From the safety of his office lightyears away, Kylo Ren covertly watches his enemy's ongoing internal debate. While the Republic's public statements remain consistently hostile to his cause and tepid on peace, he's sensing gathering support for a ceasefire behind closed doors.
Just now, a dour looking woman insists, "More fighting is not the solution. Peace is the solution. It's the only way the markets will settle down. Peace—even if it's short lived—will give us some much-needed stability."
He couldn't have said it better himself. But the rest of the Republic team is not yet convinced. He listens to their rebuttal, led by some florid faced near-human man with a pretentious looking goatee he likes to stroke.
Goatee guy jeers, "Do you actually believe Ren wants peace? He's buying time to regroup before he attacks us again! What makes you think we can trust him?"
The alien next to goatee guy piles on. "We can't trust him! All these economic provisions they caved on—they're illusory! Mark my words, they will cheat on each of these tariffs and quotas. They're just leading us on."
The dour woman now reminds everyone, "They gave us a lot of what we asked for in this lastest draft." She goes on to list out all the positions he ordered his people to cave on.
Good. He's glad someone at the Republic noticed. He can be reasonable when circumstances merit. Snoke taught him the Sith wisdom to be merciful when it benefits your ambitions. Compromise, Darth-Sidious-in-disguise instructed, must always be for manipulation.
Kylo keeps watching as the conversation gets heated. This isn't the first time the bond has allowed him to eavesdrop on the discussions of the Republic negotiating team. But it is the first time he senses true progress. The group is breaking down into factions: Rey and a few others in favor of a deal, several vocal members determined to oppose him at all costs, and a group in the middle whose inclinations he cannot ascertain. He's willing to bet that the team members' views are a microcosm of the larger Republic citizenry. Things are far less unified than the official statements out of Coruscant suggest.
As he continues watching, Rey sits silently at the table, as befitting her Jedi Observer status. Her attention follows the meeting conversation although she's very aware he is present in the Force.
You're making headway, he commends her telepathically.
Her expression betrays nothing even as her mind answers. Ignore that first grandstanding blowhard. He's incapable of compromise. He says no to everything. He's a crony of the Chancellor and she opposes any deal.
True to her words, Kylo watches as exasperated goatee guy reinitiates his fear mongering. "It's all lies!"
"So add some verification requirements. Or add some incentives to comply," the dour woman suggests.
"How does that help if it's all lies?"
Another person volunteers, "Trust but verify. That could work . . . "
"How about some penalties as well?" someone else suggests. "Harsh penalties."
"Sure, why not?" the dour lady agrees. "Look, Ren needs a functioning Rim economy. Let's not lose sight of that. We need a functioning economy as well, I remind everyone," she announces with a pointed glare over at goatee guy and his alien sidekick.
The discussion continues from there. This being the Republic, everyone loves a good debate. This meeting is nothing like a First Order meeting, Kylo observes to himself.
"Don't kid yourself—this deal isn't motivated by credits—it's all about control," goatee guy vents. "Ren wants to have his own fiefdom to control with assurances we'll leave him alone."
"Exactly!" his alien friend chimes in.
The dour woman shrugs. With a glance around the room, she gets candid. "I'll say it—is that such a bad outcome? If the Rimmers love Ren, let them go form his New Empire and be his willing victims. Maybe we're looking at this all wrong and splitting the galaxy in two solves a problem for the Core."
"You're consigning those people to fascism," goatee guy huffs.
"It's what they want," the dour lady points out. "Look, Ren gave us the repatriation provisions. If you live in the Rim and you like the First Order, then stay there. If you want to come home to the Republic, they will send you back. It's self-determination on an individualized level. They are letting their people choose. Give Ren some credit for that. Palpatine would have lined those people up and shot them."
That comment kicks off another heated topic. "What kind of choice is that really? To leave your home, your job, and your friends and family to come here? How many Rimmers do you think are going to opt to repatriate?" goatee guy challenges.
A new voice grumbles, "None, I hope. We're better off without those losers on our welfare rolls."
Around the table there are concurring nods to this viewpoint.
