—Chapter 28: Resolve—

First comes the day

Then comes the night.

After the darkness

Shines through the light.

The difference, they say,

Is only made right

By the resolving of gray

Through refined Jedi sight.

—Journal of the Whills, 7:477

When General Leia Organa set out to form strategic military alliances with industrially powerful worlds, Coruscant was an optimistic choice. For all intents and purposes, Coruscant is the center of the galaxy; it is the political and economic capital, and it lies at the crossroads of multiple hyperspace trade routes. It was wealthy beyond imagining, its people prosperous, and it already boasted its own formidable military industrial infrastructure. An alliance with a world such as Coruscant would have been too good to be true.

And Leia Organa knew it. It was such an obvious choice, Leia predicted the First Order would have had spies swarming all over it. Even if there weren't, the likelihood that Coruscant would want to jeopardize the good thing it had going by crossing the First Order was terribly unlikely. Leia never had any hope that her mission to Coruscant would bear any fruit.

But as long as it looked like she did, the Resistance had hope.

Leia's detail to Coruscant consisted of some of her oldest, dearest, and sickest friends. Old political allies whose galactic influence had long since waxed and waned, and whose last wish was that the galaxy may yet find its way. If their ship made planetfall on Coruscant, they would be all too happy, and abundantly prepared, to begin negotiations, but none of them expected to get that far.

The real purpose of their mission was that of misdirection.

Simultaneously, and in secret, even among the rest of the Resistance's top brass, there was a second mission in the works: one to Corellia. Corellia had a strong history of fighting for independence, had its own orbital shipyards, and a planetary repulsor. Corellia may have its slums, but its overall wealth and access to resources was undeniable. It was nearly as industrially rich as Coruscant, but its future security in the rise of the First Order was less certain. Corellia was a more realistic, if somewhat less ideal target for a military alliance.

Leia had enlisted her longtime friend, co-conspirator, and ace Rebellion pilot Norra Wexley to lead that mission. The people of Corellia were sympathetic to Norra's pleas, but proceedings there were stagnating—for all her enthusiasm and good intentions, Norra Wexley just wasn't the diplomatic equal of Leia Organa. Things were stalling. Stalling, that is, until the First Order overextended its reach and began raiding Corellia's civilian population looking to plunder its resources, human and otherwise.

In the wake of the raid, Corellia immediately mobilized its military in cooperation with the Resistance forces, and set upon the planet of Kamino not only in the hopes of recovering its children but of preventing further such injustices across the galaxy.

The Second Battle of Kamino, as it came to be known, marked a significant turning point in the war. Joint Corellian-Resistance forces surprised and overwhelmed the First Order fleet, and both the Finalizer and Supremacy II were incapacitated in the engagement. Chewbacca provided valuable intelligence from the planet, and helped organize the direct assault on the facility itself. From the Millennium Falcon, in concert with squadrons of Resistance X-wings, skirmishes both in the air and on the ground ended favorably for the Resistance.

The turning point in the battle occurred when a large explosion obliterated most of the above-ground portion of the facility. The blast confounded Resistance fighters observing from above, since they had not been specifically targeting the hangar. It wasn't until the debriefing that followed the battle that the answer to that question finally emerged. Commander Poe Dameron explained that a large stockpile of thermal detonators had been kept in the hangar. The most likely reason for their ignition was determined to be nothing more than stray fire from above. The conflagration caused extensive damage to the offices, armories, and hallways penetrating deeper below ground, but its reach did not extend down into the incubation chambers themselves.

In the aftermath of the explosion, Resistance forces descended upon the wreckage, only to discover the charred remains of thousands of First Order soldiers. Determining cause of death was challenging, but it appeared more had died from weapons-related injuries than from the fire. Delving deeper into the facility, they found that the children stolen from Corellia had already been freed from their bondage, and so Resistance fighters proceeded to then carry the children out piecemeal from the facility. Corellian frigates operated as transport vessels to take most of the children back to their homes. Those whose families had been killed were taken to orphanages close to their homes or to the facility on Dendrokaan.

