—Chapter 25: Finding Peace—

At the ceremony's conclusion, some of the attendees dispersed to reflect more privately. Others crowded together, loath to be apart from one another. Ren said good night to his friends and headed into what was formerly Simeon's cottage to make use of the unoccupied bed there. Rey watched him with interest, worried for her son, yet satisfied that he was in an emotionally satisfactory place before shifting her attention to the others.

Malfi gave Temiri a long hug before letting him wander off into the forest by himself to find his private cottage. She bid everyone else good night and settled into her tent a short distance from where Ren was sleeping.

"Finnie, you're welcome to sleep in here with me again," said Malfi. "Unless you want to sleep with your dad or something. I'll prepare your bedding for you, just in case."

"Thanks Malfi, I'm not sure yet, but if I decide to join you, I promise I won't be long. Don't feel like you need to wait up for me if I don't come right away."

"Okay. Good night, Finnie."

"Good night, Malfi."

Poe and Finn had decided to take a stroll along the edge of the forest, and had invited her along. She was glad for a chance to talk to them in relative privacy. Finn held his daughter's hand as they walked, grateful to share in a little peace with his family. Finnie made sure he got to enjoy almost a good, solid minute of that before ruining it by asking to leave.

"Dad, I'm going to spend the night in Temiri's cabin," she said, not asking, but telling. "Someone needs to keep an eye on him, and frankly, I think I'm the best equipped person here for that job."

Finn studied her uncertainly. He sighed—it wasn't clear whether it was a sigh of frustration, defeat, or simple acceptance. "I'm finally clear-headed enough to properly decompress with you about everything that's happened lately, and you want to run off to spend the night in a boy's cabin. Are you a teenager already?"

"And, not to be a dick," interjected Poe, "but it's a fact that we're talking about a boy that nearly killed us, like, a day ago. That's who you're asking permission—'permission'—" he added, using scare quotes, "to go have a sleepover with."

"Yes, my rebellious phase is really kicking in," she said, deadpan. "You know he's vulnerable right now. And you know his kyber crystal picked me, for whatever reason. It picked Malfi too, but frankly, she's still a little too naïve to be in a position to support him in the way he needs. Someone has to watch out for him. Malfi can't do it, Rey has Ren to worry about, and you guys—sorry—are nothing to him. It has to be me."

"And when did you become something to him?" her father teased. It was rhetorical, so she didn't answer beyond staring at him cavalierly. Finn sighed, giving what she had said before an honest evaluation. "So it wasn't a dream, then… You really did cut me out of jail with a laser sword."

"Let's not go nuts," said Poe. "It sounds like kind of a slutty laser sword…"

Finn and Finnie exchanged an amused and dismissive look with one another before deciding to simply ignore Poe's comment.

"I'm just saying," he continued, "even I know these things are only supposed to bond with one person, and this one seems to like not one, not two, but three people. Loose…" he added, with a swift shake of his head.

Finnie smiled, knowing she had earned their permission—not that she really needed it to do what she knew was the right thing to do, but it was nice to have, all the same.

"I'm sad I don't get to spend more time with you tonight though," said Finn, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing the back of it as they continued their stroll. "So much has happened to you, to everyone, really, and I feel like… like I need to be there for you, but…"

He didn't finish his thought, but Finnie knew exactly what he was saying: 'But you don't need me anymore…' Knowing her father inside and out, she knew there were two reasons he cut his words short. The first is that he knew it wasn't true—she needed him plenty. Of that there was no doubt. But there was more.

The second reason is that—and this is the part that, as a father, he didn't want to admit—that he needed her too. During hard times, they had always supported each other; he leaned on her as much as she leaned on him. With everything that was going on with Finnie right now, she knew it had to hurt him that he had emotional needs of his own, and that he couldn't be one-hundred percent giving of himself—that there would be take, as well as give. If her father had a failing, it's that he seldom allowed himself permission to need, and everything he'd ever taken, he'd taken with guilt.

But it wasn't just the two of them anymore. Their family had gotten larger, and the needing and the giving could be extended beyond their father-daughter relationship. Circumstances being what they were, the network of support would need to stretch out to include at least a couple other people as well.

"I'm sorry, dad," she said, squeezing his hand affectionately. "I promise there will be time later for just the two of us. For now though, I need to be there for someone else. As for you, I leave you in Poe's capable hands."

