Summary: Three years after Han Solo brought his son home, there is no end in sight to the war. Ben Solo has learned to walk the fine line between being the good man his parents want him to be, and the dark soldier the Resistance needs. Darkness, once it taints you, can never be fully erased. Blood, once it stains them, will never be washed from your hands. But these are desperate days, and that taint might be exactly what is needed to win the war. Ben has gone home, and grown into the man he could be if he weren't constantly torn between the Dark and the Light, but he can't shed Kylo Ren.

Notes: So this is an introspective little piece that has been floating around in my mind for days. Basically, it's a peek into an alternate future - a redemption AU, but an imperfect redemption. In truth, I have been sorely tempted to write his path towards redemption (and growing up to be the son Leia deserves!) but tackling such a huge project terrifies me. Thus, you get a "three years later" fic. I can only hope I manage to portray his evolution in a convincing manner. Basically, I just wanted to explore a scenario where he is at peace with himself, even if the universe remains at war, while exploring ways he could grow into a valuable Resistance fighter without diminishing Rey's unique importance. As a result, they play very different roles in the war.

It Doesn't Take A Mask

His eyes opened as he came out of his meditative trance, taking in his dimly lit quarters with the single flickering candle placed in front of him.

Three long strides took him to the door, it was a small room. This was more of a safehouse than a proper base, which offered little more comfort than shelter even to the higher ranks. That he had the room to himself was solely due to his special needs as a Force user, and the fact he was the only such one currently on base. He had bunked with Rey, or Luke, or even both in the past.

As the Force had told him, it was his mother on the other side of the door. Leia's smile was gentle but pained as she reached for him, a murmur of, "Ben," on her lips. After three years, she still had to stop marveling that he had truly returned to her.

Ben squeezed as he let her hold him, and hugged her back. "I know."

She felt warm and wonderfully alive in his arms, yet incredibly frail for all that Ben knew her to be made of iron will and courage far greater than his own. They did not speak of her fears that this would be the time he wouldn't return, or of his that the next assassination attempt might succeed.

The General of the Resistance had always lived dangerously, but three years after Ben left Starkiller Base at his father's side, Supreme Leader Snoke's rage had yet to cool. Ben knew Snoke would see him suffer before he died for his betrayal, and no loss would hurt him more than to lose the parents he had just regained.

It was Ben who pulled back first. "Thanks, Mom." He turned his head, gaze flickering to the chrono on the wall. "I have to get ready," he said quietly.

He could see the pain flicker in his mother's eyes, it intensified when her gaze landed on the black outfit on his bed. "Must you wear these awful robes on base?"

Ben Solo looked down at himself, taking note of the plain Resistance uniform he wore. Once, soon after his return, he had worn Jedi robes. That was when he still believed he could continue where he left off the day he turned his back on the Light. He gave a small shrug, as if it were the trifle it should be. "It boosts morale."

Leia looked sad again, but the General understood the power of symbolism even if the mother wished to close her eyes to it. She took his hand, she still had a strong grip. "Be careful out there. I couldn't stand to lose you again."

They hugged again, and Leia didn't leave until she had pressed a kiss to his cheek, much to his mortification, and murmured, "I love you, Ben," which mortified him even more.

When they met in the briefing room, they would meet as General and soldier.

There was no more time to spare. He changed efficiently, piece by piece replacing the colors of the Resistance with the black of the Knights of Ren.

Piece by piece, Ben Solo vanished behind Kylo Ren, as if the last three years had never happened.

As he got his first look at himself in black after a month, Ben felt a jolt of alienation as he always did when it had been too long.

When he had the time to spare, he would sometimes wonder which one was the façade.

He rubbed a hand over his face, as always slightly shocked how pale and ghost-like he looked between the black robes and black hair. His dark eyes flickered to the closet, where his old mask waited on the second shelf on the left. It was the most notable difference. Kylo Ren of the Resistance had no need to hide behind a mask.

As the last missing part of his uniform, he picked up the gloves. As he did so, Ben was reminded of dark hands hesitantly offering them to him, of eyes which had looked at him with an unspoken apology, almost shame.

It had been Finn of all people who unwittingly led to the rebirth of Kylo Ren.

The First Order had tracked them down and cut them off, forcing them into a ground battle which seemed near hopeless. They had been desperate enough that they returned Ben's lightsaber to him when he asked, though not even his own parents trusted him yet not to stab them in the back. They didn't have the luxury of letting any one of their three Force users sit this one out. It had been Finn who haltingly said, "the Finalizer's Stormtroopers know Lord Ren. We… they have been conditioned to fear him."

