@resistancestunner
The first week passed like duracrete being poured, impossibly slow and not unexpected. When Ben had opened his eyes the world above him was dark (unsurprising given the Sith lair) and cold seeped into his bones and in his heart. His head was quiet for the first time in his life but with the quietude in his head also came a quietness in his heart-- something he hadn’t felt since the day his and Rey’s connection had sprung to life. For the first time he didn’t feel it. She lay next to him, her hand just a breath away from his own. It was frozen when he touched it, her body empty. There had been nothingness and Ben was aware that he had been dead, drifting in the place between one world and the next before he’d been pulled back. He had cradled her in his arms and cried until his throat was raw.
Ben had carried her to the X-wing he recognised as his uncle’s and made his way to the Resistance base; Rey had been allowing them to track her journey to Exegol. They had been celebrating on his return; most didn’t recognise him without his signature mask and costume but quiet had settled when he’d lifted Rey’s body from the ship. It hadn’t been long before he’d found himself taken into custody (he had expected it). And so he’d remained mostly alone beyond the occasional meal delivered or the visit from the co-Generals to briefly question him. They didn’t trust anything he said but Ben wasn’t offended by that.
When he heard the door slide open, he cracked open an eye. It felt too early to be a meal and when a woman stepped in, someone he had never seen before, he was curious. “I take it the generals have decided what to do with me?” Meditation momentarily forgotten, he stands from where he’d been cross legged on the floor. The room was little more than a square hardly wider or longer than he was tall but it had a bed and a toilet and sink, the latter of which he managed to do most of his washing up in.