Poe blushed slightly, not that you could see it in the encroaching night. He smiled meekly to himself as he watched the two of them, so sweet with each other, feeling for the first time like more than just a voyeur into their familial relationship—he felt belonging. "He'll be fine, don't worry," said Poe. "Go do your thing."

Finnie smiled at him. "Thanks guys. By offering your permission, you're denying me the satisfaction of sneaking out in the middle of the night just to spite you. This will absolutely prevent me from rebelling against you in the future…"

"Way to make me feel good about my decision to enable you in your present rebellion against me. I'm so manipulated, and I can't even tell," said her father, completely straight-faced.

"That's right," she said. "I'll see you in the morning then. Until then, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Good night, boys." She then veered left under the forest canopy, leaving the two of them to walk the rest of the night alone with each other.

"What did she mean by that—'Don't do anything I wouldn't do'?" asked Poe.

"Don't ask me," replied Finn. "She's a terror, that one. Takes after her mother…"

Poe ruminated on that for a bit. "You raised a fucking Jedi," he said, with his own unique kind of reverence.

Finn shook his head. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Buddy, I think you may have had everything to do with that—in the nature versus nurture debate, I think it's safe to say that in this case, nature lost."

"All we did was try to model what it looks like to put others first. It was her choice what she was going to do with that."

"Well, whatever. The Force picked her for a reason, and I think you deserve some credit, that's all."

"Thank you. I guess I'll take it."

"You should."

"Mmm," hummed Finn, closing out the discussion.

The two of them walked peacefully, quietly, for a while longer. The trill of the forest insects pulsed in a steady rhythm. The night was warm, and the glow from the pair of moons in orbit overhead bathed everything in a soft luminescence. The peace was almost hypnotic. Poe could hardly believe the contrast from the day before, and was instantly more grateful than he'd ever felt to have the life he had. "I love you, Finn," he said with absolute clarity.

Finn extended an arm and took his friend's hand, running his thumb back and forth over Poe's knuckles. "I love you too. Thank you for taking care of me and my daughter."

Poe gave Finn's hand a gentle squeeze. "It's what family does."

—

Finnie approached the door to Temiri's cottage, relieved that his light was still on in spite of how long she'd spent with her dad and Poe. She made little attempt to enter quietly. "Knock, knock," she said, throwing aside the curtain at his door and stepping presumptuously inside.

Startled, Temiri turned around, shirtless, the truncated stump of his shoulder on full display for her. She turned around as she pulled the curtain shut, hoping the red in her cheeks would subside before she had to face him again.

"You know, it's customary to wait for admittance after announcing your presence at someone's door," he said.

"I'm a rule-breaker. Just ask my dad," she said, recovered. "I'm sleeping here. Don't worry, I brought a pillow and a blanket—I know my comfort is of utmost importance to you, I didn't want to put you out."

He furrowed his brow at her as he reached for a lightweight robe to pull on over his exposed torso. He couldn't tie it shut, and it kept slipping off on his right side, but he felt at least a little less naked holding it in place across his chest. "I don't suppose it's news to you that you're a pain in the ass."

"Sorry, I learned my sarcastic banter from the very best."

"Mm," he said, throwing his own blankets back and kicking off his shoes. "There's another pillow in the wardrobe if you need it," he said begrudgingly.

"Thanks," she said. "I appreciate that you're not trying to throw me out."

"I know you wouldn't leave if I tried."

"Maybe you're not as dumb as I thought."

"No, I am. A smarter man would be able to outmaneuver your stubbornness."

"You're right," she said, smiling. She really did love sparring with people—with weapons and with words. She wasn't about to tell him so, but he was keeping up. "Where is it?" she asked, changing the subject.

He looked at her, taking a moment to determine what she was referring to—it wasn't the extra pillow. Understanding, he pulled out a chair at the table where he'd discarded his shirt upon undressing. Rummaging around in the pile, he produced Simeon's lightsaber and set it on the table. "There," he said, gesturing at it.

"Good," she said. "I expect it will still be there in the morning."

"Unless a ghost comes and takes it," he said, immediately regretting his choice of words. His staid expression faltered, and he turned around to face his bed.

She watched him hide from her, and allowed herself to pity him, just a bit. "You don't need to be embarrassed. You're not going to let me down. I'm not Malfi—I already don't think you're perfect."

