Archive of Our Own ^beta

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) isn’t like most of the resistance, Ben decides, but it’s not just because she’s so sympathetic to him.

He can feel things warring inside her the same way they battle in him. Two sides. Hers, however, are not simply light and dark. It’s more like . . . hope and abject despair. More like life and death.

He sees her scars, there’s a dreadful lot of them, and he doesn’t understand where the majority of them came from. They aren’t blaster burns or tears from claws or even instantly cauterized stripes from lightsabers. All these he knows on himself, but he does not know how (Y/N)’s were caused. 

Additionally, aside from Rey, Finn, Chewy, and occasionally Poe, no one has put themselves on the line like this for him before.

This planet isn't occupied by Order sympathizers and they are more than thrilled that their traitorous Supreme Leader had wandered into one of their traps. And now, here is (Y/N) (Y/L/N) with her pistols humming and aimed in each hand. One at the leader of his capturers and one at him.

Ruefully he recognizes the sheer crapload that is his life when salvation looks like a laser to the face from a pretty girl he doesn’t even know.

His captor is Claudite and angry and Ben recognizes one or two Zabraks and Togruta and he’s fairly certain there’s a few bounty hunters and possibly Mandolorians among the ranks as well.

“Take one more step and I’ll shoot him and you can’t collect any bounty. Not fiscal or physical. So back off.” (Y/N)’s voice is deep and thick and deadly, both hands completely steady, fingers on the triggers and turned sideways and unwavering as she dares them to come closer.

The Claudite sneers on its borrowed face and backs away ever so slightly.

“Think about what you’re doing, rebel. This is the man who destroyed worlds and killed thousands of your friends and decimated galaxies. You would save him?”

“I wouldn’t,” (Y/N) says so coldly and indifferently that Ben might be fearing more intensely for his life if not for the solid certainty and affection she radiates. “I would carve the names of the dead into his flesh and tear him limb from limb. I would stitch him back together from the brink of death and sear away whatever soul he has left. I would make him scream and forget his own name. I would make him beg for mercy.”

The horrible way she says this makes the gathering in front of them simultaneously smirk and back further away. The Claudite remains, just a few feet away from Ben’s would-be-savior and apparent resentment-holder and crosses his arms. “So why do you stop us, little one? Why take his life so mercifully now?”

A rapid blast hits the wall right by Ben’s head, just centimeters away from his left ear and he jolts with surprise in his chains. Half of the sympathizers flinch back even further, the bounty hunters step forward, hands on weapons. “The only mercy he’ll get by my hands is a free ride to hell,” her voice goes impossibly lower, scarier. An involuntary shiver runs up Ben’s spine and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t terribly attracted to a woman who could threaten lives in such a deliciously sinister manner.

The Claudite scowls. “Then kill him,” he snarls. “Kill him and be done with him, you’ll still have to face us. And we won’t be benevolent against a thief like yourself.”

“I’m no thief,” (Y/N) smiles coldly.

Ben can’t see her face, but he can see the effect the change in (Y/N) has on those in front of her. One bounty hunter raises his blasters at her, but it’s too late. (Y/N) fires the weapon trained on Ben’s captors, and instead of one shard of energy, two dozen erupt from the tip in a scattered arch and the one blaster scarcely fires at her before the entire gathering drops to the ground. At the same time, one of Ben’s hands is blasted free and he throws his hand out, catching the energy racing for (Y/N)’s heart. It stops right in front of her breast and with a toss of his fingers, it flies back into its sender, already lifeless on the dirt.

(Y/N) turns to face him at last and the turmoil inside her is so palpable he can almost grip it with both hands. But she smirks at him, her skin a little flush and the spot on her chest a little angry from the closeness of the blast. “Thanks,” she says like she hadn’t just single-handedly taken down an entire community of First Order sympathizers and saved his life.

“Thanks,” he says instead like he hadn’t just caught a bolt of concentrated kinetic energy from piercing her heart and searing her dead.

Rey embraces Ben as soon as they return and Finn and Poe slap him on the back. He’s entirely uninjured thanks to (Y/N). His only problem is that (Y/N) has disappeared and his curiosity and maybe something more is clawing furiously in his chest. He wants to find her.

Rey presses a kiss to his cheek, and through their bond he can feel the relief and thankfulness that he is here in front of her. They are, after all, two halves of a whole. Two inseparable souls. He remembers her dead in his arms. He remembers being dead in hers. They had been so irrevocably broken, but his mother’s life had revived him enough to get to safety. 

