A/N: Ok, so...I am totally blown away by the response to this story so far! Thank you to every single person who has read, commented, followed and favorited this work. It means so much to me!
Thank you, kylo-rey-kenobi for all your efforts. As always, my writing is better for it!
"Hey, kid," Luke acknowledges, smiling ever so slightly. "Told you I'd see you around."
He knows that he should be angry - at the trick that has just been played upon him; at the entirely unwanted intrusion. More than that, he wants to be angry. Anger is comfortable, useful...his oldest and truest ally. But now, when he needs it most, it seems to have abandoned him.
Caught still in the paralyzing horror of what he had, for a split second, believed that he had done, he cannot find even a flicker of fury to latch onto. He is left, instead, with nothing of any use whatsoever - grief, fear and an aching, desperate longing. The combination is potent and draining and leaves him feeling weak at the very moment he needs most to be strong.
He stares up at the shimmering shape of Luke Skywalker for several long, silent moments, heart thudding loudly in his chest. He wants to scream at him. He wants to take up his lightsaber and stab through the veil between worlds to end the old man all over again.
But he cannot find it in himself to do any of those things. Not with the image of Rey's too-still form seared into his brain…
"I don't want you here," he says at last, pretending he cannot hear the tremor in his voice. "Go away."
As orders go, it's far from the most convincing he has ever issued. A fact that is brought well and truly home by the snort that it earns him.
"Yeah. That's not gonna happen, I'm afraid." A beat. "I've been watching you for some time now, you know. I needed to be certain that I was right about you. I'm happy to see that I was."
It's odd to hear, but there is absolutely no malice in Skywalker's tone. No hate. No disgust. Not even any of the discomfort that had marked so many of their conversations toward the end. He sounds, for all the world, as if he is merely chatting with an old friend…
"Right about what?"
He hates that he asks, but he cannot stop himself. Skywalker and his games have set his world spinning off-kilter and he feels oddly adrift within his own skin. It is, he knows, precisely the point of his uncle's meddling, but even that isn't enough to break him free of its effects.
"That there's more than enough you left to save. For a long time, I believed otherwise. Luckily for both of us, Rey knew better."
He isn't sure what irritates him more - that Skywalker knows enough to use her name as a weapon against him...or that it works so remarkably well...
She is beautiful, even in the cold, artificial light of the turbolift. He traces the lines of her back with his eyes, hungry for every line of her, clenched fingers yearning for the heat of her skin…
'You don't have to do this. I feel the conflict in you. It's tearing you apart."
Her voice is soft, beguiling. Her face, when she turns toward him, is lit from within with so much Light that it steals the breath from his lungs. A shiver runs down his spine and he knows that, if he is not careful, he might just fall at her feet…
He wrenches himself from the memory with a growl, resentment burning through the haze of emotion that had held him captive. He opens his eyes, shoots a glare at his ghostly enemy. "I want you gone. Immediately."
Luke huffs out a sigh, eyes rolling. "You're still stuck on that - move past it. I'm not going anywhere until I'm good and ready, so you might as well play along."
He growls again, spins away and stalks across the training room to retrieve his discarded clothing. If the old bastard won't leave, he'll just ignore him until he gives up. Because if history has taught him anything about Luke Skywalker, it's that he will, eventually, give up on him...
"I'd forgotten how stubborn you are," Luke comments from behind him, the words ringing with a fondness that had disappeared long before the night that Ben Solo had become Kylo Ren. "Never tell her I said this, but...you get that from your mother. Han was always much more flexible."
The words are like daggers, slicing anew at the oldest wounds he carries on his scarred soul. He refuses to let the hurt show though and keeps his back turned as he pulls on first his boots, and then his tunic. "Whatever your purpose here," he says flatly as he adjusts the black fabric into place, "you are wasting your time."
"Maybe I am," Skywalker says, amused, "but one of the advantages of being dead is that I've got a lot of it to spare. You'll be thrilled to know that I plan on spending quite a bit of it on you, Ben."
The resentment swells at that, flaring up into something he can truly use - the sound of that name is the spur that brings his temper roaring back to life. He whips around with a snarl, pointing an accusing finger toward his uncle's silvery form. "Ben Solo is dead," he declares, viciously shoving away the memory of her voice caressing those oft-hated syllables. "You saw to that, old man. Don't bother trying to reach out to him now."
Brow arching, Luke regards him with an infuriatingly knowing expression. "I know that's what you tell yourself. I also know that it's a lie. You wouldn't get so defensive over a simple name if it weren't."
"You speak as if you know me," he hisses, glare turned positively murderous now, his hands clench and unclench at his sides, desperate to attack. "But you don't know me, Skywalker. You never did. None of you ever took the time to see anything but what you wanted to see!"
