Ben arrives on Dagobah in the late afternoon with plenty of light left in the day to navigate his ship over the dense canopy of swamp trees which conceal a veritable collection of truly awful creatures. He groans miserably as he lowers the ship towards the planet. He really, really hates Dagobah – and not just because it's a, frankly, terrible place. It's the memories.
He's been here once before, only once. Luke never brought him, a different master did. Snoke. He'd taken Ben to cave, one reeking of darkness, death, and more, and urged him to go inside.
What's in there? Ben had asked.
Only what you've been too weak to bury. Had been Snoke's only answer.
He'd seen Luke in the cave, the Luke who hadn't wanted to fight him, just like in real life, but Ben hadn't cared. He'd struck his former master down without worry, without a second thought – but he hadn't been done. His parents had been there too, calling him 'Ben', though he'd eschewed that name by that point, begging him to come home, assuring him that he was loved and that he was still their son.
Snoke wanted him to destroy them as he'd done with Luke, bury them with the past – but he couldn't. They were only visions, but he destroyed the cave around him rather than strike them down. He couldn't kill the version of his father that was nothing more than mist and energy, but he'd slaughtered the real thing only years later. Being back here sets his skin on edge.
Ben has a vague idea of where Yoda's home might be, so long as it is not too far from that cave, which is still intact, not yet destroyed. He lands in a clearing where the ground seems solid enough that his ship won't simply just sink into the mud and slime and clambers out into the hot, humid air. He chokes on the rank odor that permeates the planet and unclips his saber hilt from his newly acquired belt. The fauna of this planet can be dangerous, he remembers, most are equipped with sharp teeth and talons and often poisonous venom to boot.
The brush becomes too thick to transverse easily after a little while so Ben ignites his saber, slashing and hacking through the thick vines and brambles. He reaches out through the Force. He can feel Rey, she's here, and he follows the golden thread that binds them, allows it to lead him to her.
"Stop right there." A voice behind him grounds out.
Ben whirls around as best he can in the slippery terrain. Ahsoka Tano stands before him, her sabers, their blades blinding and white, positioned before and behind her held in a reverse grip, her knees crouched in a defensive stance, her face contorted into a scowl. Ben sighs.
"Tano, I –" Ben begins, his free hand coming up to rub at his temple.
"Don't move!" She warns, brandishing her sabers threateningly. "Who sent you?" She asks and suddenly Ben is back on Tatooine being interrogated by Obi Wan Kenobi.
"No one sent me." He assures slowly, disengaging his lightsaber, keeping his hands held out in front of him. "I –"
"Who are you?"
"I – I'm Ben." He says, stuttering slightly. It's the first time he's introduced himself by that name in years – the first time he's said it in just as long. It feels strange in his mouth, foreign and slightly forbidden, but 'Kylo Ren' would feel worse, he knows.
Ahsoka stands up straighter, her narrowed eyes move up and down his body, taking him in, landing on the lightsaber hilt in his hand and staying there for a fraction of a second longer than anywhere else. Her own sabers fall to her sides, but the white blades stay lit.
"You're Ben?" She asks, nose scrunching up in disapproval. Ben nods curtly and she sighs. "Rey didn't tell me you –" She shakes her head and flicks off her lightsabers, though she keeps the hilts in her hands. "Come on," She says turning around. "Master Yoda wants to meet with you."
Ben clips his lightsaber hilt to his belt and follows Ahsoka through the dense swamp. She cranes her neck to look back at him several times, her eyes screaming with distrust, clearly uncomfortable with him behind her.
"I come in peace, Tano." Ben grumbles. "Would you be more comfortable if I walked in front?"
"Actually, yeah, I would." She says falling back. "Just keep going straight for now."
They walk for a short while, Ahsoka uttering terse directions every once in a while. They reach another clearing, larger than the one he'd landed the Shadow in. The Falcon is here, and so is Ben's family, but he doesn't notice any of them, his vision tunneling in on Rey the second he sees her. She is speaking with Luke about something but turns her head as Ben crosses the tree line, as if made aware of his presence through the Force. Her face lights up, a warm smile spreading quickly across it.
Rey crosses the clearing and throws her arms around Ben who can't help but smile again because she's really here and so is he, the Force can't rip them apart this time. He holds her close and breathes her in. The bond they share feels more natural, more welcoming than ever. It flows between them with warmth and familiarity. It feels like home and Ben is shocked he remembers what that feels like at all.
