A/N: This is my first foray into SW fanfiction. But this struck me at the end of TROS. Rights remain with original creators.

ONE:

It hadn't worked.

It hadn't worked.

He had done everything that she had, had poured his soul and life force and-and everything into her…but she lay limp and lifeless in his arms, her staring eyes and peaceful expression mocking his own despair. He tried again and again, his efforts stuttering and fading with his strength but there was nothing: no motion, no warmth, nothing but an empty void where her light should be. The Bond was silent.

Rey was dead.

His vision blurred though her image remained burnt into his consciousness and he clutched her to his chest. She was almost weightless, her head limply resting against his body and he leaned forward, choked sobs shuddering through him. She was cold as well, no echo of her light or warmth or unique heart left.

It had all been for nothing.

As he thought the words, the familiar black smog of anger began to rise again. His old friend, a cloak he had worn for so many years to hide his pain at his rejection, his loneliness, his sense of inadequacy that Snoke had carefully fostered. All those months and years of suffering to urge him into the weapon they had made him…and then he had been unmade by the action that should have completed him.

His father's murder.

The internal conflict stemming from that one heinous action had unbalanced his convictions, making him vulnerable. He had fought hard to quash the uncertainty, meditating and training, obeying every command and committing terrible crimes. But the doubts would not be silenced, whispering in his mind in the long dark hours of the night just as Snoke had slowly seduced him over so many years during his childhood. Snoke had sensed it as well, sensed his weakness and had sneered at him, scorned him for it. Yet the Bond he claimed to have forged had taken on a life of his own and Rey had been the conscience he never wanted or needed, the light to his darkness and the small chink of hope amid the soulless cold of his life.

Things had accelerated during the search for Palaptine, their encounters more intense and hostile. The Bond was more powerful, allowing objects to pass through as they flickered between the two dipoles of the link, debating, arguing, fighting in both and neither. Until, on the wreckage of the Death Star, she had ended him.

And part of him had welcomed it. Amid the wind and the spray, soaked and cold and desolate, he had felt her LightSaber slice though his body and as he collapsed, his life rapidly ebbing, there had been a sudden peace. No more doubts, no more ghosts, no more nightmares…no more guilt. Just peace and the silence…until she saved him. Her hand over his body, the flow of warmth from her, her life force spent in healing his wound and granting him, her mortal enemy, life. And she was weeping, her face stained with tears. She had killed him in anger-he had felt it. The sudden surge of darkness though her iridescent aura, the twist of her brows…and then the grief and guilt. Those, at least, he understood all too well. But as soon as the darkness flared, it was gone, replaced by the light once more, overcome by her inherent Rey-ness. So she had saved his life by using her own life force and then she was gone, off to face Palpatine on her own.

This time, there had been no conflict, no uncertainty as he realised what this meant. Talking to a ghost or a hallucination of his father had only crystallised his own thoughts, soothing the slightest edge of his guilt but reminding him that even as far gone as he was in darkness, there was hope. His mother had made her choice to reach out to him, burning the last of her life to do so and his Uncle had chosen to use his life force to save the remains of the Resistance-and his twin sister. And even Darth Vader, his grandfather Anakin Skywalker, had chosen at the end, surrendering his life to end Palpatine…or so he had thought. Choice was in his blood, his birthright, and when he cast his own LightSaber away, it had been easy and obvious. And right.

But she was dead. The woman he had made the choice for, the woman who had impossibly seduced him from the Dark Side to the Light, the woman he loved, was gone. He couldn't hear her at all. Nothing.

He had no idea how long he held her there, amid the dust and ruins of the Sith Temple as overhead, the Final Order was destroyed. The tears that had coursed down his cheeks had long dried, There was nothing he could do, nothing he wanted to do except sit there, holding her as a last action before his own life ebbed away. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

"Rey."

The word was hoarse, a groan of unspeakable pain.

"I'm sorry. I should have been with you. Together, we could have…"

He swallowed.

"I'm sorry I failed you."

Everything was fading around him, the toll of his own injuries finally demanding payment. Gently, he slid backwards, her body still clutched to his protectively. He didn't want to let her go-ever. Everything was fading, sounds becoming muffled. The last thing he felt was her body lying in his arms as the blackness claimed him.

-o0o-

Rey opened her eyes and blinked. Death was not how she had imagined it.