He scoffed. "It's… It's a little hard to tolerate right now, how much she loves me."

"She really, really does," admitted Finnie. "She has the kindest soul I've ever encountered. She invited me to be her friend when no one else would."

Temiri sat down in his bed, pulled the sheets up to his waist, and sat there, thinking. He glanced over at Finnie, who had made herself comfortable in a makeshift bed across the room from him, on the floor in front of the trunk on the opposite wall. He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said.

Finnie stopped straightening her blanket and looked back at him. "For what?" she asked.

"For—nothing, never mind. Good night," he said, reaching out with the Force to turn out his light.

"Good night," she answered back in the darkness.

—

Temiri had to wait a long time before he was certain she was asleep. Now that he knew she was Force sensitive, he tread more lightly, uncertain how far her skills had progressed in the short time she'd come to be in some control of her powers. Could she read his mind? Would she be able to tell if he tried to read hers? Not willing to risk being discovered by her, he'd had to find proof of her slumber the old-fashioned way. He listened carefully to the quality of the sounds she made when he knew she was still awake, and he listened to them evolve into something else. Then he had to listen for a bit longer to make sure the noises were, in fact, what they sounded like. And then he had to wait even longer to make sure her sleep was deep enough that he could stir without waking her.

Carefully, quietly, he shifted the blankets off of himself and slid his legs out from under them and onto the floor, finding his slippers. He watched Finnie closely, his eyes well adjusted to the darkness, alert for any sign of her waking.

He eased himself up soundlessly and took a step toward the table, seizing his former master's lightsaber and heading for the door. Slipping past the curtain and into the forest, he took a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly, so as not to make a sound. Moving around covertly in the forest would not be as easy—the risk of snapping a stray twig or disturbing a low bush was high.

Gradually, he was able to put enough distance between himself and the cottage that he was reasonably sure he could make some noise and not be heard even if she was awake. He approached enough of a break in the forest canopy that the light reflecting off of the larger of Dendrokaan's two moons provided illumination enough for him to see that the ground was relatively even. He dropped to his knees, and held the lightsaber out in front of him.

In the moonlight, he studied the weapon. Like his own, Simeon had built it to be modest: Relatively smooth, its exterior was constructed from just a few, solid pieces, rather than a multitude of smaller parts soldered together. In his hand, he felt its weight like he was holding up his entire past. Though he knew intuitively where it would be and didn't need to look to find it, he nevertheless turned the weapon slightly downward so the dim light from the moon would reflect off the ignition switch and make it visible to his eyes. He ignited the weapon.

He focused on the blade. He thought of his slain teacher, his adoptive family, and his abusive father. He looked back on the arc of his life as the yellow plasma filled his vision, obliterating everything else from view. All of his successes, all of his mistakes; all roads converged here. In this moment, it was time to decide where the path would lead going forward.

"Simeon," he said, staring into the brilliant yellow blade held aloft in front of him. "I want you to know that I'm sorry. I have no excuse for what I did—stupidity isn't an excuse. I didn't trust you enough… I couldn't be convinced that you cared. In my heart, I didn't believe that I was deserving of it. Despite what everyone seems intent on having me believe, I'm not sure I can accept it even now." Temiri shut his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing himself onward. "But regardless of whether or not you cared about me, you didn't deserve what I did to you. And I'm sorry."

Temiri opened his eyes and looked on the yellow plasma once more. In its light, there was so much potential: The power to kill; the power to cut through obstacles; the power to make everything stop; and through it all, the hum of the crystal, and the soul it carried. An endless presence, complicit but not unaware of how its user decides to wield it. Whatever he might choose to do with this weapon, its light would illuminate his path.

Temiri lowered the saber to his knees and extinguished it. He bowed his head, closed his eyes again, and began to weep.

"I forgive you."

Temiri's breath caught in his throat. He listened. He must have imagined it.

"I said I forgive you. Open your eyes, son."

Temiri's heart raced. He was losing his mind, but in his mind, Simeon was alive. If he opened his eyes, it might break the spell his mind was under, and cruel reality would reassert itself.

"For the last time, open your eyes so I know you're hearing me."