For the first time, there is a spark of anger in those infuriatingly calm eyes, and Skywalker narrows them at him in disbelief. "What we wanted to see? You think any of us wanted you to become what you've become? A killer. A villain…"
"A monster?" He spits the word out, ignoring how it tastes like ashes in his mouth. "Yes, I have become a monster. That may not have been what any of you wanted, but it is precisely what I saw in your eyes - all of your eyes - every single time you looked at me. All of you feared me, even when I had done nothing for you to be afraid of. You feared me, when all I wanted was…"
He stopped, bites the words off, wishing them unspoken as soon they escape - he has revealed too much of himself; of the core of hurt that has lived inside of him for as long as he can remember. He has spent years burying it beneath layer upon layer of fire and fury, but still it remains...the weakness at the very heart of him.
And he has just shown it to his enemy.
Skywalker watches him still, though a shadow has fallen over his face. The anger has been replaced now with something infinitely worse…
Pity.
"Ben…I won't pretend we didn't make mistakes. We did. All of us - your mother, your father, me - we all failed you in one way or another. But you have to know that each of us only ever wanted what was best for you, even if we went about it in all the wrong ways."
Words. They were just words - they didn't actually mean anything. It had been too long; the injuries done had cut too deep. "You paint such a sympathetic picture," he says quietly, his anger there, but of the quiet, simmering sort - so very different from his previously violent passions. "But you forget - it is my life you're speaking of. My past. I lived it. You can't re-write a history that I remember only too well."
There is frustration on Skywalker's face now; in the furrow of his brow and the pinch of his mouth. It is a small victory, but he will take it.
"Do you honestly believe that you weren't loved? That your mother…"
"Love has nothing to do with it," he cuts in, old pain sitting like a rock in the middle of his chest. "Love did not prevent my mother from spending the bulk of her time and energy on a galaxy that needed her far less than I did. Love did not prevent my father from disappearing for months, only to return a little more distant each time. And love did not prevent you from standing over me as I slept, contemplating whether to kill me or not." He cocks his head, regards the ghost before him with blistering enmity. "Did it?"
Skywalker stares at him for a long moment, and then, the frustration drains from his face, leaving him looking nothing but sad. His shoulders slouch ever so slightly and he shakes his head. "Ben...there was so much more to it than that."
"No, there wasn't," he says roughly, shaking his head, his voice breaking. "Not to me."
He sees when it happens, the moment those words truly strike home. Skywalker deflates before his eyes, shoulders dropping and expression going bleak. "Ben, I never...I'm so sorry…"
"Enough of this." He squares his shoulders, lifts his chin with as much pride as he can muster, biting back against the inconvenient burn of tears. He will show no more weakness. Not today. "I don't want your apologies, old man - they're far too late. And as for your pity, you can keep that as well. Despite what you may think, I am not that lost little boy anymore. I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order. This galaxy is mine. There is nothing to pity in that."
Skywalker shakes his head, sighs. "Oh, Ben...there's everything to pity in that."
Refusing to rise to the old man's bait, he merely inclines his head - a gesture that even he acknowledges that he inherited from his politically gifted mother. "Believe what you will. But know this, Skywalker...if your aim in coming to me is to turn me back to the Light, you will be disappointed. Now, if you will excuse me…" he reached out, his lightsaber flying across the room and landing in his waiting grasp, "...I have responsibilities to tend to."
He moves toward the door, head held high - hoping that he will never again have to endure another encounter like this one...
"Ben!"
He stops just at the door - why, he doesn't really know. But he stops all the same, though he neither turns around nor acknowledges Skywalker's call.
"I won't give up on bringing you back."
He sighs, just wanting this encounter to end. "I told you…"
"...that you won't be turning back to the Light. Yeah - got it. But Ben…"
Suddenly, Skywalker is right beside him, a look of fierce, unflinching determination on his face. "...has it ever occured to you that you won't need to?"
And then the old man is gone, disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared, his last words hanging in the air.
He pulls back, frowning at the now empty space in front of him, confused.
A moment later though, he shakes his head, shoving the entire encounter forcefully behind him. He has a job to do; responsibilities to see to. He doesn't have time for the enigmatic philosophizing of a dead man.
Lifting his head high once more, he exits the room, leaving an empty room full of ruined training droids in his wake.
"...as long as the light outweighs the darkness, life will prosper. Seek balance, Jedi. Only in this will you avert tragedy, and only in this will you truly succeed."
The flickering holographic image of Arca Jeth stares out at her for a moment longer, before disappearing back into its holocron. For a long moment, she stares down at the now silent cube, its final words of wisdom repeating on a loop in her head.
