AN: My purpose in creating this story was to readdress the things I wanted done differently in the Last Jedi, while adding in what I would like to see happen to conclude the saga. I have attempted to pull from both the novelizations and films, and will continue to do so. I have wanted to start a new Star Wars fanfic for sometime now, and finally have the time to dedicate to writing.


The force of the explosion in the loading bay threw him back; it hit him with its warmth as he landed on the hard ground.

Within a matter of seconds, he had forced his body into an upright position. His eyes looked up in sheer terror, disoriented, but still somehow aware of the gravity of the situation. The doors to the former loading bay slam shut in an instant, as if life had never existed on the other side. His breath is lodged in his throat, unable to leave, unable to do anything but stare. His heart raced in a fear he had not truly allowed himself to feel before.

The ringing in his ears began to subside, but his gaze remained transfixed on the place where his X-Wing had once stood, directly in front of him on the other side on the door. 'Permission to go and blow something up?'He recalled. Those had almost been his last words. His desperate plea for permission from the General to defend their weakened fleet by leading the fighters into battle.

Another battle in the war that had consumed his life from a young age. Only, the Resistance was usually coupled with victories amongst all the chaos and loss. But, Poe Dameron had once again, in the course of just a few hours, almost died himself and had watched a large sum of his comrades suffer a blazing fate at the hands of the First Order.

His heart thumped, as his mind wrapped around a cruel reality.

He had led both sets of Resistance fighters to early graves. He had taken them, completely unprepared and removed any security tactical planning should have allowed.

'Tactical planning,' he cursed. 'There was no time for such luxuries.'

Yes, time had not been on their side; but this time, he felt differently. It twisted his heart, became his focus in that moment.

After his reprimand from General Organa, he still felt no dismissal from his pride and accomplishment of defeating an enemy fighter. He reminded himself that he would save lives by destroying that ship.

He felt vibrations of bombs hitting their shields, but still could not quite distinguish different sounds. Had other fighters made it to their launch bays? Was it merely the troops at his deploy that had met such fates? His weight buckled and his back hit the ground once more. He glanced around to his left, his droid rocking slowly next to him. BB-8 could not feel the same pain from the blow that he knew his body would eventually succumb to; but, the tilt of the droid's head was low, the closest to human reactions of sadness the droid had picked up.

He felt a rush of warmth to his other side. His body was forced into an upright position once more. The tight grip on his vest suggested it was not the rush of pain from an injury. His glance shifted, and his gaze hit Finn's rapidly moving mouth. He was trying to communicate something, but Poe could not make out the words. He felt his frightened friend shake his side, gripping tighter to his vest as he continued his attempt to get a response.

"Poe!" Finn shouted, his left hand letting go of the fighter's vest so he could help prop him off the ground. The extensive training he had received as a Stormtrooper commanded his brain to remain it's composure. Both simulated modules and on-the-ground experience had exactly prepared him for getting a fallen comrade to their feet. But nothing had rocked him to his core —not the night on Jakku and his blood stained helmet, or seeing Rey being knocked against the tree by Kylo Ren — the way hearing the blast and rounding the corner to see Poe laying splattered on his back had.

"Finn..." he mustered, barely above a whisper as his body let out an involuntary moan of pain. He did not hear but saw the younger man's chest relax, releasing the air he had held onto while he waited for Poe's response, or any indication that he had not been gravely injured in the blast.

Finn stood before he extended his hand and pulled Poe to his feet. Poe's back arched after he stood, his hands rested on his knees as he caught his breath. When Poe recovered, they wasted no time. The men and droid rushed towards the other side of the ship, to where Poe hoped the remaining Rebel ships were still intact.

Another reason, he rationed, General Organa would have preferred he called off his earlier attack which lost their bombing fleet. They quickly learned after the Dreadnought was destroyed that Snoke's ship had been following closely behind, offering the support of a second air raid on their unsuspecting fleet. The First Order had every intention of ending the war in this battle, fully intent on no survivors and no threat to their rule.