At last, Temiri obeyed, and his lying eyes beheld the luminous presence of his teacher. "S—Simeon?" Temiri stuttered. "Am I dreaming? Did I kill myself, and this is the netherworld? No, not that… I won't find myself in the same plane as you…"

"It is neither, my boy—you live, and I do not. But by the grace of the Force, I am not gone, and you are not finished either."

Temiri cried, grateful for this exchange, devastated that he couldn't rise to the challenge that was being implied—expected. "I'm afraid I am done, Simeon. I fell… I couldn't balance the Light and the Dark… I let it take me, and now I know… it could take me again… I'm not strong enough to resist it…"

"None of us is, alone," he said. "Temiri, what Rey said about me tonight… You understand that she was correct, do you not?"

Temiri looked at him, his diaphragm heaving with sorrow, but no words came.

"My whole life, I've been uncomfortable with familiarity. Intellectually, I understood the importance of emotional attachment, and encouraged it in my students. The Jedi Order discouraged attachment because they believed that love was a weakness, an opportunity to manipulate you out of fear of the loss of that love. The Sith encouraged attachment for the same reason—to use as leverage against you. Both Orders agreed that love could lead to one becoming a tool of the Dark Side…

"Neither Order had this right, of course. Love is not a weakness, it is a strength. It is what binds the universe together, like the Force itself. Love is what keeps us out of the Darkness. It's what saves us from it.

"When I found Lord Solo… Ben… I dedicated myself to him and Rey because I could see that theirs was a love that could change the very nature of the galaxy itself. Together, they are balanced. Accepting of the Darkness that exists in us all, but measured enough to know that these proclivities are unsustainable if we were to let them take us over completely. It's not for us to deny that jealousy, anger, fear, pride, and wickedness reside in our souls—our fate is to accept that those things are there, but that we are still capable of greatness and love even though they are there, and to forgive ourselves and others when we lose control. Hope, Temiri. Hope remains—as long as there is life."

Temiri listened. As long as there is life…

Simeon continued, "I recognized the need for love in this universe, but foolishly, it didn't occur to me that anyone would want it from me. It was good enough for me to love, and to serve, and to cultivate love. My failure was in not believing that the love I had to give was a love that anyone either expected or wanted, so I kept them at a distance. I kept you at a distance. When I should have loved you like a father, I instead held you at arm's length. I do love you, Temiri, and I'm sorry. I forgive you. All I want is for you to forgive me in return."

Temiri shuddered, staring hopefully into the eyes of the ghost before him. He could not summon his breath, so he nodded.

"Thank you," said Simeon. "Now, if you are going to find redemption, you must continue to live, and to fight for those whom you love. It is not enough to repent and excuse yourself from the fight. You have work ahead. But you do not have to fight alone—you have support also."

Temiri was listening, but he still doubted that he had the tools or the mettle to carry out what he would need to do. "I've lost my soul," he said. "My crystal… it has abandoned me…"

"You are wrong," said Simeon. "It is you who is shutting it out. Lonâm was the one to first close your mind to its call, but now that your mind is free, it is your own failure to listen that is keeping it out. Your crystal chose you, and it chose Malfi and Finnie because it knows that you need them. It looks out for you still. Look on Finnie as a guardian angel, not as a competitor."

Temiri gave a tiny laugh. "An angel…" he said. "Are you quite sure she wasn't sent by the Force to torture me?"

Simeon nodded his head in acknowledgement of what Temiri was getting at. "I do admit she has… a way about her—she is not subtle. Among all of the many kind messages I was sent this evening, more than a few included pleas that I come to your aid: 'Please forgive him', 'please help him'…" Temiri blushed, embarrassed at the amount of attention it seemed he had garnered at an event that was ostensibly centered around his teacher. "Finnie's message was… not a request so much as an order," added Simeon.

Temiri was dumbfounded. "She… she gave you an order?"

"If I may quote her directly… 'You need to forgive him,' she said. 'From what I've read, Jedi are sometimes too elegant in their speech, to the point that it is both vague and opaque. I may be Force sensitive, but I am not a Jedi, so let me be clear: If you can manifest, and I'm certain you can, then you need to show up and tell him you forgive him. Help him. You'd be…'" Simeon paused, crinkling his ethereal brow as he recalled Finnie's exact words "'…an asshole not to, and I didn't know you well, but I know you're not an asshole. So he'll see you tonight, yes? Thanks, bye.'"

