A/N: Hello! I am still working on The Other Side of Silence, but this story was finally finished. I feel Ben doesn't get enough story time, and that there are lots of wonderful moments to write with he and Luke in mind. I hope you enjoy this little vignette! Emerson
The rain pounds harshly against the glass, like some terrifying beast come out of the darkness beyond. Crystal drops are streaking down the windows, marring our view. The transparent pane is transformed.... once a clear vision of what was is now a twisted and distorted pool of what cannot be. The encroaching jungle trees and flowers have crept up to the old temples, encircling them in their embrace. It was always so peaceful, but now the branches have turned sinister.... their beautiful limbs transformed into grasping hands, illuminated by the occasional flash of lightning.
And I had thought this trip to Yavin would bring some kind of healing, but all it's seemed to do is stir up the ghosts of what we the both of us cannot forget. Ben is like a little child to me now, lost and foundering in his grief. I want to hold him like I did when he was small.... cradle and coddle him and tell him everything will be alright.
But we both know that I would be lying.
And I cannot lie to my son...not now. Not after this.
Besides.... we all must learn this lesson sometime. It's best to let Ben savour and guard all the emotions that torment him now. Another lecture about what to feel would be to rob my son of this life experience. It's a reality I've had drilled into me all too often …and I wasn't much older than he is now when I first went through it. The death of my Aunt and Uncle was the first great tempest of my life.... quickly followed by many more. But through these long years I've come to realize that rain is a part of how life goes. Storms pass, clouds dissipate. Mist lifts and a clear new day will dawn.
Sometimes rain makes things even more beautiful.
I want to impart this to my son.... but I understand this is a part of his maturation.
Again the wind snaps the trees, their normally graceful arms reaching out to him...calling Ben like sirens. They are strangers to me like this, these ancient trees. But he seems to find a sort of communal agony with them, stirred by his own inner winds of torment. I watch as he methodically moves toward them, away from the inner sanctuary of the meditation room and into the grey stone archway. He stands there, Jedi robes turning dark as the accusatory rain soaks them. Ben lets the water drench him, as if he is atoning for some sin, the deluge his forgiveness. I see it in another light. The night rain showers are his baptismal waters as he sheds the skin of childhood and dons the robes of a man.
He turns his face up...towards the moon he loves so well. But she is masked and dark tonight, covered with the veils of storm clouds. I want to tell him she still shines, somewhere above and beyond the raging rain, but I realize it is a moot point. He is too grounded for allegory, but the comparison is not lost on him. While it may only be coincidence that he cannot see her light, the weather matches his mood. His heart is veiled as well. Nature seems to be his servant. The moon covers her face in mourning; the storm clouds rain down their angry tears. For him…all for him.
Another lightning flash and I can see his tearstained face shine in the dark.
"I'm sorry, Ben. I should not have brought you here." I say simply to him.
He does not turn to me; merely steps back slightly from the doorway, the rain no longer attacking him. Ben slowly shakes his head. "No, Father, we both needed this. I know that." His voice is low, gravely from lack of sleep and sadness.
We have traveled here, together, in an attempt to forget. Which we cannot…
And to remember. Which is too painful…
Mara, Jaina, and Jacen all haunt the corners of my thoughts. My exile from the New Republic weighs me down, and I feel tired, a soul wearying exhaustion covering me like my cloak. Ben stands stock still, with the quiet intent of his mother. He is running rivulets of water on the worn flagstones.
And I wonder what will become of us now.
"We both needed this," Ben continues, "but it isn't really helping, is it?" It is a rhetorical question, and I do not answer him. "Too many memories…too many…" He trails off into silence, and he turns to face the open archway again. I am afraid he'll wander out into the storm, worried the last few months have been too disturbing for him to handle.
"I'm fine, Dad. I'm not going to run off into the jungle," he says to me, giving me an admonishing look. I am properly reminded again not to underestimate my son. He regards me a long moment. Watching him watching me, I come to the understanding that while he may be mine, I will never truly be able to know what he is thinking. His thoughts are veiled like the moon behind his serious blue eyes.
"Come with me," Ben states simply. I am transported by those words to another place, another time. Standing on Endor, pleading with my Father to give up all he'd known for the last 22 years, and leave with me. I had felt then the whisper of longing resonate briefly from Vader, before he denied me. And I also remember the hollow, lonely sensation that overcame me as my Father, my own Father, turned and walked away from me. And from the depths of his blue eyes, I can see Ben fears the same rejection.
"Ben," I begin. My voice falters, and I start again. "Ben, I've only been exiled from Coruscant…not from any of the other core planets. Not from Leia or Han. What you propose is," I sigh deeply and let the sentence trail off, not knowing what I really want to say to him.
"What I propose is the best thing for both of us," he states in his logical, Coruscanti accent.
I had felt that way, too, all those years ago. I used every ounce of my conviction to convince Vader that leaving with me was the best thing. That if he would just come with me, everything would be fine….we would be fine. Together. And even after Endor, even after the destruction of the Empire and the death of my Father, I still wondered how it would have been. In my mind I created the fantasy of how it all worked out. My Father, alive and with me. But I knew even then that it never could have been. Those events happened how they happened, and we could not have changed them. It was a sweet dream, but not meant to be. Perhaps Vader knew that, as well. Perhaps that is why he pushed me away.