And this air raid would be over quickly if they had no counterattack.

Of all the things that still tied him to his past, to his parents, he regretted his flight skills least of all.

He whipped through the Supreme Leader's vessel after giving the command to prepare his ship. Hux may have been responsible for being able to scramble their ships together for an attack after the destruction of Starkiller Base, but it was he who would do the honors of eliminating the remaining leaders of the Rebellion. He, the man responsible for the end of the Jedi, would be long remembered for the final destruction of the Rebellion. Snoke would surely be pleased then, and although it could be credited to some of Hux's strategic planning, he would be the one to receive the glory.

Snoke's berating in front of Hux had left Kylo Ren seething from embarrassment. The power he felt behind his TIE Fighter was a channel to release his anger, a chance to prove himself yet again to the Supreme Leader, and he never missed his shot. Their ships pursued the Rebellion fleet, keeping within range to make a jump into hyperspace impossible. They were on too heavy fire from the First Order, and Kylo was well on his way to one of the loading bays.

He soared forward through the opening, all too familiar with the layout of their main ship. The knowledge he maintained from Ben Solo's memories were the only valuable thing that weak boy had left behind. His finger pushed down without hesitation, sending several bombs straight down to destroy whatever fighters and claim the lives of their loading pilots sat in the bay. He quickly circled his ship, first upside-down to push his maneuver his ship out of range, then back upright once he was in the space alongside the ship.

He directed one of the members of his squadron towards the entrance along the opposite side of the Rebel fleet, but it was too late. Several fighters shot out like bullets from a rapid blaster, firing quickly and furiously. He directed the members of his squadron to advance on the Resistance fighters, and to clear a pathway for him to the main bridge of the ship. If they could take out the remaining leaders of the Resistance, the fighting would quickly come to a cease fire. Without eyes to guide them, the First Order would then quickly overpower and destroy the fighters.

If Leia Organa felt any fear at their dire circumstances, she did not display it. Her command was regal, almost daunting in its mastery and quick wit. She heard the monitors screeching as the east wing of the ship had sealed itself shut to maintain the damage to the pieces now floating amongst the fighters. There were many losses, but still many things that could be done to combat the attack. If only they could get the upper hand in the battle just long enough to make the jump to hyperspace. There were places they could go, if only they could shake the First Order long enough. There, they could release a signal to their allies scattered in the outer rim for reinforcements. They had to recoup, plan, and build their inventory again.

But, those were concerns for the moment after the jump was made.

Poe and Finn rushed onto commanding bridge, unable to get together a ship to take into the ongoing battle. It made Poe restless that he was not engaging the enemy, that others were losing their lives when he felt responsible for their lack of defenses. Pride and arrogance had gotten the better of him, with enough consequences to firmly set him in receiving an order before rushing off again.

"Captain Dameron," Leia shouted quickly, commanding their attention. "The damage to the east wing, is it completely locked down? Are the blaster shields in place?"

"Yes," Poe replied. "And there were heavily losses; the entire fleet was destroyed."

Leia nodded, absorbing the confirmation. She quickly returned her attentions to the monitors, looking over the ships currently fighting in the air. So far, they had been lucky-if you could call it luck- and there were still very minimal losses. Their pilots had taken out several of the TIE Fighters, but were still heavily outnumbered. Their small ship had a few cannons and blasters, but everything was in too close range to fire. This fact was also the one thing keeping the battle afloat, as the First Order was also too close to fire from their main ship.

"Poe, take our personal fighter. We need you out there assisting the squadrons," Leia commanded, hardly looking up at the pilot to see if he had acknowledge her order.

"All due respect General, but if I were to do that, you and the remaining leaders would be without an evacuation plan. We cannot do that to our cause."