Ben doesn’t know what he would do without Rey. He embraces her again and his apologies melt through their connection. Her forgiveness follows as Poe asks, “So what happened, again?”

Ben doesn’t particularly want to tell the story again. He’s safe but tired, and he’s not exactly sure he wants Rey so close to his memories right now. It was a wonder they’d found a way to block off their connection in the first place. Now, he’s a little nervous to let Rey into his head to see. 

“(Y/N) outsmarted them,” he says, instead. “I’d be dead without her.”

It’s vague and guarded and despite his best attempts, Rey gives him a knowing look. Her eyes glitter and he knows that she knows . So he sighs and retells the story with blunt brevity and then Rey pushes him towards his quarters in the Falcon. 

He lands on his mattress with a huff and as he falls asleep, he swears he can hear (Y/N) whispering, I’m no thief.

Her hair is (h/c) and Ben absently realizes that he has never really realized this before.

He sees her (h/c) hair in the bunker area that serves as a weaponry and sparring room when he and Rey go to practice and run off a little steam. They’ve both been restless in the weeks since Ben’s return. They feed off of each other, and with no missions to go on yet and no action to take, their co-dependant energy gets angry and caged. So they fight in times like these.

(Y/N) is tinkering with blasters, her own copper revolver-like pistols are holstered on each thigh as she inspects the bases’ scavenged weapons and makes repairs and updates.

Rey and Ben go out onto the mats with staffs and they fight each other with friendly determination as opposed to the desperate animosity of before. No sabers. That’s too painful. But this way, they can bruise each other and tease each other and laugh and release the tension in their hearts.

Both Jedi sense the attention on them and Rey smirks delightedly at him while he internally rolls his eyes. Rey wants him to acknowledge the gunmaster. She shoots her ideas at him and he grumpily pushes them away. He doesn’t want the distraction, he just wants to spar and maybe embarrass Rey for all the mocking she’s been doing to him since his capture.

Finally, he sweeps his staff behind her knees and she topples to the ground and he pins her while she scowls. “Don’t get distracted,” he offers a little spitefully before helping her up.

“Shut up,” she replies. Rey glances at (Y/N) who is back to work again. “Hey, need any help, (Y/N)?”

The gunsmith looks up with a raised eyebrow. “Do either of you know guns?” she asks kindly, her face supplying plenty of her skepticism.

“I know ships and other tech,” Rey offers. “Ben knows guns.”

Ben raises his own eyebrow at her. But she doesn’t look at him. She doesn’t accept the glare he sends through either. She just grins hopefully at (Y/N) and ignores him. 

“Well, let’s see what you got.” (Y/N) invites them with a gesture of her hand.

Rey understands, mechanically, how things should work, but she doesn’t know her way around a blaster. Ben knows though it’s been a long while since he’s taken one apart. (Y/N) instructs both of them patiently as they pick through faulty wiring and burnt out cores when they fall short and soon they can competently make repairs and leave the adjustments and fine-tuning to (Y/N). Within no time, they’ve gone through an entire crate of parts equipment, saving everything they can and tossing the rest according to (Y/N)’s judgment. Maybe a third of the models in the crate are unusable or trash, so they gather the repaired weapons in a new crate and push it to the shooting range for testing.

“Time for the best part,” (Y/N) smiles as she summons some targets and grabs a two-handed blaster she’s modified. She fires and the kick doesn’t shift the gunmaster. A large blast of red nails the center of the target. 

Rey is next and her aim is just a little off, but she hits close enough and (Y/N) approves the weapon for use. Ben picks one up and fires and there’s a kind of wistful satisfaction in him that his aim is still good. He hits the bullseye--though not dead center--and they continue like this for a few minutes.

Ben isn’t sure when the mood shifts, but some unspoken challenge passes between the three of them and suddenly they all have selected a hodgepodge blaster and are firing rapidly at the targets at once. 

Rey is good, but she’s a better fighter up close. She steps out after the first few rounds and then Ben and (Y/N) are shoulder to shoulder, aiming for the same target and knocking each other ever so slightly off balance to get the upper hand. 

Ben thinks of shooting with his father. Of practicing in forests or in scrap piles or in rebel bases like this one. He thinks of Dad fixing his stance and Chewy cheering him on and Mom offering advice and Rey feels the flashback before he does because she is already calling his name and trying to reach him through the bond but before he knows it, he’s on a thin platform with his lightsaber embedded in Dad’s gut but before he hears Rey scream, he’s staring into two pairs of eyes, one concerned, and both knowing. 

