A/N: (Jan 7 2020) So sorry about going MIA! RL dragged me away from what I love doing best: writing fic! I've just been to see TROS so it seemed like an appropriate moment to start posting again (and not have to be paranoid about stumbling onto spoilers ;p).

I've finished the last chapter for this story so I'll be able to post fairly quickly seeing all I got to do is some final editing. I'll also replace the existing chapters (i.e. 1-23) with their updated versions (plot-wise no changes, I've mainly improved punctuation, oh and removed Azi the droid seeing I didn't have enough of a role for him in the end...sorry!).

I also want to take this opportunity to give a HUGE thank you to my beta: Emmeth Nigh. Your feedback helped me out so much and I really appreciate the time and effort you put into being that second pair of eyes that I needed to haul this story to the finish line, seriously, I couldn't have done it without you...THANK YOU!

And speaking of being grateful...a big thank you to everyone who faved, followed, and reviewed in the time that I've been away, every single one of those notifications put a smile on my face and made me more determined to dive back in and finish this! So, thank you from the bottom of my heart and, as always, I would love to get your feedback~

p.s. Happy New Year: May the Force be strong in 2020! ;)

CHAPTER 1

The Throne Room around them was falling apart with a strange, misplaced grace. The red fabric was soundlessly peeling off the bare pillars hidden behind it—like flesh being ripped from the skeleton of the Supremacy by insatiable flames. Shreds consumed by fire were frantically spinning around their axis and flakes of blackened debris floated all around, both seemingly suspended in melancholic twirls.

Rey had instantly averted her eyes from the crumpled heap on the dais of the massive, imposing Throne. The glimpses she'd caught of wrinkled and contorted skin wrapped in a robe of finely woven gold made her feel sick to her stomach. It was harder to not have her gaze rove over the fallen Praetorian guards: their armor glinted a fiery scarlet; their helmets were cleaved; their weapons—although broken—were still shooting malicious sparks; and their limbs were bent in odd angles. As she watched, blood languidly seeped from under their lifeless shapes and ran in rivulets over the smooth, black floor.

But it was not over. Not yet.

Ben stood before her. Rigid. Determined. Scared?

His darkness still coiled close to the surface—a sinuous shadow too indistinct to make out but pervasively there. Predatory. Insatiable. Waiting?

But he looked at her now with Ben's eyes. They were riddled with fragile light bursting through that very darkness. He no longer surveyed the Throne but her. Hoping. Pleading. Begging?

She should be seeing her enemy. All Rey saw was a boy who had been sent away by his parents. Been abandoned by the universe. For what he could do. For the abilities he had inherited. For his bloodline. Not for who he was.

Who he could be again...

She stared at a boy convinced that his Master had given up on him. A boy believing his own uncle was going to kill him. A boy that had been wounded and scared and had gone down a dark, treacherous path. A boy that was lost. Who had turned hurt into violence. A boy that had become the scarred man standing before her.

Rey's gaze followed the thin, jagged line that intersected his brow, then ran from the bridge of his nose and across his cheek before it curved around the ridge of where his upper jaw morphed into his neckline. The scar she had given him. She had left him to die once before. In that forest. His face and chest cut open. His blood staining the snow. A monster.

A monster that had killed his father. A monster that had been a constant, peripheral presence through their Force bond. A monster she had spat at. A monster that had told her about Luke's betrayal. A monster that had listened when she had told him about her encounter with the mirror. A monster that had told her she was not alone. A monster that had reached out to her when she had held out her hand to him in that hut on Ahch-To. A monster she had seen in the vision that had struck her then. A vision in which the monster was gone.

A vision in which he was Ben Solo...

She couldn't turn her back and walk away from him a second time. It would break him. It would break her.

"Please..."

The word sent chills down her spine. Its longing resonated with her own until her knees threatened to buckle, the yearning growing in volume and power as it seemed to pull and push between them like the tow of the tide—as it hit against her chest like waves.

