Chapter 18: This is Where I Leave You
"We are buried in broken dreams
We are knee-deep without a plea
I don't want to know what it's like
To live without you."
- The Other Side, Ruelle
29 ABY
It makes a sick sort of sense, Ben Solo admitted to himself, not for the first time. Leia, Han, Luke—they all had reasons to mistrust me. I was sure it was in judgement of my own character, but now I know it was so much more than that. The other Jedi have always feared me—now they have a reason to truly hate me.
Unbidden, he recalled the intoxicating rush of power that had come with cutting off another boy's airflow; the heady sense of control as he stood over the defeated Force-user on Csilla and prepared to deliver the killing blow. He heard the crackle of his saber and saw the terror in Rey's nine-year-old eyes.
Not that they needed another reason.
Frustrated, he reactivated the training droid and stepped back. The small, spherical device rose from the ground and rotated to face him, sensors flickering. A flash of attenuated laser fire streaked towards Ben's left leg. Twisting, he deflected it. A second followed, and then a third, as the droid executed a series of hurried, choppy movements, releasing a steady stream of fire that kept Ben on his toes.
The black anger that Ben had managed to harness these past four years was back. Now that Snoke was gone, he knew the anger was no mere reflection of his mentor's ire, but a product of his own darkness. The other apprentices could sense it. He read as much in their hesitation to approach him during training and in the way conversations ended whenever he entered a room. He didn't mind. He had never minded solitude.
It was a political rival, Luke had tried to explain to him. One of Leia's opponents in the Senate, a man named Ransolm Casterfo. We aren't sure who or what initially tipped him off, but he was able to secure official documentation regarding Leia's adoption, and the names of her birth parents.
Anakin Skywalker. The name still felt foreign to Ben, who for over twenty years had only known the Hero With No Fear by the moniker he had taken later. Darth Vader.
In the months since his return to Yavin 4, Ben had spent countless hours in the library and on the holonet, searching for information on the man who had overthrown the First Jedi Order. Anakin's origin story reminded him uncomfortably of Rey's—a harsh upbringing on a lonely desert planet, before he was swept away to the Jedi temple where he fell in love with a beautiful princess. Perhaps it was lucky that there were no beautiful princesses on Yavin 4. Or beautiful princes, for that matter.
Ben scowled as a training blaster bolt whizzed past his ear.
Hiding his anger from Luke had been easy—after all, he'd spent years hiding his anger before Rey had wiped it away with her smile and her laugh. But now that the rage and hurt had returned, he found it nearly impossible to shield her from either emotion. As the months had passed, her patience had never faded. It's okay to be angry, she told him, nearly daily. What they did wasn't fair. Being angry doesn't make you a bad person.
He didn't have the heart to tell her that he feared he'd been a bad person long before he'd discovered his family's lies. It was laid out before him clearly, now that the curtains of his own denial had been wrenched aside. Sith lords like Snoke didn't waste their time on random Force-sensitive children, even ones related to Jedi Masters. No, if Ben's only inheritance had been the ceaseless light of his mother and uncle, Snoke would've stood little chance of seducing him to the dark side. But blood was thicker than water, and Snoke had known what Ben didn't—darkness was in his very nature. Had it not been for Rey, Ben Solo would surely have fallen.
But he knew now what he hadn't then—that the dark side was real, and it wore a face. It crept into hidden corners, wore many disguises, and corrupted all that it touched. The identity of Ben's grandfather had touched on his own secret fear: that he was yet another disguise worn by the dark. A human Trojan horse, sent amongst the forces of Light to seed turmoil and despair. And he had started with the person most dear to him—Rey. Since she'd met Ben, Rey had suffered visions of encroaching darkness, faced near-death at Snoke's hands, and developed Sith-associated Force powers. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together, and luckily for Ben, Luke and Leia's conversations had confirmed what he already knew.
His was a corrupting influence.
A practice blaster bolt struck Ben's shoulder, drawing him out of the spiral of his self-diatribe. Snarling in irritation, he batted aside another bolt and slashed at the practice droid. It retreated, firing again, and struck his calf. Furious, Ben slashed wildly at the device, missing each time. It fired once more, and he whipped to the side to avoid taking a hit to the face. Extending a single hand, he grasped the sphere with the Force, and crushed it. The fist-sized droid crumpled into a twisted ball of metal hardly larger than a peach pit.
Disgusted, Ben threw down his practice saber and strode over to the ruined device. It sparked once, as if in rebuke.