From his vantage point lightyears away, Kylo scowls. In this discussion and every other Republic discussion he has witnessed, the biases of the Core are on full display. The Republic negotiators seem far more interested in the concept of democracy than in the welfare of the people who comprise it. That disdainful attitude is helping his cause, Kylo thinks. There's more bluster than truth in a lot of the Republic's overblown rhetoric on civil rights, and the common people know it. It's why he will agree to basic civic guarantees for his citizenry and go no further.
By contrast, he made a deliberate decision to give a lot of ground on the trade provisions. It's a strategic play to get the financial heavyweights of the Republic behind a peace deal. Money talks, after all. He's hoping that if the Core moguls see personal business advantages to a deal, they will become a chorus of peace supporters. Those guys have every incentive to back a ceasefire since are losing a lot in the current chaotic situation.
Quite simply, war is the ultimate business disruption. No one wants to invest further capital with the future so uncertain. Valuations are anyone's guess right now. After all, your business is one attack away from losing everything. It's made the capital markets more like a Canto Bight craps table. Mergers and acquisitions have ground to a halt. Local system currencies are a mess, and the war has pretty much bankrupted the insurance markets. How do you stop all this financial pain? Stability, he's betting, is the answer.
Stability yields predictably and calm. It's why a ceasefire is in the best interest of every Core business. He has surrogates on the newsfeeds chanting this message nonstop. It goes like this: Want to keep your job? Support peace. Want to keep what's left of your retirement savings invested in the markets? Support peace. Want prosperity? Support peace. Want to keep your nice comfortable Core life and your current standard of living? Support peace. The litany of reasons goes on and on until it crescendos to a climax. The big finish is classic Sith scare tactics: he leans in on fear. Support peace because without a ceasefire, Kylo Ren will invade the Core. He's coming for you, for your family, and for your friends. So, which do you prefer—death, war, and a cratering society for those who survive? Or peace and prosperity without the Rim to worry about? He's betting that the Core citizens will choose the latter in droves. Then hopefully, their popular support will provide the political cover the Republic Senate candidates need to back a peace deal. Because lurking in the background of all of this is the upcoming election.
Is his multi-pronged strategy working? He thinks it is. So far, on the portions of the Republic's original proposal that are currently under discussion, the two sides have edged closer together. If this were merely a matter of trade policies and civil rights, Kylo would feel certain of the likelihood of a deal. The sticking points, however, are the topics that have not yet been addressed: disarmament, Hosnia, and superweapons. Those issues are bound to be flashpoints and may well be dealbreakers, so Kylo tempers his optimism. Still, Rey has told him that there is a small but vocal minority on her side that wants to get a deal—any deal—fast to forestall an invasion. Will those voices, combined with the influence of the pro-peace business interests he is rallying, be enough to cause the Republic to compromise? He hopes so.
The Force must think he's seen enough for today because the bond starts to close. Rey feels it too. Her eyes dart to lock with his. She keeps her poker face amidst her colleagues as he bids her farewell.
May the Force be with you.
And also with you, comes her reply to his mind.
That's it. Time's up. The bond closes and he's back to staring at the blank wall opposite him in his private office on his flagship.
He still can't control the bond. He can sense it opening a few seconds ahead of time. Lately, he has begun to sense it begin to close. But he cannot cause it to open or close by himself. And perhaps that's fitting. God the Force is not his to command, except when it deigns to permit. For as every young Padawan learns, the Force obeys your commands, but it also controls your actions. Force sensitivity is therefore always a double-edged sword. You are never fully the master of your destiny.
He's fine with that status. He long ago surrendered to the whims of the Force, resigning himself to trust in its infinite wisdom in lieu of his own dubious choices. For what alternative does he have? None, he learned abruptly that night at his uncle's temple. The message has been reinforced several times over since then.
So rather than rage with knee jerk resistance against his plight like his miserable uncle, he simply gave up. Now, most of the galaxy might find that mindset out of character for Kylo Ren. But it's not. He just shifted his determination from achieving his own preferred destiny to allowing the Force to create a destiny for him. To the public, Supreme Leader Ren is a man of action. But privately, he views himself to be a servant of fate.