It was a sort of grey space, the walls shifting like a thick fog of the type she had only ever encountered on her time of Ahch-To, for Jakku was far too dry to ever manifest a mist, let alone fog. There was unseen ground underneath her feet and she felt light and alert. And the Force was everywhere, so powerful it was almost tangible. She turned around slowly, scanning her surroundings and wondering if there was some protocol that she had messed up, some cue she should have followed.

"Hello?" she called, craning her neck. "Is there anyone there?"

Silence. She frowned and walked forward a few steps.

"Hello?"

She wished she had Leia's LightSaber or her staff-something tangible-but there was nothing but what she had on her. So she walked, through the mist, the way parting as she moved and leading her…nowhere.

"Better do you feel?"

The voice was unfamiliar, a crotchety and gruff voice that took her by surprise. She recognised it from the tsunami of Jedi who had answered her desperate prayer as she lay before the regenerated Emperor but she did not know the owner or the name.

"Who are you?" she asked suspiciously. "Where are you?"

"Many questions do you have, young Rey," the voice commented and a bluish glow appeared before her. A short unknown alien with lined greyish skin, large ears and eyes brimming with wisdom appraised her thoughtfully. He wore the robes of a Jedi Master and walked with a staff.

"Rey?" The more familiar voice of Luke sounded and he appeared beside the alien. "What are you doing here?"

"I had hoped you would tell me," she said firmly, her eyes locked on his face. Then she paused. "Am I dead?"

There was an awkward silence and slowly, the Jedi Masters both nodded.

"Disorientating it is," the alien said. Rey frowned.

"This is Master Yoda, who was my teacher and the teacher for many Jedi for over eight centuries," Luke explained, his voice respectful. "We are here because…" And then he frowned and turned to the ancient Jedi Master.

"Disturbed is the Force," Yoda explained, his lined brow furrowing further. "Dead you are not meant to be. Rare, Force Dyads are and protected they must be. For the Force to balance regain, alive must you be." Frowning as she digested his words, Rey walked slowly forward and then crouched down to look into his ageless eyes.

"You mean I was not supposed to die," she said calmly. Yoda nodded.

"Unexpected was your appearance," he admitted.

"But Ben has turned to the Light," Rey reminded him. "He has redeemed himself. He fought the Knights of Ren, he stood by me, he gave me the strength to defeat Palpatine. He's still alive. Can't he…?"

"Both are required for Balance," Luke commented and he sighed. "I was wrong, Rey. You sensed there was still Light within him when I had given up on him. When I had tried to…kill him. You saved him when no one else could. I was too afraid, of failure, of the Darkness, of him…I failed you both." She rose to her feet and her face was determined.

"So what do we do?" she asked. "Is this it? Will I never get to see him again? Is this the end of my story?" Yoda raised a wrinkled finger and gave a smile that was ageless.

"Hope there is but easy it is not," the ancient Jedi Master said. "Take our hands, young Rey-but be warned. This is not an easy process."

"I'll do it," she said instantly. Luke's eyes flicked up.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "We haven't told you what it will encompass…"

"It doesn't matter," she replied evenly, the stubbornness fully the equal to that she had showed when she finally persuaded him to train her. "It feels right. It's what I have to do. And he needs me, doesn't he?"

"Possibility that may be," Yoda conceded.

"We are Bonded," Rey said. "And that draws me back to him." She looked up. "I am ready."

-o0o-

It was Finn who insisted that they go back for Rey, even as the fleet was pulling out as the last ships of the Final Order crumbled and burned on the surface of Exegol. Poe had argued that they needed to pull out with the rest but Chewie had ignored him and arched the Millennium Falcon down to land by the familiar and incongruous shapes of a X-Wing and a TIE fighter, reading the instability of the ground and cautioning the two humans with him. Heedless and sick with concern for his friend, Finn had sped down the ramp as soon as it was lowered with the Wookiee and Jannah close behind. But it was only as they approached the edge of the cavernous drop that they had realised the immensity of the task. Shattered stone from the jagged remains of gargantuan statues lay strewn around, what appeared to be enormous banks of seats were scorched and scattered with dust and the spiked and clawed shape of the Sith Throne was smashed. And lying before it were the unmistakeable shapes of two humanoids.