As Ben knelt to gather the remains, the outline of a shadowy presence materialized beside him. A waste of parts, but an understandable outpouring of frustration, the figure mused. There are worse uses for anger.
Ben leapt upright in surprise, summoning his practice saber to his hand, but it diverged at the last moment and flew into the surprisingly corporeal grip of the figure.
"What are you?" Ben snarled, taking a defensive pose.
What? Don't you mean who?
"No, I mean what," Ben snapped.
A leaving of the Force, I suppose, the figure answered. It was of a height with Ben, and wore a dark robe so that he couldn't make out its face. A remnant, left to wander the galaxy in penance for my failures.
"Fine, who, then?"
People have called me many names, the figure answered, drawing back its hood to reveal a young man, about Ben's age. His hair was dark, although not as dark as Ben's, and a scar bisected his left eye, which was lit with a bright fire. In fact, both of his eyes shone—almost amber despite the ghostly blue haze blanketing the rest of his body. Ani, Anakin, Knight Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear, Darth Vader. But perhaps you might call me 'grandfather.'
Ben recoiled as if he had been struck. "You're—you're dead," he stammered.
In a move shockingly unbecoming for a Sith Lord, Darth Vader rolled his eyes. Obviously, he answered soundlessly. I've just told you that I'm a remnant. Do you want my help or not?
"You're a mass-murderer," Ben answered, casting about for a weapon. What weapon could possibly be useful against a Force ghost? "Of course I don't want your help."
Vader chuckled. Did your uncle truly never tell you how I met my untimely end? he questioned. How I recognized the error of my ways and sacrificed my life to save him? Children can be so ungrateful.
Ben stared, open-mouthed, suddenly uncertain as to who was standing before of him. He gathered himself. "Luke probably knew I wouldn't believe him." He paused. "I don't believe you either."
Probably wise not to believe everything you're told by strange entities in the Force, Vader-Anakin answered rather pointedly.
"You know about Snoke?" Ben asked, suddenly wary.
Oh, is that what he calls himself now? Pathetic.
"You knew him? Before?"
Vader-Anakin tipped his head to the side. His eyes glittered playfully. No. But being a part of the Cosmic Force, I have borne witness to a great many things. Not least of which was your struggle with Snoke.
"You weren't allies, then?" Ben asked. "You two seem like the sort who would have common ground."
Have you listened to nothing I've said? Vader-Anakin asked. If a mental projection could carry a tone of exasperation, this one did. I realized the error of my ways. Snoke is even more rash than I was, in my youth.
"Rash?" Ben asked. "That's a funny word for slaughtering the Jedi and taking over half the galaxy."
Ben's grandfather looked suddenly somber, and Ben glimpsed the troubled young man he had once been. Anakin Skywalker, before he was Darth Vader.
Yes, Anakin said finally. My transgressions can never be undone, it is true. They cannot be atoned for. But I wish to help you nonetheless. Your particular situation…speaks to me.
"Why?" Ben asked.
Anakin studied the practice saber in his hand thoughtfully. Your young friend, he said slowly. She's very beautiful, is she not?
Ben bristled. "What do you know about her?"
His grandfather's ghostly figure chuckled. Peace, grandson. I have no special interest in her, except as a result of her importance to you.
Ben glared.
She reminds me of someone I once knew, Anakin continued. The sorrow in his eyes was devastatingly genuine. A flower in the desert; an angel out of an old spacer's tale. Does the name Padmé Amidala mean anything to you?
"Your wife," Ben said lowly. "My grandmother."
Indeed, though I knew not for many years that our children had survived their birth. They were hidden from me.
"For their own good, I'm sure," Ben rebuked. "What does any of this have to do with Rey?"
Rey, Anakin said softly. A fitting name. Did you know, Padmé was Rey's age when I first met her on Tatooine? Fourteen and already the queen of her people.
"Seems like a lot of responsibility for a teenager," Ben said acerbically, wondering when the ghostly figure would reach his point.
Perhaps, Anakin responded. Tell me, did any of your Jedi books ever tell you why I turned to the dark side?
"No, but I'm guessing it was because you became a power-hungry maniac."
Not quite. In fact, my fall began as all such things do—with good intentions. When Ben made no answer, Anakin continued. I received a vision of my wife dying. During childbirth. I was convinced that were I to become a more powerful Jedi, I would be strong enough to save her. I had heard of strange healing arts wielded by certain Sith Masters, and hoped that by serving my own master, I would gain instruction that would allow me to save her from certain death.
Ben felt suddenly ill. "I take it you didn't."