(Y/N) coaxes the gun from his hand and he smells burnt fabric. A shot had scorched through (Y/N)’s jacket, but she seems unharmed. “Sorry,” he offers a little breathlessly, and surprise takes him and Rey both when (Y/N) snaps toward him with fury in her crystalline eyes. 

“Don’t you ever apologize for that,” she hisses. “For things out of your control. Don’t offer me your sorries, Ben, unless you think that emotion is weakness.”

They both blink at her as the guilt and sorrow melts away more suddenly than it ever has before. “What?” Rey asks for the both of them.

(Y/N) tears her eyes from Ben to Rey as the anger disappears from her face. “Both of you,” she said firmly, her expression morphing into something so similar to his mother’s calm command. “You have seen terrible things. You have been made to do terrible things. You can’t apologize for your guilt. Your guilt will punish you enough. If you apologize for feeling you’re condemning the rest of us too. You’ve both paid for your sins. Still paying. Don’t apologize.”

She stores away the guns and walks away while Rey and Ben stand together, one arm wrapped around the other. (Y/N)’s words were a bit roundabout, but their meaning thrums between the two of them like some kind of nirvana of recognition.

If they apologize for the havoc this war has wrecked on them, then they are admitting that every other person who has been tarnished by this war should be apologizing for their trauma too.

Ben isn’t sure why the force lets him know this, but he knows when the accident happens and he’s the first one to the weaponry.

(Y/N) is on the ground amidst smoking, sparking gun parts and she’s twitching with electricity. He nears her and pushes away the shards of scraps with the force because he knows that they are still searing. The air pops and a shock runs through him when he picks her up, but the charge doesn’t hurt so bad between the two of them and it dissipates as Ben searches for more injuries.

There are little bits of shrapnel that are only skin deep, but because of the heat, they’ve already melded into her skin and will need a little help coaxing out but shouldn’t put her in danger. There’s one particularly large panel, however, that has stuck into her thigh about an inch and a half deep, and this might be a problem because blood and puss bubble up around the metal and there’s no telling what kind of germs and bacteria are on the metal and now getting into (Y/N)’s blood.

She returns to consciousness rapidly and looks up at him with surprise.

“Ben?” she asks. He’s not sure what she’s asking.

“Yes?” he replies.

“Thanks,” she says as if she couldn’t have handled such a problem herself.

“Thanks,” he says as if he wasn’t the first person to get to her.

He pulls her to her feet and together they go to the infirmary where the repair of (Y/N)’s injuries takes no more than thirty minutes. Not so much as a scar left behind, not even on her leg. She’s only left with ruined clothes and frizzy hair.

They return to the weaponry and Ben helps her clean up. Then, without any conscious decisions, he starts fixing guns with her again. They chat idly and laugh reservedly and when they test the guns, Ben doesn’t think of Dad. He thinks of (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and her smirk when she bests him.

He doesn’t mind. 

They work until supper time and when they arrive in the food court side by side, Rey leaps on him with a hug and a mental cheer of delight and then, for the heck of it, she hugs (Y/N) too. Then she grips Poe’s hand and Finn trails after and their little trio is all conspiratory smiles.

Ben isn’t sure how she managed it.

Scratch that, he knows exactly how Rey got him on a mission with just (Y/N). Rey’s two best friends are the generals of the resistance. 

Conniving turds.

If (Y/N) has noticed the trio whispering always, she has not said anything and now they are slinking through a base with hearts racing and sirens wailing and just waiting to be discovered.

There’s no word for the way Ben feels as he sneaks through an old base that once he might’ve strolled through whilst the personnel quaked in their boots. It is a strange mixture of being in the distinctly wrong role but yet in the right place all at once.

(Y/N) has her hood shielding her eyes from view--her very expressive (e/c) eyes--and both pistols in her grips. 

Ben’s fingers ache for Luke’s lightsaber on his belt and under his cloak, but that would reveal who he is so he has his blaster raised until further notice.

Footsteps and shadows come from around one dark corner and (Y/N) goes low while he stays high and the little group of seven doesn’t stand a chance between (Y/N)’s scatter shots at their legs and Ben’s precision at their heads.

They’re almost to the control room, but that still means they have to initiate the destruction sequence and get all the way back through the compound before it blows while shooting through the enemy.

There’s a squadron of guards in front of the entrance and likely a few more despatches beyond. Ben and (Y/N) exchange a look and they swing into the hall guns blazing and when the door opens, Ben casts out a hand and the whole contingent flies into the windows in the back.

