She's having dinner with Finn at one of the cheap hole-in-the-wall places he delights in discovering on expensive Coruscant. Finn's a regular at this mom-and-pop Corellian bistro, so after the proprietor stops by the table to say hello, everyone leaves them alone. The Jedi and the General having dinner together garners a few looks, but the other customers let them eat in privacy.
But they're still in public, so Finn leans across the table as he confides more political scoop. "What you don't know is that behind the scenes, we're getting a lot of pressure . . . a lot of pressure. You've got the major systems—especially the corporate industrial systems—that are clamoring for a ceasefire deal. They are way out ahead of places like Chandrila."
"Kuat and Corellia?" she guesses.
Finn nods. "Those two worlds are very good at protecting their own interests. And by that, I mean protecting their credits and investments." His tone is now firmly derisive. Finn's face is a mixture of disgust and frustration. "We know from experience that they will go rogue, if pushed. So, they have all the leverage. We have to listen to them."
Rey finishes the thought: "Or the Republic could crumble into its constituent systems . . . " It's precisely the strategy that Ben intends.
"Yep, that's the fear," Finn sighs. "We all lose if that happens. Rey, you should know that there are systems that have outright told us behind closed doors that they want peace at any price. They think peace has value . . . I'm not so sure." His lips twist into a grimace as he declares, "Ren can't be trusted. This all feels like a set up."
In some ways, Finn is right. His Force attuned instincts serve him well. But unfortunately, that's not helping the prospects of peace. So, Rey starts to champion her goal with a soft sell. "It's a leap of faith, I know," she commiserates, "but I believe in peace too."
Finn shoots her a look. "Does that mean you believe in Ren?"
"I believe he sincerely wants peace."
That comment earns her another hard look. Finn puts down his fork, sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms. "I wish you weren't so gullible for him. He saved your life, but you don't owe him anything."
Rey remains silent. The less said about Ben, the better.
Finn notices. He raises a goading eyebrow.
It prompts her to respond, "None of this is imminent. We have a lot of open issues left. Big ones."
"If you're talking about Hosnia as a sticking point, you're wrong," Finn admits after another furtive look around to be certain he's not overheard.
This is news. Rey blinks and leans forward. The food she's been toying with is forgotten. "Really?"
"Yes. Places like Kuat say all the right things in public, but they don't care much about Hosnia. It's basically 'better them than us.'"
"If the Starkiller had survived, Kuat might have been next," she points out.
"Right. They know that they are a target. It's part of why they are so anxious for peace. They'll sell out Hosnian survivors to save their own skins."
"Can you blame them?" She didn't survive in the desert on her own for years by worrying about lost causes and dead men. "Finn, life is for the living. Nothing will bring Hosnia back."
The ex-stormtrooper grunts. "That doesn't mean Ren gets a pass for genocide."
"Ben was the Apprentice," she reminds him. "He didn't make the decisions. Snoke did."
Finn looks up from his plate. "Oh, so it's Ben now?"
"Ren. Did I say Ben?" Yikes! "I meant Ren." Rey quickly averts her eyes.
But not before Finn notices. He calls her out. "That's how you think of him, isn't it? As Ben Solo?"
Rey gulps but answers honestly. "Yeah . . . yeah, I guess I do."
She gets an 'oh please' look from her exasperated friend. "This is more of you wanting to save his Dark soul, isn't it?"
"No." And wait—that came out too fast. Rey says it again, trying to sound less defensive. "No. It's not." She even lifts her chin.
Finn isn't fooled. "Come on, Rey—"
"Look, General Organa always referred to him as Ben. I guess that's how I think of him," Rey squirms in her seat.
"She spoke to you about him?"
"A little. He was a cautionary tale."
"I'll bet," Finn snorts. "And here you are defending him. Look, whether or not Kylo Ren is personally responsible for the Starkiller Base is sort of beside the point, isn't it? I mean, he gets the blame because he leads the First Order. It might not have happened on his watch, but now he's the commander."
"I suppose that's right," Rey concedes to this logic.
"I don't hear him or his fascist crazies saying 'sorry, we blew up your planet.' If anything, they're proud of it," Finn complains. He's right, too.
"Would that do it?" Rey probes. "Would Kylo Ren publicly apologizing make everyone happy?"
Finn scoffs at the notion, "Of course, not. But it would be a start."
It's not a start. It's a non-starter as far as Ben is concerned. But, in an attempt to make his case for the issue, Rey presses her friend again. "Nothing will bring Hosnia back. Rather than focusing on the past, why can't we focus on the future? Make the First Order pay reparations to the survivors so they can rebuild their lives elsewhere. Make B-Ren promise not to build another Starkiller. Then make real peace so he won't be tempted to break that promise."
Finn shakes his head at her. "It all comes down to trust. I don't trust that guy." Her friend now shoots her a strange look that might be suspicion but might be mere censure. He adds, "I'm surprised you do," before he resumes eating.
Rey is getting annoyed. "What choice do we have except to trust him? Finn, more war is not the solution!" And wait, that came out a little too loudly. But thankfully, it doesn't look like her outburst has attracted any attention.
Finn takes a drink before he quietly asks, "Do you think the invasion threat is real?"
"Do you really want to find out?"
"I don't think it's real. I think it's a bluff and we panicked and fell for it."
That's true. Again, Finn is insightful and getting dangerously close to the truth. Skittish Rey gets off that topic immediately. Switching to their mutual friend, she asks, "Where is Poe on these issues? When we brief him on the negotiations, he keeps pretty quiet."
Finn answers with a shrug. "Officially, he's in favor of exploring peace."
She already knows that. "I'm talking unofficially. Like off the record between friends."
Finn meets her eyes levelly. "He's as skeptical of Ren as we all are."