No, Anakin confirmed. I placed my trust in the wrong person. A close friend and mentor turned her against me, and in my anger, I killed her.
Ben flinched so hard that his grandfather swayed towards him in what seemed like ghostly concern. "I'm sorry," he choked.
You see now, why your story speaks to me? Anakin asked. My foolishness brought the one I loved to ruin. I would see you tread a different path.
"You think I'm a danger to her?" Ben asked softly, his mind turning over his own fears yet again.
I believe that you can keep her safe, Anakin answered. But you must not act rashly. You must—
"Be-en!" The call rang out across the training ground, and Ben flinched again, spinning around. Coming down the grassy sward towards him was Rey, her hair flowing loose around her shoulders. "There you are!" she called. "It's nearly dinner, are you still practicing?"
"I—uh—no," Ben responded. "Just finishing up." He darted a glance over his shoulder. The Force ghost of his grandfather was gone.
"Are you okay?" Rey asked, drawing near. "You seem skittish."
"I'm fine," Ben answered quickly, swiping strands of sweaty hair out of his face. "Just tired."
Rey glanced past him, concern gathering in her eyes. Ben's heart nearly stopped. "Have you ruined another practice droid?" she asked reproachfully, circumventing him to reach for the scraps of his latest victim. "I told you, you need to stop losing your temper with them! It's just programming, they don't mean you any ill will."
"Doesn't feel that way when they blast you," Ben muttered.
Together the two began the long march back to the Temple, Rey excitedly narrating her day to him. If she noticed Ben glancing over his shoulder into the gathering dusk more than once, it didn't seem to phase her.
Anakin's second appearance was less startling than his first, but only just. One moment Ben was slipping into a meditative state under the broad, outstretched branches of an ancient tree, and the next he was staring across a flat, dark plain at the ghost of his grandfather. Their eyes met, and Anakin's face split into a lopsided smile.
Welcome, grandson.
Over the coming months, their conversations—though few and far between—covered topics from Skywalker familial tensions to starfighter piloting. Anakin had a quick mind and a deep heart, and his words were like balm on a wound; in the ghost of his forbearer, Ben felt that he had finally found a relative who acknowledged and accepted his imperfections. While Rey had always understood Ben implicitly, and remained his closest confidant, it was somehow different to have an older, wiser figure to depend upon. It was, he mused, how others must feel about their fathers.
And grandfather was wise—wiser by far than Snoke had been, and more open-minded than Luke. He had trodden the path of darkness and returned with a heavy soul, able to dissect the pros and cons of power and willing to divulge how one might achieve strength without greed.
Ben's only source of doubt was his strange reluctance to reveal grandfather's existence to Rey. Each day he told himself, tomorrow I will tell her, and each tomorrow he failed to do so. While grandfather had never asked for his presence to remain a secret, a quiet corner of Ben's mind insisted that revealing their meetings to Rey would confirm what she and the others must already believe: that he was, as they all feared, the heir to Darth Vader's darkness. How could he explain to her that the kind young man who came to him in fragments and dreams was just like Ben himself, rather than a corrupted dark sider? How could he explain that Anakin's quiet questioning of the Jedi way and the depth and strength of his emotions—love, humor, frustration, even anger—echoed a deep chord in Ben's own heart?
So, Ben kept his silence, though the secret ate at him.
Six months after their return from Chandrila, Rey turned fifteen. A week later, Ben passed his Trials. He was convinced at first that his passage was a boon from Luke, who, in the depths of his guilt was seeking to return to Ben's good graces.
Don't undersell your abilities, grandfather chided him. You are a strong and capable Jedi. Luke was right to promote you to the rank of Knight. Soon you will be a Jedi Master.
"Do you consider yourself a Jedi?" Ben asked. "Or something else?"
Grandfather hummed in quiet contemplation. An intriguing question, he finally answered. I have become more than a Jedi could ever hope to be. I have learned things that no Jedi will ever teach. He sighed, exhaustion lining his ageless face. I regret the pain that I have brought to the ones I love, he admitted. Call it the dark side if you will—but were I living, I would not renounce my power. Not if I knew it could be used to protect them.
Ben's stomach churned unpleasantly. "So you are a dark-sider?" he questioned.
Such a binary perspective, grandfather admonished. I know you view the dark side as purely evil, but your world view has been shaped by my son and daughter only. It is understandable that they should have a twisted vision of the Sith, given the ways in which I—the only Sith they knew—abused my powers. I am only myself, grandson. I have learned to find strength in whatever teachings I can. Is seeking a broader perspective a sign of folly, or wisdom?