“Nice,” (Y/N) mutters as he uses the force to defeat the guards and instantly makes himself a bigger target.

He smirks and pulls out his saber and sets upon initiating the codes before trashing the machines altogether to prevent any further tampering. They have thirty minutes before the whole thing blows and (Y/N) fires down another barrage of armored grunts. 

They make back down the hall and turn right into another conglomeration of clones. (Y/N) ducks back behind the corner and Ben deflects the immediate blasts with his lightsaber.

(Y/N) fires above his head and he ducks back in time to avoid a showering of sparks and electrical wires which fall from a bare ceiling panel as the sheet falls to the floor. The first two rows of three are immediately electrocuted and the rest fall back a few sloppy feet. They are quickly knocked to their butts when Ben raises his hand and then (Y/N) slides out in front of him firing. 

They bolt past the bodies.

They continue this way through the complex until both of them are panting and sweaty and they’ve left desolation in their wake and when they reach the ship, they watch with satisfaction as the base blows high into the air. The fire casts light over their shiny skin and they exchange smiles as they board the Falcon and head home.

Rey has been insufferable, but Ben can’t find it in him to mind. He’s happy. He hasn’t had a nightmare all week and his attacks are going down. Rey is alive and he is alive and they are healing and the resistance is starting to forgive him. Or accept him, at the very least. Poe and Finn lead well and the pathetic remains of the Order are falling. 

This war is all but over, just a few loose ends to resolve, and the galaxy will be free.

And tonight, Ben will take (Y/N) to the beach. Or, rather, Rey will drag the gunmaster away from the weapons--they don’t need so many, not anymore--and will wrestle him from the information hub--they know what he knows, now--and she will conveniently abandon them for a meeting with Poe.

Ben knows she’s been crushing hard on the pilot, and he wonders absently if, as in everything else, he and Rey are sharing in each other’s emotions and making their own that much more potent and good.

He can’t explain how good it feels to feel .

He doesn’t have much but regulation issued uniforms and a few of his father’s own things but Poe and Finn corner him on the way to lunch and launch into an inexperienced and lengthy discussion about girls involving what to do and what not to do and how glad they are that he’s finally got someone and threats about if he ever breaks (Y/N)’s heart.

He’s so confused by the time they shove him into his room because he was the Supreme Leader over a year ago and people fled at his feet and suffered by his hands and all the while he had been dying inside and now he is being instructed on relationships like he’s a teenager and this is his first date.

Well . . . it is his first date, but that’s against the point.

Things are so vastly different now. It’s hard to believe that his life as the villain is over. Hard to believe that both of his parents have died for his interests. Hard to believe he’s the only Skywalker left and that he’s dating, of all things, and that he has a new family. It’s hard to believe he’s died. It’s harder to believe he’s truly alive. 

Stars , he thinks. I don’t deserve this.

You do, and there’s Rey. She’s beaming and it takes him a minute to realize that this feeling flying between them is love. Not romantic love or desperate love or artificial. It’s just a genuine combination of affection and caring and soul that makes him take a step back as his breath catches.

“No,” he says out loud. “But I’ll try to.”

Rey smiles and then she goes to usher (Y/N) away from work and Ben smirks. It’s hard to believe all this, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rey disappears on cue as soon as they reach the beach. The sand is coarse and rocky right up to the water where the water is purple but clean and warm. The ground stones and shells turn soft beneath the water and Ben and (Y/N) take their shoes off to walk at the lapping tides. 

(Y/N) has her hair down, for once. It’s longer than it looks pinned up and wavy. There is a light breeze that lifts it towards him and a scent like citrus fruit blossoms and something sweeter he can’t name hits him and he feels like every part of him is alive with hope and desire.

She turns toward him, her sheer covering hugging at one sculpted side of her body and flying away from the other. She wears a simple cream wrap for a top and a skirt that ties at one corner of her hip and slits down one freckled leg. Little golden splotches cover her caramel skin and on top of those are the scars he still can’t name. 

She’s beautiful. Her hair glows as the suns set and her eyes reflect the light of the approaching moons. Tentatively, she pulls off her covering and lets it float further up the beach before she dives into the calm waves.

Ben smiles softly, then tosses his shirt and joins her.

This water doesn’t sting when he opens his eyes and it feels so gentle as he moves through it. Glowing neon water flora stretches beyond the sand a fair distance away and it lights up the water in a fascinating way. Little glittering fish swim here or there, appearing and reappearing without reason or rhyme and among the glowing thrum of life is (Y/N), eyes closed and savoring the water.

