What if we had the chance to do it again and again, until we finally get it right? Wouldn't that be wonderful? - Kate Atkinson, Life After Life
Chapter 2: One Simple and Inarguable Truth
"And this, ladies and gentleman, is not a statement, it is a promise. A promise from your new leadership to uphold respectable virtues, to strip corruption from our ranks, and to find a better future. We will not forget those who, in their great sacrifice, have forged a path forward into a new era of the galaxy. We will remember them with every step we take towards the light, towards the hope and prosperity we've all been dreaming of. From this day, and forever more, democracy shall reign and we—shall—be—slaves no longer! Welcome to the Coalition! Thank you, and goodnight."
Civilian representatives of every major star system, smattered in their decks in what was the old Senate floor on Christophsis, erupted into explosion of support. General Leia Organa smiled warmly down at the gathered meeting of military giants, former senators, former Rebellion leaders, and old royalty, all offered positions in the new Galactic Coalition. In the former halls of the Imperial senate, before that the New Republic, the scene was familiar. Species from across the galaxy crowded together to celebrate the victory, the hope, the dream that this government would stand the sway of external conflict. In the time before, internal political turmoil and allegiances would eventually divide the crowd— despite their current jubilance— and when pressured, every previous installation of power had turned to a singular individual to lead. Princess, Senator, General Leia Organa had made clear this would not happen. The Galactic government would run similarly to the old Republic: representatives of every system would do their best to reflect the needs and desires of their home planets. Yet there was one small caveat: The House— a small, elite group with individuals of major parties— would serve the deciding vote on major issues.
This time, things were going to be different. This time, in this prominent political arena, the scent of political division was empty from the room and a Galactic government would prove effective once more.
Rey leaned back in her seat, the flashing lights of the media holocam droids blinding her. She scowled and blinked rapidly.
"You have to smile, Rey," Poe gently urged beside her. She opened one eye when she felt his hand squeeze hers. The cheering and flashes continued.
Behind them, the House ambassadors stepped forward. They too raised their hands in greeting and welcomed the crowd as all good politicians do. The media went into a frenzy.
"Riia's Shorts, this is terrible," she muttered back to Poe. She glanced down to the green Elmon next to her. Despite its apparent royal robes, Rey caught the undeniable scent of wet garbage.
Though his eyes watered slightly, Poe was smiling brilliantly in his position next to Finn. With his free hand, he waved to the crowd.
"How are you so good at this?" Rey whispered.
"It's just another role the General requires of us," he somehow managed through his perfectly white teeth. The gold pin on his Admirals uniform twinkled brightly under the flashes. "Besides, the Galaxy needs to see us support the Coalition."
Rey, watching his face and trying to imaging pulling hers into one of perfect, welcoming ease, swallowed. "Well, I guess if it's for the good of the Galaxy."
She tried her best Dameron smile with a theatrical wave, and somehow the sea of flashes got even brighter.
"There you go," Poe muttered in a sing-song voice. His smile had switched to a cool, curt gaze. "You're getting it."
"I just feel like I'm under a magnifier," Rey whispered back. The thin Ottegan silk dress felt more like a nightgown than something one would wear in public. She turned her head and the large jewels dangling from her ear gently banged against her jaw. "I'd rather be fighting the Hutts than wearing this dress."
"Just be thankful you're not fighting the Hutts in that dress."
At that, Rey actually smiled, fighting the urge to snort. She settled for discreetly stepping on his toe.
"Careful there, kiddo, you might puncture someone if you're not careful."
Rey glanced at her white heel, pointed dangerously at the top. "You know, maybe I should fight a Hutt in this."
"I and the rest of the House are now taking questions," Organa said over the raucous applause.
"General! General!" A small Tynnan was the closest to the official platform in the thick of the media broadcasters, a recording device in one paw. Leia smiled and motioned for him to ask his question. It hovered a bit closer to the amplifier, determined to be heard.