"Luke says that the teachings of the dark side always lead to pain and suffering," Ben answered automatically. "Do you disagree?"
My son fears what he does not know, grandfather sighed. He is not like you and I; his views are rigid and unyielding. Though I love him, I fear for the new generation of Jedi under his tutelage.
"He condemns Sith for their dishonesty, but has lied to me from my birth," Ben admitted. "It's as if his fixed view of good and evil prevents him from seeing his own flaws."
And the flaws of the Jedi, grandfather added, wearily. I hope that with my assistance, you will learn to overcome that narrow path.
Ben's anger towards his uncle and mother still burned like a fire-hot brand, but his frustrations now had direction and solace.
"I thought about what you told me, grandfather," he said one evening. "About how I might make the galaxy safer. It is my belief that I must be the one to kill Snoke. Only then will I know that Rey and the others are safe from his reach. With your help, I'm sure I can do it."
Very good, grandfather told him. Will you tell Master Skywalker of your desire to do so?
"Luke doesn't know about Snoke," Ben answered slowly. "Only Rey and I do."
Grandfather looked strangely pleased. Then you must go alone, he concluded. Under the guise of another mission.
Ben dragged a toe through the dirt. "I'm not sure I can leave yet," he admitted. "Rey would be heartbroken if I left her here."
Grandfather sighed wearily. I see your dilemma; he admitted after a time. But haven't you thought before that your presence may be harmful to her growth? She is, after all, still a child. Perhaps time apart would serve you both well.
"Yes," Ben answered softly. "There is darkness in me, grandfather. I can sense it. And Rey loves me too well to see it."
She is a true friend, grandfather surmised. But sometimes friendship requires sacrifice.
"I only want to protect her," Ben admitted. "I suppose the dark side and the light side don't matter quite so much as keeping her safe."
Very wise, grandfather had responded, eyes glittering. Do not limit yourself in the tools you may use to aid your cause. It is as you told young Rey—certain abilities are judged unfairly because of the identities of those who discovered their use. Remember this lesson, grandson, and your Rey will be one step closer to ultimate safety.
As the days marched onwards, Ben saw more and more clearly how his friendship had isolated Rey from the other apprentices. Although she was nowhere near the pariah that Ben was, he marked how they quieted when she approached, or paired off amongst themselves while she stood aside, forlorn. Only the tall, gangly one—Colt, he told himself—appeared to hold her in high esteem.
Ben caught the boy during meditation hour one afternoon. "We need to speak," he said brusquely, and pulled the apprentice aside without explanation. When they found a quiet corner, Ben released Colt's wrist, which he snatched away as if burned. Ben scowled.
"You're friends with Rey," he started uncertainly.
"Yes," Colt answered, gazing to the right of Ben's ear.
Ben swiveled around, half expecting to see Luke approaching over his shoulder. They were alone. "Listen, I need you to do me a favor," he continued. "I may have to go away for a while."
Colt scowled at him. "I told her you would."
Ben opened his mouth to continue and then shut it. "You—what?"
"I told her you'd pass your Trials and then leave," Colt expanded. "She didn't believe me."
"Look, I don't have time for this," Ben cut in. "But I may have to go away. To keep her safe. I need someone to look out for her while I'm gone. You're the only one who doesn't treat her like she's tainted by association with me. Okay?"
Colt's eyes tracked left until they met Ben's. He studied the Jedi Knight thoughtfully. "I may have misjudged you, Ben Organa-Solo," he finally said. "I will look out for Rey because she is my friend. Not because you asked." He turned on his heel and walked away.
Good enough, Ben thought.
The summer stretched out interminably, a muggy, humid affair that offered no relief. Ben and Rey went swimming in the river most afternoons. Sometimes Colt joined them.
Despite Rey's years on Jakku, the heat seemed to affect her greatly, causing a flush to rise in her cheeks that worried Ben endlessly. His anxiety for her seemed to grow every day, and in every situation. On particularly warm days, he would press his hand to her forehead to check for heatstroke, or watch her intently for signs of flagging energy.
"Stop mothering me!" Rey would protest, swatting his hands away in embarrassment. Colt would only watch silently, his green eyes appraising.
One day as they padded back up from the river, feet stirring clouds of dust, Rey turned to Ben.
"I'm glad that you're letting other people in," she said quietly, her gaze flickering to Colt, who walked several strides ahead. "I've been so worried about you."
"Worried about me?" Ben asked. "Why?"
