Chapter Four
The sky was darkening and the ambient light in Ben's holding cell was weak and blue when Finn entered. "We're leaving for Exegol tomorrow," Finn informed him.
"General," said Ben. "I don't think that's wise."
"I didn't ask your opinion, Solo." Ben hadn't moved from his spot on the floor, and Finn looked down at him from the doorway.
"I can't protect you in this state," Ben said, struggling to his feet to demonstrate the extent of the damage to his ankle.
"Fine, I'll get a medic on it. But what makes you think I need protecting?"
"General—if you had seen what I had—"
"What, that she's got yellow eyes now? That she shoved you? I've been shoved before. Rey is suffering as we wait."
Ben closed his eyes and sank to the ground again. He knew Finn was right. It should have been me, it should have been me. "You don't know everything."
It should have been Rey's choice—she should have been the one to decide whether to tell her friends. Would the knowledge help Finn? It could help Ben make his case. Yes, if they were getting into this together, Finn should know.
"She's a Palpatine."
"What?" Finn's air of indifference broke, as if he had suddenly forgotten to look tough.
"Rey. She's the Emperor's granddaughter. Turning her was his goal all along. I think—" his voice broke. He had hardly acknowledged what he had known to be true since first meeting the Emperor. The endpoint of everything he had gone through, his suffering, this was it—"I think he was just using me to get at her. This whole time. Long before I even knew she existed." He bit the inside of his cheek, looking down and willing the unexpected dampness in his eyes not to overwhelm their lids.
"That's all the more reason we need to go get her!" Finn exclaimed.
Ben gulped and regained his composure. "Turning her back won't be so simple. She hasn't simply decided to open herself to the Dark side of the Force. She's become a Sith—let all of the Sith of the path into her as well as the Dark side."
"So you…you weren't a Sith?" Finn asked.
"Never truly a Sith, no. Not for lack of trying," Ben added more softly. "Which means we can't just convince her to come back. Not like...not like she did with me."
"We still owe it to her to try. Your knowledge is appreciated, Solo, but my decision is final."
Ben sighed. He had figured Finn would be stubborn. He also knew he was pushing his luck. The Resistance had no solid reason to trust him, and fighting with their general was not a good look. Especially after begging for his help to do exactly what Ben was now warning him against. "Yes, General," he said.
Ben was surprised when, rather than leaving, Finn took a step toward him and helped him to his feet, gingerly supporting Ben on the side of his bad ankle.
"We're still keeping guards on you and the doors'll lock from the outside," Finn said, "but we figured we might as well move you to a real room."
"...thanks," Ben panted as the two men shuffled down one of the stone hallways that made up the base on Ajan Kloss, two Resistance guards trailing after them.
The room was by no means comfortable, but Ben didn't care. Finn had removed the binders from his wrists and his hands were his own again. Ben knew he was still a prisoner, but the Resistance didn't seem to be making great efforts to contain him. They were certainly all too familiar with the extent of his power. Perhaps they knew he wouldn't get far with only one good leg, or perhaps now that he had spoken with Finn, they didn't really care if he left, so long as the guards would protect them from any potential attacks. They had at least taken his lightsaber, and though Ben knew that was fully practical, he missed having something his mother had made by his side.
A reluctant and rather curt medic had wrapped his ankle and inspected his ribs, administering a few treatments to speed the healing process and leaving him with a cold pack. Someone else had stopped by just long enough to thrust a stack of clothes at him and mumble that Finn said to tell him that Leia requested he be given a new shirt. He had given them a nod and a polite "thank you," and sent up a silent thanks to his mom as well. The clothes couldn't have come too soon.
Now Ben lay on his back, nearly filling the small cot. He ran his fingers over the rim of melted fabric around the hole in his old shirt. Rey had made it when she had stabbed him with his own lightsaber not two days before. He probably would have just kept wearing the shirt. So what if it had a hole? Rey had given him that hole. So what if it was gritty from days of wear? He had more important things to worry about. But the medic had cut it off him—thankfully leaving the hole intact. It hadn't really been necessary, cutting the shirt off. But his ribs had hurt when he raised his arms to pull the garment over his head, and the medic had insisted. Ben figured that, sworn to the duty of healing the wounded, she would have accepted any opportunity of small destruction toward him. Chances were most of her patients had been his victims, at least by association, so he probably owed her more than the cutting of his shirt.
Ben sat up and reached for the stack of clothing, the chill of night reaching his bare chest. Groaning, he pulled the new shirt over his head and faced his reflection in the back of the shiny metal door. The shirt was a light tan, like Rey's scavenger clothes, he thought. It had a loose collar and the neck came together much farther down his chest than he was used to, revealing a V of skin. It looked like something his father would wear. He suddenly ran his fingers through his hair aggressively, trying to dishevel the illusion that it was Han looking back at him from the door. Making his hair more disorderly than it already was didn't help. He finally pinned the shirt closed just below the collar. That was better. Clasping his belt and pulling on the cloak that had also been provided made him look more…well, not like Han. Ben couldn't particularly say he looked like himself either. It had been a long time since he had seen himself in anything other than black. The cloak was darker, and he kept it draped back over his shoulders and the hood down for fear of seeing Kylo Ren in his reflection. Still, this cloak had a different feel to it. Dark as it was, it was a muted blue rather than black, the most colorful item Ben had owned in a long time. It was soft, and the texture was uneven, as if it were woven from the wool of some beast. It was warm. Here, in the jungle, maybe a little too warm. He set it off, his eyes accidentally finding the old shirt again as he did.
He reached for the spot on his chest where the blade had pierced him and then winced at the sensitive bruises beneath his skin. Still, there was nothing left of the fatal wound Rey had given him, not even a scar. Just an old hole in his shirt—the only proof that Rey had ever existed, that she had been with him—no. He was Ben because of her. Because of Han and Leia. He was proof that she could come back from the Dark. They all believed in him. If only he could crush his doubts, forget that their circumstances were different, and believe in Rey just as hard.
Author's Note: I honestly don't have much to say this time. I hope y'all are enjoying the story so far! If you've got any feedback (criticism welcome) please leave a review!