"Thank you for taking my question!" It squeaked in Basic. "Welcome back to Christophsis, General. The people are grateful to have you!" It swallowed and turned its small furry head to the datapad in his webbed paws. "What, if any, affect will this have on the Champions? What will they do now that the Coalition has been formed?"
Rey's stomach tightened.
Champions.
It had been eight months since the fall of the Sith temple on Korriban. Eight months had been enough to clarify a Resistance win over the First Order, for good. The remaining outposts were still being run down and the supporters had scattered out into the far-reaches of the Galaxy. But the real roots of the Coalition had begun when Rey had awoken in a plush bed, with a clean, waxed droid taking her vitals, and opened her window to a crowd of hundreds, all waiting to see the scavenger child who had overthrown their Dark rulers. In a matter of days, she had become a message to the people that their starvation was ending, that this new government would take care of everyone, even the poor, because Rey, the beautiful fighter, used to be one of them.
Word had spread that she, pilot Poe Dameron, and former child soldier Finn had been there the night of the fall of the First Order. They personally had seen to the destruction of the Supreme Leader and his followers. Heroes, they were called. Leia Organa was the first to applaud their bravery, and when the news hit the galaxy, everyone knew her name. Overnight, everything had changed.
She was no longer Scavenger Rey. She was Rey, the Champion of the Light, Champion of the People.
Poe squeezed her hand again, either because her smile was faltering or he knew the idea of being someone's Champion was both horrifying and thrilling. She tried to smile brighter.
General Organa laughed good-naturedly at the floating reporter. "That's an excellent question. What do the Champions of the Collation wished to do now in their free time?"
"Probably take a really long nap," Finn chirped from Poe's other side. The crowd chuckled. His maroon suit was exquisite in the bright lights. "But I'm looking forward to exploring the galaxy, and helping bringing more troopers like myself into the Coalition. Some were good people, caught at a bad time."
Finn also had become a center point for the new Coalition. A Stormtrooper, turned Resistance-spy, turned hero. He, like Rey, had recoiled at the thought of playing some contrived role in front of whirring cameras, but as time went on, his opinionated mouth and total disgust with the First Order earned him many supporters. Rey could have sworn she caught him once or twice practicing smiling in the mirror.
"And you, Admiral Poe?" The small Tynnan asked, its big eyes swiveling down the line.
Poe, his good nature rolling off him in waves, shrugged. "I think Finn here has an excellent point. But truly, I wish to pay my respects to my fallen comrades and their families. We won, but it was a long, difficult war. It took a toll on everyone." He nodded, his eyes downcast.
Damn, what a perfect answer. Rey's heart leapt into her throat as she realized her answer was expected next. She swallowed, trying to focus on the one reporter like Leia had suggested in times like this. The Tynnan stared in earnest. Rey cleared her throat and leaned forward into the com.
"I, uh, I think I'd like to continue my training with Luke Skywalker." Her voice echoed.
An awed chatter spread around the chambers. The Tynnan almost fell off his pod. "Does this mean you're almost done with your training, Champion Rey? Will you soon be a Jedi Master?"
The large knot in her throat caught her words and threw them back down into her stomach. After an impossible eternity, Poe put an arm around her shoulders, smiling brilliantly yet again.
"I think that's between her and Master Skywalker, wouldn't you say? After all, a Jedi doesn't reveal her secrets."
The crowd broke into a relaxed laugh, the tension released by Poe's gesture. Leia was also quick on the recovery.
"Next question, please?"
On the media platform, a Chevin raised its grey trunk. Leia pointed, a signal of recognition. The pachyderm-like creature bellowed, clearing its throat. Slowly, it flapped its giant ears, and looked up to the General. When it spoke, its voice was thin, reedy.
"And what of Prince Ben Organa Solo?"
