Not Alone – Sea Cave and Fourth Force Connection

Note: To warn you so you aren’t reading this and thinking, “The fuck movie did she watch?”

1. This one took longer to write/polish/publish because…I deviated from the script. Meaning, I made some of it up. One of the few things that irritated me about TLJ was the use of voiceover to transition from the mirror scene to Ben and Rey’s fourth Force connection. I felt a bit cheated out of some potentially interesting goings-on; I mean, I can’t be the only one who’s hypercurious about the beginning of that conversation. Aside from that, voiceovers are better suited to visual mediums; I wasn’t sure how to manage a written one. So while I stayed true to the movie—I filled in the blanks, you could say. Because fanfiction.

2. Well—not completely true to the movie, because there was one thing that confused me. I don’t know if I just missed a detail or if there’s a continuity error in the film, but when Rey’s talking to shirtless Ben, she has her satchel strapped to her, and no quarterstaff that I could see. A short while later, when she’s checking out the cave, she has only her holster (I couldn’t tell if her blaster was in it or not). By the way the scenes were cut, I was under the impression that she went straight to the cave—but then why didn’t she have her bag? Unless she set it down somewhere before she approached the hole? It doesn’t make sense to me that she wouldn’t have it—more so her staff. She’s an intelligent, experienced survivalist, so what is she doing walking around an unfamiliar island at night without protection or emergency supplies? It’s a minor detail, but I decided to say that she had them with her and set them down beside the blowhole before she fell in, because it seemed out of character for her not to have them. Maybe it’ll be cleared up in the novel. (Not that I recall.) I also make up what the satchel contains. Because fanfiction.

I know a lot of you have been waiting for this one. I hope it meets your expectations. Thank you to everyone who’s read my fics and enjoyed them—I do this for you. Well, and for me, too, because it’s fun. 🙂

---

Waiting. Always waiting.

Rey led a stagnant life, waiting for someday. Someday, when her family would return to Jakku. Someday, when she would learn who she is meant to be, what she is meant to do, where she is meant to go. Someday, when she would know her purpose. Someday, when she would know why.

But the answers never came. Instead, she found a droid and stumbled into an adventure.

An adventure that only posed more questions—and held greater consequence for ignorance.

Now, from a dark place, perhaps a dangerous one, those long-awaited answers beckon to her.

Come…

She feels their call like an itch; a pricking, aggravating sensation, one she can either ignore—or relieve with a scratch. And she knows which course of action would provide the most satisfaction. But it could be temporary, the relief; the scratch could prove more harmful than helpful.

Skywalker would have her ignore it. That would be the honorable thing to do, the commendable thing. But she’s spent most of her life, nearly twenty years, asking, wondering, waiting. Dreaming. And finally, those answers are within her grasp. She has an opportunity to discover her purpose. To understand why.

She’s going to take it.

Come…

The dark place lurks as far from the Jedi temple as possible while residing on land. Rey follows the beaten path until it veers from her destination; then she makes her own path, carefully treading over the steep, rocky ground, aided by the dim moonlight that peeks out between drifting clouds and glints off undulating waves.

Anxiety sloshes in her stomach. Her heart pounds against her ribs.

But steely determination drives her reason. The closer she gets, the further her resolve settles.

She arrives at a small, shadowy recession carved out of the shoreline—and feels power wash over her. It’s colder here, and though the ocean churns a short distance away, a preternatural stillness claims this spot. Or perhaps it’s a sudden stillness inside her. Anticipation.

Come…

Removing the staff and satchel from her back, she sets them aside before crouching and hopping down from the ledge into the alcove, almost slipping as she lands. Since time immemorial, violent ocean spray has worn the rock beneath her feet smooth and glassy.

Steadying herself, she gazes at the natural blowhole that she glimpsed while communing with the Force. When conditions are right, it will give in to pressure and spew seawater into the air. From the opening spills a mass of black, decaying seaweed that resembles tentacles straining for something, anything, to hold onto—or pull inside.