"You've been so distant lately," she admitted, leaning into his arm. "It's like there's a dark storm cloud over you, and no matter how hard I try to reach you, you just get further away."
"I don't want you to worry," Ben said. "Everything is fine. I'm just…trying to figure out who I need to be."
"Yourself," Rey answered, her gaze open and untroubled. "Just yourself."
"Hmm," Ben answered, and blessedly she let the subject drop.
As the seasons prepared to change, Ben felt as if an insurmountable tension was building in the air. His anger with Luke fizzled and sparked like a summer thunderstorm, and his ability to bear the whispers and stares of the others slowly waned.
It all came to a head one night at dinner, when Kora and Akava returned bearing dark news from the Senate.
"There's been an attack," Kora stood to tell them. "On one of the Temples on Jedha. The Knights of Ren is what they're calling themselves. Dark siders who worship artifacts of the Jedi and Sith, and lightsabers above all else." Her gaze cut over to Serai. "We've seen them before."
"The Force-sensitives from Csilla?" Serai asked. "They're still active?"
"What were they looking for on Jedha?" Janneh asked.
"No one knows," Kora responded.
"That's enough," Luke said from the head of the table. "This is a matter better discussed in private."
"Sorry, Master Skywalker," Kora said, blushing as she dropped into her seat.
After dinner, the topic resurfaced in the kitchens.
"I bet they were after some Jedi artifacts," Akava suggested, elbow-deep in suds. "What other reason would they have for going to Jedha?"
"Maybe they just wanted to see the giant scorch marks left behind by the Empire," Ezriel suggested, throwing a dark look in Ben's direction.
"Scorch marks? What scorch marks?" Ninsar piped up.
"From when Darth Vader destroyed the Holy City with the first Deathstar?" Ezriel drawled. "Those scorch marks."
Ben glared down at the dish he was drying, but didn't rise to the bait.
"Maybe we should be asking Solo what the dark siders were doing on Jedha," Ezriel pressed. "After all, I'm sure he knows how they think."
"Shut up!" Rey snapped, rounding on Ezriel. "You don't know what you're talking about!"
"Oh, but I suppose you would," Ezriel snapped, glaring down his nose at her. "Given you've been following him around like a desert cur for the better part of a decade."
The glass in Ben's hand shattered. Blood poured into his palm.
The kitchen fell incredibly silent.
"Don't speak to her that way," Ben said levelly.
"Or what, Sithspawn? Will you kill me like your grandfather killed the entire population of Alderaan?"
Ben whirled on Ezriel, snapping a fist into the smaller man's jaw. He reeled backwards, slamming his head on the edge of the sink as he went down.
"Woah!" Loren shouted, pushing forward. "Don't touch him you ass—"
His voice cut off with a squeak. Ben hadn't moved from where he was, but his shoulders were trembling with rage. Loren made a rasping sound, his hands reaching for his throat.
"Ben!" Rey shouted, dragging on his arm. "Ben, stop it!" He looked down. There were tears glittering in her eyes.
Horrified, Ben cut himself off from the Force.
Loren listed against one of the countertops, massaging his trachea. "Kriff, Solo, what was that for?" he managed weakly.
Ezekiel raised himself up off the floor. A dark bruise was blossoming across the right side of his face.
Ben staggered backwards towards the doors, pushing them open and tumbling out into the dining room. Panicked, he crossed the space in great, reaching strides and all but sprinted down the entrance hall. The night air was a cool caress on the back of his neck. He didn't stop moving until he reached the edge of the forest.
"Grandfather," he sobbed, between heaving gasps of air. He felt as if he, rather than Loren, had had the breath choked out of him. Calm, kind, level-headed Loren. "What have I done?"
Peace, child, grandfather's voice said. All will be well. No irreparable damage has been done.
"But I—I didn't mean to," Ben stammered. "I lost control."
I know, grandfather murmured. We all do, sometimes. Strengthening one's control is an endless, unappreciated task. You must only use these powers when you want to.
"Should I want to?" Ben panted. "Should I ever want—that?"
If someone meant to harm you, or Rey, I imagine you'd be willing to use any skill at your disposal to defend yourself. Sometimes a show of power is the only way to prevent further threat to the ones you love.
Ben dashed tears from his eyes. "What am I supposed to do?" he begged. "I can't—I can't bear it. I thought I was—better. After I met Rey, it all felt so much easier to control. But now the anger has returned, and the pain, and I feel that I could tear the world apart. I'm a bomb, waiting to detonate, and when I do everyone near to me will be caught in the blast zone."