Leia bit back her temper from allowing a growl to escape past her lips at the disobedience. Her chest hummed, her fingers tapping impatiently against the screen as she changed flight routes for some of the fighters. The patterns allowed her fighters to make the TIE fighters get turned around long enough to take out two others. "If we do not—" she started, before a sharp pain started to swell inside of her.

She looked away from the monitor and out towards the battlefield. A lone fighter was flying towards the main bridge, his blasters pointing directly towards where she stood.

She felt the anger and hurt of the pilot behind the TIE Fighter. She felt his rage boiling, as if it were her own. It threatened to completely overpower her, as her hands laid flat against the side of the monitor, steadying her body from falling.

'Ben.'

Kylo's focus shifted quickly as the simple plea hit him. He looked around him, ensuring the sounds had not come over his intercom.

No, this it was just him and her in this moment. He could feel Leia Organa become unsettled at his presence. She had sensed his plan, one he recognized no one else had.

He knew he should feel pleased at the fear, the uncertainty he was sensing. The Dark Side could feed off the fear of their enemies. He was also certain that continuing his plan would kill off the remaining call to the light he hadn't completely shaken when he murdered Han Solo. Leia's death would be the last piece he needed to show his devotion to the Supreme Leader.

So why was his finger no longer on the trigger?

In a movement he was unsure was involuntary or not, he switched the aim of his blaster towards a shielded part of the ship. He sped forward, past the trajectory that would allow the fatal shot.

He rationed, perhaps, that the Rebellion probably had more than these fleets remaining. They would need Organa to reveal the remaining locations, or at least to create a more public execution. With Luke Skywalker missing and seemingly powerless, he was not as much concern. They could find him if they kept Leia alive, he urged himself to remember that.

But there was something else present in his mind as he finished soaring over the top of the bridge. He just couldn't quite place it.

He whipped his ship around, just in time to see that one of the other TIE Fighters had caught onto his original plan and was headed to complete the deed. A Rebel pilot recognized what was going to happen, but was too far away to stop it. 'Very well. There are other ways to Skywalker.'

'Ben, it isn't too late.' The voice pleaded to him again. He was quickly overwhelmed by the sensations that followed. He could feel the pulsing distress. He tried to attribute it to the ongoing fight, but it was stronger than that. For a leader, he could barely feel her concern for those she led. Her attention was solely focused. There was something stronger than the distress, something where the rest of her emotions radiated. It was a feeling he had not felt from anyone, had not allowed himself feel from her especially, in quite some time.

He stiffened his posture, body firm against the cockpit seat of his TIE fighter. A distraction, nothing more, he rationed.

There was always a certain relief to shutting the door behind her after a long day with the Senate. Her skills and experience throughout the war had led her to excelling beyond her childhood fantasies in her new roles, but there was a level of exhaustion that accompanied it. These days, the meetings were growing exceptionally long as discord between the two parties began to turn. Mon Mothma was away on business, and matters always tended to get away from the Senate. Leia was not built for such petty bickering; especially with those members of the Senate several years her junior. These were just children, born in the final years of the Empire who were barely of age. Their numbers had been low for a while, allowing the original members of the New Republic Senators to learn how to depend on each other and interact with differing opinions.

Her chest labored with the heavy sigh as she walked down the hallways of her home. It was always quieter when Han was away on business. She often still chuckled at his new, more reputable reputation and career-path. Han had finally reached a point where his esteem took him to different piloting competitions. Though he would never explicitly state his ambitions, she knew he one day hoped to completely oversee championships.

Chewbacca's deep wail interrupted her thoughts as she rounded the corner to the open main room. Pillows were splattered against every wall, used to prop up blankets into tiny structures, and the shades of the large windows pulled down to create a darker atmosphere. She chuckled, folding her arms across her chest. "Well, what do we have here?"

Ben's small figure popped up quickly from underneath one of the pillow towers. "Mama! Hush, before he finds you." His fingers were wrapped around a toy blaster Han purchased for his last birthday.

Leia crouched down behind the nearest pillow, playing along. "Who are we hiding from, Lieutenant Solo?"

