Episode IX: The Only Hope Chapter 12, a star wars fanfic

A/N: This was an extremely exhausting and emotional chapter for me to write, but I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I sincerely hope all of you do as well! To Anniemp, who left a wonderful review on the last chapter: I would love to respond and answer your very thoughtful questions, but you need to sign in to an account for me to be able to do so! Again, thank you to ALL who have read and supported this story along the way. This wouldn't be nearly as much fun without YOU!

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Chandrila's sun was a blazing ball of fire that ignited the sky over Hanna City as it sank toward the sea. Brilliant strokes of red, orange, pink, and yellow streaked across the atmosphere like tongues of flame, scintillating on the surface of the water like leaping embers. Ben watched as the towers beyond his small, circular viewport grew steadily larger, shimmering and sparkling in the warm glow. But dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, and he knew that the storm would likely arrive within the next couple of hours.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he realized that his hands were shaking as they gripped the controls. In all the years since he had left Chandrila to train under Luke, he had never returned—not once. From this distance, the city seemed to be much the same as he remembered it, but even though it appeared at first glance as though nothing had changed, he knew that the notion was ridiculous. Everything had changed—himself most of all. But he took some solace in the fact that the planet had thus far remained untouched by the war.

As he neared the spaceport, he saw that Docking Platform E-22 was clear and ready for him to land. He had informed them that he was coming, and they had made no protests. The Interceptor descended rapidly toward its destination, its downward angle sharpening. Ben's gaze flicked back and forth between the platform and the ship's console, gauging his speed and the distance that remained.

Finally, he pulled back on the sticks and leveled out the fighter, slowing until he was gliding over the platform. Then he set the TIE down. Unbuckling his restraints, Ben sat back for a moment and stared blankly ahead. What was he thinking, coming back here? What answers could he possibly hope to find? There was nothing here anymore. Nothing but ghosts.

Removing his gloves, he laid them on the console and then reached back, raising the hood of his cloak. It would be impossible for him to pass through the capitol city without being recognized, but he planned to draw as little attention to himself as he could manage.

Opening the hatch, Ben climbed out of the cockpit and dropped down onto the platform, his boots landing with a dull thud. A quick glance at his surroundings told him that the spaceport was not especially crowded, and he hoped that most Chandrilans would soon be heading indoors for the evening. As for him, it was time to make the journey to Embassy Row.

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Ben didn't know how long he had been standing there in front of that door, wrestling over whether or not he should open it. When he had made a casual inquiry about the apartment at the front desk, he had been informed that its owner had refused to rent it out to anyone, despite the fact that it was no longer occupied. The reason for this was a mystery to others, but not to him. He knew that his mother would have wanted to return one day, after the war was over.

Swallowing hard, Ben was nearly overwhelmed by the wave of guilt that crashed over him at the mere thought of her. So much more than a former residence lay beyond that door. But something defying explanation was drawing him toward it, calling to him in a voice both familiar and foreign. He didn't know what he was going to see, or what he expected to see, and that was the worst part.

But before he could stop himself, Ben had already typed the password into the access panel and opened the door. They had never changed it, even after all this time.

Hesitantly, he stepped inside. The door closed behind him. And then there was silence. Ben's eyes slowly roamed over every inch of the place—the couch, the kitchen, the holoscreen. Just behind him and to his left was another doorway that led to a bedroom—his parents' bedroom.

Moonlight streamed through the apartment's tall windows, casting an ethereal glow over everything it touched and plunging the rest of the room into deep shadow. Echoes of laughter bounced off the walls, mingling with the desperate screams of a boy who thought no one could hear him. Shifting his gaze to the closed door that lay ahead of him, Ben remembered curling into a ball and hiding himself beneath the blankets, seeking escape from the voice that assailed his thoughts day and night. He remembered the nightmares, terrifying visions that tormented his sleep until he dreaded it.

He had believed that he was going mad—that something was wrong with him. But it was Snoke. It had always been Snoke.

Lowering his hood, Ben advanced further into the room. It was so quiet. So empty. So lonely. They were gone now, and it was his fault.

The weight of his guilt and his utter failure became so heavy that he could no longer bear it, and he sank to the floor. On his hands and knees, he hung his head, black locks of hair falling around his face as tears dripped from his eyes. He had tried. He had tried so hard. And all he had done was make things worse.