Grandfather was silent a moment. Your lack of control is indeed alarming, he began. An image flickered through Ben's mind, as quick as lightning: a landing pad, cast in fiery orange light. A small, strikingly pretty woman looking up at him with fear in her eyes. Ani, no!
Ben clenched his fists, blinking away the vision. He knew it was his grandfather's memory.
Under your uncle's instruction you have learned to control such outbursts by maintaining a sense of calm, grandfather continued, his tone free of judgement. It is an understandable mistake. What the Jedi don't understand is that sometimes a strongeremotion is required.
"What do you mean?" Ben asked, slowly.
You have been taught to avoid emotion—have you found this teaching helpful?
"No," Ben admitted.
When you feel great anger, do you find that willing that emotion into nothingness is a successful tactic?
"Not in the slightest," Ben gritted out, his frustration mounting.
What if I told you there is another way? Another means of controlling these emotions, harnessing them? A way in which you could control your violent outbursts, and protect young Rey?
"Is this something that I can learn?" Ben asked, a frantic hope beating behind his sternum.
Not from a Jedi.
Ben closed himself off from the Force as best he could, and spent the night pacing the training yard. He considered unsheathing his saber and stripping away his sorrow through physical exertion, but worried that it would send the wrong message to his fellow Jedi, who even now were likely debating how great a threat he stood to them. Near midnight he sensed Rey's approach.
Please leave me be, for a little while, he mentally beseeched her. She stopped on the steps of the Temple, her small frame silhouetted by the lights behind her. She stared down in his direction for several long moments before turning away. Her absence ached, but he knew it was right.
You must act quickly, grandfather had instructed him. The longer you stay, the greater the danger to your friend. It will take me many months, even years, to teach you all that I know. You must find a way to remove yourself from Yavin 4 until your training is complete.
At dawn he stood outside Luke's study. He wasn't sure if news of his outburst had reached his uncle yet, but he hoped to head off the consequences with his own request. When Luke finally answered his knocking, there was a look of sleepy confusion in his eyes. "Ben?"
So he hasn't been told, Ben thought. Good. "May I speak with you, uncle?" he requested.
Luke started in surprise, as if he hadn't been expecting the familial adjective. "Yes, yes, come in," he said, stepping back to let his nephew through the door. Ben towered over the shorter man, and for the first time he wondered how he'd ever thought Luke—gentle, crotchety, peace-loving Luke—had been capable of slaying Sith Lords. It's lucky grandfather spared him, Ben thought absently as he took a seat.
"What can I do for you Ben?" Luke asked, seating himself at his desk.
"I wish to leave Yavin 4," Ben said calmly. "I wish to seek out the Knights of Ren and destroy them."
Luke blanched. "The last time I sent you after them, you were nearly killed," he answered. "You must think I'm mad!"
"Not mad," Ben answered, focusing on clenching his hands tightly enough that they didn't shake. "A realist. When you sent me last, I was hardly out of boyhood. I walked straight into a trap, knowing nothing of the powers I faced." He looked into his uncle's eyes. "Of all your young Knights, you know I am now best suited to this task. I know the enemy. I am strong enough and cunning enough to hunt them. And I have grown more powerful in the Force than any untrained dark sider. I won't fail you."
"I would hardly have my sister's son turned into an assassin," Luke scoffed. "What has come over you?"
Ben drew in a breath, held it. "Last night I was provoked into a fight by one of my peers," he answered. "I regret my actions, but more importantly I understand that the others don't trust me. They never have, but these past months have been particularly taxing."
You must impress upon him the consequences of his own dishonesty, grandfather had told Ben. Make him feel responsible for your actions. His guilt will make him more agreeable to your requests.
"I have never been one for grand acts of friendship or trust, and I fear that I may never regain the respect of this Order unless I am able to prove my loyalty to them." Ben paused, and in an undertone added, "You owe this to me."
Luke leaned back, his weathered face suddenly looking ancient. "You ask too much of me, Ben," he murmured. "To send my own family into the furthest reaches of space, alone? Why not take another?"
"No other would have me but Rey," Ben answered. "And her place is here, for now. I want her kept safe."
Luke's eye flashed with understanding, and for a moment Ben feared he had tipped his hand. "You would destroy them so they cannot reach her here," he murmured.
Ben shrugged. "The galaxy will be a safer place without them."
Luke chewed the inside of his cheek savagely. "Oh, but when I was your age I would have said the very same," he groaned. "Even now, I should be the one to go. But like Rey, my place is here, at the Temple." For a moment he was silent, and Ben realized with a stroke of shock that his uncle was seriously considering his request. "Very well, nephew. I will grant you this, on two conditions."