He crawled over slowly, ducking behind to find the one closest to his mother. He pressed his back up against the soft pillows trying to put on his most serious face. "Evil Lord Chewie," he whispered, handing his mother the smaller toy blaster attached to his belt loop.

With his father's old vest drowning him, he truly looked like the spitting image of the young Han Solo she had met nearly a decade ago. Leia looked him in the eyes, trying to stifle a chuckle. His young childish games gave her joy; she was never able to participate in these fantasies, at least not nearly to the extent he was.

This was never part of the future she originally envisioned for herself. When other young girls her ages talked about families and children she had always imagined herself at her father's side in the Senate halls. Her hopes for the future focused on a world without the Empire, a world where the war was over and they were no longer sneaking around with the Rebels. Her mind was politically focused, on making life better for others so their happiness and ideologies would remain intact. Yet, meeting Han had swayed her plans slightly off track and into each other's arms. There had never been a spoken plan for children, but here he was now and she loved and adored him.

Her eyes glanced around the room, spotting the large brown shape moving in the distance. She glanced over to see what her son would do next. Ben had his eyes closed, and a familiar smirk upon his lips as he sensed the approaching Wookiee. As the Evil Lord Chewie swooped down to their hideout, Ben darted in front of his mother and blasted the Wookiee. The Evil Lord fell and with a cry of triumph Lieutenant Solo had successfully completed his mission: protect the base and the Senator.

A shot fired and loudly hit its target.

Leia tapped his nose, smiling at her son. "I can always count on you to protect me, Ben."

Leia released a heavy sigh as she watched the nearby TIE Fighter be reduced to pieces.

Kylo's body jolted from the recoil of the blast. He couldn't quite place what had come over him to make that move. Continued weakness was the only explanation his brain could offer him, which gave no refuge.

"Always mama," young Ben giggled back, his small arms still wrapped around her neck as he snuggled into her embrace.

He closed his eyes tightly, refusing to recall anymore of the distant memory. 'Ben Solo is dead,' his thoughts finally whispered across the narrow cosmos back to Organa.

To any untrained eye, it would have appeared that the Rebel pilot had made it in time to fire before the enemy could. But Leia knew better. Her eyes had followed the shot leaving from his blasters, taking out the largest fighter, save Kylo Ren's ship. She closed her eyes, almost able to look into the scared eyes of her son. But, before she could try to reach him again, he had closed himself off.

The minutes that followed were a haze for Ren, but before he could truly register what had occurred and what he had done, the Rebel fleet was gone. Slowly, he turned his ship back towards the Supreme Ruler's.

Unlike with the murder of Han Solo, he found his mind much more heavily clouded and unable to pull the required strength to commit the deed. He knew he should regard Leia Organa as nothing more than another obstacle in completing his training. There was no clear path of what he should have done, but instinct demanded he interrupt and change the deadly scenario. He could not be held responsible for the Resistance getting away once again.

The warm feelings from the memory flooded him once more. He was trained, disciplined, in suppressing these calls from the former life of Ben Solo, but that was different. He had not been subjected to Ben's recollection. It was, in that moment, more powerful than any training had prepared him for. The weight of her love for her son threatened to drown Kylo out, or at the very least, it allowed the Rebellion to make their escape once again. 'Tied on the end of a string' Hux's earlier words reminded him. He slammed his fist on the console of his ship.

Surely, no one would be able to fault him their escape. Hux had allowed them to destroy the Dreadnought, after all. This should have been over with before he even had to get on a ship, especially with the praise the General had received earlier.

The order from his master to return to the throne room flooded him the instant he landed back on the loading dock. This would no doubt be a continuation of their earlier training to overcome his weaknesses. His past actions and lack of resolution regarding Solo and General Organa needed to be wiped out, he knew. Still, his fingers slowed as he undid the straps containing him in the ship. Each step down was labored, almost more reluctant than the next. He forced himself to stand tall. There was no room for weakness.