Published November 11, 2020
"Contact"
Here, pious hermits from the world retir'd
In contemplation wing'd their thoughts to heav'n;
Here, with religion's heart-felt raptures fir'd,
Wept o'er their erring days, and were forgiv'n.
~ George Keate, "The Ruins of Netley Abbey"
Ben's first days in exile were the strangest and most difficult. At least, he hoped they were. Surely it could only get easier as time went on and he adjusted to living alone in this place.
On the one hand, he had many reasons to be happy, and he felt freer than he had ever been. The weights he had been carrying for months, for years, even his entire life, were gone, never to return. There was no one from whom he needed to shield his thoughts or emotions, no one to suspect of plotting to harm him. He did not have to adhere to a schedule, or obey any superior's orders or instructions. He could spend his time however he pleased.
On the other hand, he did not know what to do with himself. He was confined to the island, and he lacked a sense of purpose beyond simply surviving. As a child, he had hoped to become pilot like his father. As a Jedi trainee, he had conformed his goals to Luke's. During his time in the First Order, his fear and hatred of Luke had shaped his goals. Now, he was not part of any community. His family was gone, and he there was no one and nothing to whom he owed allegiance. There were still a few people who wanted him to live—Rey, Chewbacca, Lando—and the possibility of seeing them again gave him something to live for. But what was he to do in the meantime?
He could have R2-D2 wake him up by a certain time each morning; or he could simply lie in his bed as long as he wanted. It was strange to have the choice, and hardly any consequence for one or the other. But after alternating between the two, he was not sure which one felt more satisfactory. It was not as though he had a lot that needed to be accomplished over the course of each day.
He spent the first day or two arranging his living space. He had no real furniture besides the crates of supplies, which contained emergency food and water rations, clothing, blankets, and a handful of simple tools. The crates could serve as chairs or tables depending on how he arranged them. The hut included a low bench to serve as his bed. A crate cover substituted as a window shutter when the weather was bad (which was very often).
Ben only had a few personal possessions to find places for. He put the journal and writing supplies from Maz on a shelf indented into the wall. He decided that he would wait to try writing in it when he felt settled in his new home.
While cleaning the hut, Ben found one stone in the wall came out to reveal a small interior compartment. He decided to put Leia's lightsaber there for safekeeping. It would be strange to not have a lightsaber always on hand. Ever since Ben had made his own saber as a Jedi apprentice, he had always had one near him; and since the night the temple was destroyed, he had always kept it near his bed in case he was attacked in his sleep. But if he was going to try to live without violence, he thought it best to try to make a clean break of it.
Perhaps someday he and Rey might try sparring with their lightsabers, just for fun. The thought made him smile.
He screwed a hook into the wall above the doorway for Han's dice. Before hanging them up, he kissed the dice the way Han always had before hanging them up in the Falcon or whatever vehicle he was piloting. Hanging them above the door was the closest thing Ben could think of—since he would never leave this island, this hut might as well be his ship.
Ben appreciated that, unlike C-3PO, R2-D2 did not insist on constantly making its presence and opinions known. The little droid was content to rolls into a corner and shut down when it was not needed.
Once Ben had taken inventory of his possessions and set up his dwelling to his liking, he was left with the task of looking for ways to pass the time.
He inspected each of the huts, except for the one that Luke had occupied. Ben was not ready for that—he knew he would feel his uncle's presence even more if he touched the things Luke had owned and sat in the space where he had spent so much time. It was oppressive enough to walk where he had walked and do the daily tasks he had done in the last years of his life.
Ben supposed he could try to repurpose some of the huts. One would have to remain living quarters, in case he had a visitor who wanted to stay overnight—Rey had hinted that she and Chewie might make extended visits in the future. But others could serve different purposes. Perhaps one could be turned into a 'fresher, with a toilet and a bathtub. He could repurpose one of the crates as a tub, but he would have to find a way to collect enough freshwater—perhaps he could devise a way to collect rainwater during the frequent showers.