Ben inclined his head, listening.
"The first: you will not kill unless at the utmost need. I would have you submit the Knights of Ren to the authority of the New Republic if you are able. And second: you will keep me appraised of your progress. I won't have you slipping off into Wild Space without a word or a whisper."
"Very well," Ben acquiesced, heart pounding. "Then I have two requests of my own. First, that you will tell no one where I have gone, but particularly not Rey. Tell her I am on Hosnian Prime advising the Senate, or on some other planet, overseeing negotiations. I know her well enough to trust that she would come rushing after me if she thought I were in danger."
Luke nodded slowly. "I agree, there is no reason to declare your intentions such that unfriendly ears might hear of your departure. What else?"
"I will not return to Yavin 4 until my mission is complete."
The news spread slowly, and then all at once. Ben Solo was leaving Yavin 4.
Rumors flew. That Master Skywalker had banished Ben from the Jedi Order after his attack on Ezekiel and Loren. That Ben had decided to renounce the Jedi, and become a politician like his mother. That both his uncle and his mother had scorned him, and he would instead take up a smuggler's life, like his father.
It took a remarkably short time for Rey to corner him, despite his best efforts to avoid her. He was in his room, packing, when he heard the door slide open behind him.
"Ben," she said. He could hear the pain in her voice already, and it scared him. "Please. I know you don't want to talk right now, but Colt just told me that you're leaving and—" her voice hitched. "Ben?"
He sighed, letting his hands still. "Rey," he murmured. "You have to understand that this is for the best."
"The best?" Rey snapped, anger quickly undercutting her fear. "Why, because you threw a few punches? I think he deserved it Ben! He never should have said those things to you."
"You don't," Ben answered calmly.
"Don't—what?"
"You don't think he deserved it. In fact, you know that he didn't deserve it. But that's just the problem, isn't it? I'm not exactly safe company."
"But you are, Ben!" Rey demanded, grabbing his arm to spin him around. Ben refused to budge. Her smaller weight was not enough to sway him. "Please look at me," she begged. "Look at me and tell me that you're not leaving."
"I have to leave, Rey," he told her, voice cracking. "You have to let me go."
"I can't!" Rey cried. "You're my best friend, my—everything! You don't get to walk away without giving me an explanation!"
You may have to harm her to protect her, grandfather had warned. It will be easier for her this way. She won't have to miss you so much.
Ben had hoped it wouldn't be necessary. Are you sure? he had asked. I love her. I don't want her to hate me.
Would you rather watch her suffer needlessly at your hands? grandfather had countered. Trust me. When the time comes and you are safe for her, she will love you again.
"Rey," he said now, feeling oddly sick at the detachment in his voice. "We're only friends. You have other friends here."
"I—what?" Rey gaped at him. "Only friends? You know we're more than that, you know—"
"What are we, then?" Ben asked, forcing a mocking edge into his voice. "What could we possibly be?"
"You—I—I love you," Rey whispered. "I thought you loved me too."
"You can love a friend, Rey," Ben answered her, staring down at his hands. "It doesn't mean you can't leave them."
"But w-what about the Force bond?"
Ben could tell from the wet sound of Rey's voice that she was crying. He nearly turned. Be strong, be told himself. "Force bonds have happened before," he said, trying to channel as much coldness into his voice as possible. "It doesn't mean there's anything special about ours."
"That's not what you said before," Rey argued.
"Perhaps I was a lonely child as well," he gritted out. "And searched for meaning where there was none. I apologize for encouraging your attachment."
A moment of stunned silence followed.
"Can't you at least t-tell me why you're going?" Rey asked.
"I am a Jedi now, in full," Ben answered mechanically. "I have duties elsewhere. You had to have known I would leave Yavin 4 eventually. I only stayed as long as I did because I thought it would be easier on you. But the situation here as become too tenuous. I will go to Hosnian Prime first, to meet with my mother. Together we will decide how best my skills can be put to use in serving the New Republic."
"You're going to Leia?" Rey sniffled. "I thought you were angry with her."
"A Jedi must do his duty." Ben's hands were clenched so hard that his bones ached.
"Will you come back to visit?"
Ben swallowed. Now for the hard part. "I think it would be better if I didn't."
"Wha—why not?"