"This is Ben?" Ahsoka asks Rey when they pull apart. The Togruta woman crosses her arms in front of her chest, her brows drawn together, looking between Ben and Rey in clear disapproval.
"Yes?" Rey answers.
"You didn't tell me he used the Dark Side." Ahsoka says, her eyes falling on the lightsaber hilt at Ben's waist again.
Ben almost laughs – almost. He's not sure how she can sense any Darkness inside of him while the Light burns so painfully bright. There is Darkness there, coiling coldly in his chest, but it is so quiet now, hardly a whisper. A threat or a promise, he can't say.
As a padawan in Luke's Jedi school, he'd read something in one of the old texts which has always stuck with him. Once the Dark path is chosen, forever will it dominate its user's destiny – had been the rough translation. The Jedi who had written it had surely meant it as a warning, which is how a young Ben Solo had taken it – an older Ben Solo, the one who called himself Kylo Ren, took it as a promise. A promise of a future without conflict once he finally committed himself, dedicated everything he had to the Dark Side – that never happened, of course. He's not sure how much truth there is in the old, long-dead Jedi's words, but he's also not sure he will ever have a life free from it, the Dark, if he even wants that, if that were ever possible for him.
"It's wasn't important." Rey says flippantly, her eyes falling to the ground.
"It's wasn't imp –"
"I assure you, I am on your side, Ahsoka." Ben says flatly. Ahsoka looks him up and down again, her eyes surveying.
"Do we know each other in your time?" She asks, her voice low, her brows raising minutely.
"Do we…"Ben sputters, his mind going blank at the question. Your time? What could she… How could she… Ben's head swivels around. "Rey?"
Rey, for her part, does not seem surprised or in any way flustered. Instead, her mouth sets in a hard line and she looks Ben directly in the eyes, her shoulders squaring.
"Don't look at me like that." She says pointing one finger up at his face. "I didn't have a choice. She saw Luke's lightsaber, what was I supposed to do?"
"It's Anakin's lightsaber," Ahsoka corrects offhandedly before turning her attention back to Ben and nodding. "I recognized it right away."
Ben bows his head and sighs.
"Does anyone else know?"
"Master Yoda." Ahsoka answers.
"Okay," Ben says, nodding. "Okay." Things could be worse. No one in his family knows – well, besides Vader – and he'd prefer to keep it that way.
"And he does want to see you, so let's go." Ahsoka says, finally clipping her lightsabers to the belt at her hips. She inclines her head, beckoning them to follow. Rey instantly grabs hold of Ben's hand, lacing her fingers through his. It fills him with a sense of peace he only feels when she is near and he exhales as a wave of tension leaves his body.
Ben hears Luke call his name from somewhere else in the clearing, but he ignores him. He does not have the energy, nor the patience to deal with his uncle right now. Ahsoka casts him and Rey sidelong glances as they make their way through the tree line towards wherever Yoda's home must be. She's frowning still, but she seems a fair bit more relaxed than she had previously.
"So, do we?" She asks after a short time.
"Do we what?" Ben asks once he realizes that her question is directed at him.
"Know each other."
"We've met." Ben answers quietly. "A few times – when I was young."
Ahsoka hums softly at that, confirmation that she has heard him, but says nothing more. They approach a small, domed structure, a hut. Ahsoka stops in front of it and a huff of dry laughter escapes Ben's throat.
"There's no way I'm getting in there." The home looks like it would be an appropriate size for a human child, or an alien of equivalent size. Ben's not even sure he could fit through the small doorway if he tried. Ahsoka shoots him a mild scowl, but before she can say anything, a small, green alien crosses the threshold of the hut.
"Come to you, I will." The old Jedi Grand Master says, his gimer stick digging into the soft soil at their feet. "Even old as I am." He looks between Ben and Rey, judging, assessing? Ben can't tell.
"Master Yoda," Rey begins, "This is Ben, the one I told you about, the one from the…"
"Future, yes, future." Yoda says with a hum. "Moves around you strangely, it does, the Force. Out of place, you are. Out of time."
"Obviously," Ben deadpans.
"Know how this happened, you do not?" He asks, though Ben is certain his uncle's old master knows the answer already.
"No," Ben answers, shaking his head slightly.
"Strange, hmm, very strange." Yoda says, narrowing his eyes which look at nothing and no one in particular. "Disturbing, yes."