That's still not an answer. Rey starts reasoning out loud now. "Well, he's running for Senate, so he's going to have to take a position eventually. All the other candidates are coming out with public statements."
"He's not just running for Senate . . ."
"Yeah, I know." Everyone knows that Poe wants to be Chancellor to replace the current interim head of state who has turned out to be far more than the temporary figurehead the Resistance leadership expected. The evolving personal animosity and emerging political rivalry between Poe and the Chancellor has become sufficiently well known to merit rumors in the press. But in front of the cameras, the two Republic leaders keep things polite and respectful.
There are a lot of different dynamics at work behind the scenes of the Republic, Rey knows. It's more than merely the range of opinions on the actual issues. There are more subtle, unacknowledged personal incentives as well. Poe's and hers, for certain.
Finn chews a bit before he decides, "Poe's going to have to put some contrast between him and the Chancellor on the peace process. It's good politics."
"Well, she has all but said that peace is doomed to fail, so that means Poe ought to be more optimistic?" Rey asks hopefully.
Her friend's answer is bluntly political. "Coruscant has a lot rich people. If Poe wants to be Senator for Coruscant, he's going to have to advance their interests. If you guys get close to some sort of deal, I'll bet credits he will sell out and endorse it. And then, if he wins the Chancellorship, we might get peace whether we want it or not."
Sell out? Those are harsh words. Rey frowns. "It's not like you to be so cynical . . . "
"Yeah? Well, I set out to defeat the First Order, not make nice to them," Finn grumbles. "I'm in this for the Republic, not for my own ambitions. Poe has . . . well, he's let some of this go to his head . . . "
She disagrees. "I think it's more that he can't get along with the Chancellor."
"She can be difficult at times," Finn allows. "Maybe her language can be a little extreme, but her heart is in the right place."
Perhaps so, but she's not the leadership the galaxy needs at this critical moment. Every speech the woman makes is a scolding polemic. There can be no common ground with her constant shouting for the cameras. "Finn, she was the wrong choice for that position. Poe would be a much better choice."
"General Organa would certainly think so. Apparently, she detested the woman when she was still in the Senate," Finn reveals. "We knew that, and yet we picked her anyway."
Rey's eyes widen. "Leia hated her? Wow. That's saying something . . . " Leia Organa was a woman of strong opinions, but she was never petty or shallow. If she didn't like someone, it was for good reason.
Finn shrugs and reminds her, "There weren't many choices. The Senators were mostly dead thanks to the Starkiller. And she's okay. Poe just has too thin a skin sometimes." Finn being Finn, he basically gets along with everyone, and he thinks Poe should do the same. He's much more of a team player than his prima donna counterpart General Dameron.
"Poe says he is carrying on the General's legacy . . . I guess that includes disliking the Chancellor. How bad is it between them?" Rey fishes.
"It's fine for now, but it's going to get worse as the election approaches," Finn judges. "I'm sure the First Order will love it as we bicker among ourselves. This is the moment when we need unity the most," he complains. "Everyone needs to put their ego aside for a bit."
Like usual, Finn is focused on the greater good, and never on his own role. It's in sharp contrast to Poe who has aligned his own ambitions to his cause. Poe is positioned as the young, attractive, charismatic war hero who will pivot into Republic civic leadership following in the footsteps of his beloved mentor and mother figure Leia Organa. And Finn? Well, he's in the mold of the Jedi Generals of old who fought the Clone Wars. Not for the first time, Rey thinks her friend would make a far better Jedi than she is.
Rey resumes picking at her food. It might have been a mistake to let Finn order for her. He is a much more adventurous eater than she is. But gamely trying not to waste food, she chews away. "So . . . what would you think about us doing the Hosnia negotiations face to face?" She's feeling Finn out for Ben's next big move.
The stormtrooper general reacts with surprise. "You mean actually sitting down with the enemy?"
"Yes."
"I don't know . . . I'm not so sure I want to do that . . . "
"Because?"
"Because we might get a deal," Finn sighs.
"And that's a bad thing?"
"I told you—I don't trust Ren."
"But you really think we might get a deal?" Rey can't keep the note of excitement from her voice.
"If I were a betting man, I'd say the odds for peace are at least 50-50."
"Oh, wow . . . " She's in the daily negotiation meetings and she would never have assessed things so optimistically. Then again, she's mired in the details while Finn has the vantage point of the larger political picture.
He gives her a quelling look now. "Don't mistake a deal for victory. Any deal we get is just a placeholder before war resumes."
That pessimism is honest and sobering. Rey can see now the wisdom of Ben's new tactic. Slow negotiations promote delay that helps the contingent within the Republic that does not want compromise. Getting negotiators with authority to agree to a deal in the same room dramatically increases the likelihood of peace. It's probably the only way to skirt around the entrenched reluctance that Finn and the Chancellor represent.
She cocks her head at her friend now and challenges, "So how do you see this ending? If you won't make peace, what is the alternative?"
"We fight it out. Evil must be defeated, Rey. You can't bargain with the devil."
"You truly want to resume the war?" This is unwelcome, unexpected news.
Finn nods. "I would prefer to beat Ren rather than appease him. You won't see me shaking hands with him and declaring that we have achieved peace in our time. I'm not that gullible. I won't appease him by handing him half the galaxy."
"But I can't kill him—you know that."
Finn looks her in the eye and observes softly, "I thought the issue was that you refused to kill him."
Rey sucks in a breath at this home truth. Then, she sheepishly admits, "I guess it's both."
"Well, I think we can still beat him in time. Think about it—Luke Skywalker didn't kill Darth Sidious, but he still beat him. It gave us thirty years of peace."
"You could say that," she allows, "but you could also say that it just prolonged the cycle of civil war."