In addition to the unidentified casualties found higher up, several named officers' bodies were found in various chambers lower down in the depths of the facility. Among them, notable individuals included two Knights of Ren and General Armitage Hux. About a half-dozen First Order officers remained alive, all of whom surrendered willingly, albeit not happily.

How the children had been liberated is a tale the Resistance soldiers had to piece together from the accounts of a handful of surviving stormtroopers who had borne witness to the massacre and then ultimately defected. The liberating heroes themselves weren't terribly candid about what had occurred. The stormtroopers' accounts, which were corroborated by the physical charring of the facility itself, pointed to electrocution as the cause of death for many who had fallen in the incubation chambers. The children were then released from their bondage by a small group of Resistance fighters who had deactivated the pods.

However, in spite of this victory, the war is far from over. First Order influence still exists on many worlds. Across the galaxy, there remain too many who yet support the notion that an authoritarian government is the only way to ensure efficiency and productivity—at least for those who matter. Corruption, slavery, and organized crime are by no means eradicated, and injustice riddles the galaxy.

Nonetheless, the head of the snake has been severed. Few individuals remain in the First Order with the ability to mobilize any threatening strategic or military effort, and no Dark Enforcers exist who could carry out their commands. Barring some unforeseen development, it is only a matter of time before the war can truly be ended…

Finn entered the large tent that comprised the makeshift headquarters of the rehoming facility they had set up on Dendrokaan. Jess Testor had done a terrific job of finding parents or other relatives of the kids who had been taken from the two worlds, but the work continued. Many children still remained in foster care, and although most of the Lothal children had solid leads for Jess and her team to follow, it was still a lengthy and time-consuming task, which they were working diligently to complete. The Corellian children had been more straightforward, and the only ones who remained on Dendrokaan were those already confirmed as war orphans. Finding suitable homes for them would be yet another monumental task for Jess and her team, but in the meantime, at least they were safe. She had been living on short sleep and catnaps for weeks now, but at least, finally, Jess could see a light at the end of the tunnel.

The orphans dredged up old wounds for Finn—wounds that he thought had healed. Not a day had gone by since Kamino that didn't find him trapped in his own past. He found that no matter how busy he made himself, he couldn't stop imagining how his own life might have turned out if anyone like Jess, like the Resistance, had been there to save him, to find him a home. It wasn't that he was unhappy with how his life had turned out. Far from it. His circumstances had allowed him to find his place, his friends—to find his own redemption after being forced to serve in the First Order. But he still couldn't stop himself from wondering what might have been.

Above all else, though, he was happy to know that there were people like Jess out there, willing to sacrifice, to put right what had been made wrong. People like Jess, and people like Rose.

Rose Tico had also known the pain of having her home world and family rent asunder by the First Order, and had dedicated herself eagerly to assisting Jess with this work. It was Rose whom Finn had come to the tent looking for, but he didn't see her anywhere inside.

"Hi Jess, how are things? Is there anything I can help with? Anything you need?" asked Finn.

Jess had been intently focused on her work when he entered, poring over hospital records and family documentation that had been transmitted from Lothal. She hadn't noticed him enter. Jumping a little at the mention of her name, Jess looked over her shoulder at him. "Hi Finn, no, I'm good. Just about everybody has somewhere to be, and slowly but surely, we're figuring out where that is and arranging transportation."

"I think it's fantastic what you're doing—and I can't believe how successful you've been at it. I can't imagine how complicated it is."

Jess smiled. "You just have to think of it as a puzzle, or almost like a game. There is a solution here for each and every kid. It's just a matter of finding it."

Finn nodded thoughtfully at her compassion, her dedication to the task. "You're amazing," he remarked, clapping her on the shoulder, eliciting an embarrassed grin from Jess.

Finn took a moment to further appreciate the morass of paperwork and datapads Jess was busy wading through before getting back to his original reason for being there in the first place. "Speaking of amazing people, is Rose around?"

He'd waited long enough to ask his question that Jess was already engrossed in reading something, so it took her a second to register the question.

"Rose…" she replied absently, like she was having trouble pulling her brain away from what she was concentrating on long enough to even remember who Rose was. "Rose, no, you just missed her, sorry. She's leading a raiding party to the canteen and gardens—all these kids have had to eat lately is Soypro and Nutripaste, and you can imagine how much kids love paste. She's trying to get a hold of something better before the flyboys requisition it for their lunches," she added with a grin.