It was too late—too late to atone for the things he had done—the atrocities he had committed.

"Ben."

He opened his eyes, not realizing that he had closed them, and beneath his hands, he saw an infinite void. Fear seized him, and he scrambled upright. Before him stood a man robed in white, a strange blue glow emanating from his seemingly solid form. He appeared to be no older than Ben, having tousled brown hair and a kind countenance. Despite being convinced that he had never seen this man before, Ben could not help but feel that he was somehow familiar.

"W-who are you?"

"Don't be afraid," the man answered calmly. "I've come to help you."

Ben climbed to his feet, his suspicious gaze never leaving the ghost-like figure. "What do you mean? What is this place?"

"Where we are doesn't matter. What does matter is why."

Taking a moment to glance at his surroundings, Ben saw only darkness, the space above and below him occupied by trillions of stars. There was no ground, and yet, he was not falling.

"You've decided that it's too late to turn back—that you've fallen too far. You think that you have nothing left to lose and nothing left to fight for. But you're wrong—just like I was."

Ben's eyes darted to the stranger's mysterious blue ones, so youthful but burdened with the kind of knowledge that only trials and sufferings could bring.

"I had a son. You have her."

His heart thundered inside his chest, his legs suddenly feeling like they were going to buckle beneath him. Ben stared in awe. "You're…you're Anakin Skywalker."

"Your instincts serve you well," he smiled. "That's what Obi-Wan used to tell me. Well, not often—but sometimes."

Ben's mouth opened and then closed again. Words eluded him.

"They named you after him, you know," Anakin added. "Ben Kenobi. When Luke was a child, Obi-Wan was there with him on Tatooine, keeping his distance but always ensuring that no harm came to him. He accepted the responsibility of preserving what he viewed as the only hope that remained in the galaxy—the only hope of defeating the Empire."

Ben shifted uneasily, summoning his voice at last. "Snoke told me of your sacrifice. How you came so close to achieving balance but then failed. He said that it was a moment of weakness."

"Did he?" Anakin replied, unconcerned. "And what do you think?"

"I…" Ben sighed and shook his head. "I don't know anymore."

"You know what it's like to care for someone so deeply that you're willing to risk your own life for theirs."

He was trapped. He wanted nothing more than to avoid the issue, but it was as if his grandfather could see right through him—right into the very depths of his soul.

"I don't deserve her," Ben admitted finally, a lump burning in his throat. "She knows what I've done. I have nothing to offer her."

"Isn't that something she should decide for herself?" Anakin suggested.

Ben's hands balled into fists at his sides, and he started to pace. "What am I supposed to do? The fate of the galaxy is out of my hands now."

"The war must end, and you can ensure that it does. The First Order must be destroyed."

Ben spun to face him. "I can't fight them alone."

"You won't be alone," Anakin said simply.

"What?" Ben laughed incredulously. "Are you talking about the Resistance? You can't be serious. They would never—"

"Not the Resistance," Anakin corrected with a shake of his head. "Rey. Only together can you restore balance."

"How?" Ben demanded, his frustration continuing to build. "How can I know the will of the Force when it refuses to speak to me? My whole life, I've been told that I have a destiny. That I was chosen by the light—that I was a servant of darkness. But it was all lies. I'm not who they thought I was."

"It's not about what they think. It's about who you choose to become."

Ben fell silent, the words resonating inside him. He thought for a long moment, and then finally, he raised his head once more and met his grandfather's steady gaze. "I want to atone for the things I've done. I want to make things right. But I don't even know where to start…"

A glimmer of pride flickered in Anakin's eyes as took a step toward his grandson. "First, you must confront the darkness within yourself."

Ben nodded, though fear and doubt gnawed at him. "All right. How do I—?"

The familiar growl of an igniting lightsaber suddenly sounded behind him, and he whirled to face it. Stunned, he blinked several times, struggling to discern whether what he saw was real or a figment of his imagination. The hooded figure held a crimson crossguard saber in his right hand, and his face was concealed behind a mask—the very same mask that Ben had personally destroyed more than a year ago.

He looked over his shoulder to inquire of Anakin, only to find that his grandfather had disappeared. It was then that he understood what was happening. This phantom was the darkness inside himself. This was Kylo Ren.