Rey's hand clutched the arm chair beside her. The crowd fell into an uneasy silence. A few cameras flashed now as though most were suddenly hesitant, fearing what would occur in the next few moments.
Most days, she tried to act like he wasn't there.
In the stretching silence, Rey leaned forward hesitantly, looking past Poe, past Finn, past General Organa, to the man wrapped in dark navy blue. And there he sat, the lost son of Han Solo— wearing the face of his murderer.
His scar was more prominent than ever, a disrupted sliver of skin crawling up the brunt of his face. His hair, longer than ever before, brushed the tops of a soft velvet dinner jacket and was combed back, out of his sharp face. A thickly-threaded waistcoat came up high around his broad chest. The stark white of the tailored shirt beneath the blue material framed his pale hands, one of which sat casually on the top of his armchair. Regality was something that came naturally to him.
Ben Solo dropped his head, his chin hovering above the dark blue cravat. It was a moment before Rey realized he was acknowledging the reporter.
In the chamber lights, his figure was illuminated, like a spotlight. There, it came again, the same curious image Rey had seen before, weeks ago, in passing. In the light, and from time to time, it was undeniable: Ben Solo's hair was a shade of dark brown.
Not black.
"Needmo Mon, isn't it?" His heavy voice, each word with its own statement, reverberated through the com. The Chevin nodded slowly. General Organa was still as a statue, and the chambers were utterly silent now. Ben's throat moved slightly before he spoke again. "I have no further plans, except to serve the people and bring order to the Galaxy. I will help the Coalition progress, in whatever way I can. In whatever way, my mother sees fit."
His head once again dipped, this time towards the woman on his left, and his words were completely empty of malice or contempt. Another infinite moment passed, but Leia's eyes had softened. Her smile drained slightly of its blinding brightness, to a gentle, soothing level, and she reached forward and covered his hand with hers.
For three months after the death of Snoke, Kylo Ren had been kept in a private room in a discreet building on Naboo, with around-the-clock watch of at least five guards. Every day at dawn, General Leia Organa appeared at his door, urged the guards aside and went into the dark room. Every night at near midnight, she would leave. This went on, day in and day out. In the beginning, she emerged, her arms full of used medical supplies— wraps covered in blood, wet rags, and empty adrenaline pens. In the beginning, she was wary, and her eyes were wet constantly.
Towards the middle, she came in with less and less medical supplies, and more tomes, holopads, and recordings. She came in with clothes, soap, hot meals, and lamps.
She was called multiple times to various summits, Resistance meetings, and eventually House sessions. But she politely declined every single one. When questioned, she would simply respond with: "my son is home and he needs me."
And time passed; tomes replaced needles, and reed mats replaced bandages.
No guard could ever comment on what they heard, if anything, from behind the walls. Even the frantic comminiques requesting Organa's presence from across the Galaxy slowed one day, then stopped. The infant Coalition needed to breathe on its own. Gradually, the eye of the universe slid away from the Solo family, from their grief and pain and suffering, to the new government that was steadily taking place. It followed the brief skirmishes here and there, and despite the original leader to the once great Resistance being absent from its mix, somehow stability returned, finally free from the rough grip of the Dark Side.
And then, one day, after one hundred and eight days of silence, a young man, tall, dark, with a scar erupting up the center of his face, emerged from the privacy of his quarters, dressed in pale blue. Leia Organa followed quickly behind him, her face no longer tearstained. She said to the people, look, my son has come home to me.
Leia never asked anyone to trust him, or to believe him, or even forgive him. Senators, military leaders, and some of her closest friends were forced to choose between their hatred of the First Order, and the infallible strength and wisdom of one of the galaxy's greatest heroes. Of course there was backlash, arguments, and thoroughly concerned parties, but in the face of all judgement, scorn, and distain, Organa seemed to grow about a foot taller, her face as stern and threatening as ever, and concluded for everyone witnessing one simple and inarguable truth:
Kylo Ren was finally dead.
