AN: I don't own Star Wars and this fic contains SPOILERS for The Last Jedi. Consider it a bit of a companion piece to my fic "Haunted Inside," but you don't have to read that fic in order to enjoy this one. Also, I'm pretty sure Kylo was lying when he said Rey's parents were junk dealers and we'll still get some reveal about her true heritage in Episode 9, so that will be my headcanon until I'm proven wrong.
"Free of This Pain"
By EsmeAmelia
Luke Skywalker was dead.
Though the worthless old Jedi had fooled Kylo Ren with that idiotic Force projection, at least Kylo could get some satisfaction when he'd felt his uncle's life strand go out, collapsing under the strain of maintaining the projection.
But why hadn't Skywalker suffered?
Why had he gone out as peacefully as a candle? It was wrong. Wrong for death to exist without suffering. Death was suffering. Without suffering . . . what was death, exactly?
At least Han Solo had suffered when he died.
So did Snoke, though his death was only a moment of suffering before it was over.
But a moment was enough.
He took in a long inhale as he opened the door to his quarters and let it out slowly as he entered. Today had been long and exhausting, but successful in the end, even if the Rebels escaped. They would not elude the First Order for long.
And he wouldn't think about how he saw Rey leaving on his father's disgusting old ship, even though Snoke had said that he was the one who engineered the Force connection between them.
The remnants of that connection would soon fade now that Snoke was dead, right?
He sat on his bunk and started pulling off his boots, keeping his breath steady as he did so. He would not think of the foolish girl. If she wanted to get herself killed while fighting a losing battle, that was her choice. As he yanked his socks off his feet, balled them up, and tossed them into the laundry chute, he kept concentrating on his breath, inhaling the slightly-stale recycled oxygen in long sucks. Luke Skywalker was dead. Soon it would be all over.
"So, Supreme Leader Ben."
With that faint voice in his head, the breath he'd been trying so hard to control slipped into a gasp. No, no, he wasn't going to respond, that was exactly what the voice wanted…
"Is this really what you want, son?"
He squeezed his eyes so tightly shut that it hurt, flopping down on the bunk as if that would get rid of the voice, almost wishing he would see a vision of Rey again just to distract him.
"Do you even know what you're after anymore? You thought Snoke would take away your pain, you thought killin' me would take away your pain, you thought killin' Luke would take away your pain, so where does it end?"
"Shut up," Kylo found himself whispering without choosing to do so.
"Or you'll what? Kill me? Bit too late for that, son."
Kylo sucked in his breath through grinding teeth. "Why are you here? You think that if you bother me enough I'll magically have a change of heart and take down the First Order? You're as delusional in death as you were in life."
At first the voice didn't answer, but Kylo didn't allow himself to relax. The voice often had periods of silence, as if maintaining communication was straining to it.
Maybe it was.
Why was he still hearing that voice? For that matter, why had he started hearing it in the first place? Non-Force-sensitives couldn't retain their identities after death. It was impossible.
Wasn't it?
Maybe he was simply insane. Normal people who heard voices in their heads were deemed mentally ill, right?
Of course, when he was a child, hearing a voice in his head had been a regular occurrence.
"Ben?"
Kylo dug his head into his pillow as if pretending to be asleep like he used to do so many years ago when the nightmares kept him awake but he didn't want to worry his parents.
"You think bein' Supreme Leader will make you happy?"
"I don't need to be happy," Kylo hissed.
"That's crazy talk."
Kylo growled. "Go away."
"What do you want, son? Do you even know anymore?"
"Shut up!"
"What if you do eliminate the Resistance, then what? You think everything'll magically sort itself out after that?"
Kylo only pressed the pillow against his ears even though he knew fully-well that it wouldn't eliminate a voice inside his head.
"When you were a kid, you wanted to be a lotta things when you grew up, but dictator of the galaxy was never one of 'em."
Kylo refused to dignify that with an answer. He again started concentrating on steadying his breath, but he still couldn't eliminate the small gasps.
