So, this is the final chapter. I end it in an earnest tone. No ludicrousness, just some really tender and genuine moments.
Also, a shout out to everyone suffering an anxiety disorder. So does Ben Solo here - all hail our imperfect hero.
"You don't belong with them." Tekka spoke calmly, in matter-of-fact tones, and without any fear. Speaking truth to the lie that stood before him, striving to bring light to darkness. The hope was a faint one, but he had to try. "The First Order arose from the dark side. You did not."
"Once more she climbed to her feet, her chilled breath preceding her. From in front of her, not far away, came the sounds of battle: the cries of the wounded and the clashing of weapons. Then behind her, another voice. That voice.
"Stay here. I'll come back for you."
She whirled, glazed eyes desperately scanning the dark gaps between the slender trees, trying to penetrate the darkness. "Where are you?" She started running toward the voice.
"I'll come back, sweetheart. I promise.""
Alan Dean Foster, TFA novelization.
I'm giving you a nightcall
To tell you how I feel
I'm gonna drive you through the night
Down the hills
I'm gonna tell you something
You don't want to hear
I'm gonna show you where it's dumped
But have no fear
There's something inside you
It's hard to explain
There's something inside you boy
But you're still the same.
London Grammar, A Nightcall.
She sits up back again. Gods, that back and those shoulders – and a wayward strand of her hair that swirls down her neck like a snake.
"No", she says and the smile is gone. "It's not like that at all. I won't lie to you – at first, I thought that would be a necessary outcome. Since Crait, I had no hope. Sometimes, hope is what kills people. The anticipation of things that will never come to pass. Waiting for people that will never come back".
He now understands – Padme and her parents. And now, him.
"So, what has changed?" He frowns, fearing he won't like the answer. It tears him apart, again. "The fact you liked how it felt? The whole damn fuckery? Perhaps you should try other men and see there is nothing remotely spectacular about sex. Absurd pumping and useless discharge, and at the crux of the matter is just procreative instinct".
It is hard to concentrate after nights of insomnia and with her cat-like body pressing against him like soft silk. But he has to try.
"Consider your precious General: he'd be more than eager to volunteer for the spot", he makes a weak growl and almost chokes on his words. "Don't think I'm unaware where the TIE fighters and X-wings came from. Don't think I don't know everything about your late-night calls to Poe fucking Dameron. You Jedi make for weak spies, ever since Obi Wan".
He almost wants to provoke that old hatred again, but to his amazement, she only clings to him tighter. She practically builds a nest at his side and her pure, warm energy again quickens his heart and makes the darkness go running in terror.
"Had you died", she mutters. "A part of me would die, Ben".
What sort of agenda is this?
"By my prospects, I will probably die soon. Or perhaps you'll die here either way", he snarls, but doesn't push her back. "The woman whose earrings you're wearing died here in a position similar to yours. Do you know there was an older palace here before, little Jedi?"
She nods. How beautiful she is – her braids are now unruly, delicate strands of hair around her creating a halo. That dark hair of hers now definitely resembles a crown – a crown of dark mineral embroidered with golden threads. He wants to kiss that crown and pledge his allegiance to it. He wants to bury his lips into that crown and caress its silk all the while she's lying next to him, just like she is now.
But the nagging darkness won't go away and he finds himself retorting again in a snarky voice.
"Do you know what happened to it?"
"He demolished it", she says. "Anakin Skywalker demolished it. She was haunting his dreams and his waking reality. The memory was too painful for him to bear".
"The Sith Lord, Darth Vader, demolished it", he said hectically, irritated by how right she is. "And with it, the last remaining pieces of his humanity and of his weakness were destroyed. He was free. Perhaps I should be freed of you".
Lies.
"And then a young Jedi came and saved him", she said and smiled. "Tell the whole story. You promised never to lie to me: that lies and deception are the way of the Jedi, not yours".
She embraces him now – now the damn murderous and delicate things are on his ribs. She can crucify him if she wants, but he won't move.
"So you are the young Jedi to save me?" He laughs bitterly. "You remember Crait, Rey. You remember the Hosnian system, you remember him – both of them. All of them – don't you think I'm not aware it is I who killed her as well?"
"I sensed the Dark Side, Ben", she says. "I went straight into it, without hesitation. I know how powerful it is".
"No", he almost yells. "No. You don't have a faintest idea what you're talking about".
His mind roams around again like wounded beast.
"I know what he did to you", she whispers and kisses him on the lips and caresses his hair like a child. "I know it hurts still. But it hurts because you don't belong to the Darkness, Ben. You're light that darkness couldn't extinguish. The First Order arose from the dark side. You did not. You're my light. Let me be yours".
Her words are like soft salve against terrible burns. And the prophetic echo of Tekka's words penetrates his heart like a syringe through a festering wound. But she always overestimated herself, always – now in particular. She doesn't know him, she simply doesn't.
"I'm too far gone, you stupid little girl", he says woefully, and his voice turns into a wail.