Finn chuckled knowingly. Growing up with the First Order, he'd definitely eaten his fill of Nutripaste. As a child, he couldn't have imagined someone caring about whether he enjoyed it or not—not that he would've been permitted to complain. The juxtaposition between his experience and theirs brought a smile to his face.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll head in that direction then. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?"

"Sweet of you to offer, but no, I can't think of anything just yet. Unless, by any chance, you can read Aqualish?" She looked at him imploringly, but Finn just shook his head. She laughed, "Well, maybe when I'm done here I can find something for you to help with." She inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly.

Finn was getting the feeling that just offering to help was creating more for Jess to have to think about, so he thought he'd better wrap this up and head out soon. "Okay, Jess," said Finn, nodding, "Don't let me create more work for you by finding me a job, but do be sure to tell someone if you can think of anything that would help speed things up."

"Thanks, Finn," said Jess, laughing, and bid him goodbye. She was already immersed back into what she'd been looking at before he could even turn to go. Finn nodded again, and looked around, appreciatively taking in the activity bustling around him. After a few moments, Finn spotted a small girl huddled under a table in the corner, drawing lines in the dirt with her index finger. She looked to be about five or six years old. Sensing Finn looking at her, she stopped drawing and met his gaze. Finn waved, and the girl slowly nodded back, before cautiously returning to drawing in the dirt. Finn turned to go, but couldn't stop watching the girl—there was something eerily familiar about her.

Placing a hand on Jess's shoulder to get her attention, Finn jutted his chin toward the girl, and asked, in a hushed voice, "What's her story?"

Jess turned to where he was looking. "Oh, she's a special case. I really don't know what to do with her yet."

"Oh? Why not?" Finn was confused. Special case?

Jess looked at the girl, with conflicting emotions playing across her face. "She's one of the clones."

Finn's eyes went wide, and he turned back to Jess. Speaking under his breath, but with an intensity that gave Jess pause, he said, "One of the clones? I thought they were all killed."

"Yeah, that's what we thought, too, but after the battle, some of our engineers were combing through the facility, and they found this one pod that appeared to have malfunctioned. It had been severed from the main control grid, so it was never reset or restarted. It wouldn't have even registered as offline on their systems because the relays had blown. It was running on battery pack life support when they came across it. The guys pulled her out, assuming she had family to go back to. It wasn't until after they'd sifted through the records on the base that they figured out she had been with a batch of clones. Now we don't know what to do with her. She's got no family to go home to, and the foster systems on the planets we're working with won't touch her—all the potential host families are terrified of having a stormtrooper clone. So, she's just been hanging around here until we figure out a solution."

Finn had taken in every word that Jess Testor said without speaking. Now that she had finished explaining, all he could manage was a distant "Thanks." Jess went back to what she'd been doing, and Finn stepped slowly toward the girl. When he had gotten to within a few feet of her, she stopped drawing in the dirt and looked up at him again, warily. Their eyes met.

Through Finn's mind raced images of Phasma that were too bleak to describe. Images of death, subjugation, torment—and the satisfaction she had drawn from it all. His memories of her, up to her last moments, the last and only time his eyes had ever seen her blue ones, were all miserable. Looking at her now, barefoot, frightened, wearing a Resistance T-shirt that shrouded her like a tent, he just saw a child. All the what-ifs he had ever asked himself about his own life, he now projected onto this girl.

Crouching low onto one knee so he could be more or less eye to eye with the child at his feet, he addressed her. "Hey kid, I'm Finn."

"Here, you're going to want more blankets than that, trust me."

"Thank you, Supreme Leader."

"Will you quit calling me that? I was only Supreme Leader for two years, and in that whole time, you barely laid eyes on me. Also, it freaks these people out to hear you say that."

"Forgive me, my lord."

Ben sighed. "Just take the blankets. Also, those bags over there can go in the speeder."

Simeon graciously accepted Ben's offering of an extra set of blankets and got to work loading the aforementioned bags into the speeder.