"C'mon, Ben. I know this ain't what you really want."
With that, he shot up to a sitting position, staring upwards even though the voice wasn't coming from anywhere outside him. "You know NOTHING about me!"
Another several moments passed without the voice responding, but Kylo remained on edge as he sat there, waiting in dread. When the voice still didn't return, he finally gained the strength to get up and decided to get ready for bed, though his stomach remained tensed up as he undressed.
. . .
Kylo was on the verge of falling asleep and forgetting everything that happened today when it returned, soft and small and yet still demanding his full attention.
"Ben?"
Kylo gave a loud groan. "Let me sleep."
"Fine, I just wanted to thank you."
"For what?"
"For not pulling the trigger."
It was as if he had been thrown into icy water. His heart suddenly started racing so fast that it almost hurt. How dare the voice try to manipulate him by bringing up that weak moment! "If you weren't already dead I'd kill you right now for that!" he hissed.
"But you didn't kill your mother."
Again his words hung in the air, threatening to break through the barriers Kylo had spent years building around himself and pull him away, back into his old vulnerable, terrifying existence. He actually felt himself trembling as he wrapped the covers tighter around his body as if they would protect him.
"I think Rey might've actually wanted to be your friend if you'd have let her."
"I would have let her," Kylo whispered, his voice muffled by the covers. "I even offered to let her rule by my side. She was the one who refused."
"Yeah, I heard your grandpa did the same thing with Luke. Didn't work out so well then either."
"Don't mention Skywalker," Kylo growled.
Several more minutes passed without a response, but Kylo didn't dare relax now. How had he gotten into this conversation, anyway? He'd resolved to not respond to the voice anymore – was his will really so weak that he couldn't resist it?
"Why did you lie about her parents?"
Kylo ground his teeth. "It was for her own good, now let me sleep."
More silence. He was starting to wonder if his father's ghost or whatever this was would eventually strain itself too far with this communication and collapse out of existence like Skywalker did.
Why did that thought make him flinch?
"Did you mean it when you said you didn't hate me?"
Kylo groaned yet again. "Is watching me the only thing you do in your afterlife or whatever you're in now?"
"Well? Do you hate me?"
"No, all right, are you happy now?"
The answer came out so automatically, just like it had when Rey asked it, and once again he found himself unable to take it back. He dug his head into the pillow, torn between wishing he could just sleep and wondering if the voice would follow him into his dreams.
"You said you wanted to get rid of the pain. I wish I could get rid of it for you."
Kylo's hands were suddenly cold.
"Snoke can't help you now, Ben. You've gotta decide things for yourself now."
The chill was spreading throughout his body. "I don't need Snoke anymore."
"You're right. You never did."
Then there was silence again. Kylo sank further under the covers until they were over his head, which made memories of burying himself in the covers as a child unwillingly enter his mind.
Followed by memories of running to his parents' bed and his father wrapping those big arms around him.
He was once stupid enough to believe those arms could protect him from the nightmares.
That hugs and kisses could eliminate the horrors in his mind.
Weak and foolish like his father.
His father . . .
He waited for the voice to return for what might have been minutes or might have been hours, but this time there was nothing: only the empty silence and lingering chill that still penetrated him no matter how tightly he wrapped the covers around himself.
Rey had asked why he killed his father and he'd never given an answer.
Did he have an answer?
Because Snoke wanted it? Because it would make him strong enough to eliminate the light within him? Because it would get rid of the pain that forever ate away at his soul?
For the briefest of moments his soul cried out for those arms to hold him again, but it was only a moment and once it passed he sank back down into the pillow, once again listening to his breath.
Han Solo was dead.
Luke Skywalker was dead.
Snoke was dead.
Soon the Resistance would be dead.
That would release him from the pain and the voice.
Let it all die . . .
When sleep finally came, so did dreams. Dreams of an old world, an old life, an old family. Dreams he would never remember in his conscious hours, yet he would still wake feeling, if only for an instant, that he wasn't alone.
THE END