Work Text:
Binary Stars
“No. My parents were strong. They saved me from you.”
For a fleeting moment Rey thinks she can feel everything in the entire galaxy. She feels the Force around her, finally settled into rightness; she hears the battle overhead; she can see the massive room collapsing and caving in at the edges, crushing the Sith Eternal beneath the falling debris. She had done it, she had won. The Emperor was gone.
But she doesn’t feel anything. No pain draws her attention although she is aware of wounds; no triumph or joy fills her up at her impossible achievement. There is simply nothing. She is vaguely, distantly aware that the lightsabers fall from her hands, one after the other, the thuds they make on the ground seeming to echo through her head.
It is only when her knees buckle beneath her and the floor rushes up to meet her suddenly that she realizes— oh. This is it, then. It was over, she was leaving.
In that instant Rey knows the feelings of everyone above her and around her— she senses the fury from the officers of the Final Order in stark contrast to the elation of the Resistance; she senses relief from Poe; apprehension from Chewbacca; and more than anything else she is hit by a wave of shocked grief from Finn.
Once, on Ajan Kloss, she had waded out into a river with a handful of flowers she had picked. She had sat on a rock and set them gently in the flowing current, watching them glide away and out of sight. This is the only way she knows how to begin to describe what this feels like— her awareness and consciousness were slowly slipping away and out of reach, like flowers in the stream.
Rey’s last conscious thought was that at least Ben would be there with her, on the other side, and they would face whatever came next together.
And then there was nothing, not even darkness, and she knew no more.
It occurred to Rey very suddenly that walking through a wall of dark purple mist is not a normal thing to be doing. Despite this realization, she can’t for the life of her remember how she got here or what she was doing before this. It seemed as though the mist was all there was, and all there ever was, and all there ever would be.
But— no. There was something else, before whatever this was. Someone, who she valued very dearly. And she had been doing… something. Something important.
Yes, there had been someone she valued and something important before this.
Rey stops and glances around, trying to see the murky shapes that flitted here and about in the mist, but they were gone whenever she turned her head. As far as she could see was only the violet haze, and the longer she stood, trying to grasp at her slippery memories, the further the fog receded away from her.
She turns in a slow circle. “Ben?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper. This couldn’t be how it was after the end— they had been a dyad, two that are one— she didn’t want to be alone.
“Rey,” a voice says, a voice that feels loosely familiar, as though she had known it once, a very long time ago. She can’t place it, but she feels oddly comforted by it. But it wasn’t Ben, her dyad, half of her actual soul, and the realization made her feel very small and lost.
“Rey?” says a different voice this time, a woman, and that one— that one she knows, somehow, from a dream or a vision. Rey turns slowly to see who the voices belonged to, though warily, and her breath catches in her throat when she does.
Before her stood a man and a woman. He was slightly taller than she was, and had dark hair cut short. The woman looked shockingly like herself, though with dusty blonde hair tied back from her face. Rey knew them, she knew them, from a place deep within her that she had pushed to the far recesses of her mind.
“Mom?” she breathes, asking tentatively for fear that it might not be true. “Papa?”
The woman’s face split into a smile. “Yes, my love,” she replies, opening her arms.
“It’s us, sweetheart,” says the man, her father. Her father. How long had she pined for her parents, to have them, and now they were here with her in her death. She wasn’t alone.
Rey hesitated for only a brief instant before she made a strangled cry and flew into her mother’s outstretched arms.
“You’re here,” Rey murmurs into her mom’s shoulder, feeling her dad wrap his arms around the both of them and she leaned her head into his chest. “You’re really here. I have wanted this for so long—“ she cut off, unable to go on, and instead chose to revel in their presence, in the warmth that surrounded her.
“We wanted to come back for you,” her mom whispered, pressing her hand against Rey’s hair in a comfortingly familiar gesture. “Oh, I wish we could have like we said we would.”
“There were a thousand promises I wish we could have made good on,” said her dad, voice choking. “My love, my sweet, my hope. So many things I wish we could have told you. So many things I wish we could have done together.”
“We were going to take you to see oceans, and forests, and snow,” her mom continues now, voice raw with emotion. “To see rivers and beaches and waterfalls, and more than anything—“ her mom pushes her forward and holds her at arm’s length, eyes skipping across her every feature as though trying to drink in her image. “More than anything, I wanted you to see rain.”