Ben shook his head, and got back to work stuffing supplies into a mostly empty duffle bag.

"How's it going? How many bags is that now?" asked Poe, walking up to him. Over the sound of all the welding, hammering, and shop talk going on in the hangar, Ben had barely registered his approach.

"Good. There's more than enough stuff here. We only needed about six or seven sets, but I'm bringing back ten, just in case."

Poe raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Six or seven? There's that many?"

"We think so, yeah. There's a couple in there we're not totally sure about, but since they've got no families to go back to, we may as well keep an eye on them and see what develops."

"Simeon's going to help you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Yeah, he's practically married to the Force, so this is his dream come true. We're teaching a new kind of philosophy that embraces both aspects of the Force—he'll finally get to show off the abilities he's been keeping to himself for most of his adult life."

Poe chuckled, looking back at the former Knight. Simeon still wore his black uniform, but had done away with his helmet, revealing a dark-skinned head and face covered all over by about a half-inch of black hair—the byproduct of completely shaving everything off, but too infrequently.

"'Simeon' was his real name? He hadn't changed it like you did?" inquired Poe.

"No. I'm the only one that went by a different name. Pretty sure 'Ben Ren' would've gotten me laughed out of the First Order…" derided Ben matter-of-factly.

"Hah!" guffawed Poe. "Yeah, not a terrific villain name, I have to agree. Can you imagine the shit I'd have given you for that when we first met on Jakku?"

Ben winced. He really didn't know how to talk about that. "You were irreverent enough," was all he felt comfortable saying in reply.

Poe felt a stab of shame, but amazed himself that there was anything about that memory that could make him smile. It seemed like a lifetime ago—an alternate reality, or a holo-cast depicting fictional events. He knew the consequences of that day were grim and irreversible, but it gave him some measure of hope that the descent into blackness of the soul responsible for it was not.

Poe looked back at Simeon. "Well anyway, I'm glad that he seems to be fitting in."

"In a strange way, yes, he is. I've known him more than half my life, but I'm only really seeing him now. He's unlike anyone I've ever known—or thought I knew."

"He seems to really know himself," observed Poe.

Ben would never tell him so, but the pilot with the showy bravado and reckless abandon could actually be quite astute. Ben nodded in answer to Poe. "He does."

Poe smiled. Assessing Ben's collection of supplies, he spotted two bags that looked out of place. "What's that stuff over there?"

Ben turned so he could see what Poe was referring to. "Oh, that's for Rey. She wanted more fabric, more tools, more gear, you name it. Says she wants to expand the cottage… I think she's losing her mind."

Poe cocked his head at Ben and gave an agreeable nod. "That she may be." He then set his jaw, considering what he was about to say next. Noting a shift in Poe's demeanor, Ben paused in his work to study Poe's expression.

"You know, I was worried you would change her."

Ben didn't answer. He just stared back.

"Turn her into someone else…" Poe added absently, biting his cheek and nodding his head as he stared off into nowhere. Inhaling quickly and holding it for a moment before continuing, the next words came out faster. "I loved her, you know. Thought she might love me too… Or that she could, at least."

Poe looked out beyond the base, to the wilderness beyond the yawning hangar door, his eyes and mind adrift. Ben knew this was difficult for him, and remained patient. Poe's eyes regained their focus, and he stared levelly at Ben. "You did change her."

Ben couldn't tell if Poe's tone was accusatory or not—the next moments felt tense. Ben jumped ever so slightly when Poe raised his arm toward Ben's face, but he relaxed when all that happened was that Poe clapped his palm on Ben's shoulder, and shook him a little.

"But it's okay, what you did. She's better now. She's found her people," said Poe, gripping Ben's shoulder a little more firmly. Poe stared for a long moment at Ben, assessing him—Ben allowed him the evaluation. "You met halfway," he finally said. Poe then shoved him a little as he let go, saying, "Don't get me wrong, I'm depressed about it. But I'll live." He smiled sadly, turning away from Ben and heading off into the depths of the base.

"I mean, there must be other pretty girls on this base somewhere."