That means he trusts blindly, with a zealot's unquestioning faith. For whether he's creating Dark shockwaves as a teen, kneeling to pledge fealty to Snoke, or facing down the Force projection of his suicidal uncle, his meandering path forward through Light and then Darkness has to have meaning. There were lessons to be learned, he firmly believes, and so the Force put him through personal trials. It
wasn't random. It was purposeful. And it has brought him to the place he is now. He's the Sith peacemaker, the Dark hero-villain, the Chosen One iconoclast befitting these crazy times we live in.
Rey is much the same, although at a decade his junior she is not as far along on her journey. She is still being seasoned and tested. First by the hardships of Jakku where she was kept hidden. Next, by the disappointment of Luke Skywalker. Then, by the temptation of Darth Sidious. She survived still firmly in the classical Jedi Light Side tradition, with but a few lapses into Darkness on Ahch-To and Endor. It was only after those experiences that she strayed headlong into the Shadow Force. She did it with good intentions, out of desperation and a need to assert herself. And it led her to yellow eyes and a death wish assassination attempt on him.
The Force knew what it was doing when it put them together. It sent Rey back to him with murder in her eyes and a sword in her hand—except their paths crossed not for a fight, but for healing. And in that moment, he convinced Rey with actions after all words had failed him. The Force moved him Light to counter her nascent Darkness. He redeemed his girl like she had once sought to redeem him. He showed her a path back to acceptance and equilibrium, and mended the rift between them as surely as he healed her body.
At least, that's his version of events.
He immediately took from it the lesson that what the galaxy needs to mirror their personal reconciliation is a version of their confrontation. For surely, he and his girl are the archetypes the Force set forth as examples. So, he took to the holonet with an ultimatum. This time, he was the aggressor to pick the fight he could manipulate to make peace.
Of course, he could be wrong about the meaning of that day.
Like he could be wrong to believe that making peace is the first step to balancing the Force.
Like he could be wrong to believe that the Force is working through him and Rey, guiding them towards one another so that the Republic and his New Empire can follow.
And if he's wrong? What then? Well, very likely it will all crash and burn. He'll die for good this time and never know what he did wrong.
But here's the thing—he thinks his doubts are evidence he's on the right path. Because never once did the Jedi tradition scrutinize its hubris. It promulgated rules without much justification. The Jedi were irritatingly smug in their habit of absolutes. Luke Skywalker was no exception.
And the Sith? Well, Plagueis is right that overconfidence is Darth Sidious' weakness. The Dark religion is replete with excesses, but Sheev Palpatine with his three Death Stars sets a marker for grandiosity. Destroying planets puts you a special class of villains.
And then, there's him. The screwup Padawan and the hapless Apprentice. One by one, he disappointed each of his mentors and rebelled against them. Yeah, he's an emotional guy with a streak of petulance. But his obstinance was about more than peevishness. He simply doubted. Luke Skywalker saw his doubts and feared his conflict. Snoke saw his doubts and ridiculed and punished him for them.
But what he doubted was their dogma and their judgement, never the Force. He believes in the Force with all his heart. It is his only recourse and, he hopes, one day his salvation. If he can only balance the Force and let the past die, all of this will be worth it. But to do that, he has to keep faltering Rey with him for the journey to balance. She has doubts . . . a lot of doubts.
But he has the solution. He and Rey will lean on one another, he envisions, with frequent reunions to bolster their commitment. His girl needs periodic personal attention lest she become a flight risk to Jakku for another foray into Darkness. So, he resolves to plan another covert meeting. This time, it's in remote deep space a little too close to a gravity well for general space traffic. But Rey's an excellent pilot, and if she can make it to Exogol she can handle this. He gives her the coordinates but doesn't tell her how to identify his ship. It's a surprise and he can't wait to see her reaction.
When she arrives safely in her X-wing at the appointed time, the bond opens from their proximity. He can't see her face, but he knows she's smiling.
Well, I guess I don't have to ask if that's you.
Were you expecting a star destroyer?
Yeah, kinda.
This thing is perfect cover. It's welcome in all sorts of disreputable places people go to hide. Now, flip over me on top so I can deploy the docking tube. I have to get this right for the airlock to cover your entire canopy. If this vacuum seal isn't tight—
I'm sucked into space.