“I have!” Rey exclaims, clutching one of her mom’s hands and one of her dad’s in her own. “I got to see an ocean, and it was so beautiful, more than I could have ever imagined! And the forests— oh, the forests! I didn’t even know there could be so many different kinds of plants and trees and flowers! And snow, I saw snow, too, saw it fall from the sky! And rain— do you know how incredible it is?! The skies opened up and it rained, and the entire world seemed to stop and wait while it did, and it was like everything got a new start after it had passed.”
“Oh, sweetie,” said her mom, an unreadable expression flitting across her face that was something like joy and something like sadness. “Oh, I am so glad!”
“You have no idea how inexpressibly happy that makes us,” her dad responded, eyes glittering as he grips her tightly by the shoulders. “And we are so proud of you, my love. So proud.”
Rey felt something well up in the back of her throat. “I just- I am-“ she swallowed hard and tried again. “I am so sorry,” she managed out, and her parents’ expressions turned stunned.
“For what?” asked her dad. “You did something incredible. You rebalanced the Force, you defeated the Emperor once and for all— and to do so, without Turning, without resorting to violent means? Absolutely amazing.” His eyes were wide with admiration and pride and his smile even brighter. Rey shifted under his praise and smiled sheepishly.
“That’s not what I meant— I-I’m sorry that I… forgot you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, my love,” her mom interjected forcefully. “You hear me, Rey? Nothing. You had to survive on your own for years in the most desolate, lifeless world there is, where any weakness means death. You didn’t remember us, you couldn’t, because you had to survive. We wanted you to, for your own sake.”
Rey looked between them and felt something prickle at the edges of her eyes. She lifted a hand free and swiped tears away. “You’re not… angry with me? Or disappointed?”
“Why would we possibly be?” asks her mom, and the statement is posed with such compassion and such love that Rey feels a little foolish for asking.
“I have dreamed of reuniting with you for so long,” Rey says, voice catching and sounding tattered from emotion. “I just never imagined it like this.”
“We always wanted everything to turn out differently,” her dad replied, “But we always knew that it was never going to happen. Not with who we were. And oh,” his voice turned reverent as he raised a hand to gently caress the side of her face. “You’ve turned into a beautiful young woman. You’ve grown up. Miramir, she looks so much like you.”
Her mother flashed a smile. “Funny, I was thinking that she looks a lot like you, hon,” she countered with a smile that tugs at a memory from long ago, of being young, of playing in the sand with her parents, of a lullaby as she was tucked in to bed, of olden tales and stories that told of great lands and fearless heroes, of laughter and love and family.
“Do you remember what the name ‘Rey’ means?” asks her dad, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear in a tender motion that almost made tears well up in her eyes. Rey shook her head no.
“No, I- I never knew it had any particular meaning. Or I did once, and forgot it, I suppose.”
“It means hope.” Her father’s eyes seemed a little sad, but they glittered at the same time. “In ur-Kittât, the language of the Sith and my first tongue, the word ‘Rey’ translates to ‘hope’.”
“We chose the name because it was appropriate. You were our hope, and we always hoped for a better future for you, a better galaxy. You made that possible for so many with your actions today. You brought hope to those who have none.”
Rey felt her chest constrict a tiny bit. “Then, I- I died, didn’t I? I’m dead. It’s all over.” The matching looks of pity on the faces of her parents confirmed it, and she sank back into their arms. “There are so many things I wish I could have done. So many things I wish I could have said. I just wish that I could have known, and told my friends goodbye.”
“I know the feeling, all too well. I think everyone must feel it a little bit, when death comes too soon. The feeling that it wasn’t enough time, that you didn’t do enough,” says her mom.
“But you did so much with your life, so many things worth celebrating. And those you left behind already knew how much you cared about them— you gave your life for them, for the galaxy. They will honor you, and remember the good you did.”
Rey nodded, backing up only a tiny bit to see their faces better. “I suppose that is some relief. Some… legacy, I guess. Of something that wasn’t sand.”
Her parents shared a look before both burst into laughter. Rey raised an eyebrow, but the sound was infectious and reminded her of faint memories of long ago, so a smile spread across her face.
“Dathan, are you thinking what I’m thinking? About the conversation we had when we settled on Jakku?” Her mom grinned, and her dad snorted a laugh.