So Ben had put on the black robes he'd thought forever left behind, and started down this path.

He had been a whirlwind of black robes and red lightsaber in that battle, and by the end of it the Resistance fighters had feared him, too. Luke was far more powerful, and Rey gave hope to all who fought with her, but Kylo excelled in sheer wanton destructiveness.

Unlike General Hux, the Resistance's leaders understood to make use of this talent. To be fair, unlike General Hux, they didn't have to worry about being force choked for giving him orders.

There had been missions in the colors of the Jedi, and in Resistance uniform, but they learned quickly that Ben was best sent in when it took a sledgehammer. Leave the scalpel strikes to Luke and Rey, while Ben would leave destruction in his wake. Kylo Ren was better suited to such tasks than Ben Solo. The First Order learned to fear him for far more than the petty temper tantrums which, in hindsight, had Ben feeling quite chagrined.

He attached the lightsaber to his belt along with the blaster his mother insisted he carry, just in case he lost his saber. As if he couldn't, and wouldn't, crush a man's windpipe faster than he could aim a blaster. He would even prefer it, maybe, for it still felt odd, almost wrong, to be using his new blue lightsaber when doing what sometimes felt too Dark to be using a Jedi's blade.

Bzzz.

It was a testament to his distraction that the doorbell caught him off guard.

Too bad he wasn't the only one to notice. Jessika Pava was grinning like the cat who got the canary. "I had to ring," she crowed. "You're slowing down, old man."

Ben scowled. "So much for the black being intimidating," he muttered under his breath.

Jessika snorted. "You'd be a rotten commander if you scared your own troops, wouldn't you?"

His scowl deepened at the mention of his troops. His. He had never wanted troops of his own, and the responsibility for lives other than his own that came with it. It had been yet another necessity, for it took training for a Force user and combat troops to fight in synch without being more hindrance than help to another, especially when the Force user employed Ben's berserker style. Or had his explosive temper, which had only been slightly tempered by the Light side. He had come by it honestly; most people blamed his mother.

He brushed past Jessika, making sure to jostle her. "Why did I get saddled with you as pilot again?"

"Because Poe hates you," Jessika replied drolly, and then of course she had to add, "Lord Ren."

Ben took some satisfaction in making use of his longer legs, and forcing her into a jog to keep up. "It's been three years. He needs to get over it."

Jessika's icy silence made clear that she disagreed, but to her credit she didn't rehash this never-ending quarrel. This was the advantage of working with his own unit. They knew him well enough to know when they could safely goad him, and when he was too close to the Dark Side to risk it.

Three years, and Dameron had yet to forgive him for the interrogation. Mind you, Ben had yet to apologize. At first he hadn't known how, then he had understood that some crimes were too terrible for an apology to undo them, and by the time he realized that Dameron deserved one anyway, it had been too late.

Fortunately it was exceedingly rare for a mission to require both Rey and Ben, and even rarer for Rey to be unable to pilot the Falcon herself. His father had offered the Millennium Falcon to him when he returned, but he had refused. They had both known that if anyone got to borrow it, it should be Rey. She was the one putting herself out there, pulling heroic stunts worthy of the Falcon's fame and bringing the Light back to the universe.

Ben's job was to lay the groundwork on which Rey and Luke could perform their miracles. He took the interrogations which urgently needed results, and nobody ever asked how he got them. He took the missions nobody would want to remember once the war was won.

Ben didn't even know if he and Rey were friends, but he knew when the day to face Snoke came he would fight at her side, and she would save them all.

When they arrived in the briefing room, his mother and General Ackbar were waiting, along with his restless troopers. Ben called them his Stormtroopers sometimes, just to antagonize them. Come to think of it, that was probably why they insisted on calling him Lord Ren.

The General greeted him with a curt nod. "Captain Solo. You are late."

"My apologies, Madame General."

Another planet, another First Order installation to be destroyed. Dull routine work, but a welcome break from the monotony on the too small base. Ben shot his mother a pointed look; it was overkill to send him. He would be briefed on his true mission while the troops were boarding.

It would, most likely, be one of these battles that required Kylo Ren more than Ben Solo.

But if there was one thing Ben had learned in the past three years, then it was that he could walk this fine line without slipping. He had to, the price for failure was too high, and he wouldn't make his family pay it a second time.

The End