Shedding his cloak, Ben unhooked his lightsaber from his belt and activated it. His opponent circled him slowly and deliberately, like a predator deciding how best to devour its prey. Ben raised his blade to chest height, holding it parallel to the ground as he tracked his enemy's movements. He noted that with each step either of them made, strange ripples went out from beneath their feet, as if they were disturbing an invisible pool of water.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed his mind and honed his focus to a razor sharp edge. Lingering near the farthest fringes of his consciousness, he could hear a familiar voice calling to him, beckoning softly and kindly. Part of him instinctively rebelled against it, repulsed by its passivity—its benevolence. No, Ben thought, sternly reminding himself to resist those darker impulses. Things were going to be different now. He was choosing to be different.

Just let it in.

Closing his eyes, he cast down his mental barriers and opened himself to the light. Immediately, it came to his aid, eager and willful. It held no grudge against him. Instead, it seemed to have been patiently biding its time, waiting and hoping for him to welcome it as he once had.

Hiss!

Ben's eyes flew open again, just in time to see Kylo Ren charging toward him with his saber held high. He moved to meet his foe, coming in low, and their blades collided with a violent crash. What followed was series of ferocious, calculated strikes, each blow heavier than the last. Forced into a defensive stance, Ben was expending much of his energy just to parry his opponent's attacks. Kylo ruthlessly drove him backwards, and Ben knew that he needed to do something quickly to reverse the momentum.

When his enemy's weapon came down the next time, Ben caught it with his own but allowed Kylo to force his blade toward the ground. Then he took his foe by surprise and swiftly shoved his saber aside. Kylo stumbled forward, off balance, and Ben spun to the left. Circling behind his vulnerable opponent, he threw out his left hand and issued a powerful Force push. That sent Kylo sprawling onto his face, and Ben wasted no time in striding toward him to deliver the final blow.

But just before he reached him, Ben saw his enemy push himself up onto his hands and knees. He froze in midstep, suddenly unable to move. Kylo retrieved his fallen saber and rose, turning to face him. Ben fought against the invisible grip that held him in place, but his efforts were in vain. He watched, helpless, as Kylo advanced.

His entire body was being slowly compressed, his throat constricting and his insides squeezing. Eyes wide with terror, he croaked as Kylo crushed the air from his lungs. He couldn't breathe—couldn't think. Strange dots flickered across his vision, darkness creeping in from its corners. He was slipping into oblivion.

But then, at the last possible moment, a single word flashed across his mind like a bolt of lightning, igniting a fire in his failing heart. One name that brought him back from the brink.

Rey.

Ben's eyes snapped open, blazing as they fearlessly gazed upon the masked visage of death and destruction that loomed before him. New strength swirled inside him like a raging tempest, begging for release. Breaking free of his invisible bonds, Ben unleashed a wave of telekinetic energy that launched his enemy backwards through open air. He dropped onto his knees, breathing hard but still gripping his lightsaber in his right hand.

Kylo landed hard on his back and did not move for some time. Struggling to his feet, Ben trudged toward his fallen foe. Kylo saw him approaching and started to rise, but Ben extended his hand and forced him back down. Rage burned inside him as Ben stood stood over Kylo, grasping his crossguard hilt with both hands.

This was Snoke's loyal apprentice, the Knight of Ren who had the blood of so many on his hands—including that of his own father. This was the part of him that still hungered for power, for domination. The part of him that longed to be Vader's worthy heir.

So why couldn't he kill him? Why couldn't he let go? Ben clenched his jaw and willed himself to do it, his raised arms trembling. But he remained as he was, unable to bring the blade down.

Finally, he sighed in defeat and lowered his saber, deactivating it. As Kylo Ren faded away in front of him, he wondered if he had failed, just as he had so many times before.

"Why did you spare him?"

Turning, Ben saw that his grandfather had returned. He shook his head and lowered his gaze. "I—I don't know. It just…didn't feel right."

"Because Kylo Ren is as much a part of you as Ben Solo is. In truth, there never was a Kylo Ren. There was only you."

Tears welled in Ben's eyes, and Anakin's gaze softened with compassion and understanding as he continued.

"It was never about destroying the parts of yourself that you had chosen to reject. We all have both light and dark inside of us, and they will always stand in opposition to one another. But you can still find peace and balance within yourself. You will never lose your darkness, Ben, but you can learn to rise above it."

He swiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve and inhaled deeply. Then he nodded and straightened. "I'm ready."