“How could I forget it?” He shook his head and turned to Rey. “You were a baby, and we were having a hard time getting used to junk-trading. We were having an argument, and Miramir told me that ‘if we stay here for much longer, the only legacy we’re leaving for our daughter is endless sand!’”
“I do not talk like that, Dathan!” Objects her mom, playfully slapping his arm. “I said that if she grew up on such an actual wasteland all she would ever know is endless sand for a legacy!”
“Alright, so I’m bad at direct quotes! I got the gist of it!” Her dad chuckles as he says this. Seeing her parents interact so casually and lovingly with each other tugged at Rey’s heart, as if reminding her that this was hers for a time, before it was cruelly torn away far too soon— and it also reminded her of how badly she had wanted to have this life, this kind of love and family, with someone specific. The thought of it brought tears back to her eyes.
“Is this… all of it?” Rey asks hesitantly, unsure of how to even express the question that forms in the back of her mind. “The afterlife, the- the Netherworld, I suppose? Is there… more?”
“Well… it’s complicated,” her dad faltered.
“It’s hard to explain,” says her mom, looking as unsure of her answer as Rey was of her question. “But in the simplest of terms, yes, there is more, beyond here.”
Rey exhales, feeling relief wash over her. She hadn’t exactly expected to spend eternity in an endless misty plain, and she had always imagined being reunited with those she had lost— which, until recently, had only included her parents.
“Ben,” Rey whispers, then looks desperately between her parents’ faces. “Is he here?” She feels a little guilty for how badly she hopes he is, so that they can be together again, even if it was now that both of them were gone.
Her parents exchanged a brief glance and Rey felt her heart drop and an unnamed fear clutch her chest. He was dead, there was no possible way he could have survived that fall, but if he was dead and he wasn’t here….
There was an odd ringing sound in her ears and an empty pit in her chest, and she kind of felt like she had gone too long without water under the raging desert sun. If Ben wasn’t here and she wasn’t there, wherever there was, then they would be apart forever, something that she found absolutely, indescribably terrifying for some inexplicable reason.
“Rey, did you hear me?” Her mom’s voice broke through Rey’s shock and she shook her head very sharply to clear away the panic. “Sweetie, he’s not here because he doesn’t have to be. He isn’t dead.”
“He- he isn’t dead?” Rey burst, stunned. “Ben is… alive?”
Her dad nodded affirmation. “He’s alive, sweetheart. He survived the fall, though narrowly. Somehow, someway, he lived.”
Rey worked her jaw for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She was incredibly relieved, but yet the thought that he wasn’t here, that she was the first to go, was horrifying.
“I- I’ll miss him,” she finally settles on. “I wish I could have seen him again, before I died. There were quite a few things I never got to tell him, that… I- I’m not sure he knew.”
That I loved him. That I dreamed of having a life with him. How much I wish things would have been different for us.
“That’s the bitterest part, isn’t it?” her dad responded wistfully. “When you leave someone behind, and you know that there were so many things you wanted to say that you never got the time to. It stings, because there’s no way to go back and tell them, and you can only hope that one day you can ask them to forgive you.”
Rey knew instinctively that the words had far more meaning than her father openly expressed, and she answered by squeezing both of their hands tightly. “But there’s nothing to forgive,” she said, and both of her parents’ faces turned lighter, as though a weight had been lifted. “Maybe… maybe in some other universe. Or another life, I guess, things will work out better. Or a galaxy far, far away, beyond the stars and beyond the wars that rage in them. But right here, right now? I have some regrets, but… I’m happy.” Rey offered a genuine smile as she said this— and it was true. She was happy, she had done enough and now she finally got to have her parents again. And maybe in another thirty or forty years (or maybe only a few days if the Resistance had a say in the matter), she and Ben would meet again, and they would finally be together the way the Force had always intended.
“Or maybe right now,” said her dad, as if reading her thoughts. Rey furrowed her brow, a question forming on her lips, but her mom cut her off by lifting a hand to point at something behind her.
“Look.”
Rey turns to find that the mist approximately nine paces away from her was opening to reveal what appeared to be a portal of sorts; its light was soft and flickering and at the same time warm and welcoming.
Something snagged in her chest like it was trying to pull her towards it, and Rey froze, eyes darting between the doorway and her parents.