The fine hair on her arms stand erect, but she forges ahead, gingerly kneeling on the slimy, slippery mass of algae.

She can’t see inside. Bracing her weight on her hands, she slowly leans over and peers into the hole, because there has to be more. Why would the darkness summon her to this place if this is all there is? There has to be something inside…

Come!

Her hand slips, and she pitches forward, crying out as she falls into the void.

 

Instead of going to bed and getting some rest, as would be wise, Ren showers quickly, dresses…and waits, pacing his rooms, tinkering with his lightsabre, staring blankly into near space in a pathetic effort to meditate.

The mighty Kylo Ren, tied up in knots over some orphan scavenger girl.

An orphan scavenger girl who doesn’t comprehend how powerful she is. How important.

And he can’t tell her; she needs to figure it out on her own. Impatience and frustration curl inside him like tightly coiled springs, manifesting as a restlessness he hasn’t experienced since he began training as a Jedi.

She wouldn’t listen to him, anyway. Would she? If she would just realize they don’t have to be enemies…

But what if she doesn’t figure it out? He’ll tell her. And if she remains obtuse? Or worse—if she rejects it? Denies it? What then?

Darkness would reign. And he would survive.

 

When Rey finds her way out of the sea cave, she’s met with a solid wall of black–and for a second, she’s afraid she’s still in the cave, that she can merely hear the roar of the waves echoing through the passage.

Then she sees a flash out of the corner of her eye; turning her head toward it, she catches sight of another. Over the ocean, miles away, a brilliant fork of white lightning spears down through the sky, meeting its distorted likeness on the writhing water. Thunder rumbles ominously in the distance as another storm stalks toward Temple Island. Dense clouds have moved in, obscuring the fickle moonlight that guided her earlier.

She needs shelter, but she wants to retrieve her effects first. Glad to have an objective to focus on, to divert her energy toward something more practical than despair, she carefully picks her way along the rocks and circles around to the blowhole.

Guided by the wide shaft of light provided by the flashlight from her satchel, she sets out for the ancient Jedi village, using her quarterstaff to keep her footing on the uneven terrain.

As she leaves, she’s highly aware of the convergence of dark energy behind her. It’s silent now, lulled and latent; yet as powerful as ever. As taunting. As cruel.

Stumbling to a halt, she clutches her staff in a white-knuckled grip as despondency closes over her like a heavy shroud.

She received no answers. She’s beginning to believe she never will.

Her throat closes, but she swallows back the tears. Mustering her strength, she resumes her trek.

The island is quiet. She hears no porgs cry, no sirens groan; the creatures are likely huddled in their cozy nests, prepared to wait out the storm. Soon Rey will be, too. The thought of a warm fire propels her onward as the rising wind cuts through her wet body like an icy blade.

Cold is not a foreign sensation to her. Nights in the desert could be chilly, and Starkiller Base was an ice planet covered in snow. Yet she has never felt colder than she does in this moment.

When at last she stands among the cluster of stone huts, she pauses to gaze at Skywalker’s chosen dwelling, at the door he salvaged from the X-wing that brought him here. As the first drops of rain delicately strike her shoulders, her arms, she detects no movement inside, sees no flicker of flame. Of course not; it’s the middle of the night. But she knows, senses, that he’s not there.

Loneliness rises in her throat like bile, and a sob bursts from her mouth. This time, she lets the tears come; they mingle with the raindrops on her cheek. Dispirited, she turns toward her own hut.

Pushing aside the ratty old length of wool that serves as her door, she steps inside and props her staff against the circular stone wall. The bright beam of her flashlight bounces around the interior as she shrugs the satchel off her back and, sniffling, drops to her knees with it.