Rey breathed a sigh of relief as the velvet curtains swung closed behind her, blocking out the roaring of the crowd and the brilliantly flashing lights. The first official Coalition meeting had ended in thunderous applause, and the House was being ushered back out through the chamber exit, to reconvene at a local representative's estate to celebrate the final victory and beginning of a new era, in general high fashion.
Rey watched, leaning into a corner, as the House walked by, chattering amongst themselves about hope and prosperity. No corruption, Organa had promised, and truth be told, each member's face was alight, as though truly eager to make a change. Rey was also acutely aware that they had all been strongly encouraged to join by the former princess— hand-picked, one might say.
"C'mon now, sunshine, the night has just begun." Finn appeared and took her by the arm, leading her down the red carpeted hallway. "There's at least three hours left of boring conversation."
Poe, also appearing out of thin air, took up her other arm and they began to walk. Rey, despite the growing ache in her feet, grinned in spite of herself.
"They don't give out medals to Champions for chickening out when it comes to the politics," Poe said solemnly.
Rey feigned aghast. "Medals? Finn, did you get a medal for being a Champion? I didn't get a medal for being a Champion."
Finn's mouth dropped, feigning indignation. "No, ma'am, I did not get a medal. Poe, where's your medal?"
"Yeah, soldier, cough it up!" Rey jeered.
Poe shook his head, grinning at the two of them. Rey giggled. "You know what? My medal is shoved so far up your—,"
A feeling, like there had been exposed electrical wire placed directly into her spine, made Rey freeze in her tracks. Finn frowned. "What?"
"Oh, don't stop on my account." The three paused as Leia Organa came up behind them. She too was grinning, obviously having overheard. Following her, Ben Solo joined them.
The harsh light of the chamber had stolen the color from his face, making his cheeks even hollower. But here, under the warm light of the hallway, he was flushed with natural pinks and browns. The slip of regality had shifted, and now, no longer in front of a crowd, his broad shoulders slouched slightly. Still, he towered over all of them, a pale obelisk. His gaze drifted from Finn to Rey. They made eye contact and she ground the backs of her teeth together.
These days, he was rarely seen without his mother somewhere nearby. He would be gone from public appearances for weeks, and often only came to ones of grand importance, like this one. On one of the former inspections of the aircraft hangers, a seething pilot had made a hissing comment to Rey that the Prince had been pistol-whipped one too many times and now his royal jewels resided in his mother's handbag. Rey, who didn't feel the need to correct the idiotic pilot— that Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, whoever could peel the flesh from the pilot's bones with a flick of his long wrist— only shrugged, and continued to tightening a bolt. He could break out any time he wants to, the pilot murmured as the family walked by.
And yet . . .
And yet . . .
Something told her that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Organa didn't notice the small exchange between the young Jedi and her son. "Do tell me, Poe, where is your medal?"
Just above his collar, Poe's neck went dark. "Uhm, it's in a very hard to reach place, ma'am."
"Then you better keep it there," the general replied with a wink.
"Excellent speech, General," Finn said, after a beat, his own cheeks a muddled pink. "The Galaxy feels safe once again."
Leia smirked at him.
"Madam," a House aid approached. "The room you requested is ready."
"Thank you," Organa said, and the aid bowed in his retreat. Organa's smile faded as she turned from the representative to the three young Champions.
"What is it?" Rey asked immediately. She sensed trepidation, fear, worry, sadness, but faith . . . and the threads of secrecy.
Organa looked down the hall to the House, chatting among themselves. She watched them go, her face suddenly heavy, as if she wished she could follow them, and for some reason could not. She sighed and clasped her hands; the General's next words weighed her soul.
Rey remembered seeing old images of her, just after the fall of the Empire. She was radiantly beautiful, and a princess to boot. Before her stood a woman, wizened by years of loss and pain, her brown hair lightened to a dirty grey. And yet, still she crackled with brilliant fire. Like a powerful engine, Leia Organa clung to life, and it clung to her. She rocked with absolute conviction.