Right. Let's avoid that outcome.
Roger that.
The tricky maneuver is accomplished. The two ships are safely and securely joined with a short tunnel bridging their hulls. Satisfied, he exits the cockpit to head for the manual release on the top hatch. He opens it so Rey can crawl up into his ship.
"If you kept me waiting any longer, I was going to resort to my lightsaber," Rey complains as she pops her head out. She's adorable in her pique. Damn, he is glad to see her again.
"Want a hand?" He gallantly makes to haul her up.
Rey being Rey, she refuses him.
As she tugs herself up through the docking hatch, he can't help but smirk. "So, do I say 'Honey, I'm home' or do you?"
Rey apparently thinks it's her line. She looks around and smiles at the ramshackle Millennium Falcon he's flying. "You brought my ship."
"My ship," he counters. But then, he thinks better of that claim. "Well, our ship now, I guess." They're married, so she probably has some claim to partial ownership at least.
"I figured you'd be in at least a cruiser," she chuckles.
"Too conspicuous. This was the far better choice. I brought it for sentimental reasons," he volunteers.
Rey raises an eyebrow. "Because you want to remember me blowing up TIEs at Crait?"
"No. Because this is where we first were together." A guy never forgets where he first got laid, especially if he's a late bloomer who didn't kiss a girl until right before he died.
"Cute," she smiles. "How about we swap ships and I take the Falcon home?"
The Force tells him she's serious. He recoils from the idea. "And the Supreme Leader flies an X-wing? Not a chance. That's terrible optics." Rey opens her mouth to fuss, but he preempts her. "I'll take good care of her. She won't get a scratch."
She considers. "I've got your promise now—not a scratch."
"If I did scratch it, how could you tell?" he snorts. "This thing's a wreck."
Rey corrects him. "Was a wreck. The insides are good now, even if she doesn't look very pretty." Rey purses her lips a moment and then tries again. "If I take the Falcon, you could take my ship back and download all the Republic's clearance codes."
"Already did that."
"When?"
"When you last came to kill me."
"Right." She fumes a moment. "Of course, you did."
He shrugs. "Hey, it's me." He doesn't play fair and he's not trustworthy. Well, except where Rey is concerned. He's been counting the seconds until this reunion, reliving in his mind again and again the rapturous memory of their stolen few hours on Coruscant. Does she want him as much as he wants her? Because right now, the bond is pulsating hard in his mind. It's egging him on. Time for some seduction.
"Miss me?" he angles.
Ever direct Rey answers succinctly. "Yes." Then she starts walking past him, inspecting the ship as she goes. As she squints, pokes, and prods, she casually drops the news, "I saw your grandmother the art professor."
"Oh? How is Grandma these days?"
"Very well."
"Good. What do you two talk about together? I know it's not art or politics."
"Mostly, it was Darth Vader."
She's got his attention now. But unfortunately, the feeling is not mutual. Rey is all about the Falcon currently. She begins frowning at an instrument panel with frayed wiring poking out. She turns to look at him with accusation in her eyes.
He immediately disavows. "I didn't do it. It was like that."
"I don't remember it being like that," she huffs. Then she starts walking again and continuing her perusal. "What else have you done to my ship?"
"Your ship? My ship," he automatically corrects. And forget this old bucket of bolts. Rey just said something very intriguing. "Tell me more. You are very hot when you say the words Darth Vader."
Rey shoots him a look over her shoulder before she strides into the Falcon's main lounge area. "That's all you really need, isn't it? A girl who will talk Darth Vader to you."
"She also has to have the Force," he adds to the qualifications.
"Yeah? Tell me more."
"She has to have liberal ideas about democracy."
"Got that," Rey confirms saucily.
She checks out the dejarik table and gives the subspace comm panel a scrutinizing eye. She really does have pride of ownership for the Falcon, he's noticing. That's not a surprise given how much sweat equity she has in the ship. But the point of this dangerous rendezvous is them, not the transportation. He's a little miffed to be coming up second to her love for the Falcon.
"What else?" Rey asks as she keeps poking around, ignoring his pouting. "Tell me about this dream girl."