"Have you ever heard of anything like this, Master Yoda?" Ahsoka asks from where she leans her back against the curved wall of his hut.
"Heard of this, never, no." The old master shakes his head, perhaps in despair. "The will of the Force, this is."
"Well, then what does it want?" Ben asks with a frustrated sigh having heard enough about the will of the Force to last him a couple of lifetimes.
"Know this, none of us can."
"Great," Ben mutters, running one hand through his hair.
"So, how do you know the Skywalkers in your time?" Ahsoka asks and Ben frowns deeply. Rey looks up at him and he shakes his head ever so slightly. He can see no benefit to telling Ahsoka his relation to Han, Leia, and Luke – it can only lead to further complications.
"Another Skywalker, he is." Yoda says pointing his little stick directly at Ben, nearly poking his knee.
Ben's mouth opens and closes dumbly for a moment or two, nothing escaping him but air and pure surprise, until realization hits him hard and fast.
"Kenobi told you." Ben says and it is as much an accusation as it is a question. Yoda laughs, a high, crackling sound, one that seems almost a little too manic for the Grand Master of the old Jedi Order. Of course, he has been alone on this Force-forsaken swamp planet for nearly twenty years, maybe just about anyone would go a little mad under those circumstances, even a revered Jedi Master.
"Tell me, he did." Yoda agrees with a nod, his tone pleased and a bit mischievous. "But sense it, also, I do."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Ashoka says, her hands held out in front of her, her eyes closed. "You are a Skywalker?" She looks up, pointing at him, her tone heavy with allegation.
"I – The others in my time might disagree with the title," Ben says, his voice low. He is careful to keep his tone free from any of the emotions that might linger behind those words. He can feel Rey stiffen beside him, can see her look up in his direction out of the corners of his eyes, but he presses on. "But, yes, I suppose I am, technically."
"How?"
"Leia – Leia is my mother." He grounds out, his jaw tense. He hasn't claimed her as such out loud in years. It feels strange, wrong, criminal, almost – like he shouldn't be allowed to, and maybe he shouldn't, after all he has done. Rey's grip on his hand tightens but he doesn't look at her.
"And Solo – he had to come because Solo is your…"
"Yes," Ben snaps before she can say it. His entire body has gone rigid. His own voice echoes in his ears, through his mind.
I killed Han Solo.
"There must be some way for us to get back." Rey says and she sounds like she's pleading. She leans slightly as if getting closer to Yoda's level will make the old Grand Master more sympathetic to her plight. "Maybe we're meant to tell you – to warn you about what happens next – what's coming!"
"Rey, I don't think that would be…" Ben begins but is interrupted by Yoda.
"No, no." Yoda says firmly, stamping his gimer stick into the mud. "Reveal anything of the future, you should not. Always in motion, the future is. Always changing, growing, evolving." He hums thoughtfully. "By the will of the Force, are you here. By the will of the Force will you go."
"And while you interpret the 'will of the Force'," Ben begins, no small amount of mockery in his tone. Ahsoka and Rey both shoot him slightly venomous looks, but he ignores them, plowing on. "What would you have us do?"
"Meditate on all of this, I must." Yoda sighs, turning to hobble back into his hut. "Tomorrow, will the Skywalker's training begin."
After getting their first glimpse of the tiny, domed structure the old green alien calls a home, everyone quickly realized they would need to find somewhere else to sleep. The gang decides on the Falcon, something Han notices he is not consulted on in any way, though when Ben arrives, Han is pretty sure Rey'll be sleeping on his ship.
"Nice ship," Han calls out to the big guy as he lumbers down the entry ramp of the, surely very expensive and certainly very stolen, Baudo-class yacht. "Very sleek." Ben shoots him a poisonous glower which makes Han laugh. He's not sure he'll ever tire of riling the guy up.
The sun sets quickly on Dagobah, swiftly dipping below the tree line, throwing the swampy planet into cool, moonless darkness. Han helps the kid set up a bonfire in the middle of the clearing between the two ships. It's a wonder how they find enough dry wood.
"Fancy matchstick, kid." Han mutters as the kid sticks the tip of his blue blade into the pile of lumber to set it alight. "You know I got actual matches on the ship." Han says, jutting his thumb out behind him towards where the Falcon sits.
"Oh," Luke says, his face going red. "Well, it worked anyway." He shrugs, inclining his head towards the glowing fire below him.