They both return to the surface for air and then they head for the reefs and muddles of weeds beyond. 

The congregation of corals and seaweeds and sponges and hundreds of other things Ben doesn’t know the names to is teaming with life. Fish, snakes, crabs, and things that look strangely like aquatic chocolate chip biscuits bounce and swim around the iridescent glow.

(Y/N)’s eyes are lit up with more than light, but wonder and elation and on the next trip to the surface, Ben pulls her to his chest and kisses her.

(Y/N)’s lips are chapped but sweet, and he easily keeps them both afloat while she wraps one arm around his neck and the other around her waist. Joy leaps to his throat and when they part they’re both smiling and flushed.

(Y/N) brushes damp hair from his face with an affectionate twinkling in her eye and they’re nearing for another kiss when the water erupts beside them.

Ben is aware of very little except pain. He doesn’t understand where he is or why things hurt, or why there’s an unnamed desperation tugging the back of his mind. All he knows is that he is hurt, and then he opens his eyes and fear grips his heart.

He is deep below the water and something is tugging him down. Blood trails up after him and he can’t tell exactly where all of it comes from, only that it is all unquestionably his. His desperation gives way to a name and he searches the waters desperately for (Y/N), but his lungs are already burning with water inhalation and he’s bleeding from multiple wounds and the glow of the waterlife is gone.

He looks down to see what’s got him but whatever it is is shrouded in darkness which is also invading his brain as his heart stutters to keep him alive.

I’m dying, he thinks briefly. He is dying again and there are no second chances, this time, he will simply be dead.

He doesn’t want to die. Not now. Not now that he knows there is good . Not now that he’s had a chance to grow and change and love.

He reaches with a clumsy grip on the force and feels for the thing gripping his ankle. It is something living, that much he can tell, and it’s crushing the bones and tendons and muscles in its grip as it pulls him down. He urges it to release him, but his will grows weaker with his heartbeat. 

Then, there is a flash of red. It lights up the water as it darts down below him and it glitters in the eyes of some big, dark Thing before a roar splinters his ears and the awful grip in his ankle is gone. 

There’s an arm around his chest and he struggles upwards with its help. He blacks out somewhere between the depths and the shore, but he knows he is there because water and saliva and blood are spilling out of his mouth and onto the craggy sand. Stones and salt press into his skin which makes him aware of several terrible wounds on his arms, his chest, his legs. 

Hands hold his hair back and hold him slightly upright and when he can breathe again and most of the liquid has been expelled from his lungs, he sags into (Y/N)’s arms.

She, too, is bleeding. There’s red from her nose and her ears and it mixes with his where she touches him. But she smiles and holds him close to her while exhaustion ravages them and she smiles.

“Thanks,” she croaks soarly as if she hadn’t just saved his life again.

“Thanks,” comes the painful rasp of his voice as if he hadn’t taken her on the most disastrous first date ever.

(Y/N) laughs and it’s an ugly painful sound and when she swipes the back of her hand across her face, the blood smears, but Ben has never been so enamored with anyone before. She’s beautiful and smart and kind and strong and wonderful and he doesn’t deserve her by lightyears, but stars, if he isn’t addicted to the way she feels to his body and mind and heart.

(Y/N) drags him further up where she disappears briefly to throw her covering over the sharp pebbles and then settles them both on it. 

Everything hurts and burns and Ben is pretty sure they’re both suffering from moderate blood loss. The adrenaline runs out and, in each other’s arms, they pass out together awaiting the return of Rey.

(Y/N) won’t tell him how she saved him, and neither of them knows what had really happened, but Ben was ultimately worse off than (Y/N) and Ben was incredibly thankful.

His left ankle was shattered and he’d been sliced by solid tendrils all over his body and he’d somehow hit his head to boot. His lungs, also, weren’t happy with him, but at least he was alive.

It takes four days for (Y/N) to get out of the infirmary and three more for him because Rey threatens with bed rest and isolation if he doesn’t heal first and as soon as he exits the area, arms are thrown around him and lips crash against his.

(Y/N) had to pull him down to reach and he lifts her, now, both arms wrapped around her small, lithe body and one of her legs ties around his hips to steady their position.

They kiss and kiss and then just breathe, just like that, for what seems like forever until Finn and Poe are laughing from their hiding places and Ben holds them to the ceiling smugly while he kisses (Y/N) again.