He thinks a moment, pausing to admire Rey's backside as she bends over to check more equipment. "She has to have a sweet little mouth that drives me wild when she's not yelling at me."
Rey is only half listening. The Falcon still has her attention again. "This needs a charge," she observes, pointing to a decades old module that is best sent to the scrap pile and replaced. "The battery is shot, so it runs down fast—"
"Hey," he interrupts, nabbing her firmly from behind as she begins assessing yet another technical situation.
She whirls in his arms.
"I'm over here," he reminds her as they stand close. Enough about the Falcon. It can wait. She needs to give him some attention. He needs recharging much more than that module. Pulling her close, he murmurs, "I'm right here waiting for you."
"Ben—" she whispers. Rey never manages another word. For like always, the sound of his birth name on her lips is the most come-hither phrase this scavenger siren could ever utter. When she said it in the elevator to Snoke's throne room on the Supremacy, he nearly lost his mind and kissed her standing there in handcuffs. But now, he has no such opposition or inhibition. His lips capture hers for a kiss. Time to stop talking about the Falcon and start initiating the good stuff. Soon, he's got her back up against that subspace comm panel she was peering at earlier. She's pinned and happy about it. For even without the bond feeding him her thoughts, Rey's response reveals she's loving this.
Should he fuck her right here against the wall of the lounge?
"No, not here." Rey answers his thoughts as she breaks free and grabs his hand. "My bed is much more comfortable," she assures him as she leads him down the hall to the captain's quarters she used to call home.
"Yes, ma'am." He allows himself to be led.
More kisses ensue with less clothes on. Then he's back in Rey's rumpled sheets that are slightly gritty. Sand, no doubt. It's everywhere on this ship.
She's lying atop him, pressing him down into the mattress. It's the perfect position for him to fondle her skinny ass. But all her damp, hot female against his rigid, ready male keeps him from lingering on his caresses. It's time to get down to business.
He makes to flip her over, but she resists. If this is wrestling match, he's losing as Rey straddles him and sits down.
"Oh, no. This time, I'm in charge," she declares.
"Who says?" He bucks a not-so-subtle hint beneath her.
Rey ignores it. "I say. Besides, everyone knows the wife is in charge."
"That's not right."
"Yes, it is. Ever watch a holonet sitcom? The wife is always in charge. The husband just thinks he's the boss."
He raises an eyebrow and presses the point. "So, you're the boss of me?"
"Right now, I am," Rey grins. Her voice is husky and suggestive as she declares, "It's time to dock." Then she repositions herself to slide down the length of him.
He can't help but gasp. "Oh, Force." That is deep penetration. It takes his breath away momentarily. He groans again, eyes closed as he savors the feel. "Oh, Force." She has sheathed him neatly in her warm, welcoming body. It's absolute heaven.
"Like it?"
"I surrender," he yelps, eyes still closed. "Do whatever you wish so long as you never stop sitting on my—"
He never finishes the sentence because she starts to move. He's speechless for a moment at the feel of her writhing up and down, then grinding side to side. For this pleasure, he will gladly be the passive partner. And just look at Rey, with hair streaming and pert little breasts bobbing as she sways. He reaches up and she laces the fingers of both hands together with his. She braces herself against him as things get more vigorous. With bodies joined and minds fused in the bond, it culminates in a joyous shout from Rey.
It makes him laugh out loud. Never, he thinks as she collapses onto him, has he felt this contented. The galaxy might be falling apart, but right now, right here, everything is perfect. She's on his chest panting from exertion and he's grinning. As Rey settles down beside him in the sandy sheets, he impulsively drops a kiss on the end of her nose.
It makes her giggle. Then it makes her sneeze. And that makes her giggle some more. "What was that?" she asks.
"A wookiee kiss."
"No kidding?"
"Chewie used to give me wookiee kisses as a little boy." And why did he just remember that? It must be the Falcon setting. It's bringing up old ghosts of more innocent, happier times.
He immediately changes the topic. "So, what did you and Grandma talk about?"
"Looking for Vader lore?"
"Always."
Rey snuggles up against him as she reports. "I mostly went to her asking how she and Vader did things long distance. I thought she might have advice."