Angling the light to cast the dormant firepit in relief, she weeps quietly as she reaches for the supplies she collected earlier. A hard shudder wracks her small frame as she skillfully constructs a pyre, laying tinder, then kindling. Taking a small igniter from her satchel, she holds the flame to the dry grass until it catches. Once the fire’s licking at the kindling, she props a few slender logs over it, then switches off the flashlight and replaces it in her bag.

Listening to the drumming of the rain, the boom and crack of thunder and lightning, Rey kneels before the growing fire, revels in its heat.

And feels like the only person alive in the galaxy.

But it’s not the isolation that upsets her. It’s the familiarity of it.

As tears drip off her chin into her lap, she squeezes her eyes shut and wishes with all her heart that there was someone, anyone, sitting beside her.

No. Not anyone.

The clatter and boom of the storm disappears so abruptly that her ears ring in its absence.

He’s here. As if she conjured him by sheer will alone.

She sighs with profound relief. He’ll understand. He won’t judge her for going to the cave, for seeking what she needed.

He understands.

 

After failing a second attempt to quiet his mind and meditate—he didn’t even bother trying to sleep—Ren resumes pacing.

Halfway through a rotation, he feels her. Spinning around, he—

Goes utterly still as alarm seizes his heart.

She’s sunk to her knees, her rounded posture subjective and beaten. Her chest heaves with uneven breaths, hitches audibly in the muted space. Her clothes are sodden, adhered to her body, and somehow her hair’s come undone.

What happened?

Scrutinizing what he can see of her, he determines that she’s unharmed. Uncomfortable, probably; tired—but unharmed.

The restlessness inside him calms.

He senses her fighting spirit has hit an unprecedented low. Words rise to his tongue, false words of mockery and insult he would hurl for the sole purpose of making her angry. He much prefers her fury to her anguish. But a flash-burn rage isn’t what she needs; it would be gone quickly, and the moment it was, she’d feel more hollow than she already does.

Not certain what else to do, he simply remains as he is, standing nearby. Present.

 

She opens her eyes and works to steady her breathing. After one wordless minute passes, it occurs to her that it’s her turn. He spoke his mind last time; now he wants to know what she did with his advice—which she didn’t take so much as let motivate her.

Getting to her feet, she gathers what composure she has left to her and pivots to meet his gaze. While others may shrink before it, his intensity doesn’t frighten her; she absorbs his attention like a dry sponge. It makes her feel…important, because he wouldn’t give his attention to someone who’s less than worthy of it.

No longer crying, no longer quaking, she draws a full, bolstering breath and begins. “There’s a cave. It’s dark. Cold. It called to me. Whispered in my head. Promised me answers. Guidance. I…”

She glances away as she recollects the fear in Skywalker’s wizened blue eyes during their first lesson.

You went straight to the dark. It offered something you needed, and you didn’t even try to stop yourself.

Lifting her chin defiantly, she declares, “I went to it.”

 

Ren’s acquainted with the lure of the darkness. It pursues you relentlessly, tempts you with things you desire and covet, tells you it’s your right to take them. It lurks in the shadows until you’re totally vulnerable, truly desperate; then it emerges as a lifeline. Like an opportunity. An option.

The only option available to you.

His eyes track her as she turns away, dodges something, then bends slightly and reaches down. A thick woven blanket materializes in her hand; she wraps it around herself as she moves to sit. He quickly pulls up a chair of his own.

 

“There was a mirror,” Rey continues. “In the cave. I walked up to it, and when I touched it—I became my reflection.” She frowns; it doesn’t sound at all rational. But then, the very nature of the Force defies logic.

“I turned around—and saw I stood at the end of a long line of me. Of reflections. I lifted my hand—and so did the others. I snapped my fingers, and they did, too, with only the briefest of moments between each one. I thought it was a timeline—my timeline.” Staring into the fire, she furrows her brow. “But then I realized—they’re reflections. Versions of me. Possibilities. The mirror was showing me why I was there.”

She pauses, embarrassed to be admitting this to anyone, let alone Kylo Ren. But…it doesn’t feel wrong. “Because I don’t know who I am. Which reflection is the one I’m supposed to be.

