, yeah…” she trailed off as the mirror he held was lowered from in front of her face.

He continued to silently stare into the tin she held so she adjusted her hold so as to hold it easier.

“Do you...like it?”

“That’s my mother’s dress.”

She about dropped the mirror as her sight was taken away from her and replaced with scenes of another woman not much older than her. The grey dress swirled around the stones…quickened paces as small feet took off into a run…”Ben!”….”You can’t run off like that”….the rustle of the grey fabric against a tear stained cheek…soft whispers and softer lips against his head…”You can’t scare mommy like that”…a larger, stronger hand came to rest on his back...a familiar, gruff voice..."I thought we weren't gonna find you, kid"...

The scene was ripped back from her head as if it had been jerked away.

She was left panting from the force of it.

Ben’s eyes hadn’t moved from the mirror.

He was so close to the light yet he refused to see it. Refused.

“Yeah, she brought it down earlier,” she said, choosing not to address the vivid memories that echoed in her mind.

He swallowed, finally blinking and looking back to her. Something in her made her wonder if Leia knew more about their connections than she let on knowing what she knew now from Ben and his mind.

“I’ll have to put it on soon,” she continued, setting the tin on the ground. The mirror he held similarly disappeared, probably set down on something in his world.

“Oh,” was all he said, eyes still distant.

“I could put it on now…?” She wasn’t sure why she said it, but if Leia had given her that specific dress for a reason...

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again and swallowed instead. “No, no…”

Instead she brushed past him to take the dress into her hands and disappeared into the washroom, hoping that the Force didn’t decide to materialize him in there with her. She went to undressing out of the clothes she had on and slipped easily into Leia’s dress, the hem just brushing her ankles as it was a tad short for her. Not even bothering to fasten the back, she came back into the main part of the room with her other clothes bundled up in her arms.

“Well?” She said, depositing her clothes on her bed and standing before him, the light from her small window shining off the small reflective stones that decorated the sleeves.

“Like a queen…” he breathed taking a few steps toward her to trace the gentle patterns on the see-thru sleeves. “All you need is a throne,” and with that their eyes met again.

“I can’t, Ben…you know I can’t. I will not sit on the throne of the Sith. I won’t. Not even with you.”

He leaned forward and latched the hook of the dress behind her neck before stepping back, letting his hands trail down her arms until he held her wrists.

“I never said it had be the Sith throne…”

She felt her heart skip as his fingertips swept across her hands before the touch faded away.

She looked up.

He was gone.