The bolts crackled from her fingertips, lighting him up with a sick glow that ebbed and flowed as it coursed through his body and across his skin. She felt the anger, the sadness, and she poured all of it into the tips of her fingers as she punished him for what he'd done. The smell of burned hair and singed clothing clouded the air. When she was finished, and her victim lay gasping on the earth, prostrate, she turned to face the children.

"This is an example of what you can use the dark side for. You draw upon your pain, your anger, your fear, and you can harness it for tremendous power."

The children looked at her in awe. Temiri, one of the older children, stood up and asked his teacher, "But isn't that dangerous? Don't you risk falling into the darkness for good?"

"Only if you lose your empathy," interjected Ben, dusting himself off and brushing his hair out of his face as he rose from the dirt. "You can't forget the things that tie you to the light: what do you love, what makes you happy, what do you wish for. Then imagine how others might answer those questions."

Ben drew a circle in the dirt with his training saber. "The fault of both the Jedi and the Sith was that each order sought to divide the Force in half," he added, drawing a line down the middle of the circle.

Rey continued his thought. "The Force, just like any person, is a mix of both positive and negative energies. The Jedi and the Sith tried to specialize in one or the other, believing one to be more powerful or the other less dangerous. But that's like taking half of yourself and stuffing it inside of a box, never letting it out or acknowledging that it's a part of you. Rather than propping up one aspect at the expense of the other, it's wiser to acknowledge—and learn to manage—both."

"Life is what it is," added Simeon, speaking from behind the children. They turned to face him. "It is messy and it is beautiful. Empathy is what ties both halves together."

"What if you fall too far? Can you stop yourself?" probed Temiri.

Rey answered. "We don't always make the right decisions—we are none of us perfect people. But in those moments when we fall victim to our darker angels, if we're lucky, we have others who will pull us back to the light and help us do what is right."

She looked at Ben, who met her gaze, and it was he who finished her thought for her. "And if you should fall to the darkness, you are not without hope. If you can feel regret, there is still light in you, and you can follow its pull back out of the darkness. Remember what you love, and whom you love, and have confidence that as long as you want to return, there are those who would welcome you back."

Temiri considered this explanation as he sat back down to ponder it further.

One of the younger students, a girl named Malfi, addressing her two male teachers, asked, "Can you do what she did? The lightning?"

Ben chuckled. "Yes, but for me, it's harder to demonstrate." He glanced briefly at Rey before continuing, "It's just easier to do when there are real, visceral emotions undergirding your use of the Force. I simply don't have very many reasons to want to electrocute anyone here," he added with a crooked smile.

Malfi paused, crinkling her brow as she considered the meaning of his explanation. "So… is she actually mad at you? Did you do something bad?" she asked.

"Yes, I did. I've done many bad things. I had forgotten empathy."

She turned to address Rey. "Did you forgive him for the bad thing he did?"

Rey gave a small, sad smile. "No, not really… not entirely. But I understand. And I love him. So I can accept it, and we can move forward together."

Ben took a step forward and everyone turned to look at him. His eyes were cast downward, and he took a deep breath. Once it appeared he had collected himself, he raised his head to address the group of children:

"Remember what I said about regret: If you can feel it, you are not totally lost. And children, I regret the things I did. That's that shred of light. Rather than face regret, it is actually easier to say to yourself, 'I feel no regret. In fact, I have nothing to regret, because I was just acting according to my nature—I am a monster who isn't worth loving, nor am I capable of giving love in return.'

"But that is the path of darkness—it's where I was before. Now that I can feel love again, I would never want to lose it, but it isn't fear of loss that motivates me—it's the acknowledgement of those attachments in others; the need to never again be the person who would take those attachments, that love, away from them."

"…Empathy," uttered Temiri from his place on the ground. His eyes were glued to Ben.

"Empathy," Ben confirmed.

Temiri cocked his head, pondering. "So that's it? If you feel bad about what you did, that's enough to prevent falling completely into darkness?"

