It Will Never Be Kylo Ren
Prologue
Cold, metallic and shrouded in man-made shadows, lit mainly by the synthetic lighting, the interior structure of Starkiller base was almost surreal and most certainly astounding. Han Solo stood beside his forever loyal comrade, peering over the railing that showed little other than the steel-lined abyss far below, except for the one moving figure, clad in black, walking with an assertive step across the symmetric, crimson lit bridge. To Han's view, the black-hooded figure was barely more than a spec in the distance. It was ironic, that this had been the closest he had gotten to him in years and yet he had never felt further. But it was time to close the gap. Han knew deep down that this was the final chance he was going to get, the final chance to stop Kylo Ren from being permanently affiliated with that name and to be lost in the all-consuming darkness that has somehow managed to ensnare him.
With a bitter reluctance, Han pulled himself away from the railing and looked up at his Wookiee companion. He took a breath before he spoke, filling his voice with his natural confidence, the confidence that had saved his life more times than he could count.
"Chewie, you know the plan right, bud?" He placed a hand on his hip. The Wookiee made a noise of complaint. "Yes I know you don't like it, but this is my son we're talking about. I know he's dangerous and I know what he is capable of, but this is my last shot, it's something I gotta do on my own, you understand that right?"
The Wookiee nodded and dipped his head. Han patted him on the arm.
"I'm his father. He deserves this much, after all it was me who failed him in the first place." He let out another breath, glancing back out at the bridge. "I want him back. Leia wants him back and I know you want him back, too, there's no denying it. I mean, he's pretty much your nephew after all. I will always remember you carrying Ben on your shoulders whenever you got the chance, or those many times you let him braid bits of your hair and then call you his padawan."
Chewie almost sounded embarrassed, twiddling a thick lock of so-called facial hair around an equally hairy finger. Han flashed his best friend a smile, a gesture that was often given to the ever-worrying Chewie, to tell him that everything was going to be fine and that Han would definitely get out of this alive, like he always did.
Leaving Chewie to finish the mission to aid the Resistance, (placing explosives across the weak points of the base) Han made his way down to the bridge, forcing himself to move quickly to stop any chance of him changing his mind. The smugger wasn't one to turn down a mission, no matter how dangerous, he knew that, but there was something about this task, something that involved a deep rooted fear of failure. If this were any other mission that headed south, Han always knew it could be rectified with the quick use of his blaster. A blaster would be useless here. Even if it did become the last resort, Han knew for a fact that there was no way he would ever fire his weapon at the Knight of Ren. Ever.
Han Solo came to a halt at the edge of the steel-plated conduit. This wasn't the first time he had seen his son walking away from him.
"Ben." He called out, voice echoing through the vast space. A thick beam of white light from a high positioned window, illuminated the centre and the slender, shadow-like figure that suddenly came to a halt. His turn was swift, his footsteps heavy, and the edges of his robe swished with a chilling breeze. Behind the motionless mask, he spoke, voice drowned out by the deep machinelike hum, one that impersonated the likes of his grandfather.
"Han Solo. I've been waiting for this day for a long time."
Han let out a heavy breath, his eyes fixated on the figure he barely recognised. He took the first step in approaching his son, literally. Each stride came with a building lump in his throat and a dull thud that mixed with the constant hum of the glowing red fixtures.
"Take off that mask, you don't need it."
"What do you think you will see if I do?"
"The face of my son." This sharpness in Han's voice was not hidden, nor was his grimace. For a moment Kylo remained still, a perfect silhouette of a statue, just standing, fists pressed at his sides. Then he raised his arms, an unhurried motion towards his helmet. Machine-driven joints separated the helmet from its hold, and Kylo raised it from his face, showing the contrast of his pale skin against the dusk of his mask. Still tight in grasp, it hung heavy at his waist.
This face didn't belong to the boy that Han had loved and raised. They were similar, the same freckles, the same brown eyes, the same black tresses, but that was just the physical detail and physical detail meant nothing in a world that could easily clone another living being. Still, Han knew that this man wasn't a clone, wasn't some genetically grown copy, he was the man who had inside him, the genes of a Solo and a Skywalker, birthed by Leia and raised by them both.
Pressing his lips together, Han looked a little deeper. The traces of his son still remained, but barely, locked away behind those dark irises and that stony expression.
"Your son is gone." Kylo's words were blunt. "He was weak and foolish like his father, so I destroyed him."
"That's what Snoke wants you to believe." Han took a few steps closer, determination blossoming as the face of his son got clearer and clearer. "But it's not true. My son is alive."
"No. The Supreme Leader is wise."
"Snoke is using you for your power." Han could see him plainly now. His features were sharp, his jawline sharper, with an expression that seemed to be stuck in a fixed sulk. There was nothing left of his youth, he had grown fully into his features and yet all Han could see was a frightened child behind the mask of age. "When he gets what he wants, he'll crush you. You know it's true."