“It’s Ben,” said her mom, a smile playing across her lips. “He’s reaching for you. Reach back, my love. Let him save you the way you saved him.”
“Come with me,” Rey half-begged desperately, although she knew it was impossible. There was no way, they were gone and had been for a long time, but she still had to ask.
“We can’t, my hope. Our time is up. We’ve done enough. You still have a life laid before you,” said her dad with something akin to longing.
Rey swallowed past a knob in her throat. “I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You won’t,” her mom burst passionately. “You never lost us.”
“We will always be with you, Rey,” said her father fiercely.
Rey took a step back without turning, trying to catalogue everything about her family, from their features that were showcased on her to the familiar triple-bun style her mother wore her hair in to the boundless love for her in their eyes. “It wasn’t enough time.”
“It never would have been,” responded her mom.
“I love you both,” Rey strangled out, taking another step back. “I will never forget you.”
“I love you, my light. Now, hurry,” her father told her, and her mom added,
“I love you more than anything. Now go. Rey, be brave.”
“Go to the light, Rey. Don’t be afraid.”
“And don’t look back,” said her mom, the determined tone in her voice brokering no argument. “Don’t look back.”
Rey took in one last look, steeled herself, and turned to face the doorway. In seven steps she was right in front of it, and felt its pull from a place deep within her— felt Ben, beseeching her to come back, to live. She feels his love for her pulling her back to herself.
I came back for you, sweetheart. Please, come back to me. Please.
Rey bites back tears at his words. Ben came back for her, and their newfound connection had allowed him to bring her back to him.
Rey took the final step forward and strode into the light.
It isn’t so much a noticeable change as a vague but growing brightening on the edges of her awareness, like a sun slowly rising. Rey’s first conscious realization was that she was being cradled in Ben’s arms with incredible gentleness, and that his hand rested on her abdomen, spreading warmth through her body in a way that she knew without thinking was from the Force as well as his body heat.
Then it hits her. She was dead, and now she was alive. Ben had saved her. He had brought her back. He had healed her.
Rey folds her hand over his and sits up, eyes skipping across the stunned expression that he wore across his handsome face; she feels her face split into a radiant smile.
“Ben,” she says, faintly, just loud enough for him to hear it. Ben’s lips curl into a smile as he looks at her with such love that her heart flutters as she reaches up to touch the side of his face where his scar used to be.
There were ten thousand things she wanted to say in that instant, but chose instead to say it all at once— she surges forward and kisses him, pouring every emotion that she felt right now into it, from gratitude to longing to desire to hope, and above it all more lovethan she had ever thought she could feel.
Because she was alive, and he was alive, and they were together. They weren’t alone, not anymore. They had each other.
When they pull apart she revels in his brilliant, beaming smile for just long enough to realize that something wasn’t right with him. It doesn’t take her more than an instant to discover what— he had given her all of his life energy, and was turning cold.
No. No, my love, no, she thinks across their bond, unable to voice the words aloud.
It’s okay, Rey. It’s best this way. I love you.
I love you.
Ben Solo fell, and Rey clasped his hand with her own until he had dissipated into the Force that surrounded them. She had never felt more alone.
You’re not alone. I will always be with you.
“Neither are you,” Rey whispers to whatever remnant of him can still hear her. “No one’s ever really gone.”
Rey retrieved her lightsabers and sprinted out of the ruined cathedral.
Rey held her newly-constructed lightsaber out in front of her. It was made from pieces of her old quarterstaff and a Kyber crystal she had found on a nowhere planet that she had once been scouting for a potential base location, and in a way, she thought it was a reflection of herself— it was a modern weapon that mirrored an ancient design, which paid homage and honor to legacy while still facing forward; it was salvaged from scrap and lost things found in the middle of nowhere, overlooked by all but those who could see the beauty in imperfection. She had finished its construction a few days ago, but despite the urging of her friends to ignite it so that they could see it, she hadn’t felt right about it until now, after she had laid the Skywalker sabers to rest in the sands that they came from.
Personally, she would have buried them on Ahch-To, but Luke and Leia were quite clear in the instructions in their wills: they wanted their lightsabers laid to rest outside of the Lars homestead on Tatooine, beside the graves of Cliegg, Owen, Beru, and Shmi Lars-Skywalker.