“I should have felt trapped or panicked. But I didn’t. This didn’t go on forever, I knew it was leading somewhere. That at the end, it would show me what I came to see.

“I touched the mirror again—asked it to let me see them. My parents. A shape appeared in the mirror, walking towards me. At times it seemed like two shapes; at others, just one casting a shadow. It came closer, and closer—until it stood before me.”

She remembers her heart pounding, her lungs drawing quick and shallow breaths. Finally, she would know the answers. Finally, her life would have meaning.

“Then the mirror cleared—and I saw only myself. Just me. Just another reflection.”

The enormity of her disappointment was such that she felt she would implode. She fell to her knees, devastated, and wept bitterly.

Her eyes fill again now in shades of sorrow. “I thought I’d find answers here. I was wrong.” She heeded the call of the darkness, believing it would give her what it promised. And she left with less than when she’d come. “I’d never felt so alone.”

When he speaks, his voice is husky, thick with emotion, so soft it’s barely a whisper. Tentative, as though unsure how the words it offers will be received.

“You’re not alone.”

She looks up—and in the unfathomable wells of his ebony eyes, she sees another version of him.

The man who sits before her is not Kylo Ren. The man who gazes at her with tears of sympathy—empathy—in his eyes is not a leader of the First Order. The man who listened to her tale in respectful silence; the man who offers words of comfort–

This man is Ben Solo.

She saw his conflicted beliefs and emotions, but she didn’t look beyond them. Now, however, she realizes his conflict stems from a question of identity—just as hers does. When Ben Solo proved weak, vulnerable, painful, he became Kylo Ren. But it’s not his truth; Ben Solo’s breaking through, like a watery ray of sunlight parting the clouds.

Ben Solo, the boy who was loved—but who lost his way. The boy who is still lost.

As is she.

You’re not alone.

Again she feels that profound relief. Because he understands.

And so does she. She wants him to know that. Holding his gaze, she responds sincerely, “Neither are you.”

She doesn’t need to turn Kylo Ren to the light. She needs only take Ben Solo’s hand, so that they might find their way together.

 

He gave her the words he’s longed to hear but has never been told, wanting to ease her pain in a way his has never diminished.

A short while ago, Snoke accused Ren of feeling compassion for the girl who seemed to thwart him at every turn. Ren denied it—but the Supreme Leader was right.

He cares for Rey. She’s fascinated him from the start. Deep inside his mind, his heart, he recognized her on an instinctive level, a mystical one. He didn’t know what it meant, what he should do about it. But now he does.

They’re meant to be together. To stand beside one another. To unite against their oppressors. To change the galaxy.

Her expression as she comes to the same conclusion—skeptical, scared, yearning, hopeful—is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

With that expression, she says softly, earnestly, “It isn’t too late.” As if she really believes it.

Maybe she does.

Does he?

Before he can decide, can respond, she moves. Slowly, deliberately, she lifts her arm…and extends her hand to him.

He glances down at it, then back up at her face, where wages the war he feels inside himself: fear of weakness versus fear of isolation.

Yet her hand doesn’t waver.

For once, he doesn’t calculate, doesn’t think about what they could accomplish with the combined strength of their power. All he can see is her open hand. All he can sense is her open mind.

All he can think is that this is what he’s been searching for. What he’s searched for for so long that he forgot he was searching for it.

His entire life…he’s waited for someone to see past the dark and notice him. His mother, his father, his uncle, his master—they all saw him as a reflection of his grandfather. Of Darth Vader. That’s what they expected from him, no matter what he did to counter the notion. They looked at him and saw his potential for evil.

But Rey looks at him…and sees his potential for good.

His pulse thrumming in his ears, he removes his glove. Willing his fingers steady, he extends his own hand…gazes into her eyes, her soul…and, across space, touches his warm flesh to hers.

A scene unfolds before his mind’s eye.