"I know," Finn concedes. He runs a hand down his handsome face and looks forlorn as he reflects, "I really thought we had won after Exogol. Never did I think we would find ourselves in this position. Ren was supposed to be dead. None of this was supposed to happen . . . "
Rey leans into Ben's scare tactics now, asking, "What if Ren gets impatient and invades the Core—"
Finn won't be baited. "If he could invade the Core, he would have done so already. He doesn't have the ships or the manpower. Think about it, Rey. Why would Ren settle for half the galaxy, if he could have all of it?"
"Everyone else believes him," she counters.
"They don't see the military intelligence that I do," Finn shoots back. "How the First Order has managed to be so effective with a miniscule fleet is nothing short of amazing. Ren's either a military genius or he's lucky as Hell . . . but that luck will eventually run out."
"So, you really want to restart the war? You want more people to die? Is that it?" Rey goads and fumes. She's disappointed to learn that her good friend is such a stubborn opponent to peace. Finn's never spoken so plainly about it before . . . but maybe that's because he never thought it was a reasonable possibility.
"Ren's weak. I'm sure of it. I just don't have the data to prove it," Finn hisses under his breath. "That's in large part why we are negotiating. Some major systems want peace and I can't assure them Ren won't strike. My hunch isn't good enough—they want hard facts and assurances I can't give them. And with Kuat and Corellia threatening to go rogue again, we are forced to go through this charade of negotiations to keep the Republic together. But when peace process stalls or fails . . . well, that's fine with me. I'm ready to engage the First Order again. Bring it on," Finn boasts.
Rey sort of deflates in the face of his enthusiasm for more conflict. She understands why Finn feels the way he does, but she cannot agree. So, she posits, "Let's say you can't win—that you have to live with Ben and the First Order—"
"You mean Ren?"
"Yes." Whoops. She needs to stop doing that. Especially in front of a perceptive Force-user like Finn. Rey tries again, "If we have to coexist," she probes, "what would help you tolerate that?"
"Justice."
"What does that mean to you?" Justice is a lovely term that means different things to different people. Mostly, Rey has learned, it's a polite word for revenge or a cash payment.
But not to Finn. He thinks a moment before he elaborates. "Justice would mean an acknowledgment of wrongdoing. Ren needs to accept responsibility for the actions of the First Order."
"So Hosnia?"
"It's more than that. Rey, the First Order hurt a lot of people who didn't live on Hosnia. Think about what they did to Rose's home planet. Or what they did to all of us stormtroopers. Hosnia gets all the attention, but others have suffered too."
He's right. In many ways, the horror of Hosnia gets all the attention for the sheer magnitude of the loss. But individual losses matter. All life has value. All victims matter. That gets lost a lot in the overblown political rhetoric surrounding super weapons.
Finn gets personal now. "I'd like to know who I am. What's my real name? Who were my parents? Where do I come from?" His voice drops to a husky whisper as he chokes back emotion. It prompts him to look away, blinking fast. But Finn quickly masters his composure and continues, "I wish I could remember something . . . anything . . . about who I used to be . . . I had a life and a family before they made me their killing machine . . . Poe might be in this fight for democracy and freedom and those are good reasons . . . but this is personal for me in a way it will never be for him."
Rey nods in empathy. She knows exactly how Finn feels. This is a pain they share: the loss of their mysterious families.
It's not something Ben can relate to, she knows. Ben's struggle has come from the legacy of his very famous clan. Ben will never understand what it means to be an anonymous orphan like her and Finn. And while Darth Plagueis claims she is a Chosen One child of the Force—Rey even believes him—that status does not compensate for the absence of her parents. The nuclear family is the most basic set of human relationships. And children, like her and Finn, who are lacking in one or both parents, are missing something fundamental in their emotional and social development. Sure, there might be friends, relatives, and mentors who can step in to fill the void. But they are never a fully satisfactory replacement. And besides, Rey never had such a person in her life until after she was grown.
But that first such person is the man sitting across from her—Finn. Always loyal, easygoing, supportive, good Finn. Looking at him now, Rey thinks again what a great Jedi he could become. There is so much to like and admire about the former stormtrooper turned Republic general.
Reaching across the tabletop to offer her hand, Rey volunteers her own pain, "I wish I knew who my family was. I thought I knew once."
"You did? Is this that stuff with Ochi?" Finn asks as he reaches to cover her hand with his.
"Yes, but it turned out to be a lie," she sighs, deliberately speaking in vagaries. "It was a good lie. I wasn't the only one who believed it." Even Luke Skywalker claimed to have believed she was a Palpatine, and his sister knew as well. Although how Luke could possibly have known of it—and cruelly let her run off to Snoke without telling her—is a mystery. The best she can suppose is that Darth Sidious planted ideas in Luke's mind through the Force like he did with Ben.
"Family matters." Finn squeezes her hand to punctuate his words.
"Absolutely," she whispers back, suddenly choked up herself.
Family matters. Identity matters. It's why Ben Solo became Kylo Ren, and why Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader. Those weren't just name changes. It's also why Leia Organa never acknowledged her heritage until she was forced to do so. Her family mattered, whether she liked it or not. General Organa never managed to make peace with her family, beginning her life at war with her father and ending her life at war with her son. Her example is one of many reasons Rey sometimes regrets calling herself a Skywalker. But she's not a Skywalker like Ben is, and she never will be. She's . . . no one really.
Finn sees her troubled expression. He tells her fervently, "Whatever our past is—whether we ever learn the truth or not-we make ourselves who we are. Never forget that."
She frets, "Are you sure?" How much of your identity is genetics and how much is experience and free will? Do you really get to choose who you are in life? She knows Ben would say there are limits to what she can decide. Her secret husband has a rather dreamy belief in fate where Force users are concerned.