As long as the light outweighs the darkness...seek balance…
She frowns, slumps forward in her seat, elbow on the table in front of her and fingers coming up to rub at her temples. "How is it balance," she mutters, "if the light outweighs the dark? That's...that's the opposite of balance."
Frustrated, she reaches out and pokes a finger against the offending Jedi relic, shoving it away from her. "You, Master Jeth, have been absolutely no help."
Nor, for that matter, have any other Masters - Jedi and Sith alike.
The Jedi speak of balance, but she's begun to think that none of them ever actually looked up the word to see what it really meant. As far as they appear to have been concerned, bringing balance to the Force meant eliminating the Dark entirely.
While, on the other hand, the Sith never even made a pretense of seeking balance, their entire purpose being to wipe out the Light entirely.
In both cases, it is again the exact opposite of real balance.
She sighs, pushing her chair back from the table and turning away from the piles of ancient - and so far useless - information heaped there. Her stomach is growling and she is, quite frankly, running out of patience, which makes it a perfect time for a break.
Pulling back the curtain that serves as her door, she doesn't bother closing it again behind her. The chamber she has taken as her own is on the outskirts of the cave system that the Resistance has turned into its temporary base. Everyone else has congregated further in, toward the larger, communal chambers - but she still prefers privacy.
Finn cannot understand it, but then, he has spent a lifetime in close quarters with others. It is natural to him.
To her, the idea of being so constantly surrounded by others is...stifling. Certainly, she enjoys coming together with everyone; treasures the camaraderie, the fellowship. But afterward, she craves space and quiet.
The lessons of a lifetime, she has found, are hard to unlearn.
If there is another reason why she has chosen to make her living quarters distant from everyone else, she will certainly never admit it. Though it is far easier to entertain an...unexpected visitor...when there is little fear of anyone finding out about it.
Right now though, there's little fear of anyone finding out about anything - the base is nearly empty of its usual swarm of inhabitants. A skeleton crew remains, of course, to oversee the essentials. The rest are participating in a survival training exercise out in the wilds of the Rym Mountains.
She has been exempted from it, everyone agreeing that she has more than enough experience in that area already.
Though she misses the companionship of Finn, Rose, Poe and the others, she finds that she is glad of the time it has given her to focus on research. She may be no closer to understanding the artifact she discovered on Alvorine, but she has learned a great deal on other subjects in the process.
Foremost of which, she had come across an extensive lesson on lightsaber construction and kyber crystals, which she had marked and planed to revisit very soon. Her close call on Alvorine had only reinforced her desire to build a new weapon for herself. She loves her staff, but it is, quite simply, unequal to the demands of this new life she has made for herself.
She has several ideas for blade design, but she knows further research will be required before she even attempts the construction of any of them.
After securing herself a ration pack and a cup of caf from the mess, she settles in at one of the tables and begins to eat, her mind consumed with how much she still needs to learn.
It is frustrating, sometimes, not having anyone to talk to about all of this - or at least, someone that she can trust without worrying if she's being foolish. She has so many questions, and most of the answers have, so far, proven elusive. So much so that she is actually contemplating taking the risk and making a trip to the Galactic Archives on Atzerri.
Of course, she will need to get approval from Resistance Command before undertaking the trip. Something which may prove difficult. She's had more and more trouble convincing them to approve her excursions of late.
She tries not to let that bother her, but she can admit to herself that it chafes. She isn't used to taking orders, and, honestly, she's not sure if she particularly likes it.
But the Resistance has her loyalty, so she will continue to do things according to their rules.
She only hopes she is able to make them see why expanding her knowledge of the Force can only help them in the long run…
"For someone who's usually all smiles, you're looking very serious today, Rey."
She jumps at that, having been deep into her own thoughts. Looking up, she finds Leia Organa standing before her, a fresh cup of caf in her hands, and offers a small smile. "General Organa."
That earns her a cocked-brow and a scolding look. "Now what have I told you about that?"
She lowers her head, smile stretching wider. "Sorry. Leia."
"Better," the older woman acknowledges with a nod. She settles herself down in the seat across the table with her customary grace. "Now, back to what I said before. What put that serious expression on your face? Is something wrong?"
"Not wrong, exactly," she says with a small shake of her head. "You remember the artifact I found on Alvorine?"
Leia nods. "No luck figuring out what it is yet?"
"None whatsoever." She leans forward on the table, food forgotten. "I've looked through everything I've found so far and I can't find any reference to anything even remotely like it. And since I don't know what it is, it makes it impossible to find out what it's for."
The smile Leia gives her then is kind, knowing. "It's hard to find answers when you're not entirely sure what the question is supposed to be, isn't it?"