“We goin’ or what?” demands a sweaty, disheveled woman as she plants her hands on her ample hips. “I’m sick-a this desert.”

A few feet away, an equally scruffy man with a ruddy face flaps his hand at her, the gesture translating as, Shut up. Leaning on the counter of a small shack, he wheedles, “C’mon, Plutt. I’ll pay ya back. With interest.”

The ugly, gelatinous creature on the other side of the counter remains unimpressed. “No.”

“I’ll bring ya a droid. Two droids. I know some Jawas on Tatooine.”

“Move it,” barks someone in line to barter with Plutt. “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s go,” the woman hollers impatiently.

The man shoots her a glare. “I’m tryin’ to negotiate here.”

She rolls her eyes and marches through the sand toward the shack. “Ya want the girl?” she asks Plutt, jerking her head to indicate the elfin child who follows her, gazing with curiosity at the various species visiting the outpost.

Plutt leans his bulk forward to peer down at the oblivious child. Breathing loudly and murmuring to himself as he deliberates, he finally agrees. “I could use a slave.”

“Hey, all right!” the man exclaims delightedly, smacking the flat of his hand on the counter. “First stop—the cantina!”

While he handles the transaction, the woman turns to the child and snaps her fingers. “Pay attention.” The girl obeys instantly. “We’re gonna go get the ship ready. You stay here and wait. We’ll come back for you.”

The girl frowns but nods, staring after them when they go. “Stay right there, girl,” the ugly jelly man growls down at her. She returns her gaze to her parents, who board the starship stationed a short distance away.

As the ship’s ramp begins to close, the girl breaks into a run, her round, freckled face twisting with fear.

The engine comes to life with a whine and a hum. The ship hovers above the ground for a moment, then slowly takes to the sky.

Her brow puckered with confusion, the girl stops and watches it depart. Tears trail down her cheeks.

When a fat hand grabs her arm, she twists her head to see the ugly jelly man. He tugs, pulling her back toward the shack.

“No!” she screams, resisting him and staring after the ship that gradually disappears from sight. “Come back!”

“Quiet, girl,” Plutt grunts.

She glances up at him with dismay, then cries again to the ship. “No!”

The scene changes, to a different time, a different place, and Ben glimpses the lifeless bodies of the man and woman baking in the desert sun, slowly being covered by shifting sands.

“Stop!”

Startled out of the vision, Ben whips his head toward the intruder, has only a scant second to recognize Skywalker. Then both he and Rey are gone, leaving Ben sitting alone in his private chambers aboard the Supremacy, his hand still outstretched.

 

“Stop!”

The hut flies apart, stones sailing in all directions. Rey jumps, her eyes darting toward Skywalker, who stands with his feet planted and his arm raised. She quickly looks back to Ben—but he’s vanished.

Without shelter, the torrential downpour immediately drenches her and extinguishes the fire with a hiss. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t feel the wet or the cold as fury simmers inside her.

She stands, fists clenched, and confronts the Jedi Master. “Is it true?” she demands, no longer willing to accept non-answers and half-truths. “Did you try to murder him?”

“Leave this island now.” With a whirl of his shawl, he spins around and strides away.

No. Not this time. She scrambles after him. “Stop,” she orders, but he refuses to acknowledge her.

The simmer comes to a rolling boil. “Stop!” Walking away from a problem doesn’t solve it; walking away from a person doesn’t silence them. She wants an answer. She wants the truth. Now.

Picking up her quarterstaff from where it fell, she uses it to shove at his back and knock him to the ground. “Did you do it? Did you create Kylo Ren?”

Instead of answering, he glares at her and surges to his feet. But she’s not letting him go anywhere, not until he deals her straight. She raises her staff to knock him down again—but he summons a lightning rod off a hut nearby and uses it to parry her blow.

She’s ready for a fight. In that moment, Skywalker represents all those who left her behind, who lied to her, who made her feel unworthy and insignificant. Her movements wild with rage, with pain, she swings at him, again and again as the rain pours down and lightning flashes overhead.