He tried the different ways Rey had suggested for gathering food and water. That took perhaps two or three hours each day—a small fraction of the time available to him. Cooking was a bit of a challenge, since he had not prepared his own meals in such a long time, but R2-D2 had some basic information and recipes in his memory, and Ben soon got the hang of it. He only wished there was a bit more variety. Maybe, if he asked Rey to bring him some seeds, he could try to plant a garden and grow other fruits and vegetables.
If the weather was fair, Ben ate his meals sitting outside. Doing this made him think of Rey—he had seen her memories of eating outside her AT-AT shelter in the evenings on Jakku. It was still strange to spend so much time out in fresh air, sunlight, and the natural elements, but he was learning to like it.
He spent some time each day meditating, a habit he had retained even after renouncing the Jedi. He could understand why the original Jedi had founded their order on this island: it had a stronger connection to the Force than any other place Ben had ever been, and he had visited the sites of some very powerful vergences in his lifetime. He sensed so much happening on and around the island. As desolate as it initially appeared, it could not be said that nothing happened here. There was a constant, almost perfectly balanced cycle of life, death, and rebirth.
Now that he was living there too, Ben had to wonder: Could he be part of that cycle? Did he have a place in the galaxy? Was this where he was meant to be? And could he be happy, or at least at peace, in this lonely yet deeply spiritual place?
He could not help feeling somewhat haunted, both by his past and by specific people who were no longer alive. There was no escaping Luke's influence. It permeated the island and was particularly strong in a few places, such as the stone ledge overlooking the ocean. This was where he had lived the last six years of his life, and where he had died after projecting himself to stop Kylo Ren from killing the Resistance. Everything Rey had taught Ben about the island, she had learned from observing Luke.
It was at one of those frequent moments when he happened to think fleetingly of Rey that he suddenly felt that familiar sensation, as though she had suddenly entered the room. Surprised, hopeful yet afraid to hope, he turned around slowly—and there she was, her face mirroring his emotions.
"Rey," he breathed.
"Ben." She said his name almost the same way she had said it when she awoke in his arms on Exegol. Her smile was almost the same, too: amazed and overjoyed. This time, he didn't hesitate to return it. "It's still intact."
"You say that as though you're happy about it." Ben's tone was light, almost teasing.
"I am," Rey said sincerely. "It means you won't be alone."
He nodded, his smile widening. "Neither will you."
They only had time to say this much before they disappeared from each other.
That interaction, brief as it was, left Ben feeling happier and more hopeful than he had been since he arrived on Ahch-To.
Even though the two connections were different in nature, seeing that he was still connected to Rey made him hopeful that he could contact some of his ancestors. He would rather talk with them directly than feel like they were following him unseen.
After learning that the voice he had heard over the past several years had been Palpatine and not Vader, he was curious to talk to his grandfather. But he was not sure his grandfather would want to talk to him, and his own feelings about the man were mixed at this point.
Ben did not particularly want to speak with Luke again. Seeing him had been quite enough. He supposed he was starting to feel less fear, anger and hatred toward the man, but he was not ready to exchange words again. There was too much shame on both sides.
Leia, on the other hand, he thought he would like to see. They had not been able to even exchange a few words before she died.
With this intention in mind, he went up to the temple, to the cavern with the mosaic pool, and sat there to meditate. Well over an hour passed as he reflected on his memories of Leia, of the last times he had felt her through the Force. He tried to reach out to her as he had sometimes searched for Luke and Rey, trying to sense the individual's presence in the great expanse of the galaxy. He grew frustrated as time passed with no result, and he began to feel the same kind of frustration and disappointment he had felt whenever he was neglected.
"Be with me." He almost felt like a child, reciting that mantra—it felt too much like what he had wanted when he was young. "Please. You weren't there for me when you were alive, and I …" His throat was becoming so tight that could not finish his sentence.
Then he felt something: a kind of warmth in the cavern, like another presence had suddenly entered. "I'm always with you, Ben."
He turned toward the voice, and there she was, just as she had appeared the day he arrived.
"Mom." He tried to get to his feet, but could only come up on his knees.