But consider Finn. The man sitting across from her defied the First Order's determined programming to choose new ideals. Is that free will upending destiny and upbringing? Or is that Finn reclaiming who he truly is and was born to be—a good and moral person of conscience? Looking at her dear friend—her first friend—Rey can't help but wonder what is his role is in all of this? Ben says there are no coincidences where Force users are concerned. So why did it put her and Finn together back on Jakku?
Oblivious Finn keeps up his pep talk. "We make ourselves who we are. Look at Ren. He had a great family and look how he turned out. He made his own choices. He chose his path."
Not really, but Rey can't tell her friend that. Finn believes what Luke and Leia believed—that Darkness is a moral failing that can be corrected. It's the Jedi way to look for goodness in even the worst actors and to try to coax them back. Because according to classic Light Side teaching, everyone's default setting is good. The Jedi reject the notion that Darkness is a normal part of life that exists in every society and in every person. Darkness is something to be feared, avoided, and eradicated. It's why Finn still wants to kill Kylo Ren and to fight the First Order.
"Even if you and I never know where we came from, it will be okay," Finn continues. "But I would like to know. I think Ren owes me that. Part of the justice he owes is answers for people like me."
"How does Jannah feel about it?" she asks.
"The same. All the ex-troopers want to know their past."
Rey nods, murmuring, "Of course. Stupid question. Sorry I asked."
"Not all of us are as ready to move on as you are, Rey. Not without answers and apologies."
"I know . . ."
Things have gotten really heavy now, so Rey attempts to lighten the mood. "So . . . do you still see Jannah a lot?"
"Oh, yeah. We had lunch yesterday, in fact."
"So you and she are-?"
"Just friends."
"Friends like—?"
"I'm single, Rey. Single and available. Remember that, in case you ever loosen up the Jedi Code."
"Oh." Things just went from heavy to awkward. Rey blinks.
Finn looks like he has said too much. A flush creeps into his dark skin. "Sorry. I know you're . . . uh . . . married to the Force and all . . . "
While they have never discussed it, Finn, like everyone else, assumes she is a celibate Jedi Force nun. The truth is that she's sleeping with the enemy Sith Apprentice, but no one knows that. Rey's eyes narrow defensively, "Finn, you're not saying what I think you're saying—"
"I'm just saying I'm here if you're ever available . . ."
Yes, he is saying what she thinks he's saying. "Oh, Finn," she sighs.
Now, he is really embarrassed. Not meeting her eyes, the young general stammers, "No . . . uh . . . disrespect intended, Jedi."
"None taken," Rey gulps. This is super awkward now. She searches for the right words to let him down easily. She doesn't want to hurt him. "It's just that I'm not going to be available . . . ever . . . "
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She's married to the enemy. And by the Force, no less.
"Okay. I understand. I know how important it is for you to restart the Jedi Order."
She cringes inwardly at those words, but doesn't disavow them. It's best if everyone thinks she's a traditional Jedi. "Maybe if things were different . . . "
Finn cuts her off. "I understand. And I'm not foolish enough to make the Force my rival for your affections," he makes an attempt at a joke.
"Finn, you know how much I—"
"I do. And you know how much I—
"I do."
"Okay. So . . . friends?" he offers sheepishly.
"Always," she confirms.
Relieved Finn flashes his trademark white grin. He gushes, "You and Poe are my first real friends outside the Order. You accepted me when you might have hated me and condemned me. I'll never forget that."
Rey relaxes now too. She has a special affinity for Finn and always will. "You came back for me on the Starkiller. No one had ever returned for me . . . " She wasted years in vain hope of that sort of loyalty on Jakku.
Rey wonders now if their shared experiences and shared Force sensitivity are the connection Finn is mistaking for romance. If she could, she would tell Finn everything about Ben, Darth Sidious, Darth Plagueis, and the Force. But she can't, so she continues her deception. Rey tells herself that she serves a higher purpose, that she's not a Sith lying to advance her lust for power. She's a Jedi, trying to work for peace and the collective good of balance. But while that rationale is true, it grates against her conscience. Most especially when it comes to Finn. Finn is just so good. Lying to him hurts.
"So, if you ever get around to training me . . . " he ventures.
"Yes?"
"Am I going to have to be married to the Force as well?"
Rey laughs and answers honestly, "That's for you to decide."
"So the 'no attachment' thing isn't mandatory?" Finn wants to confirm. He's serious.
"Wanting to move on from me already?" she teases.
Finn gives a sheepish shrug. "Well, if you won't have me . . ."
She laughs at his lopsided expression. "You are fickle," she accuses playfully.
"Just trying to keep my options open," Finn answers. "But will you at least let me buy dinner?"
That, she can accept. "Yes."
Later, back in her tiny studio apartment alone, Rey can't get the conversation with Finn off her mind. It surfaces a lot of her longstanding misgivings. Suddenly, she's worried that she's not the Jedi she's supposed to be. She's upset about all the deception she keeps rationalizing. She's fearful that she is doing the wrong thing even if it's for the right reasons.
Basically, she is conflicted.
But this time, Rey doesn't fight it. She decides to embrace the uncertainty. To feel it. To listen to what her subconscious is telling her with these doubts. What is the Force whispering in her heart? That Finn is partly right, and that the First Order has to prove its bona fides for peace by owning its misdeeds. She decides to tell Ben that when the bond next opens. Lately, the bond has been opening a night at lot. So, she stays awake, waiting and brooding.
She and Ben agree on the goal of peace to promote balance, but they do not agree on how to get there. It sounds so simple to say that she will push from the Light Side Republic and he will push from the Dark Side First Order. They will meet somewhere in the middle and that should mean a compromise which both sides can live with. Right?
But pushing from the Dark Side can be a little—well, a lot—coercive. Ben restarted the war to achieve his ends. This peace idea is just his latest hardball tactic. Rey understands his reasoning and she honors his goal, but it's not the method she would employ. What would she do? For starters, there would be fewer ultimatums and more consensus building, less trading of draft proposals and more actual talking. But most of all, there would be more listening—on both sides.