"Yes," she agrees in a rush, beyond thankful that someone, at least, seems to understand. "I know that something about that box is important - but I can't figure out what!"
"And it's not just that, is it? It's everything else as well." Leia stops, looks down into her cup of caf, elegant fingers wrapping around the cup. "I remember when Luke was in the same position that you are - a galaxies worth of questions, and no one left to answer them." She looks up again, her smile still there, but sad now. "He was just as frustrated as you are now."
"But he found the answers eventually…"
Leia shrugs one shoulder. "Some of them. Others he just had to accept were lost to time and too many years of war."
Deciding that there is no time like the present to begin laying groundwork, Rey leans back, attempting to strike a casual pose. If she can win the General over to her way of thinking, she knows she has every likelihood of getting her plans approved. "True. But there is more information out there that I haven't been able to search through yet. I was thinking that maybe there might be something of use in the Galactic Archives."
Leia is quiet for a moment, studying Rey closely. "You're right," she says at length, "there very well could be. But the Archives are on Atzerri and Atzerri is currently under First Order control."
"I could manage it," Rey rushes to assure her. "If I went on my own…I know that I could..."
"Out of the question," Leia interrupts, shaking her head emphatically. "You're too valuable, Rey. I can't let you go waltzing off into enemy territory to look for something that may not even be there in the first place."
She tries not to get angry; tries very hard to push down the resentment that knots at the back of her throat, but she can't quite hold it all back. "But this is important," she insists. "It's important to me."
"And you are important to us," Leia declares, leaning forward and placing a hand on top of Rey's where it rests on the table. "I'm sorry, Rey, but that's one project of yours that Command is never going to be able to approve. Maybe one day it'll be possible. But not now."
Project. The word stabs at her, though she knows that Leia doesn't mean it to sound as dismissive as it does and she tries very hard to really understand that this is the General talking, not just Leia. It's a battle though; reason warring with emotion. She wants to argue - wants to explain how much she wants to know more. How much she needs to know more.
But she just...can't. And it is fear that stops the words on the tip of her tongue.
Fear that she will say the wrong thing; that she will overstep, push too hard. Fear that she could lose her place here, amongst the first family that she has ever known.
Fear that they will leave her behind, too.
So she bites the arguments back; shoves her frustration and her need down, down, deep inside. She takes a deep breath, turns her hand over beneath Leia's and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
"Of course," she says with a nod, lips curving into a smile. "You're right - it's not the right time."
Leia brings her other hand across, pressing it on top of their already joined hands, her smile soft, eyes full of compassion; the General has retreated again. "I know it's hard, Rey - sacrifice always is. But you have to have faith. Believe that you'll find the answers, and I promise you that someday, you will."
Faith. Belief. Hope.
She knows them all. Intimately.
"I can do that," she says, smile widening until her cheeks ache with it.
Leia's smile brightens and she gives Rey's hands one last squeeze. "Good girl. Now," she pulls her hands back, nods to the plate of food still waiting to be eaten, "finish your lunch. I've got to get back to work." She stood, taking her caf with her and started toward the corridor that led to the command center.
"It's good to have you home, Rey," she calls over her shoulder. "We all miss you when you're gone."
There is so much warmth in her voice, so much simple honesty. It catches Rey as off guard as it always does, such easy acceptance still a shockingly foreign concept to her. Even after all this time, the effect it has on her is immediate and powerful - a balm that never fails to soothe.
"Thank you. I'm...glad to be home," Rey calls after her, watching until Leia has disappeared into the corridor beyond. Once she knows she is beyond earshot, she lowers her head, guilt now coloring her frustration. "It's good to have a home."
It is the one thing she has always wanted more than anything else - and now, she has it. A home. A place for herself. People who care.
A family.
And yet...she can't help but yearn for more…
The press of a warm hand at the small of her back, towering strength at her side...a feeling of such perfect harmony singing in her veins...a vision that can never be…
Or can it?
"No." She snaps the word sharply, slamming her palm down hard on the table, rattling the plate and sloshing caf over the side of her cup. She refuses to follow that train of thought. Refuses. "This is what I want. This is all that I want."
The words haunt her though as she forces herself to eat the food that she no longer wants. Those same words follow her all the way back to her rooms and linger still as she greets her friends upon their return that evening. They are still flitting through her mind even as she smiles and laughs and hugs her way around them all.
When she goes to bed that night, they are the last conscious thought she has before sleep claims her.
Or can it?
A/N: Next chapter should be up sometime next week. Thanks again for reading! Come visit my on tumblr at all-about-the-balance. It's pretty much all Reylo, all the time over there for me!