"It's too late."
"No it's not." Han stepped forward with fortitude, face to face with his child, hearing the hidden plea behind the voice that he knew inside out. "Leave here with me and come home. We miss you."
A glassy sheen of anguish soaked up the brown as Kylo fully met the gaze of his father. The ice of his façade slipped away without his consent; his lip quivered and his heart hammered in his chest.
"I'm being torn apart." He muttered, voice suddenly breaking. Maybe he owed his father at least a shred of honesty…after all, this was the last chance he was going to get, the last fraction of his old self that he was about to destroy forever. He was afraid to do it, but it was a necessity. "I want to be free of this pain…I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it…will you help me?"
"Yes. Anything." If there was one thing Han wouldn't do, it was deny the aggrieved plea of his son. Kylo glanced away, his helmet slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a loud, dull thud. He reached to his belt, unclipping the handle of his famed, fire spitting weapon and regarded it with almost resentment; it was the weapon that represented his discord and placement within the galaxy as a feared murderer – but it suited him, almost too well. Rested within his hands, Kylo offered the weapon to his father, hoping he would understand what he needed of him. It was selfish and he knew it but he just wanted to the suffering to end…even if it meant sacrificing what was left of his soul. Without a glimpse of hesitation, Han took hold of the hilt and gripped it tight.
A thousand unspoken words were then said with just a single look. Han understood. He knew exactly what his son thought would save him from the war that raged on inside him. But he was wrong. It was in that second that he realised how ruined he had becomes under the influence of Snoke deciding that Kylo Ren was more important than Ben Solo.
Not breaking visual contact, Han reached into his pocket, to the thin, plastic cylinder, and convinced himself that his son would forgive him this. One day. The action was quick. Kylo winced at the unanticipated pain and frowned in confusion. He slowly looked towards his arm as Han removed the thin spike of metal, having pressed its contents into the wildly pumping veins of his son. His mind blanked, unable to process the image in front of him. The muscles in his hands seized up and his lightsaber clattered to the ground.
"What did you do?" He spluttered, stumbling, and struggling his way through spinning vision. Kylo grabbed his head to steady himself, a reaction in vein as the darkness began to consume him. His legs went numb and buckled from beneath him.
"I'm sorry." Han uttered, tossing the syringe into the cavernous drop below and holding out his arms in preparation for the staggering Kylo, who was seconds away from collapsing. He mentally cursed himself, realising the stupidity of the location of his plan, watching as Kylo teetered on the bridge edge. He edged forwards, ready to react at any given second.
"You betrayed me." Kylo spat. His father was supposed to help him. That was what fathers were supposed to do, even it meant sacrificing themselves in the process. Han gritted his teeth at his son's unforgiving words, ignoring the bite they left behind as Kylo crumpled downwards. Han couldn't have moved faster as he caught his son around the waist, just centimetres away from plummeting to his doom and pulled him back.
As the gravity of the situation caught up with him and with the weight of his full-grown son in his arms, Han descended to his knees. With his unconscious son's head resting in the crook his neck, Han buried his fingers through the unkempt black curls of Kylo's hair, remembering the feel of the silken strands and the warmness the brought along. He had missed such a simple act of affection.
"This is for your own good Ben. I can't lose you, you are the best thing I ever managed to do with my life. If I don't do this now, I'm afraid that I will never get you back…or Leia." Han muttered. He had lost the two most important things in his life in one big explosion, even Chewie and the Millennium Falcon couldn't mend the hole that they had left behind. He couldn't replace the irreplaceable, nor would he ever be able to forgive himself for leaving his only child to rot in the clutches of the darkness.
Slipping one arm underneath Kylo's knees and the other below his shoulders, Han somehow, to his own surprise, managed to lift Kylo as he returned to his feet. He was much heavier than he remembered, but lighter than he looked.
"When did you grow up and get so big, huh kiddo?" Han almost cracked a smile, who would have thought that one day that nickname could be used for his own child? He glanced down at Kylo's pale, slumbering face, not at all peaceful. His eyebrows were furrowed in strain, lightly creasing the bridge of his nose and his jaw was rigid, locked in a state of unease. His whole body was tense, it seemed even is sleep, Kylo got no respite from the internal war.
Han knew what his son had become, the dark deeds he had committed out of his own free will, as skewered as that will may have been, but just looking at him now, there was no way he could ever condemn him. His own flesh and blood, his one and only son. It was strange, if he were anyone else, he would have wanted to shoot him a hundred times over and wouldn't even feel a pinch of remorse. Having a kid really was the true meaning behind unconditional love, a sentiment that couldn't be explained without experience.
As Han took his first step back across the bridge, his foot bumped into something hard. Looking down, he saw the helmet of Kylo Ren laid on its side. He kicked it over the edge. It hurt his toes in the process, but it was worth watching the thing plummet into the machine built chasm and disappear for good.
"It's Ben Solo. It will never be Kylo Ren."