The Rim is right to be angry but violence is not the answer. And yes, large swaths of the Core are indifferent to the Rim's sufferings. It's a mix of 'better them than us' self-interest and cynical 'the poor will always be with us' acceptance. And so, slavery, crime, starvation, lawlessness, and malaise persist on the fringes of the galaxy. It fosters a sense of helplessness and hopeless that in the expert manipulative hands of Snoke-Darth Sidious became the First Order's rage-filled manifesto. It culminated in mass murder on Hosnia. The galaxy is still reeling from the fallout.
Can that sort of war crime ever be justified?
Can it ever be forgiven? If so, what would it take?
And what about all the other wrongs committed by the First Order, like Finn correctly points out?
The fate of the peace negotiations and perhaps even the balance of the Force hinge on the answers to those questions. That means Ben can't screw this up. This is his moment to step forward and make amends. He won't get another chance. But where is he tonight? It's getting late and she's tired.
Rey herself is not blind to the hypocrisy, cultural biases, and political culpability of the Republic. But nonetheless she still believes in democracy as the imperfect solution. Maybe the Republic should have more protections for the minority Mid Rim and Outer Rim systems. Maybe the Senate should be redesigned as a bicameral legislature with two houses, one apportioned equally and one with representatives weighted by relative population. But those are details. The point is that democracy works. Giving everyone some say in galactic government is the best solution. She might be in a treasonous conspiracy with Kylo Ren, but she is no acolyte of fascism.
And just like Ben wants to hang on to some vestiges of the past—like the Falcon—while simultaneously improving and modernizing them, Rey still wants to hang on to the best parts of the Jedi tradition. These are the dedication to democracy, the commitment to justice, the insistence on equality and respect for all species. Compassion was a Jedi's approach to conflict, she remembers reading in Luke's books. You should seek to understand both sides of the issue, the ancient tomes instructed. Well, that's what she's trying to do now.
Ever since Exogol, she has worried over what it means to be a modern Jedi. She has struggled to find her place and to define her role. Finn wanted her in his army to fight the war and to kill Kylo Ren. The Chancellor expected her to be a rubber stamp of religious approval for her politics. Lately Poe seems to want her on the periphery with observer status—she's present, but not a real participant. What no one knows is that she is hopelessly compromised through the Force bond and through her relationship with the enemy. Little by little, Ben made his case and made headway . . . until he swayed her to his side and into his arms.
But she is more than just his spy. She is an actor in her own right—pushing against Ben as much as she aides him. And lately, while the information exchange between them goes both ways, Rey worries that on the whole she is doing his bidding a bit too much. Ben needs to hear more pushback from her. Sure, he's compromising quite a bit. But it's not on the things that should matter most to a Jedi—justice and compassion. Now that the issues surrounding Hosnia are becoming ripe, it's time for her to speak up.
Rey glances at her comlink to check the time again. She's getting impatient for the bond to open. Where is he?
She's uniquely positioned to give Ben this lecture—no one save her can speak truth to the power of the First Order. Moreover, Ben will listen to her. That doesn't mean he will agree, however. But, it's something. Rey feels like she owes it to all who have suffered in the war to make the effort to confront Kylo Ren. It's a job for a Jedi if there ever was one.
So . . . where is he? Rey is getting antsy. She's all worked up for her speech except her audience is missing. So, she broods some more.
It is a heavy burden to try to fill the shoes of Luke Skywalker as the last Jedi. Rey is still conflicted about how to feel about the grumpy old man who refused the lightsaber she brought him and threw her off his island. But she understands how pressured Luke must have felt trying to rebuild the Jedi Order . . . only to fail. She worries it could be her fate as well if she doesn't have Ben to guide her in the Force. Finn's old school Jedi view of things—that the Light must win—will only lead them back to a cycle of civil war, she's firmly convinced.
At this point, she isn't sure she wants to revive the old Jedi religion in any recognizable way. Their rules seem a bit unnecessary and overly restrictive. Plus, she's already broken several Jedi Code promises. But if she's not an old-time Jedi, what is she? Rey doesn't have a label for herself. Or for Ben, for that matter. All Rey knows for certain is that she wants to do the right thing and to make a lasting difference doing it. After tonight's conversation with Finn, she's decided that means working for peace with Ben, but calling him to account for his side's excesses.
Finally, just as her eyes are getting especially heavy, she feels the tingle in the back of her mind that signals the bond opening.
She jumps up, now wide awake. "Ben!"
"Hello Rey."
The first thing she notices is how tired he looks. It takes the heat from the lecture she's been planning. Squinting at him sitting in the dark lightyears away, she observes, "That looks like your office. I thought you were coming to Coruscant."
"I got delayed. Grandma Vader will have to wait."
"Problems?"
He sighs and runs a hand through his mop of hair. "There are always problems."
All her intended vehemence falls silent on her lips in the face of his weariness. Rey decides to take her own advice and do some listening first. It's not like Ben to look so downtrodden. "Tell me."
"It's just more First Order politics you don't want to hear," he waves her off. "I have plenty of hardliners left to appease. Some are probably residual Final Order embeds—"
"You think they're still around?"
"Definitely. A guy like Darth Sidious always has multiple contingency plans. That's how the Sith operate."
"Right." She knew that.
"Managing my side's zealots is a full-time job," Ben vents. "I can't give those guys a reason to revolt against me. And if I'm about to compromise on Hosnia, I need to shore up their support. The Republic is making peace with me, not with the First Order. So, if I'm not in charge—"
"The war resumes."
"Yes." He shoots her a pointed look. "I'm the closest thing the Republic has to a friend over here. I'm sticking my neck way out for this deal. I hope someone on your side sees that."