He is tickled by the whole scenario of Rey taking pointers from Darth Vader's widow. Such an unlikely scenario. But he's curious. "What did she say?"
"That they did the best they could to see each other."
"Like us."
"Like us."
"She said they met at his palace."
Atta-boy, Grandpa. "Let me guess-he flew in for Imperial booty calls?"
Rey chuckles. "We didn't get that specific. I mean, the guy was burned all over with lava, right. He couldn't . . . I mean, they didn't . . . did they?"
"I hope Grandpa got to bone her."
"Ben!"
"What? This is fun." Sex is everything it's hyped up to be. "I wasted too many years celibate. Waiting for you."
"Vader was more machine than man, right? Surely, he wasn't . . . uh . . . capable . . . uh . . . "
"Well, hopefully the doctors fixed him up with a robodick—"
"Ben!"
"What? I tell you now that a guy would rather lose an arm or a leg than lose his—"
"Ben!"
"It's true. Poor Grandpa. A quadriplegic asthmatic with a burnt—"
"Can we stop talking about this?" Rey complains.
He relents. "Vader must have liked the forbidden love thing since he did it twice. A Jedi with a wife—that was bold."
"It ended badly. She died," Rey points out.
"True."
"And his second marriage ended badly too," she reminds him. "He died."
"Yeah . . . " His face hardens as he lays blame, "Fucking Luke Skywalker is responsible for a lot of suffering."
"He's gone now too," Rey offers softly.
"That was sweet that you went to Astral looking for tips for us."
"We're taking an awful risk."
"What did she say about that?" he wonders.
"Don't get caught."
He nods at this good advice but reminds Rey, "The Force is with us." Luck is on their side.
"You say that, but that's not enough."
"Yes, it is," he asserts, and Rey doesn't argue back. These are the roles they have settled into—he's the nearly masochistic optimist with the grand theory of the Force and she's the skeptical pessimist who masks her fear of failure in cynicism. She'd call herself a realist, however.
Time for lighter conversation. He begins, "So I've been thinking about fixing this ship up. For old time's sake."
"Does the First Order know that you're secretly sentimental for Rebellion vehicles?" Rey teases.
"Don't tell anyone," he answers back. "But what do you say? Should I overhaul the Falcon?"
"The insides are pretty good," Rey judges. "Chewie and I did a lot of work."
"I can tell. She runs well."
"We never got around to refurbishing the interior."
He looks around at the peeling paint and faded interior cabinetry. His eyes pause on the closet door that is stuck slid half open. That's not a consequence of Jakku-it's been that way since his childhood. Han Solo spared no effort on the hyperdrive, but he neglected other tasks . . . just like he neglected his family. As a result, the interior of the Falcon is a decaying dump, but he refrains from saying so. Instead, he suggests, "I wouldn't mind a few more creature comforts. And a little less sand." The whole ship needs a vacuum cleaner.
Rey is genuinely surprised at his seriousness. "I thought you were Mr. 'Let the Past Die.' I would have thought you'd want to blow this ship out of the sky."
His reply is honest. "I have had that view on occasion."
"What changed your mind?"
"You. You're cute in the pilot seat."
Rey laughs. "You should see me in the turret gun. I'm lethal."
"I know." He saw for himself at Crait. "No," he muses, "I think I want to make this ship nice again. I can't change the past, but I can fix this ship." Han Solo's pride and joy is his now. And rather than destroy the starship that took his perpetually absent father away time and again, Kylo wants to keep it and fix it to be a better version of what he remembers. He thinks Han Solo would be fine with it.
"Confronting old demons?" Rey observes softly. "Making amends?" she suggests hopefully.
Uncomfortable as always with his regrets over his very problematic father, Kylo makes a face. "I guess . . . a little of both. I prefer to think that I'm putting the past behind me and making a new future with my stamp on it."
"Like the galaxy?"
"Yes." Exactly. Why has he never seen that parallel before? He's fixing his broken self, fixing this broken ship, and fixing the galaxy too. Well, whatever. Maybe that's not a good analogy. "Wanna help?"
"Sure. It can be our project when all of this is over. You don't exactly have spare time currently, Mr. Supreme Leader."