"My dear friends," she began.
From beside her, Ben shifted, minutely.
"I have to ask you the impossible." Leia looked at the three Champions, her gaze holding them all. "You have fought this war right by my side, and never strayed. You are the reason the Galaxy was given hope again, and for that, trillions of lives are saved by your actions. Without you, and your courage, my family would have been splintered forever.
But I must ask you for your duty once again."
Poe straightened to full height. Organa met his gaze. "With all due respect, ma'am, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you."
"Nor I," Finn said firmly.
"Nor I." Rey felt her throat burn, but her eyes were dry.
Leia Organa smiled weakly. "You don't know what I'm asking of you. This road will be long, painful. You are volunteering for another war, my friends. You don't know what you will lose."
Organa's calming presence flexed across the three Champions, and when she turned her head, her son was enveloped too. A crease appeared in the center of his forehead and there was moment of silent communication between Leia Organa and Ben Solo.
"My opinion still stands, ma'am," Poe said. "I think I speak for all of us here."
"You might come to regret that decision," Organa replied with solemn face. Rey's stomach tightened. Somewhere, deep down, in the pulse of the Living Force within her, the pool she had steadily gaining access to shimmered. She didn't know how or why, but Rey knew if she agreed, everything would change— again.
"Prince Ben Organa Solo, erm, uh, sir," the aid appeared again, looking a little more flustered. "We have the materials as you ordered."
Organa's son nodded, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. But he too looked solemn as he looked back at the three. His jaw moved, as if considering to speak, but in the end decided against it. He bent forward in what seemed to be a bow, but at his height, he could have just been an adjustment in his coat.
His mother watched him go, her hands clasped before her.
"Leia." Poe stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder, gently, like he would approach his own mother. "We will follow you anywhere."
Leia smiled again, and covered his hand. "Is this true?"
"Let's go," Rey grinned to her friends. Leia watched her for a second too long, before nodding in the direction of where her son went.
The general led the three Champions down a separate hallway, away from the political arena, and the rushing crystalline city outside— and Rey knew her place would always be in the middle, always fighting, and that's the way it would forever be.
At the far end, Leia pressed her palm to the scanner and the door chirped in recognition, and slid open. A conference room humming in low lighting came into view as Rey walked through the door. A handful of generals and former Resistance fighters sat around a round table, but with four strategic open seats at the center. Many of the leaders dipped their heads in respect as Organa took her seat.
Ben Solo stood at the front of the room, a small black device in his hand. He was focused intently on the projector in the middle of the table. The Resistance leaders only glanced at him out of the corner of their eyes, as if staring too long would blind them.
The dark lights on the walls combined with the green hum of the projector blurred his features, as though he were underwater.
Rey took a seat on the other side of Finn.
There was a silent beat before the lights lowered completely, and Solo's face became iridescent.
"Three months ago, General Leia Organa came to me, wanting to know about three things." He motioned with the device in hand and the system projected the image of a thin wooden rod into the air. Its bottom tendril swirled into a curl, and the opposite end glowed purple. "One, the Darkstaff."
"That looks like just a dumb stick," one of the captains muttered.
Something sinister flickered in her mind, like a tentacle. It's not.
"Sentient and bloodthirsty, this staff aims to destroy wherever it goes. Created several thousand years before the Clone Wars, it seeks out weak emotion and feeds from it. Once in the possession of Darth Rivan, it was lost in the Cularian system before being supposedly destroyed at the Heart Tree."
Ben waved his device again, and the floating projection changed.
"Two, the Phobis devices." A red pyramid hovered several inches in the air, turning Ben's face an oppressive scarlet. "Frequently used by Darth Sidious from inside what was once the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, these devices channel the darkness of the Force instigate fear and panic. This is partly why the old Jedi Order culled these weak emotions from their code."