Rey frowns, "Everyone thinks you have unanimous enthusiastic support . . . "
"That's how fascism works," Ben responds dryly. "We don't do dissent. Everyone is behind the Supreme Leader until someone revolts against the Supreme Leader."
Rey digests this point. She's belatedly realizing that Ben's behind-the-scenes politics might be as complex as what's going on here at the Republic.
Ben knows her thoughts through the bond. He nods and explains, "I need the Republic to believe I've got broad and deep support at all levels, not just with the common citizens. No one wants to compromise to strike a deal with the enemy leader if he's at risk of being ousted."
"We don't want that. It would only put Lord Sidious back in charge."
"Except your leadership doesn't believe you that he's still alive," Ben gripes.
"Does the First Order think Palpatine's still alive?" Rey now wonders aloud.
"Officially, he is dead at Exogol. Like officially Snoke is dead at Crait."
"And unofficially-?"
"It's not a topic openly discussed."
"Meaning?"
"Everyone knows I am the Apprentice. They either think Sidious is dead and I'm acting in his stead, or Sidious is alive and I'm following his orders. Either way, I have legitimacy as the First Order's leader. But if I take a position against Sidious—"
"You risk alienating his remaining supporters by looking like a usurper," she finishes the thought.
"Yes. I can't purge my ranks of suspected Final Order loyalists. It would weaken our cause too much. So, I keep quiet on what I think and why. I let everyone believe this is all according to plan. That's key, Rey. The only way I will get those hardliners to support a peace deal is if they think I am acting on Sidious' orders."
"Because peace is a lie?" she goads.
"Exactly." Ben is straight-faced. "I want this peace to be real, but it's fine if they believe it's just my way of buying time to build up resources before we resume the war."
"So, you're lying to your military?" she worries.
He shrugs, unconcerned. "Deceit is a Sith strategy. Everyone here is expecting it. They understand it and accept it."
"But the deceit is on them," Rey realizes aloud. "Because the peace we're making isn't a lie, it's true." She now frets, "What happens when your guys realize they've been played?"
"I guess I'll figure that out when it happens," Ben sighs. As usual, he's acting and reacting in the moment, much like his detested father Han Solo. Rey alone knows that there is no slow unfolding plan in the works. Kylo Ren is less Sith mastermind than he is a brilliant improviser. The Supreme Leader is making it up as he goes along.
Ben now warns, "We won't be able to avoid Darth Sidious forever. But I would prefer to confront him from a position of strength, when things have settled down here in the Rim and no one is clamoring for his return."
She's concerned about those sleeper Sith loyalists he mentioned. "You're sure his people are in your ranks?"
"For now. The first thing I plan to do when we achieve peace is to eradicate Palpatine's remaining power base."
That sounds ominous. Ben's beleaguered mood is rubbing off on her now. Rey feels discouraged. "This is so complicated . . ."
He doesn't disagree. "This is the problem with trying to meet in the middle—you get hit from both sides. Rey, what you have to understand is that I'm not just selling compromise to the Republic, I'm also selling it to my own side. I don't have as much absolute authority as you perceive."
She sees the parallels on the Republic side. Thinking of Finn, she concurs, "Sometimes, it seems like our own people are the hardest ones to convince. We're on the same side, but that doesn't mean we agree on everything."
"It's why splitting the galaxy in two is the pragmatic solution. Unity is hard," Ben scowls. "I don't see a way either side could unify the entire galaxy at this point. It's hard enough to unify our respective sides."
He's right. But that doesn't mean it's not a worthy goal. "No one said balance would be easy . . ." she reminds him.
"Right. We do what is achievable for now. Baby steps, Rey, baby steps."
Looking through the Force at her supposed sworn enemy, Rey thinks that in his own way, what Ben is doing is very courageous. No one in the Republic gives him credit for the savvy and nerve it took to return to the First Order in order to rebuild it and then reform it from within. Little by little, anyone who is paying attention can see Kylo Ren inching away from Snoke's vitriol to a more positive, optimistic vision of the future. If you look past the terse, blunt delivery and classic Sith posturing, the current Supreme Leader is far less focused on destroying the Republic than he is with helping the Rim. It's pragmatism winning out over hate. It's fascist unity prompted more by hope than by fear. Most importantly, it's incremental, but meaningful change.
Ben might have defected to the Republic after his true Dark Master Darth Sidious emerged to steal his command. He might have betrayed the First Order and abandoned its cause to enact his revenge. Except deep down Ben Solo is a true believer for the Rim and always has been.
After Plagueis revived him, Ben might have walked away into exile, leaving behind the mess he helped to make. But he's not Luke Skywalker. Ben rolled up his sleeves and went to work, attempting to reverse what everyone viewed as convincing defeat. Rey has often wondered if Ben is so determined for his cause in part to salvage something good out of the years he spent as the duped Apprentice.
But whatever the explanation for the twisting path to the present, it's how they find themselves plotting for peace tonight in the Force. Rey tells Ben about her dinner conversation with Finn. About Finn's assessment that peace is far more likely than it currently appears due to the political dynamics of the upcoming election.
"This deal has to get done before the election or it won't happen," Ben concludes.
"If it's after the election, there is a big risk the ceasefire might be conditioned on Senate approval," she reveals.
Ben swears and gripes, "That will mean more delay. Alright, then. Tomorrow I will ask to set a face-to-face meeting. Five representatives from each side. We'll come to you. I won't quibble about the security arrangements. I'll send men to Coruscant. If discussions break down, they can do some surveillance while they're there," Ben adds dryly. "Rey, tell your side-this is happening. All the remaining issues are on the table."
"Okay."
"'It's now or never' will be my message. I need to create a sense of urgency and fear to reach agreement."
"How soon is this meeting?"
"Next week."
