Star Wars - addictedtoacertainlifestyle

Ben is untouched by time, and still a part of it. Something so tangible and real but also ethereal, from another world, and sometimes Rey feels like he will disappear if she touches him. But he never does; he’s very much alive and thriving, like a fine flower after weathering a heady storm.Together, they have flourished.

thirty years from now

When Rey wakes up, Ben isn’t beside her.

Panic begins to simmer in her chest at the sight of the empty spot in their bed where he’s supposed to be. In her sleep-ridden state she pulls the covers off her and clambers up from their bed, feet slipping on the hardwood floor as it creaks under her weight.

She’s not even out of the bedroom when she feels his presence within her, his side of the bond content and calm. He’s just a few meters away outside, sitting on the porch and taking in the late-dawn sun.

Everything falls quiet, the anxiety flying away like birds, scattering until it disappears completely.

Rey takes a deep breath and chastises herself for getting worked up over nothing. But she cannot blame herself; far too many times she has woken up from a nightmare where faceless figures hold her down while others drag his husband away, his face sullen and strained, body limp and not fighting back. Accepting his dreadful destiny. So it’s a given that sometimes the instincts take over, insisting that this time it is real, this time he’s being taken away from her.

Even after 29 years, some of the old demons still refuse to let go of her, and make sure to haunt her every once in a while, to remind her that the universe might not have been so kind to them, if things had turned out differently. But she has learned to cope, to hold those demons down and realise that yes, things might’ve turn out bad, but in the end they _didn’t_ ; she’s still here, he’s still here and they’re together, have been together for almost three decades. It doesn’t stop the nightmares, though.

The past hasn’t left him unscarred either. In many instances, he has been the one to wake up shivering, dread pulsating from his conscious to hers, waking her up as well. Reaching out to touch him, gently running her hand down his back the way she learned to do years back, when she first experienced his nightmares. A gentle touch and her presence in his mind, reminding him of what is real and what is not, is enough to calm him down and bring him back to the present.

The steady warmth of him in the Force, slow, rhythmic pulsating that goes in time with the beat of his heart makes hers match to it, pulls her to the front door. A glance to a chrono hanging by the door tells her that it’s very early, not even six in the morning. Usually, Ben wakes up around eight – a habit he learned in his late forties and was unable to grow out of. It’s not something she minds, though, since whenever he wakes up it’s very likely that she can’t sleep long after that, preferring to spend her time awake and in his company. It’s a product of their bond; wanting to be as much with the other as possible.

Their consciousnesses so deeply intertwined, twisted and molded together after years and years of being close, physically and emotionally, have made Rey feel like they’re just one individual being that happens to inhabit two bodies. Like holding everything in one vessel would’ve been too difficult, to conceal such power in just one person, and that’s why the Force decided to separate it, make the soul share two physical forms.

It isn’t an obstacle, not exactly; for years they’ve been able to be close one another even when the distance between them has been light-years, or something smaller, only a few steps. It gives them peace, too, and Rey knows that sometimes Ben needs time on his own to sit and think, just like she does. There’s no isolation, though; only the gentle brush of Ben somewhere in her mind whenever she feels overwhelmed and decides to go tinker with the Falcon, to have a moment of silence and quiet down her mind. And Ben respects that, keeps his distance until she comes back to their house and pulls him in for a kiss; a silent _Thank you._

Rey smiles to herself, leisurely following Ben’s sleepy train of thought from a distance as she opens up the front door slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. It’s done in vain, though, for as soon as she’s one foot out the house, Ben turns to look at her. He’s sitting on the old wooden stairs, hunched over, elbows on his knees and head in his palms; definitely not the best way to sit when his back has begun to act up. Rey knows she should chastise him for it, maybe shoot a stern but teasing glare – but all plans are stopped when their eyes meet.

He’s still so very soft, probably even more so than when they met. Back then, the darkness had sharped his features, hollowed him out and filled with fear and anger. Now, the years of love have changed him again, shaped him to another form, something she adores just as deeply as the old one.

The passing of time has been more than kind to him, and Rey’s immensely proud that he still looks so _good_ , making her heart patter when she looks at him, always like it’s the first time. It’s ridiculous, really, and she’s said this to him more than once, in awe of his beauty that seems to transcend years. Usually his response to her praising words is just a chuckle, not exactly humorous but not completely self-deprecating either. A small, bashful smirk tickling in the corners of his mouth. Such a glorious sight to behold, always confirming her suspicions.

Ben is untouched by time, and still a part of it. Something so tangible and real but also ethereal, from another world, and sometimes Rey feels like he will disappear if she touches him. But he never does; he’s very much alive and thriving, like a fine flower after weathering a heady storm.

Together, they have flourished.

There are lines on his face, mostly formed from squinting at the sun or laughing – markings of a good, content life. His hair is still silky smooth and soft between her fingers, grey strands peeking through now more often than not. He’s voiced aloud plenty of times that he doesn’t like it, not exactly, but she adores it, the passage of time that has left only beautiful marks on him. His eyes still hold the same intensity, the hickory warmth that turns into hazel and gold when light hits it. Even if they’ve aged, his feelings have not changed. It’s something she has never gotten used to, to feel that strong reciprocation of her own emotions. Every time she looks into his eyes, she sees the love, the unexplainable adoration that makes her blush, even still.

All of that is found in his eyes in this moment, too, as he gazes up with a small smile on his face. A little tired, but _so_ delighted to see her. The little burst of pure, unadulterated joy that never seems to fade makes its way from his mind to hers, faster than electricity through wires.

“Morning, love.”

“How come you’re awake already?” Rey asks, slightly concerned but more teasing than anything else, smile spreading on her face involuntarily. She sits down beside him, their sides touching, and turns her head to press her lips to his temple, breathing in the clean scent of his hair, washed just the day before. His hair is getting a bit too long, going past his shoulders now. She needs to cut it soon.

“Just couldn’t sleep. I… I’m not sure why.”

Rey hums in response, and finally gives in to the itch of her hand that’s begging her to brush this one particular strand of grey hair behind his ear; a simple touch of comfort, her own wordless reassurance. She can’t help it; insecurity bleeds into her being even though she tries to keep the moment light, her smile fading just a touch too much. Ben senses this, of course, but doesn’t voice his worries aloud.

_You alright?_ echoes in her mind, his thought; a genuine question scouting her gently, in case there’s anything he should be worried about.

She shakes her head but keeps the words inside the bond.  _Yeah, I just… Woke up without you and thought the worst for a second. You know how that is._

A concerned frown forms to his features, mouth opening slightly. “Oh, my dear girl. I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”

“No, Ben, it’s fine, I–“ she tries to start, but is interrupted when Ben practically manhandles her to his lap, her legs hanging off the other side and his right arm curled around her back. “Ben!”