Anakin smiled and motioned invitingly with his hand. "Sit."

Ben did as he was told, lowering himself into a crosslegged position, and his grandfather did the same.

"It is time to purify your crystal. Close your eyes and focus on the lightsaber."

Again, Ben obeyed, gently levitating the hilt until it hovered less than a meter in front of his chest.

"The light and the dark are two halves of a whole," said Anakin. "One Force. As its vessels, it is our sacred duty to preserve a universal balance. While there is good, there is evil, but it must not be allowed to triumph over good. Virtue is to be chosen over vice. Mercy over vengeance. Love over hate. Life over death."

There was a pause in which Ben allowed the words to wash over him, feeling the corruption draining from his crystal.

"Repeat after me: passion, yet peace."

"Passion, yet peace."

"Knowledge, yet ignorance."

"Chaos, yet harmony."

"In the Force, I find balance."

Behind his closed lids, Ben saw a blinding white flash. He opened his eyes. The hilt still floated in front of him. Reaching out, he reclaimed it and turned it carefully over in his hands. Then he held it aloft and ignited the blade.

A silver beam sprang to life, vibrating with a low, stable hum. Admiring it, Ben tilted it slightly to one side, then to the other. Anakin stood, and after a moment, Ben deactivated the saber and followed suit, hooking it onto his belt.

"Well done," his grandfather smiled.

"I'm so proud of you, Ben."

All at once, the color drained from his face, his heart plummeting to his toes. Slowly, Ben turned to his left and saw her standing there. His mother. A lump formed in his throat, his lip trembling as fresh tears sprang to his eyes. And suddenly, he was a child again, fleeing a nightmare and taking refuge in the simple yet profound comfort of her waiting arms.

She seemed so much smaller now, with him bending down and her rising onto the tips of her toes to reach him. Ben buried his face in her shoulder, his tears soaking her robes. He held her so tightly that he feared he might break her, but she remained as strong and steady as she had always been, silently rubbing his back until he was breathing normally again.

Finally, Ben drew back and met her brown gaze with his own. "I'm sorry."

His large hands were clinging to her shoulders, his eyes begging her to believe him. Leia just smiled.

"I know. All I wanted was for you to come home."

Ben swallowed hard. "You'll tell him, won't you?"

"Of course," she nodded. "We both will."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "We?"

She looked past him and canted her head. Following her gaze, Ben turned around and saw that a third person had materialized behind him—and that person was none other than Luke Skywalker.

"Hey, kid."

Instinctively, Ben recoiled, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His eyes were wide and frightened, images of an ignited green saber flashing across his memory. But then he felt a reassuring hand grasp his arm.

"Let it go, Ben," Leia urged gently. "Forgive him."

He swallowed again. Anger, sorrow, and regret tangled inside him, his tongue turning to lead.

"Ben," Luke began sincerely, "there is nothing I regret more than what I did to you. For a long time, I wished that I could go back and do things differently—that I could fix it somehow. But everything happens for a reason. And now, here you are—despite my failures."

Ben's fingers slowly relaxed, his gaze beginning to soften. "It…wasn't all bad," he said at last, managing the slightest of smiles.

Luke returned it, his shoulders seeming to sag with relief as tears shone in his blue eyes.

"Ben."

He glanced over at his grandfather, who had stepped forward but seemed reluctant to interrupt.

"It's time," Anakin told him. "Rey is on Chandrila, and you must go to her. She is in imminent danger."

Ben's heart started to pound. "Where is she?"

"Hanna Spaceport."

"Find the Falcon," added Leia, "and you will find Rey."

Ben nodded, and he was ready—ready to go and help her. But something was holding him back. He turned to his mother once more.

"Will I—will I ever see you again?"

Leia smiled and stepped closer, placing her hand over his heart. "Even when you can't see me, I'll always be with you."

Blinking back tears, his eyes remained fixed on her even as she backed away.

"May the Force be with you," said Luke.

"Always," Anakin finished.

And then he was back on the floor of the apartment, his head spinning and his limbs aching. Ben grimaced and carefully pushed himself up onto his elbows, then his knees. He couldn't see much. There was no moonlight any longer, and rain was thrashing against the windows. It took him a few moments to recall how he had gotten there, but then he remembered. He remembered everything.

"Rey," he breathed, scrambling to his feet and running blindly toward the door.