"You're right." His work is never done. And whether he succeeds at peace or they resume the war, either way his schedule will not relent any time soon.
Rey is the reflective one now. "At least you get to confront your past," she whispers. "I'll never know my past."
"I got that part about your parents wrong, I guess . . . " He feels badly about that. But it was an honest mistake. One of many he's made. "Force visions are notoriously misleading," is his best explanation. Luke used to say that you mostly perceive your fears in the cosmic Force—that visions say more about your present than they do your future.
"You got the part about Palpatine being my grandfather wrong too," Rey adds glumly.
"Sidious was in my head a lot," he sighs. That fucker was planting ideas and pretending to be Lord Vader for years and he fell for it completely. It's a sore subject. But Rey doesn't fault him for being gullible, he knows through the bond. She understands what it feels like to long for an approving parent figure.
Sidious' mental influence continued long after Snoke was gone. Thankfully, now that zombie Sith is weakened, so Kylo can feel more confident about the integrity of his own thoughts and Force interactions. He won't be duped again into feeding Rey lies that will lead her to Darth Sidious for capture.
"I'll never know the truth of my past," Rey laments again.
"Does that matter?"
"Of course, it matters!"
Her tone is sharp. The bond now reveals a flash of Rey's buried pain at her abandonment. Her sense of self-worth will be forever diminished by her castoff orphan status. Even if she wasn't sold by her parents, she was alone and unwanted for years in the desert. That experience made Rey strong and yet fragile. She has a tough, aggressive exterior that hides a lot of inner turmoil and vulnerability.
He can relate. By now, he knows that the Force is just one of many things he and Rey have in common.
Kylo now shifts on his side, props himself up on an elbow, and looks into her eyes. "Tell you what—I will love you enough for all that you have lost."
She makes a face and hands him a rebuff. "Don't go there, Ben—"
"Oh, I'm going there. Get used to it."
He will love her until she can accept it. He can be patient for her sake. Little by little, he plans to wear down her resistance. And then, she will be able to say out loud that she loves him back. Maybe, if all goes well, Rey will be able to love him enough for all that he himself has lost. For while he didn't spend years on Jakku, he suffered plenty in his own way.
Rey is silent for a bit now. Then, she asks in a small voice, "Do you think when this is all over, she might come forward?"
"She?" He's not following.
"My mother. Somewhere out there is a woman who lost a daughter."
"Rey, she's probably—"
"Dead. I know."
"Or she doesn't want to be found," he suggests bluntly.
"I know." Rey looks away but not before he sees the shine of threatening tears in her eyes. "I guess you are the only family I'll ever have . . . "
Not necessarily. "Someday, when the time is right, we'll have a family of our own. It won't replace what you lost, but it will give you the experience." Maybe Rey will never be someone's beloved daughter, but she can be someone's mother. That's something, at least.
He's expecting Rey to pushback like she always does. But she surprises him by actually admitting to what she wants. "Yeah . . . that would be nice. Maybe a little girl with three little hair knots."
He snorts. "Just so long as she doesn't have my ears. Or my nose," he adds as an afterthought.
Rey looks up to inform him sternly, "Whatever she looks like, we will love her."
Exactly. He is very solemn as he agrees. "Whoever she is, we will love her and accept her. We will guide her, but not try to change her." And no one will send her away at age ten for Jedi training as punishment.
"That's all a long way away," Rey decides. The bond tells him she's nervous. In fact, she gets a little screechy as she abruptly sits up. "Don't you dare get me pregnant!" she snarls. "Seriously, Ben, the only thing that would make this harder is if there's another Skywalker on the way."
"I know. Don't worry. I'm shooting blanks currently. And you took that shot, so we're doubly protected."
That reassures her. Rey nods. "We should be fine . . . "
"Relax," he tugs her back into his arms.
"Okay, so that spoiled the mood. Talk of the future always spoils the mood," Rey gripes.
"Don't be like that," he chides. "Have faith. It will all work out in the end. You'll see," he promises. "Trust in the Force."
"I'm trying," she grumbles.
Her tone makes him chuckle. "You're a terrible Jedi," he teases. Then, he reveals, "I'm going to Coruscant soon."