"Sure did," Han laughs.
Rey moves a few fallen logs around the fire for seating, they float up into the air, following the movement of her hands in a way Han is sure he will never not find unsettling. The kid tries to help, but his own log struggles to make it off the ground, when it does finally achieve lift-off the kid whoops enthusiastically. Rey laughs as the log falls back into the water-logged soil with a wet squish.
"I did it!" Luke cries, his fist pumping victoriously into the air. "Did you see that?"
"Sure did," Ahsoka says from where she has been watching. She flicks her fingers in his direction. "Now do it again."
Yoda does not join in on the festivities, something Han doesn't mind in the least – the old guy kinda weirds him out if he's honest. Han breaks out his stash of Sullustan gin, passing it around the campfire as the rest gather round. Rey refuses any, Ben quickly following suit.
Han leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Leia sits directly across from him, the glow of the fire dancing between them. Han watches her from over his cup of gin. She laughs easily with Ahsoka and Luke and Rey, not with Han though.
He'd thought maybe something would have changed after their… Confrontation? Connection? He isn't sure what the right word would be for what had passed between them, but after their whatever-that-was on Hoth, he'd thought things might be different, but they weren't, not really.
He'd held her and she'd cried and he'd led her back to her room. She'd stood in the doorway and he'd watched her, waiting for an invitation, but she hadn't given one, the door closing between them. The next day she'd acted as if nothing had happened at all and Han had followed her lead, pestering her in the way he knows will make her look at him, even if it's just to glare.
"So," Han turns his head to face Chewie who sits beside him on the same log. "How long you think this job's gonna last?"
Chewie only rumbles a low laugh and then grumbles something about how he's not sure, but that they'll have plenty of time to work on the Falcon, which is true, but Han would still rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than this swamp, even Hoth. He swats at his neck as he feels one of the blood-sucking bugs of the planet land on his skin. He curses as he pulls his hand away to find it covered in blood and bug guts, wiping the vile mixture onto his pant leg.
Rey and Ben sit close, huddled together on the same log, the man's arm draped over the girl. Han chuckles softly, watching them, lost in their own little world. They whisper surely disgustingly sweet and saccharine things to each other – or, maybe not so sweet, Han thinks as he watches the girl's face go bright red.
"I'm very tired." Rey says, rising quickly, her face still as red as a muja fruit. "I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight!"
She looks down at Ben who also stands but doesn't bother with the same transparent excuse. The two walk off together towards that big, black yacht of Ben's.
"Rest safely you two!" Han calls out, completely unable to help himself. He barks out a dry laugh as the big guy stills, starts to turn around, but stops when his girl tugs on his sleeve, beckoning him to follow her – he complies, of course, the lovesick fool.
"D' those two not just make you sick?" Han asks the rest of the group, taking a large swig of his drink.
"Uh… no?" Luke answers before taking a sip of his own drink.
"It's wartime, and they're in love. I think it's sweet." The princess responds, sounding defensive, as always.
Of course she does. Of course she thinks it's sweet. Maybe it is sweet where she comes from, that world of royalty and luxury. Maybe there, love is real and lasts and doesn't break you apart. Leia'll probably marry a prince, one with soft, clean hands and formal education and no scars, inside or out. Maybe love doesn't hurt people like Leia Organa.
"There ain't nothin' sweet about love, sister." Han offers, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
The princess blusters nonsense sounds at that, her face screwing up into the familiar mixture of indignant rage and blatant offense. Han laughs.
"I wasn't talking about that kind of love, princess, don't blow a gasket." He smiles when he sees that he's only set her off further. There's something about the way she glares at him from over the fire, the flames dancing and reflecting against warm brown irises, the heat in her eyes – he's a glutton for it. "I was talking about the real kind, it's a monster."
"No, it's not!" She retorts and, not for the first time, Han wonders if she disagrees with him simply because she likes arguing with him as much as he does with her. "Love is beautiful."
Han laughs again, a full belly-laugh, which, as with everything else he does, only offends her worshipfulness more.
"And what do you know about love, your highness?" Han shakes his head. "What are you, eighteen?"
"I'm nineteen." Thank you very much, he practically hears her not add at the end. She smiles smugly as if one extra year makes all that much of a difference, though, for someone her age, it probably feels like it does.