Leia's ghostly apparition walked up closer to him, her head only a little higher than his when he was kneeling. She lowered her hood, tilting her head as she looked on him fondly. "My son."
"I can't believe you answered." The words were out of Ben's mouth before he could stop them, and he could not keep some bitterness out of them. His parents had communicated so infrequently while he was at school, and on the occasions when he had reached out, she had usually been too busy to answer.
She looked at him with contrition. "I'm so sorry, Ben."
"It's too late for that." He had thought that before, but as soon as he said it, he regretted it. He finally had her audience—why was he messing it up?
"I know. But I need to say it anyway. I need you to know it." She sat down next to him on the edge of the pool. "Ben … I don't know if I didn't say it enough, or if Snoke kept you from hearing it; but I have always—"
"Don't," Ben whispered.
"—always loved you and felt proud of you. And I was never angry with you. I was only sad—because I felt how much your actions hurt you—and sorry I failed to prevent it. Can you forgive me?"
"I don't know." It was not in Ben's nature to be forgiving. He had always been sensitive, his emotions strong. Though he had never hated his parents, he had resented them for various reasons, and he did not let go of resentments easily.
"Can you try?" Leia pressed.
That word, "try," brought back something Luke used to say: he would quote the ancient Jedi master Yoda, who had taught him, "There is no try." But that was nonsensical, since trial was necessary for success or failure.
"Yes. I'll try."
"Thank you."
Ben hesitated. "Can you …"
"I already forgave you, Ben. I sensed how you felt—your pain, your grief—the moment you embraced the Dark Side, and the moment your father died."
He noticed that she said "your father died" instead of "you killed your father." Somehow, her trying to spare him the pain of hearing that hurt just as much as if he had.
They sat in silence briefly before Ben asked haltingly, "Do you know how—where—Dad is?"
"Yes. He's at peace. So is Luke, and so are our parents. All six of them, in fact—two biological and four adoptive parents. I've seen them all." Seeming to anticipate Ben's next question, Leia explained, "Most of them can't appear this way—it's very difficult, and painful, to manifest as an individual again, after becoming one with the Force. Only a few have ever managed it."
"You're in pain, now?" That made Ben feel even worse.
Leia smiled reassuringly. "It's worth it to see you—to talk to you one more time. I wanted that, and you needed it. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Ben."
"Why? All I've done is cause you pain."
"Sweetheart … you may not remember, but you brought me—all of us—so much joy when you were born, and growing up. After losing my planet, my home … you helped me to heal. You gave us hope. You taught me how to love unconditionally, without a reason for it."
"I don't understand."
"Someday you will." Leia reached for his hand, and Ben was amazed to feel her touch—not quite the same as the touch of a living person, but more substantial than he had dared to imagine. He looked from their hands to her eyes, full of earnestness as she said, "I so hope you will."
Ben's throat felt tight. "Mom …"
Her lips drew back in a smile. "I know."
"No—please let me say this."
She nodded. Ben took a breath, squeezing her hand. "Mom … I'm sorry. For everything. And … I love you. And Dad."
"I know."
This time, Ben believed her.
Still holding his hand, Leia reached out with her other hand and touched his face, his hair. It was like being touched in a very vivid dream—even though he knew it was not real, it felt close enough. "Remember—you'll always be my son. My brave, handsome, compassionate son."
Ben nodded. He had tried so hard for so long to deny who he was, and whose he was, but now he accepted it.
He was not sure which of them pulled the other into the hug, but they were hugging—how long, he could not say—and when they finally drew back, she kissed his forehead and whispered, "Take care, Ben."
Then she let go of him, and the next moment, she was gone. Though it was not a surprise, it was still a disappointment.
The tears Ben had been blinking back finally came in full force, and he did not try to stop them now. He broke down and wept—for Leia, for Han, and even for Luke; for the family he had torn apart, and the future he had destroyed. He might still have had thousands of other sins to repent, hundreds of other deaths to mourn, but those were the worst burdens he had to carry.
But they forgave him, and they wanted him to move on. So, for their sake, he would have to try to forgive himself, and find a new purpose for his life.