"Then, you'd better get here to see Grandma soon," she smiles. And, on that topic, Rey begins, "I think you're thinking about Hosnia all wrong. I think you need a more expansive approach. You need to address more than just the Hosnian survivors."
"Apologies for everyone, is that it?"
His callous sarcasm for mass murder irritates her. Rey's response is especially sharp. "The First Order did a lot of damage to other systems. And the stormtrooper program—it was way worse than cloning an army. Those are things you need to take responsibility for. They were wrong!"
"I wasn't in charge of any of that."
"You are now. Ben, you have to own the actions of the First Order. All of them—not just the positive stuff about promoting a better life for your people."
"Apologies for everyone?" he repeats, rolling his eyes.
"Yes! And then, you have to promise to reform."
That suggestion prompts him to smirk. "Still trying to redeem me, Jedi?"
"No. I'm trying to get to a deal," she retorts. "You can't just ignore all the pain your side has caused. Taking the blame could go a long way to gather support for a deal."
"I'm not ignoring it. I'm saying get over it."
"That's harsh."
"War is harsh."
"Yes, well, we are supposed to be making peace, remember?"
Ben grumbles, "I'm giving a lot of ground on the economics—"
"Yeah, and it looks a bit like blood money," she observes. "Come on—you guys steal children for soldiers and you test weapons on civilians. You know that stuff has to stop."
Ben shrugs. "We don't have to take children for stormtroopers any longer. There's no need for conscripts. People are enlisting. They can't wait to spill Republic blood."
"Fine. Promise that will continue. And open the records on the existing troopers. Let them know their past . . . who their parents are . . . "
Ben raises an eyebrow. "Is this your personal issue or the Republic's issue?"
"Both. It's also Finn's issue," she adds.
"I hate that guy."
"The feeling is mutual," she grumbles, thinking of dinner. "My point is that you should offer answers where you have them. And offer reform where you can."
Ben's not going for it. "That will only open up more issues to argue about. Instead of one Hosnia, there will be ten. Everyone with a grievance for the past will want something."
"That's one way to look at it," she reasons, "Or, you could view it as building goodwill . . . as promoting trust and reconciliation."
"Goodwill?" he blinks. "You do realize this is all being done under my standing threat of invasion, right?"
"Okay, maybe not goodwill," she relents. "But making amends."
Ben shoots her a reproving look. "This ceasefire is about laying down arms, not about assigning blame and issuing apologies."
"What's so wrong with an apology?"
"It's politically problematic for me. Is the Republic going to apologize to us?"
"For what?"
"For Starkiller Base."
"You can't be serious!" she scoffs.
"I am serious. A lot of people died there. And a lot of people have suffered for years in the Rim from the Republic's oppressive policies and neglect. Where's the apology for that?" he demands.
Rey plants her fists on her hips. "Are you forgetting that you are the aggressors? This ceasefire is essentially a secession. It's ending a war that your side started. So why does anyone owe the First Order an apology?"
Ben's brow lowers and his eyes narrow. "I cannot possibly apologize for the actions of the Order if there is not some reciprocal acceptance of responsibility by the Republic. Rey, that is the only way my hardliners will accept a mea culpa. And even then, I'm sure the language won't be strong enough for many to accept."
"This isn't going to be some 'I'm sorry you made me blow up Hosnia but I had no other choice' type statement, is it?"
"It might be."
"Then it's useless."
"All of this is useless!" Ben explodes. His frustrated weariness has now become anger directed at her. What started as a discussion is now a full-fledged argument. Ben snaps, "Nice words won't bring back Hosnia. People just have to accept it and move on."
It's his usual very Sith, very dismissive approach to other people's suffering. Suck it up and deal with it. Sorry, not sorry Kylo Ren. Rey knows that won't be enough to get a deal. So, she digs in and starts arguing hard.
"A lot of people won't be able to move on until they get the answers they lack and the apology they deserve. Ben, no one wants to make peace with a regime that is indifferent to suffering."
His lip curls. It's Ben peeved and petulant. "I'm not indifferent to suffering!" he snorts. "I just put suffering in perspective. Those people died so that we could move closer to balance." He shoots her a knowing look and lashes out, "We Skywalkers make a lot of collateral damage. Don't act like you've never killed before."
That's different. "I killed in war."
"So did I!"
"I killed combatants. Not civilians."
Ben has no reply to that point. He just fumes at her reproach. And if this is how defensive and indignant he is going to be on this issue, it will be a dealbreaker with the Republic. Rey can already imagine how fast these face-to-face talks will crumble with his attitude prevailing from the First Order representatives. And then, the war will resume and everyone loses.
"Didn't Hosnia mean anything to you?" she presses. "You're the prince of Alderaan. Surely, you felt something—didn't you?"
Ben glares at her a long moment before he launches to his feet from his desk chair and roars across the bond, "I felt it all! I FELT IT ALL! So do not lecture me!"
He is screaming at her through the Force, his finger waving and his eyes hard. It's out of control emo-Kylo Ren staring her down, his intense feelings buffeting her mind.
"I was on a ship when Hux fired . . . I felt millions of voices cry out in terror before they were suddenly silenced . . . Hosnia resonated in the Force and in my mind for hours afterwards. That was Darkness of a scale I had never witnessed before." Ben looks away and miserably admits, "I only really understood Alderaan in that moment."
Rey says nothing. She just listens to his outpouring of emotion.