"And yet, you regret it", she says gently. "Does it make you good in turn? Or bad, because you can't stop yourself? But you did stop yourself. With Leia on Raddus; in the Throne Room; even at Crait; then on Mandalore; then with the Resistance. In Takodana forest; at the Starkiller Base".
She climbs on top of him slowly and takes his head into her hands; she acts like he is some sort of injured wild animal she is trying to help. He lets her touch him, first jolting at the sensation of her hand on the back of his neck, then leaning in, slowly yielding.
"Why don't you yield to me, Ben?" Her eyes are the Butterfly Nebula. Her voice is the softest of breezes. "Why don't you let me heal you? You know I can".
"Don't overestimate the power of your tight cunt, Jedi", he growls back, trying everything to make her recoil and punch him right in the scrotum or to mutilate him and kill him. He is so tired: not just now, but of it all. He'd welcome death. And to die by her hand would be the sweetest death of all.
But she is so unwavering it's almost frightening – she takes his chin into her small hand. The grip is strong and authoritative, yet tender. Leia's ring grazes his cheek – it's slick and cold, a reminder of this strange reality he is stuck in. She never caught him with a girl in his room, and he suspects she would be rather cool about the whole business. Invite the girl for a cup of coffee, order them all a breakfast worthy of princes and princesses, embarrass him so he'd wish he was dead; Solo appearing at the most inopportune of the moments for joined breakfast and war stories, with them both fighting over girl's attention with jokes and humor and with who kissed whom and did he actually said "I know" to her tender "I love you"… gods, it's cringe-worthy but also so nostalgic and painful at the same time. And of course, she never caught him with a girl in his bed because she was never there to begin with and he never had a girlfriend, not ever. He was dispatched to Jedi academy at the tender age of 13. And afterwards, the liberation wasn't liberating at all. All his strength was channeled into the Dark Side, and all his encounters with the opposite sex were just a routine decompression, a glitch in the system, a moment of desperation when his loneliness felt too great and the pull to the Light too strong.
"Just tell me, and I'll turn everything around", she whispers to his ear. "I have everything planned out. I know where Ahch-to is. I can heal you. Let me do it. You admire my strength, my powers – let me show it all to you. What you've seen so far is nothing. But first, you have to come with me. It's not too late, my love".
Had he instructed her to speak like this? He must have. The old… master Luke Skywalker.
"Who told you to tell me this?" He hisses, but loses his breath.
"He has shown me the possibilities. The future – his vision is so much more heightened now", she murmurs back, completely in tune with that low Force hum that reverberates between them. "It all depends on you. It has always depended on you. No one could destroy you – you're still you inside, I know it, Ben".
This is treason, he thinks to himself. This is sort of a treason the First Order hasn't got an appropriate punishment for yet. She broke the treaty. This is mutiny – good. I counted on that. I counted she won't be able to restrain herself, to restrain that damn Light within her. Good – I'll make a punishment worthy of a Jedi and of an Empress.
But his train of thought crushes like traffic accident involving multiple vehicles, millions upon millions of them. The old dread again – the panic, the grip of major anxiety attack is upon him. Oh, no, not now – not with her. He hadn't had one of those in years, ever since he broke from the Jedi.
"Rey", his voice is now broken. He can't speak. He's choking. He used to choke people to death, and now he is choking. Panics, like before, like when he was young, like when he feared he won't pass all his Jedi tests. Like when he felt the whole weight of the galaxy resides on his shoulders, like everyone is scrutinizing his every single step and scaling if he's his grandfather's spitting image or not. Like at the beginning with Snoke.
Breathe.
But she is there. Her strong arms are there to support him. They reach out through the darkness and he clings onto them.
The men are thinned out and drunk. Everyone is absorbed with celebrations. No one will notice we are gone for a long time. Come. There is a freighter prepared at the landing dock. I'll fly. I can do it. You know I can.
"The Resistance", he finally murmurs.
"They don't know", she speaks softly. "They know nothing of this. They only know I'll run away at some point, but it's all at need to know basis. I won't tell them until the time is right. It's growing. The Resistance is growing. Luke's death sparked the hope across the galaxy. Every single slave and child and the downtrodden now know the legend of the invincible Jedi who defeated the whole army. When you're ready, you'll join them. And they'll welcome you. And we'll defeat the First Order, together, my love. We'll crush every evil, every Snoke, every Emperor galaxy might create".
She kisses away his silent tears. He hasn't cried in years. He hasn't cried since he was but a boy.
"Sweetheart", he finally utters and his throat hurts under the strain. She did wait. She was always there, waiting for him to come back.
And he did come back.
They don't need to rush. Everything is in order. His soldiers let them through and he carries her saber with him. Both of them in their respective clothes: him in his usual black, her wearing that dark apprentice uniform. They reach the landing pod and climb onboard a light freighter equipped with fuel, weapons and provisions. She sets their coordinates.
Soon, they are just one of the many sparks in the night sky, reflected in the imperial lake underneath.