"It's them," Finn said as they began to scramble down the slope created by the collapse of the back of the Temple. Growling his disapproval, Chewbacca followed, his form tense. This place felt very wrong to the Wookiee and only his friendship with Rey had him moving forward. There was the stench of evil here, like a polluting smog that seemed to suck the air from the fusty space. Slight creaks of unstable masonry had them all on edge as they scrambled down what was effectively a giant jagged scree slope until the hit the floor and finally made it to the two shapes. And then all of them stopped and stared.

Rey lay in Kylo Ren's arms, his embrace tenderly encircling her and pulling her close to his body. Her eyes were staring and her lips white, her cheek resting on her chest. He had shed his armour and was in a loose tunic and pants, his face bruised and the scar dark against his pale skin. But unlike Rey, his chest still rose and fell, however shallowly.

"Rey!" Finn surged forward, tearing his friend from the grasp of the Supreme Leader of the First Order, the man who had committed so many unforgivable crimes. Dropping to his knees, Finn searched her face for something he knew would not be there. She was cold, limp, her body heavy with death and her sightless eyes were staring beyond him. Reverently, he closed them and hugged her close. "Rey," he breathed.

Chewie gave a pained roar, dropping to his knees at yet another loss in so short a time, this one tearing his heart so hard he feared it would break. All his centuries of life had not prepared him for losing Leia and now Rey so close together. But the grief subsided and the Wookiee rose and glared at the remaining supine shape. Slowly, inexorably, he lifted his Bowcaster.

Finn glanced up and his eyes widened-and then hardened. Gently resting Rey down, he rose to stand by Chewie, his blaster in his hand and levelled at the helpless man lying before them.

"Together," he said, his voice hard. Sparing a curt nod, the Wookiee turned his gaze back to Kylo Ren.

Except he wasn't. There was no armour, no weapons, no trappings of the First Order. The darkness that they all sensed seething off him like waves of heat was gone. There was no anger, no hatred or cruelty in his face: it was the face of a young man at repose, vulnerable and gentle. And with Rey moved, they could see more wounds, a probably-broken leg and injuries from a furious battle.

Chewie shook his head and lifted his weapon again, willing himself to fire. But there was a voice in the back of his mind that whispered that this was Han's son, not an enemy. That this was a misguided young man who had been a pawn in the games of people far more evil and calculated than he ever had been. And that he had been here, embracing Rey, tenderly holding her in his arms like a lover.

At his side, Finn lowered his blaster.

"You hear it too," he murmured. Chewie concurred. "I'm Force sensitive-just enough for instincts, not for all that fancy stuff. It's telling me…not to kill him." With a resigned grumble, the Wookiee nodded. Finn snapped his blaster back up again. "And I really should ignore it. He is the Supreme Leader. He killed Han. He killed hundreds of our friends. He committed countless war crimes. He probably killed Rey."

"No," Chewie snapped in his own language. Finn sighed.

"Okay, probably not," he admitted. "But we can't leave him here-or Rey." There was a pause and Chewie glanced up at the lip of the entrance and gave a small pointed roar. "Okay-but I'm not carrying him. I'm taking Rey." Jannah stared at them in shock.

"You're not killing him where he lies?" she asked incredulously. Shaking his head, Finn holstered his blaster.

"Looks like we're not," he admitted in a chagrinned voice.

"But why? He is your enemy! He is everyone's enemy…" Her tone was angry. Finn sighed.

"Because we both feel we need to take him back to the Base," he explained. "Though Poe will probably have him executed anyway…"

"Then…"

"Look-in this business, you learn to trust your feelings," Finn explained. "And both Rey and Kylo Ren are powerful Forcer Users. If the Force wants us to keep him alive, I'm not arguing. There must be something else he's wanted for." And then he sighed. "If I refused to shoot innocent unarmed women and children, it doesn't feel right to kill an unconscious man, no matter what he has done."

"I'll do it for you!" Jannah snapped but Finn shook his head as Chewie stepped between her and the unconscious man. Deliberately, he scooped Ben's wounded shape in his arms and turned to start the long drag back up to the ship. Casting him a frustrated look and snorting, Jannah followed, leaving Finn to reverently lift up Rey's body.

"I think this is going to be a long ride back," he muttered to himself. "And Poe will probably kill him anyway…"