"Father," Ben starts, then, "Dad, you cannot stay here. Do you want to heal? Do you want to move past this? Then you have to leave with me." I start to speak but he holds up his hands. "No, don't. Do not stand there and preach to me about responsibility and what's expected of you as Grand Master Skywalker." He drops his hands in frustration and paces to the door, wind snapping his robes again. Ben runs a hand through his hair as he tries to formulate his words.
I have nothing to offer other than what he expects. "Ben, my duties here, what I owe to the Academy, even to the New Republic…I cannot walk away from that. I can't turn my back on everything I've worked for."
Ben rounds on me in aggravation. "Listen to yourself! You've given the New Republic everything you have! A lifetime of loyalty and hard work, helping to build from the ruins of the Empire. But they've abandoned you, don't you see that? You've given your time, your family, your life…. even Anakin and Jacen have been sacrificed to these ideals." I hang my head in silent resignation. Let him reign down his anger and pain over me…. the storm will pass. It must pass.
He pauses, then in a whisper, " Even Mom…she was the ultimate sacrifice to this edifice of corruption." I look back to him sharply, surprised both at the mention of his mother and also at the implication of his accusation. That the government I'd struggled to help create was just as evil and twisted as the Empire. And that his mother had died because of it. There is a brief moment of silence between us, the only sound the raging tempest outside.
I move toward him, trying to comfort him. "Ben, stop. Listen to me…" but he steps back methodically, slowly shaking his head.
"No, Dad, you listen to me." His voice is low now, and he speaks with tempered intent. He sounds like my Father. "I will not have you linger here, like some pale ghost clinging to the memories of a time gone by. It's over, Dad. Let it go. Let this go…"
I stand, shocked, listening to the pleading of my son. I 'd had no idea he felt this way. The feeling I've failed him as a father strikes me cold in the gut. Too stunned to speak, I remain unmoving, resigned.
His mood changes slightly, shifting tactics. "Do you remember, Dad, what you said when you told me about Endor?" I nod once, grim. Not usually manipulative, I come to the realization that my son is using the past against me, and I begrudgingly accept that he really was listening to all those old stories of my youth.
"You said that you'd have given all of it up, everything you'd worked for...to just be with your Father. That deep down, even though the Alliance meant so much to you, becoming a Jedi meant so much to you, that you would still have walked away from it all." He takes a slow step toward me. "That's what I'm asking for, Dad. The chance to be with you now. I know," a beat, "I realize that my childhood wasn't normal, and that you and I were never really very close. But we have time now, Dad. We have so much time.."
I shake my head, still yet unable to see the rational behind his words. "What about your Aunt, Ben? What about the students here? They depend on me, they.."
He interrupts me, gently, "Dad, stop trying to find loopholes and excuses. Aunt Leia did just fine for eighteen years before you barged into her life. And she did a pretty good job of being Chief of State without you there to hold her hand every step of the way. As far as the students go, well, you've got to push them out of the nest sometime, Dad. Besides, you have plenty of good Masters here who are entirely capable of running the Academy." He levels a soft, persuasive gaze at me. "They will be fine without you." Ben waits for me to interject, but I remain silent, so he continues, "Besides, it's not like we're going to be gone forever."
I give a short amused laugh. "Careful what you wish for, son. Things have a way of not going as planned in this family. Han had only planned to stay with the Rebellion for a very short time, just long enough to collect his reward. He's still here." I smile for the first time that night. For the first time in a long time, actually. "And your Mother.." I trail off, focusing on him again. I do not want to hurt him by mentioning Mara, and although I can see sorrow on his face, Ben's eyes tell me to continue. "Your Mother swore she was going to kill me from the moment I met her almost up until the moment I married her."
My son smiles sadly at this, at the memory of Mara. I can tell he's thinking of his mother on our wedding day. He's seen enough holos to know how beautiful she had looked. Nostalgia and sorrow and longing all pass across his face in quick succession. He shifts on the wet flagstones.
"I'm sorry I could not protect her, Ben. I'm sorry I failed Mara as her husband and you as your Father." This is what I've been trying to tell my son for days now. I do not choke up as I say it. I do not stumble over the words. I am past that now. But finding the time to really impart this to him has been difficult. It feels right, now, in this moment.
He does not rush to my arms, or begin weeping. He does not break down or explode with anger. Ben is finding his way of moving on, too. Instead he moves silently to my side and places a hand on my arm. It is his forgiveness, it is his acceptance. Ben does not answer me, instead he tries to entice me, "Think of all the trouble we can get into…just like those good old days you and Uncle Han always talk about." I am unconvinced. I am fraying, but I am unconvinced.
Then, simply, "She'd want us to be together, Dad."
That is all I need to hear from him, and the last remaining intangible string, which tethers me to this place and this life, is severed. I will go with him, go with my son and be the Father I've always wanted to be. I realize now I can deny him nothing, my love for him is too strong. And I wonder briefly if this is what my Father felt in his last moments. It is a heady, warm feeling, and I embrace it fully.
I give in eagerly to the whisper of longing.
"Well, Ben. Who are we to second guess your Mother on anything?," I ask my son. Now he smiles; that sly, knowing, troublemaking smile of his. I see his Mother in him in so many ways. She is still here with us. Mara will always be here with us. I am not sure why I ever thought we could forget her.
We leave the temple side by side, out into the rain, out into the storm. But I know, and Ben knows...that tomorrow will be a beautiful day.