"Rey," he said gently, finally turning to look down at her. Her cheeks were red and streaked with tears. "For many years I have held you close. Closer than I should have. But this is not the way of the Jedi. I have led you astray, allowed you to learn from my mistakes, and encouraged you to repeat them. I made myself a mentor to you, and in my own selfishness, I abused that privilege. I am sorry."
Rey stared up at him. "B-Ben," she stammered, desperate. "Where is this coming from? You've always said that our friendship was what made us human. Please tell me what's going on!"
She reached for him, but he stepped out of her grasp. "We have become too familiar with one another," he told her. "It is unbecoming of a Jedi. Luke and Leia tried to tell us this, but in our pride we wouldn't listen."
"Ben!" she snapped. "Listen to me, none of this makes any sense!"
"You see?" he said, condescending. "Even now your anger betrays you."
"Why are you doing this?" she cried, grasping at the front of his tunic. "Why are you pushing me away?"
"Because you care for me too much!" Ben snapped, allowing his frustration and sorrow to take control. "I have tried to give you my friendship, but always you have asked for more, more, more. I have nothing left to give you, Rey from Jakku. It is time for me to go!"
Rey blanched, a look of horror crossing her face. "You—you knew how I felt?" she asked. "This whole time you knew, and you never said anything?"
Ben stared at her, confused.
Her face crumpled and her shoulders shook. "You could've—you could've just told me that you thought I was ridiculous," she sobbed. "You didn't need to pretend that you cared. I can't help it you know. I tried not to, but I can't help it."
With each passing second, her words became increasingly incomprehensible to Ben. He forced himself to look away. The need to comfort her was so strong that he curled his fingers into the fabric of his pants to avoid reaching for her. "I think you should leave," he said coolly. "And I think that when I'm gone, you should do your best to forget me."
"I hate you!" Rey shouted, dashing tears out of her eyes angrily. "I hate you Ben Solo! You're w-worse than my parents! At least they had the decency to leave me before I learned to love them!"
Ben couldn't breathe past the lump in his throat. "Please go."
When he turned around again, the room was empty.
The next day and a half passed in a haze. Ben packed his things, cleaned his space, reported to Luke. They discussed plans for Ben's departure, and contacts that might aid him in his search. Luke did not mention the dark rings under Ben's eyes, or the way he had cocooned himself away from the Force. It wasn't enough to avoid feeling Rey, but her end of their bond was closed so tightly that it almost didn't matter. He told himself it was for the best.
When the afternoon of his departure arrived, he almost expected her to come racing down to the landing pad to see him off. It had been years since he'd gone so many days without seeing her, and something in his chest ached at the thought that she was too angry to watch him go. It's what you wanted, he told himself. She's better off without you. Now she can grow strong and light and whole, without you here to corrupt her. This is what you should have done seven years ago.
Luke was the only one to see him off—a strange turn of events that Ben could never have predicted. His uncle clasped his hand as they parted, face grim. "May the Force be with you, Ben," he said softly.
"And with you," Ben echoed. He turned to board his ship.
The slam of the Temple door opening drew his attention. A lean figure was hurrying down the path towards them. His heart jumped in his chest. Let it be Rey.
It was not Rey.
Loren drew near, and looking suddenly sheepish, paused beside Luke. "Solo," he said uncomfortably. "I see you're off."
"Yes." May this be the last tongue-lashing I receive from these fools, Ben thought bitterly.
"I came to say good bye," Loren said, staring intently at the ground between his boots. "And…to apologize."
Ben's eyebrows drew together over his eyes. "What?" Even Luke looked surprised.
"Erm…well I know that we haven't always been the most welcoming to you here," he continued. "Personally, I heard a few too many stories, and was always a bit afraid. Not that that's an excuse." He scrubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. "But uh…what Ezriel said to you was wrong." He finally met Ben's eyes. "I don't mean to excuse him either, but he has family on Jedha. Had family in the Holy City, when it fell. I think the attacks there really scared him. He's not ready to apologize yet, but I hope that by the time we see you again, I'll have brought him around." Loren offered a quick, sheepish grin. "And I know you didn't mean to hurt me. It's easy to let your instincts take over in a fight, so I just wanted you to know that I'm not—not angry. If that matters to you."
Ben stared in shock. "I—yes," he finally managed. "Yes, it does matter. Thank you."
Loren nodded once, smiling tightly, and took a step back. "May the Force be with you, Knight Solo."
"And with you."
From her perch by the attic window, Rey of Jakku watched Ben Organa-Solo shoulder his pack, board his X-wing, and fly away from Yavin 4.
A/N: subtle reminder that not all narrators are reliable.
also pls don't hate me
-A