Temiri was stunned, but convinced. "There is… no way you're making that up."

"You may rest assured," replied Simeon. "Clearly, there are those in your life who agree that I've left far too much to subtext, and won't risk using it with me. They are all correct, of course. And I needed the push. I'm sorry I can be so… cowardly."

"No, it's fine," said Temiri. "It's a relief, even. Thank you."

"Open your heart, Temiri. Learn to feel and accept the love and support that others have for you. Believe that it is genuine, and that you are worthy of receiving it. Ben still needs you, now more than ever. He loves you as much as I. His salvation and your redemption lie along the same path."

There was still so much he didn't understand, but Temiri nodded anyway. He now at least had a goal, something to aim for. How to get there, however, remained shrouded in mystery. Temiri stiffened, desperate to ask a question that had been plaguing him, but not sure if he should. "Simeon, why… why did Ben attack me? The others said it wasn't really him. If it wasn't him… then who was it?"

Simeon shook his head wearily, and sat himself down on a fallen tree. "I'm afraid that, even in death, I do not know the interloper's true identity. I had hoped the answer to that question would become apparent by the time we were finished with our investigation, but it did not. I only know as much as I know now because I am one with the Force itself, and that has its advantages. Thanks to that, I may at least have some leads for you."

In other words, had Simeon lived, Temiri would not be privy to the information he was about to receive. Temiri looked away. "I'm not sure I even want to know," he said. "I don't like knowing something that I wouldn't know if I hadn't…" he cut himself off, swallowing a knot in his throat. "If you had lived," he finished more quietly.

"Don't feel bad, my son. There is no death, there is the Force. This is how it is meant to be." Simeon paused, waiting for a signal that Temiri was open to hearing what Simeon had to tell him. After a moment's reassurance, he continued.

"The Dark Side of the Force is gathering," he said. "I have felt its tendrils throughout the galaxy, and they are coalescing. Points of Darkness, stretching out toward something, as though reaching for a lifeline, or for a knife."

"A knife?" said Temiri.

"The correct analogy eludes me," answered Simeon. "Somewhere, deep in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, something… a beacon, perhaps… is calling the Darkness to action. I suspect that the Black Dragons, whatever their local goals may have been on Naboo, are part of a larger, organized network. I believe that whatever happened to Ben was the catalyst for something much more nefarious, something taking place on a galactic scale." Simeon closed his eyes. "I can almost hear his voice calling out to them."

"You mean Ben's voice?"

"Yes, almost. It's not a voice, but it calls to them, and it has his signature, but not his soul. I'm afraid I can't describe it any better than that. I just know that something is happening on a much grander scale than we previously thought, and it connects to whatever happened to Ben."

Temiri nodded. "I think I understand what you're saying." Temiri then bit his lip, trying to concentrate. "What could it mean? What are they up to?" he said, thinking out loud, but his mind was stymied by fatigue. He yawned, "I need to get some sleep. Maybe in the morning I'll be able to sort this out. Simeon, thank you. I feel like I know what I have to do now. I'm still, just… so sorry. But I'm going to try and make it right. With your help, I think I can. So thank you."

"The gratitude is mine. I will be here if you need me, watching."

"'There is no death, there is the Force,'" recited Temiri.

"Just so. Good night, my son. Be well."

Temiri breathed a contented sigh, and watched in wonderment as the image faded, and he found himself alone in the pale moonlight once more. It was too quiet now, so he ignited the blade in his hands, listening to its hum, allowing its light to assist him back home.

Before he was too near his cottage for the sound of it to be jarring, he extinguished the lightsaber and tried to walk the remaining distance in the near total darkness. Stumbling, he took a moment to pause, opening his mind. There. He could hear it: the hum of his kyber crystal, calling him home. His pulse quickened with elation, and he hurried the rest of the way back.

By the time he'd reached the doorway, his eyes had once again adjusted to the dark, and he was able to find his bed without tripping or making unnecessary noise. Back in bed, he pulled the blankets up to his neck and stared up at the ceiling.

"He came, then?"

Temiri jumped slightly at the noise, in spite of being utterly unsurprised by the question. "Yes," he said. "I mean, only an asshole would've left me high and dry, don't you think?"

"Uh huh. And I didn't know him to be an asshole."

"Neither did I."