Han suppresses a grimace. She seems… older than that, but the kid, who is apparently her twin brother, seems almost younger. Maybe Han just doesn't know what nineteen-year-olds are like anymore. Did he ever, though? When he was their age he was still on the streets, a scrumrat running small jobs for the White Worms – not exactly your typical adolescence, he's gathered.
"Well then," He raises his cup of gin sarcastically. "You must be an expert." He winks.
"I have been in love before." She says, lifting her chin, almost in challenge, her eyes narrowing.
"I'm sure you have, plenty of times, princess." He offers a playful half-smile and he keeps his voice low, so low he's not even sure she can hear him.
Luke looks between the two of them and rolls his eyes. Han had completely forgotten that the kid was there, that he and Leia weren't alone.
"I'm going to bed." Luke says, throwing his hands up into the air and walking away from the dying fire.
"Me too," Ahsoka says, rising. "I don't want any part of this." She adds, shooting Han what is surely a very judgmental glare. The princess' arms fold over her chest, her mouth downturned into a heavy frown.
Chewie claps Han on the back roughly and rumbles that he is also heading in for the night and reminds him to put out the fire before he heads in as well. Han nods in agreement.
"Looks like it's just you and me now, your highness." Han says, leaning forward towards the fire, towards Leia.
It's difficult to tell in the warm, orange glow of the fire between them, but he can swear that he sees Leia's cheeks flush pink. She confuses him, Princess Leia of Alderaan. He can't tell if she's attracted to him or if she hates his guts – though, it might actually be both. All Han knows is that he doesn't hate the princess. Yes, she's a little high-and-mighty sometimes, and stubborn as all hell, but he decidedly does not hate her.
"No," She says, standing and wiping her hands on the front of her pants. She looks at the ground and not at him when she speaks. "It looks like it's just you. I'm going to bed as well." She stalks off towards the Falcon but stops. "Goodnight, Han." She adds very quietly without turning around.
If it were anyone else, some girl in a cantina Han would jump up, wrap his arms around her and whisper low in her ear that she wasn't going anywhere. Then, he would hold her, wait for her to kiss him and then… but she's not anyone else, she's the princess, she's Leia, and the way he figures it, she's as likely to smack him as she is to kiss him. She's not just anyone, so he lets her go.
Vader looks out over the volcanic hellscape of Mustafar. He'd arrived hours ago, Vaneé greeting him at his shuttle, as always. Vader's reasons for returning here are threefold, he needs to get away from Sidious, firstly, he has research to do and cannot conduct it anywhere near his master, not safely at least. Secondly, he desperately needs to heal in his bacta tank. Thirdly, he needs to strengthen his connection to the Dark Side in ways only this place will allow.
His gaze is trained firmly on one spot in the near distance, a rocky shore on a river of lava, the place where Kenobi nearly destroyed him, the place of his birth. Much like Tatooine, there are ghosts that live on this planet, and they are louder now than they have ever been before.
Anakin, all I want is your love.
You brought him here to kill me!
I have failed you, Anakin. I have failed you.
It is the end for you, my master.
It's over Anakin, I have the high ground!
You underestimate my power!
You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.
I hate you!
The voices of spirits long past ring through Vader's head, tearing at the last shreds of his soul, ripping him limb from limb over and over again. He stares down at the place of his ultimate failure. Had he defeated Kenobi here, he could have saved Padmé, his children never would have been taken from him, he would have defeated Sidious and he and Padmé would have rule the galaxy as he had planned. The depths of that failure are revealed to him only now as he reflects on how he will return his children to him.
Vader breathes deeply as he reaches out to the Force, as he pulls it to him, wielding it and shaping it with his influence, manipulating it to his needs. He pushes outwards further and further, feeling, grabbing, seeking. Surely, the Force will give him some sign, some clue as to where his children might be. A direction or a feeling. If the girl had truly been in a different location, if she had been on the rebel's new base, it is likely somewhere cold, but that hardly narrows down locations.
Vader snatches at the Force and compels it to give him something, anything, he – and there it is. A speck, but one so blindingly bright and familiar that Vader would know it anywhere, his son. There is no way to pinpoint an exact location, but if he can sense his son he must be nearby, in a system not too far from Mustafar's. It is not much, but it is something.
Son. Vader projects the word towards the faraway speck that is his son's Force signature. He is not sure if his son can even hear him at this distance but then he feels a shift in his son's presence, something a little frightened, a little surprised, and a little excited.
Father.