"And three, the Helm of Dathka Graush." From within the Force, Rey heard a war-torn scream. She glanced at Organa and knew the older woman felt it too. "It gives the wearer incredible strength and Force abilities. Like any other Sith artifact, it slowly warps the mind, letting it give way to fear, anger, and hatred. Furthermore, it has been known to affect the weather."
"Each of these are imbued with the darkest of Sith power, making these objects Sith artifacts. There are many other Sith artifacts that the Jedi order and others have attempted to collect and keep from the wrong hands over the many years. At the end of the fall of the Empire, the Sanctum of the Exalted was broken into and while Emperor Sidious kept many of these artifacts as trophies within his chambers, others were sold off to the highest bidder. Recently, our sources report that several of these artifacts have dropped off any and every radar. We suppose someone might be attempting to collect them, for what purpose, if any, we are unsure."
Ben set down the device on the long table. The image collapsed and the lights restored themselves. "Your mission, as defenders of the Light, is to find these artifacts, among many others, bring them here for them to be disposed of once and for all."
An unsettling silence crept over the conference. Rey sensed white-hot anger flowing from a man in the back. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were focused entirely on Solo.
"And who will be leading this venture?" He asked, his voice low. He was an older man, the hair framing his face going grey. Rey knew him as Captain Bethane.
"I will be, Captain," Organa said, her tone clipped. As the other Force-sensitive in the room, Leia must have felt the loud displeasure. "Think of this as your first debrief. You will await further instructions in the morning."
Solo's face was rigid, too stiff. Distrust and frustration emanated from the captain like plumes of smoke.
Leia stood and everyone seated stood with her. "Thank you, Ben, our team is now informed of their orders. But tonight, our Coalition has become a reality. So please, for the sake of the damn galaxy, get some sleep."
"So you think Leia is serious about hunting down every one of the Sith artifacts?"
It was well beyond midnight in Finn's apartment overlooking Christophsis. The man himself was asleep on the floor, a pillow under his head, his face turned away from the crackling fireplace between his two friends.
The three had hauled off from the celebrations soon after Leia ended the meeting. Rey watched the generals go, their mouths drawn in concentration, as she and her friends waited for the lift to take them up to Finn's place. Outside in the streets, parades were continuing and music blared. Confetti and balloons glittered in the floodlights. Leia Organa and her son followed out of the room after. They both appeared drained, as though a great weight dragged on their core. Rey avoided eye contact with Solo as he walked by.
In the late hour, far off on the ground below, a firework exploded on the streets and delighted screams echoed up into the sky.
Poe leaned against a high-backed chair, a cigarra between his teeth and his eyes on the deck of cards in front of him. Opposite, Rey, curled up in Poe's jacket that was often traded between the three, shifted uncomfortably. She was still in her evening gown— and she was losing this round of cards.
"I don't know," she sighed truthfully. "It's a lot, on top of everything else. I still think we're doing the right thing by helping."
Poe nodded slowly, inhaling slightly on the cigarra. "If she's serious about stamping out any Sith resurgence, this is one helluva way to go about it."
"It's always been a Sith Lord, or someone dark, who upsets the balance of the Force. The government is soon to follow after that. I think she's trying to get ahead this time around."
Poe exhaled and tapped the burnt ash into a tray at his bare feet. He suddenly got a dark look on his face. He was quiet a moment before responding. "But she's making a mistake if she thinks she can let that monster off his leash."
Rey frowned. "You mean Solo? Is that fair—,"
"What's not fair is that arrogant brat paces around here like he owns the damn joint, when he should be rotting in hell like the rest of his First Order buddies."
Rey bit her cheek, staring at her cards. Poe hadn't been there the night Snoke died. He hadn't seen the almost graphic way the son of Han Solo broke free from Kylo Ren. She couldn't begin to describe what she witnessed without quickly resorting to litanies of curses because quite simply, the words weren't there. There was a nearly palpable change. He wore the mask of a mass murderer, of a harden psychopath, but what if that's all it was— a mask?