That final plea made her realize she had no choice. That she had already made it the moment she had lied down in the Falcon's escape pod and told Chewbacca to jettison her into the clutches of the First Order.

She only wished it had been different. That she didn't have to betray the people who had taken her in. Who had given her a place to belong. A cause to fight for. Who trusted her. Rey could only hope they would understand she was doing this for them too. To end this horrid war the only way she thought she could. If anything, her short time on the island with Master Skywalker had made her see clearer. She knew her new found purpose was here. With him.

Ben's offer felt like an eclipse—the moon temporarily obscuring the radiance of the sun. But she could still see light encircling the shadowed orb. It gave her hope. She had come here to save Ben Solo. And that's what she would do. Rey had to believe she still could.

As her fingertips unbend and reached forward, as they lightly grazed his gloved ones, Rey knew how much he wanted to prove to her she belonged at his side. His conviction was palpable like powerful and paralyzing ripples in the Force, causing her to momentarily freeze and hold her breath as if water was actually at her lips.

Apparently that daunting feeling of overwhelming expectation—of feverish anticipation—was contagious because Ben's gaze faltered and his hand withdrew an inch too. For a split-second Rey feared he had perceived her hesitation as rejection. That she had waited too long—been too lost in her internal debate about the road inevitably splitting into two before her. But then he looked up to her again and determination glinted in the depths of those dark eyes.

Jaw clenched, Ben pulled off his glove and stretched out his hand towards her again. A peace offering. A promise to trust each other.

Rey took a step closer before she could stop herself. Too eager. Too hurried. Her fingertips bumped clumsily into his. At first Ben's eyes widened as if in disbelief. An almost boyish surprise lit up his eyes.

Then the hint of a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and enhanced the sense of exhilaration as fingers traveled closely passed each other—skin brushing skin until their hands clasped.

It was like it had been on Ahch-To. And yet it was totally different. It felt like an electric jolt spurred on her heart to thump harder against her ribs. It reminded her of that buzz crawling under her skin when she dislodged a power coupling from one of the many star destroyers half sunken in the Jakku desert—like rotting carcasses of wires and steel. But if felt better. It felt real.

And the sensation grew stronger instead of fading after that first touch. Had she felt completely synchronized when they had fought together, feeling the warmth seep through his palm into hers now provided an anchor and simultaneously amplified her awareness of the Force surrounding them both. Going through them both. His presence mingled with hers in a soothing storm she was too mesmerized by to want to take a step back from him again.

And then the deck below their feet canted. Shuddered. Making them lose their balance. Their hands slid loose as the ship shook from a colossal impact. They staggered to stay on their feet.

"What's going on?" Rey cast an alarmed look around, the tremor traveling through the floor penetrated her soles and rattled her very bones.

Ben whisked around and strode over to a computer terminal built into a pillar. He swept it free of grit and ash, then his fingers punched in a set of commands. Rey hastened to his side to look over his shoulder. A holographic projection of the Supremacy burst into life before she had reached him. Rey gasped.

It had been nearly cut in half!

"Looks like your friends were so desperate they rammed their flagship into ours rather than save themselves," Ben said and his tone held a long-felt coldness.

Before the horrifying truth of what she saw could sink in, they both turned as one to the gaping mouth that led away from the Throne Room.

Footsteps. Brisk and staccato. Definitely coming their way.

"What do we do now?" The pronoun tasted foreign on her tongue—it made her cheeks burn when Ben effortlessly picked up on her self-conscious realization of how she had already slipped into phrasing it like that.

"Now," Ben said eagerly, an invisible mask sliding over his features as he squared his shoulders and straightened. "Now we improvise..."

The deck shuddered again. Rey planted her feet more firmly on it. Willing herself that she felt more anchored because of it. That she felt ready. Nodding had never cost more effort of will but she did. She nodded and waited as the footsteps grew louder and louder—lending the choice she'd made a deafening, irreversible heartbeat.