Rey had no idea what color her blade would be. Leia had once said that the color of the blade was a reflection of the Jedi that wielded it— the Force would determine the color that the Kyber would change to.
Rey took in a steadying breath and spun the ignition spiral beneath her finger; a golden blade leapt forth, humming as if in excitement. BB-8 beeped approvingly and Rey grinned at it, happiness settling in her chest. Gold was one of the rarest colors of all; it symbolized hope and new beginnings, and the wielders were the guardians of the knowledge of the Jedi.
An unfamiliar noise drew Rey out of her admiring reverie, and she quickly switched her new saber off in embarrassment while turning to view the person who had drawn her attention. An old woman and her etobi stood not far away, and the woman eyed her suspiciously.
“There’s been no one for so long,” the woman said, frowning Rey up and down accusingly. “Who are you?”
“I’m Rey,” Rey replied simply, a short answer she had long since grown used to giving.
The woman scoffed, her piercing stare unrelenting. “Rey who?”
Rey opened her mouth to give the standard, painful response: Just Rey. It wasn’t like she was going to answer Palpatine, and she didn’t know her parents’ last name, so she would say what she always said: that’s it, that’s all of it. That’s my name; but before she could say the words something tugged at the edges of her awareness and she turned.
Luke and Leia stood at the edge of the desert, flickering and translucent images of them cast in blue light— Force-Ghosts. Both were smiling warmly, and it also looked like they had just shared an inside joke.
You can have it, Rey, Leia’s voice rang through her head. You deserve it.
Rey paused for a second before it clicked and her jaw fell open a tiny bit. Luke nodded, as if prodding her to say the words.
Go on, Rey. Take it. It’s yours if you want it, Luke urged this time. Rey beamed at them in gratitude, before turning back to the nosy old woman with a triumphant smile.
“Rey Skywalker,” she answered, pride running through her at the words, at how right it felt to say them.
The old woman raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Oh,” she said, turning her etobi to go. “See you around, I suppose?”
Rey nodded goodbye, running a finger reverently along her saber. She would take the gift of the name to honor all of them— not just Luke and Leia, but also Han, Anakin, Padmé Amidala, and Shmi.
But most of all, she would take the name to remember and to honor Ben.
BB-8 blooped a question and she laughed. “Yes, BeeBee, I suppose I am now. I hope it doesn’t mean I have to lose a hand!” BB-8 squealed in alarm, and Rey quickly reassured him that she had no intention of losing either of her hands.
Rey stood for a moment, taking in the wide desert that surrounded them. Luke and Leia had disappeared, but she knew that they were nearby. BB-8 asked her if they could go and informed her that he had had quite enough of desert planets, and Rey was more than inclined to agree. She would be quite happy if she never set foot on another one again— but there was one last thing she wanted to do before they left.
Rey turned and watched the twin suns rise above the eastern horizon, and BB-8 joined her. When Finn and Poe had learned that she planned to lay down the sabers on Tatooine, they had been unable to come along, as bogged down as they were with the business of running the Resistance— there was still a long way to go before the war could be completely dismantled and pronounced over, but it was all within reach at long last. Though they couldn’t join her, they had insisted that she bring BB-8 as a traveling companion, a request she was all too happy to agree to— she loved the little droid very nearly as much as Poe, who was already talking about literally drawing up joint custody papers like he was a child (and in many ways, the astromech was more like a child than a droid).
Once both suns had completely risen above the horizon, Rey ran her hand across the scar on her shoulder, the one from the fight with the Praetorian Guards a year and a half ago. The ancient Mandalorian remembrance ritual she had read about called for something that belonged to the lost loved ones, but she had nothing of her parents aside from her memories and nothing of Ben’s except the piece of her that would always be him. But that was enough for her. That was all she really needed.
“We are all born to die. But we live to be remembered,” Rey says to the binary stars. They remind her suddenly of her and Ben, and her mother and father— they shined brightly on their own, but when paired their brilliance was unmatched. The thought made her eyes well up and made it difficult to gather herself and continue, “I am still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.”
Rey raises her eyes up, to the skies as they brightened, bringing a new day. “I will never forget any of you. I will always, always remember you— and as long as I’m alive, I know you’ll always be with me.”
And I will never be alone, she thinks to herself, smiling. With that final thought, that last respect to the dead, Rey turns to go.