Was it through the Force she noticed the imperceptible change?
He no longer blazed like a raging inferno, hatred and fury and agony, bleaching his bones.
He crackled now. Caught somewhere between a smoldering ember and smoke, Rey saw something different. Ben Solo had done physical nothing to earn the title of a changed man, but in his mother's eyes, and somehow, neither by sight or sense or touch or smell, this ghost, this contrasted specter, really wasn't Kylo Ren.
Another firecracker boomed in the early morning. Another cheerful whoop and music played faintly from somewhere.
Whether that was for better or, somehow, impossibly worse, it was too early to tell.
The fire crackled as shriveled log fell into the stacks.
"You don't think he's changed?"
Poe shrugged, the dim light casting dark shadows from his long eyelashes. Rey didn't like this silence.
"The man's heart is dark, Rey, as black as they come. Give him a chance, and he'll kill us all without a second thought."
On the floor, Finn shifted, muttering in his sleep. Poe's anger lessened, his face flashing with concern for the briefest of moments, before he took a long hard drag on his cigarra.
"Look, I'm not saying I trust him . . . but why. . ." Rey trailed off.
"Why do I hate him, Rey? I knew him," Poe said, quietly, bitterly. Rey froze, looking up to her friend. Poe didn't talk much about his past, even to Finn. Rey, coming from a murky past herself, never pressed the issue. But she rarely had she seen such a visceral reaction from him— except whenever the First Order came up. "My mother, Shara Bey, was best friends with Leia, so I grew up with the Solo kid. Even if by some stupid miracle that monster Kylo Ren isn't lurking like a damn shark, waiting for the first drop of blood in the water. . . this is still the same guy who abandoned his family. Forget Kylo Ren— Ben Solo was so weak, he gave up his free will to the Sith. That makes you still a bastard to me. And once a bastard, always a bastard.
And another thing, don't you think it's a little strange that it only took a few months to convert him from being absolute evil? We never see him, except when Leia lets him out. Maybe only when he's tranquilized . . ."
"You think Leia is drugging her own son?"
Poe looked away, as though horrified by his own accusation. But he shook his head briefly, before dragging on the cigarra. "I think we want to see what we want to see. I know she loved Han more than anything in this universe and that thing is all she has left of him."
Since her encounter on Starkiller base all those many years ago, she hadn't seen hide nor hair of Kylo Ren— until that night on Korriban, when a Resistance victory seemed truly eminent. Leia went along, knowing that he would be there and knowing fully well this might be the last chance to ever lay eyes on her son again.
But what she brought back. . . was it real reformation or a wretched form of apocalyptic damnation?
Rey, her internal conflict still raging high, reached for Poe's stash of Fox Beer and took a swig.
There came a knock at the door.
For every Jedi, there is a unique imprint in the senses from when another force-sensitive individual reaches within range. For strangers, it is only a shadow on the peripheral vision. With acquaintances, friends, lovers, family, the sense is stronger. And whenever Master Luke was nearby, Rey swore she could taste peppermint.
She bounded to her feet, scrambling over Finn to the door. "I'll get it—,"
Rey opened the door, and indeed found the distant eyes of Luke Skywalker staring into her own. He smiled his waning smile. "I hope I haven't woken you up," he said.
In a silent agreement between himself and his sister, Luke tended to stay at the edges of the political arena. This was a new age Leia was determined to bring in, and if the Jedi had been once again established as the executive branch of the Coalition, what would have changed?
Rey shook her head and stepped outside into the hallway. The hallway was empty at this time of night. In the streets, the drunks were headed home, celebrations to begin again in a few hours. The old Jedi looked out of place in Valiant hotel, with its shimmering crystalline structure and tall glass walls. Luke, in his brown, tattered robes, belonged in the Outposts, moving on the point of invisible perception, not under the floodlights of a sparkling city. She missed the days on the cragged island of Ahch-To, where things made sense. Here, where secrecy was currency, it was difficult to know where she stood.