Because her movements are broad and unfocused, he manages to land a blow on her back. It’s a check. A reminder of who’s in charge.

Her fury boils over. With a snarl, she goes on the offensive, driving him back as he struggles to defend himself. No doubt he’s out of practice—but not so out of practice that he doesn’t present a challenge.

When he’s had enough, he doesn’t block her next blow—he merely catches her staff in his hand and tosses it aside.

She doesn’t hesitate. Before her staff hits the ground, she’s called his lightsabre into her hand and raised it, bearing down on him. In his haste to retreat, he trips and falls to the stone steps behind him, though he uses the Force to slow his descent.

She’s won. She’s avenged herself in this small way. As her temper cools to a simmer once again, she lowers the sabre to her side.

Squinting through the rain, Skywalker looks up at her with an expression she can’t place: surprise mixed with a hint of wariness–and a generous dose of resignation.

As she deactivates the sabre, she commands, “Tell me the truth.”

He’s quiet as he recalls the unpleasant memory. Staring at something she can’t see, he completes the picture.

“I saw darkness. I’d sensed it building in him. I’d seen it in moments during his training. But then I looked inside…and it was beyond what I ever imagined. Snoke had already turned his heart.

“He would bring destruction and pain and death and the end of everything I loved because of what he would become. And for the briefest moment of pure instinct, I thought I could stop it.

“It passed like a fleeting shadow. And I was left with shame—and with consequence. And the last thing I saw were the eyes of a frightened boy, whose master had failed him.”

It explains so much—Ben’s hatred for the Jedi, the light, the side he was taught to serve but that ultimately betrayed him; Luke locking himself away where he didn’t have to look his sister in the eye, where he could surround himself with the original principles of the Jedi and wallow in shame for following the same self-destructive path as his predecessors.

He was correct–the events unfolding at present are, in part, a result of his hubris; as a Jedi Master, he thought he knew best, and made an assumption he had no right to make.

“You failed him by thinking his choice was made,” she explains. “It wasn’t. There’s still conflict inside him. If he would turn from the dark side, that could shift the tide. This could be how we win.”

His features tight with frustration, he insists, “This is not going to go the way you think.”

Now, she knows how it all began—and she knows how to end it. Excited, earnest, she crouches on the ground before him. “It is. Just now, when we touched hands—” In awe, she gives her head a slight shake. “I saw his future. As solid as I’m seeing you. If I go to him, Ben Solo will turn.”

“Rey,” Luke pleads quietly. “Don’t do this.”

She gazes at him, baffled. Why doesn’t he want to try to save his nephew? Has he no hope left at all?

She’ll give him one final chance. Standing, she lifts her brows and extends the lightsabre hilt toward him, inviting him to take it. Knowing he won’t.

And he doesn’t.

As he closes his eyes in defeat and averts his head, she lowers her arm. Somehow, she’s still disappointed. “Then he’s our last hope.”

Retrieving her staff, she leaves the Jedi where he lies, already planning her trip from the birthplace of the Jedi Order into the clutches of those would see it obliterated.

She’s done waiting.

Her name is Rey. She’s with the Resistance. And her purpose is to save Ben Solo.

---

If you liked this, let me know. If not, well, constructive criticism has its uses, too. Feel free to share excerpts on Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, etc.–just please be sure to credit me and link back to this site. Thanks, guys!

---

A Child in a Mask – Ren’s first few scenes

Just You – the first force connection

Lesson One – Rey’s first lesson from Luke

A Monster – the second force connection

Your Greatest Weakness – Rey’s second lesson from Luke and the third force connection

His True Enemy – confronting Snoke

Let Old Things Die – the “proposal” scene

Let Old Things Die – revised and expanded

The Supreme Leader – Ren’s last few scenes

 

You’re Nothing – A Ben Solo Character Study

---