"No," Ben clarified. "Regret alone will not pull you out of the darkness… it merely proves you can come back—that you can still be someone capable of loving and of being loved. One of the failings of the Jedi Order was that it discouraged attachment—the Jedi taught that our attachments fuel jealousy and fear of loss, leading to the dark side, but this cynical thinking was flawed, and ultimately, self-defeating. It is our attachments that bind the universe together, and in denying its adherents this basic need, the Jedi Order unwittingly drove them away, toward the dark side. We cannot deny ourselves our attachments—it is in our nature. And in fact, it is our attachments that can save us.

"The knowledge that Rey can love me in spite of what I did, grounds me, and motivates me to be better—to hold on to empathy." He shifted his gaze from the children back to Rey before finishing his thought. "I feel regret for the bad things I did, but the love that I feel now keeps me in check. I love her back, and that keeps me balanced and centered, tethered to this existence. Reminds me that I am more than myself—and I want to keep it that way."

Rey smiled at him. By this point, they had privately exchanged the words "I love you" countless times, but hearing him admit it to others was a mark of his progress. He was getting more comfortable in his new skin.

The children had been listening intently as they studied their teachers. They didn't say anything else. Maybe they were beginning to understand the point that was being made.

"Once you've strayed too far into the dark, you will never lose that regret," added Simeon, startling some of the children as his voice cut in suddenly, "but you can learn from those failings and apply that wisdom toward maintaining balance in the future. And remember: The Force flows through everything; you are part of a greater whole. Your attachments," he added, glancing at Ben and Rey before gesturing to the group as a whole, "will work in your favor."

The children, who had been entranced by Ben's confession, sat up a little straighter as they listened to Simeon. Malfi gently took Temiri's hand, and the older student smiled down at her.

"Now, I think it's time we did some practice," announced Simeon, shaking off some of the gravity that continued to weigh on everyone. "Children, let's do some Control exercises. If they go well, we may have time for a little Form One saber training."

The children stood up excitedly and drew together into formation. Ben and Rey were all too happy to yield the rest of the evening to Simeon, and slipped away, back toward what had once been Rey's private cottage. These days, she stayed with Ben in his, and Simeon lived here. Deeper in the forest, there were many other long abandoned and dilapidated cottages built sporadically among the trees, but for now, with the loss of their families still so fresh, the children fared better sleeping in communal tents just outside Simeon's stone cottage on the edge of the forest. One day, when they were older and less afraid, they would occupy those more remote dwellings.

The summer solstice on Dendrokaan was weeks ago, and the sun was setting earlier and earlier. Soon it would be autumn, and they would learn what the cold seasons on Dendrokaan were really like, and if they had prepared well enough to make it to spring without heading back to the base. For now, though, the drills could still continue into the evening hours, and Rey took pleasure watching the children take to Simeon's teachings like skittermice to sand. Ben stepped into the forest, and Rey into the cottage, emerging moments later with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to stand outside and take in the sights of the exercises on the promenade before her.

Ben was only gone a few minutes, and a snapping of twigs heralded his return. This time of year brought with it a type of bird whose eggs Rey had grown quite partial to, and Ben had ventured into the forest to collect some for tomorrow's breakfast. Seeing Rey looking out over the concourse, Ben set his sack full of eggs down by the door and stood next to Rey. He wrapped one arm around her, letting it hang loosely around her waist, and she leaned into him affectionately. The warm sun was setting in the distance.

"I thought I'd find you two here," said Finn, approaching them from the southeast. He stopped a few feet away from them, off to the side so as not to block their view of the acolytes.

"Mmm," hummed Rey. "Just appreciating the view."

"Yeah, just thought I'd come see how it's progressing."

"You mean the school?" asked Rey.

Finn smiled. "Among other things."

"How are things going with that girl you adopted?" asked Ben.

Finn sighed deeply, letting it out slowly. "I don't know what I imagined fatherhood would be like, but I never would have imagined this. It's bizarre. Thank goodness I have Rose to help me or I don't know what I'd do. Don't get me wrong, she's a terrific little kid—so anxious to help out, and so full of energy. It's just weird."

"She's probably desperate to prove to you that she's worth keeping," offered Rey.

"I know, but she doesn't need to. I'll stick with her, no matter what. It's getting her to believe that that's the challenge," said Finn, with a sigh.