For him to come to her, especially at night, there must be something important he needed.
Rey realized she had left her shoes inside, and she had approached her master in the flimsy evening gown and a rugged pilot's jacket. But then again, Luke had never been one for much tradition.
"I've been up with my friends. A lot has happened today."
Luke smiled softly, nodding. "The Coalition. It seems successful."
"We can only hope."
"Rey," her master murmured. His hands were clasped in front him, his eyes downcast. She recognized the look of weariness; she had seen it earlier today on his sister. "Would you walk with me? I have something to discuss with you, and quite honestly, it can't wait."
Rey nodded vigorously. He led her to the lift and sent the machine upwards. The public quarters they were staying in were reserved for royalty and dignitaries, so the top level gave a spectacular view of Christophsis.
The planet's moon was brilliant silver, the eye of a giant in the sky. Luke walked into a gust of air, his eyes closing, and Rey felt his living Force sway like trees. He welcomed the air, but Rey's bare feet stung in the cold.
Up here, the view of the city glittered like a spider's golden web.
Luke sat down on a metal bench and motioned for her to join. She slid down next to him as he gazed at the heavens above them. Here, you could hear nothing of the waning celebrations below.
"You have been one of the most dedicated students I've ever known," Luke began softly. "You have trained long and hard to master your skills."
"Thank you," Rey said, her palms sweaty. She rubbed them on the insides of Poe's jacket sleeves.
"You deserve every bit of praise that comes your way. But I can sense you are troubled. You have reached a point where you can no longer progress unless you can clear your worry and your doubt. Before the Rise of the Empire, the Jedi were told to ignore their fear, but I've see what that can do. However, your fears, while valid, should not control you, and I sense you are on that path."
"No, Master, I can do it. I can clear my mind. I—,"
Luke shook his head gently. The wind picked up again and brushed his grey, coarse hair from his face. He reached into his robes and pulled out what looked to be a very old book. Leather-bound, its cover was blank, save for a few words written in a language she didn't know. The old Jedi looked at it fondly, as though it was a great comforting weight for him.
"Rey, I am not reprimanding you. You have been missing a part of yourself, of your identity, for a very long time. To ask you to continue without knowing would be selfish and unwise of me."
"Without knowing what, sir?"
Luke smiled. "Without knowing your family."
Her throat was suddenly drier than any Jakku desert. "What do you mean?"
"In my lifetime, I have seen and done a great many things. I have met a great many people, and been a great many places. In my travels, I have learned something that I didn't think possible."
"What?" her small voice asked.
Luke's gaze met her own. He reached forward and pressed the book into her hands. "That my master had a child, and that child grew up, and had you. You are the living granddaughter of the Clone War General, Obi Wan Kenobi. And this is his journal."
A/N
Yes, I am incredible fan of the Rey Kenobi theory. It makes the most logical sense in terms of narrative, and like a billion other reasons, some of which we'll explore in later chapters. Also, basically, Ben Solo is a bit of a leper, a traitor— the least bad thing he is seen as. But Leia has pulled strings, essentially every favor she has accumulated in her time as "Galaxy Hero" to keep him out of prison because she truly believes he's been saved— and a big FUCK YOU to anyone who dares challenge her. The galaxy kind of owes their entire existence to her, so nobody's really going push that envelope . . . not yet . . .
So one epic closes . . . and another one opens. See you all next week.
But because I'm an incredible nerd, I had an incredibly good time finding fancy outfits for our heroes (and anti-heroes) to wear.
What I imagined Rey wearing: .
What I imagined Ben wearing: . /1dbd33075f4e2198f24dbddbab8fc835/tumblr_o1fl02FAsL1rsst3uo10_r1_