Rey immediately stiffens in his arms. She objects, "That's too risky—"
"I want to see Astral Sidhu. And since I'd rather not kidnap an old lady, I have to go to her."
"Is this for more Vader talk?"
"No. I want to talk about Alderaan."
Rey understands immediately where he's going. "Hosnia . . . " she breathes out.
He nods. "It's fast becoming a ripe issue."
"Is it?"
"I hope so. Rey, I don't want to keep up this back-and-forth between the two sides exchanging draft agreements. Already, your Chancellor will want to keep doing that as a stall tactic. Dragging things out forestalls an invasion, like she wants."
"True," Rey concedes. "So, what's your plan?"
"Once we get the trade provisions and the civil rights provisions done, we will have true momentum. That's when I want a face-to-face meeting to haggle out the rest of the deal. This is taking too long."
"But we haven't even begun the disarmament and security provisions," she sputters. "And then there's the super weapon stuff."
"Hosnia and disarmament are the flip side of the same issue. How we defend ourselves, what counts as 'act of war' aggression, what kind of weapons we can build and when we can use them . . . it's all the same issue. I'm not going to let the lawyers turn some document ten times polishing semicolons before we sit down and begin to negotiate on the big stuff. The slower this goes, the more likely it will stall," he worries aloud. "Plus, the threat of imminent invasion goes stale with each passing day and I lose the leverage of fear."
Rey doesn't dispute his logic, but she worries he can't pull it off. "I don't think Poe or Finn will sit down with you." She thinks a moment before adding, "Even if they would meet with you, I don't think that's a good idea."
He agrees. He and the traitor have a history of coming to blows and Dameron was basically his mother's replacement son. Kylo would be lying if he said that didn't push his buttons. But he has an alternative in mind. "If they will sit down with Crassus as my representative, that's enough."
"That could work . . . " Rey decides. "So, this meeting with your grandmother—can I be there?"
"No. I want you at a safe distance from me. I won't imperil you more."
"Alright," Rey reluctantly agrees. "But you are going to get Astral's advice on Hosnia, aren't you?"
"Yes. I'm the Crown Prince of Alderaan," he sighs. "I know all about anger and grief for a doomed world. I'm hoping she can tell me about what it takes to heal and to move on."
"Your mother moved on."
"No, she didn't. She fought the same fight over and over again for her whole life. First, she was the Rebel princess, then she was Resistance general. Her life's work was opposing her father's evil Empire and the Dark Side. That's not moving on," he spits out his condemnation. "That's digging in."
"Luke did the same," Rey commiserates.
"It's why the Force let them both die." There is far less triumph in that statement than there is bitter sorrow. Rey senses it and reaches to pull him close. It's the comfort he needs in the moment. Because he never really wanted to kill his family. But circumstances—and Snoke—made him do it. And now that they are vanquished, he's still angry at all the ways they disappointed him. Revenge is dissatisfying, he's learned.
His mother and uncle had a lifelong dedication to enshrining a past that was outdated from the time they were born. Once they had their chance to bring balance and chose otherwise, the Force abandoned them over time. Suddenly, the Force was with him. The Chosen One burden fell to him. Kylo thought he was alone in his plight until one day there was an awakening of immense power that turned out to be Rey. From the very moment he knew of her existence, he had to find her. He needed her as an ally. He wanted to teach her. Not as some Dark Apprentice subservient to him and to Snoke, but as a friend and an equal who could help usher in a new era of the Force. For here was an untutored talent, unspoiled by Jedi dogma and not yet indoctrinated with Republic orthodoxy . . . or so he falsely assumed. He couldn't keep Rey from finding Luke Skywalker, but in the end that didn't matter. Because his mirror image Chosen One was by her nature curious about Darkness . . . and that meant she was drawn to him. Fast forward and here they are, naked in each other's arms.
And that brings him to another truth Rey needs to know: "Moving on is why the Force let us both be revived. We are its favorites . . . for now." They are the change agents the galaxy needs. And if they fail in their task, the Force will forsake them as well.
Rey softly murmurs his mantra, "Let the past die . . . "
"Exactly. I'm hoping old Lady Vader can help me understand how best to do that, at least where Hosnia is concerned."