Ben looked away from him, toward the setting sun. "Sometimes kids can be hard to convince that you really love them. Keep at it."

Rey smiled at Ben, leaning into him a little more closely than she already had been. "What are you calling her?" she asked.

"We didn't give her a name. I figure she needs to choose her own. She gets to decide who she wants to be..."

"And has she decided yet?" asked Rey.

Finn's mouth quirked at one corner, and he looked Rey in the eye. "She thinks so, but I'm not sure she's going to stay so happy with her choice as she gets older."

"And?" asked Ben expectantly.

Finn sighed, and shifted his gaze back out over the grounds. Smiling, he said, "She says she wants to call herself 'Finn'."

Ben and Rey laughed inwardly, exchanging a look with each other. Ben took a step behind Rey, pulling her closer, holding her in front of him so he could wrap both arms around her. Settling his hands on her belly and giving her a gentle squeeze, he closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head. Smiling contentedly, Rey rested her hands on top of his, swaying subtly in his embrace.

Giving the two of them a conspiratorial side-eye, Finn surreptitiously crept away, leaving them to their privacy. Finn would have many more opportunities to commiserate with the two of them about the trials and tribulations of parenthood in the days that would follow. It didn't have to happen tonight.

Sneaking off back the way he'd come, Finn thought about everything that had led him to this moment. These days, he felt a burning need to be more reflective; he knew that one day, he would be called upon to give fatherly advice, and he wanted to be sure he'd have something good to say.

As he walked back to his speeder in the dimming evening light, he looked back at the decisions that got him here. Refusing to kill for the First Order. Freeing Poe and stealing a TIE fighter. Rescuing Rey from Starkiller Base. Joining the Resistance. Being with Rose. Adopting… Finnie. Finn was simultaneously elated and terrified at what he saw as he examined his life. Elated that, in spite of his roots, his experience, and what he had seen, that he had come out of it whole and happy. With a future he could look forward to. What was terrifying to him was the realization that very little of his past life had prepared him for the future he was facing. He had a place in this galaxy that mattered, and it mattered to him that he could live up to the expectations and responsibilities that he'd been granted.

There had been a certain freedom in being a slave of the First Order; nothing matters when your life is meaningless, valueless. The value the First Order had placed on his service was no value at all, not to him, and if nothing mattered, he had no responsibility for anything. The First Order had given him freedom from choice.

I wonder if they'd put that in the brochure, if more people would've been on board, he thought sarcastically. 'Freedom from choice'… I wonder if that actually sounded good to people. Maybe the people at the top thought others would actually like that… stupid. Now I have something better…

Freedom of choice.

Now that he could choose, he chose them: he chose Rose, and Finnie, and Rey, and Poe. He chose Ben Solo. He chose a rabble of fighters. He chose a school full of orphans. He chose a home. He chose a galaxy. Nothing was thrust on him, not any longer, not even the stars in the sky. It was terrifying, the weight of this responsibility, but it was also electrifying. He would meet tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, knowing that all of his actions were his to make.

For his sake, and theirs, he was going to make them matter.

/

/

Author's Note: Well, that's all folks. I can't begin to tell you how many hours of my life went into writing this story. I started it a month after The Last Jedi came out, and the first draft took me six months to write. It took another two months for a beta to work through it and for me to make their suggested changes. Ever since then, I go back and reread the whole thing every few weeks, and between that and responding to reader comments/suggestions, I get ideas for places where I could add/take away/rewrite, and it seems to just never end. I can't seem to quit this story. I kind of don't want to. But here we are.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it at least a fraction as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, I can't tell you how much a review would mean to me - it's the only thing that keeps this story alive for me if I'm not constantly reworking it. Unless someone is reading it, it dies.

Thank you so much for your time. :)

FYI: The Journal of the Whills poem at the beginning of this chapter was taken directly from the novelization of The Force Awakens by Alan Dean Foster (though it's probably safe to assume that *he* took it from something George Lucas wrote...). I didn't write that, but it was the inspiration for the main theme of this story, and also, of course, the title.

Finally, there is a sequel to this story: "Star Wars: Immortal Past". Please check it out if you'd like to see what happens to these characters from here. Thanks again!