"It was a turning point of sorts. That was when I decided to kill Snoke. I had thought about it before many times. But seeing Hosnia . . . well, I knew there would be no balance from Snoke. But I couldn't kill him outright. I had to wait for an opportunity. And I had to find you. I knew you were out there . . . and if I could train you, we could do it together . . . or so I hoped . . . I just had to make sure you never made it to Luke . . . "
Riding the cresting wave of Ben's thoughts through the bond, Rey can feel how uncomfortable he is with this topic . . . how guilty, confused, and ashamed he is just to talk about it. Ben doesn't want to volunteer responsibility for the Starkiller Base for reasons that go beyond the issue's political complexity, she's learning. Ben knows the weapon was wrong, but he would prefer not to think about it . . . and not to think about his role in it . . . most especially, how utterly disappointed his mother must have been for that . . .
"I knew all about the weapon . . . I knew that once it was built, it would have to be used. But once it was used the first time, it would be over. I didn't need to worry about the Starkiller for long thanks to the Resistance. My mother solved a problem for me. No Death Star can survive a Skywalker," he jokes bitterly.
His father Han Solo was pretty integral to the attack, but Rey chooses to omit that point. Instead, she argues gently, "Maybe you need to say that. Tell the galaxy how you really felt about your Master and his superweapons."
He shoots her down. "I can't say that!"
"Why not? You've long been rumored to have killed Snoke."
"Officially, you're the one who killed Snoke," Ben snarls, "At least, that's what my side believes."
"Who knows Snoke was Sidious?"
"I'm not sure. The Final Order loyalists don't exactly raise their hands to identify themselves these days and they don't volunteer their opinions," Ben rasps. "There's no way I can break unity with Snoke or Palpatine. That's a complete non-starter. And as horrible as Hosnia was, many on my side think it was our moment of triumph. The might of the old Empire was back with a new Death Star. I cannot disavow it."
He's right, she knows. In many ways, Ben's options are limited. And that has her discouraged for the peace talks. "This is so hard . . . "
With a ragged, tired sigh, Ben repeats her earlier words back to him: "No one said balance would be easy."
"We're not even close to balance. We can't even get to peace," she wails.
Ben replies solemnly with the maxim he firmly believes: "The Force is with us." He trusts in the Force above all else.
Through the bond, Rey sees a fleeting flashback of Ben's emotions as he walked her into Snoke's throne room. Part of him was elated that she had come, but most of him was terrified that they would both end up dead. He had known all along what Snoke's ploy would be: he would make Ben be her executioner. For to kill what you love is a time honored Sith loyalty test. Ben had started panicking as he felt Snoke probe for his intentions, so he had blanked his mind of every ambition. He surrendered to the Force, hoping it would show him the way in the moment. For Ben had no real plan for how to save them both. Just like he now has no real plan for peace. All he has is hope and the Force. When all else fails, that is his go-to plan.
The heat of his anger is spent, and Ben is now calm again. He tells her, "I don't disagree with what you want, but I cannot agree to a deal that many on my side will not accept. You should be prepared to accept a lot less than what you're arguing for now."
Belatedly, Rey recalls that Ben had a frustrating day before the bond opened. She has just piled on to his troubles. She flashes a sheepish look and admits, "I guess I got a little carried away . . . "
"You did. You were giving me strong Leia Organa vibes just now. I guess I should be glad I'm not there with you in person so you could pull your sword and run me through," he jokes darkly.
That brings to mind an uncomfortable memory of her stabbing him viciously on Endor. Rey immediately vows, "I'm not doing that again."
"Good. Although," Ben cocks his head and flashes that lopsided Han Solo half smirk, half smile, "you are pretty cute when you're righteously angry."
She bristles at this flirting. "Are you patronizing me?"
"Just being honest. Are you done yelling at me?"
"I suppose. Did you listen?"
"Yes. But temper your expectations."
"I'm here to tell you what I think. I won't be your yes-man," she informs him.
"I'd be disappointed if you were. But try to remember that we're on the same side."
"Not really . . . " They are on opposite sides of a war—that's the problem.
But Ben sees it differently. "We are on the same side in all the ways that matter." Through their connection, Rey now sees a flash of Ben's loneliness. The Supreme Leader is always on guard around his own subjects, suspicious of the motives and loyalties of those who surround him. He spends his days longing for the bond to open to see her again.
Ben knows she's privy to his thoughts. "Some days," he reveals, "I think you are the only one on my side. You are definitely the only person I can trust."
"I understand." Ben is the only person she herself can be completely honest with. "When are you going to see Astral?"
"I guess I leave today."
"So, you'll be here tomorrow night? Can we—"
"No," he cuts off her suggestion to meet before she can voice it. "It's too risky."
Disappointed Rey can't help it—she pouts a little. Then, she pushes back. "You didn't think it was too risky before."
"Sure, I did. I just wasn't thinking with my head. I was thinking with my—"
"So, do that again. Ben, I miss you."
"I miss you, too. Who else can yell at me so alluringly?"
The comment lightens the mood. Rey flashes what she hopes is a coy smile. But it might just be a goofy look—she has very limited experience at seduction. But gamely, she tries to flash a come-hither expression. "Have I shamed you enough to get my way?"
He laughs. "I'm Kylo Ren. I have no shame."
Rey's eyes soften as she recalls what she saw earlier through the bond. "We both know that's not true."
Ben has a conscience. He has principles. But no one knows his true agenda of balance and his desire to sweep aside the past, so most everyone judges him by conventional morality . . . and condemns him as yet another power-hungry Dark Lord. Rey herself condemns a lot of what Ben and his followers do. She's not keen on his means. But she understands the larger context, and that puts it in perspective. It doesn't excuse it, mind you. But it explains it. Ben Solo—Kylo Ren—is perhaps the most misunderstood man in the galaxy, she thinks. But rather than address that problem, he allows it to persist. He's one part glutton for punishment and one part deceitful Sith. But also, one part hero, if only she knows it.
She can sense the bond begin to close. He feels it too. So, Ben ends their conversation the way he always does—telling her, "I love you, scavenger" at the last possible second, leaving her no time to react. Ben being Ben, he always has to have the last word.