Clouded

By: Discord

Summary: The consciousness of a 17-year-old Ben Solo wakes up in the adult body of Kylo Ren, who seems to be standing on some sort of suspended walkway… with an older version of his father before him. Reylo. Semi-Rise of Kylo Ren comic-compliant.

A/N: Many thanks to Head Butler Ryan from Mynock Manor for the in-depth summaries and perspectives of the comic series Star Wars: The Rise of Kylo Ren. You gave this little plot bunny a place to hang its hat!

This has the potential to get expanded into epic proportions, but I'm keeping it short for now (six chapters). We'll see how long the hyperfixation lingers!


Chapter One: Where Am I?


Ben shook his head and blinked his eyes open. He was in a cavernous hold of some kind, surrounded by the thrum of oversized thermal-oscillators. Red operation lights glared as ominous portents in the darkness, and unfamiliar computer banks and access panels winked along a far wall. A breeze played idly at his feet, and he realized he was positioned over a yawning abyss. A thin maintenance walkway—without railings—bisected the bottomless void, swaying gently beneath him with each uplifted draft.

His father stood before him, but even that wasn't anchoring. He looked a decade older. A pain was etched into his deepened features, a sorrow and regret he had never seen from him, and Ben almost didn't recognize him.

"D-Dad?" He murmured.

His father's eyes went wide, crinkling at the corners, and a joy so brilliant it nearly blinded split his face.

"BEN!" He cried. "My son!" He flung his arms wide, and Ben found himself swept into a tight embrace—tighter than when he'd first left for Uncle Luke's temple seven years ago.

"I knew it wasn't too late!" His dad exclaimed, shaking with sobs. "I KNEW you were in there!"

Two joyous shouts joined Han Solo's, coming from high above the precarious walkway.

Ben looked up and spotted a woman beaming down in awe. She was even more disorienting than the alien landscape. Only a few years his senior, there was a roughness to her—a resilience he could see even at a distance. Dirt and grime smudged her face and clothes, wayward hair hung around her ears, and determination set her jaw; she was a survivor. Her gaze was nothing like Voe's competitive covet, or Tai's exasperated patience. He could see pride, surprise… even curiosity… all aimed at him. Ben felt himself straighten under her stare and discovered there was a new bulk and strength in his frame. Like… a lot. He felt enormous.

Chewbacca gave a thrilled roar a moment later, but Ben barely heard. He couldn't tear himself away from her. Who was she?

From her elevated platform, the woman's hands fluttered into motion, cupping around her mouth. "We'll meet you on the top level!" She called. Her voice was clear and bright, brimming with unfiltered elation. Whatever he had done—addressing his dad?—had made her unbelievably happy.

"Get going!" She pressed. "We need to move!"

His father withdrew and grabbed his arm. "Come on, Ben," he urged, starting to pull. "We gotta hustle, buddy."

Ben ducked his way through a nod. What's happening? He wondered. Am I dreaming? His foot snagged on something left on the catwalk. He looked down, staring at the foreign object. Is that a… helmet? Am I on a mission? Was I exposed to something? Ben squeezed his eyes closed, snapping them open as his dad pulled harder

"Hurry, son," he implored.

Ben obliged, kicking the helmet aside and breaking into a trot. "No problem, Dad. Where to?"


Now Ben was running. He could almost convince himself it was a late-night training exercise, except that his fellow padawans were absent, and Master Skywalker was nowhere to be seen.

They had fled whatever complex they had been in, reaching the edge of a snow-capped forest and diving into the labyrinth of dark trunks without looking back. Everyone moved swiftly with him, filling the air with heavy breathing and muttered curses as branches were flung aside and obscured tree stumps were stumbled over. His father, Chewie, the woman, and some guy who was likely her boyfriend all ran with him.

The nameless man kept taking the woman's hand, pulling her close and surveying dark boughs with mistrust. She gripped back—maybe with less feeling?—until obstacles forced them apart, and Ben took a face-full of snow in his preoccupied study.

He could almost hear Master Skywalker's censure, but Ben wondered what he would make of the last hour. What was a lack of focus compared to this? Was he in some new sort of trial? A vision so lucid he could feel freezing wind and snowy wet burning his cheeks? What lesson was here?

The woman had unclicked something from his belt as soon as they'd cleared the complex, tucking it at her side with a fleeting look. Ben had caught a glimpse before it became obscured in her multi-wrapped garment—the unmistakable hilt of a lightsaber. One he'd never seen before, and hadn't sensed was there.

Come to think of it, the Force had been strangely quiet and still since he'd found himself in the strange hold. What once was an unceasing roar only discipline could cut through, was little more than a dim, bleeding ebb no louder than a rattling whisper.

The gloom of the forest engulfed lines and details, and Ben felt blind without the steady guidance he had never had to consciously summon. Thankfully, no one seemed to sense his impairment. They continued their journey, even as a foreboding rumble began building in the air.

The trees started to thin, and the boyfriend now clutched the woman's hand as if she might disappear.

"We're almost there," his father wheezed, gasping to keep up. "Come on."

Ben stretched out and reached for his dad's elbow. "How's the Falcon?" He asked, grabbing him to help guide him along. "Have you fixed her navicomputer yet? Your last message said the whole thing needed to be scrapped."

His father's brow bent in confusion, before a rueful smile tugged his mouth. "She's still got plenty of surprises, Ben," he assured. Sliding his arm free, he surged ahead on his own. "Don't you worry."

Ben pushed his legs to catch up, following as the group broke free from the tree line. The Millenium Falcon lay just beyond, and they all began to sprint as the ground suddenly roared and lurched beneath them.

"An earthquake!" Ben warned. "Brace yourselves!"

No one else paused.

"It's the whole planet," the boyfriend clarified over his shoulder. "The base is defenseless now. If the Resistance did their part, this is just the beginning."

Chewie elaborated with a warble, and Ben's eyes went wide.

"W-We're on a planet-size starbase?!" He spluttered. "Who built it?"

More confusion swept the faces ahead.

It was the woman who found her voice first. "We have to hurry," she reiterated. An impossibly small hand, bruised, grease-smeared, and red from the cold, waved him forward. "We have answers, but we have to escape in one piece first."

Ben held back, gauging her. "What's your name?" He asked. "Do I know you?"

A shrewdness flashed in her gaze, before her face became an unreadable mask. "I'm Rey," she offered. "You can trust me."

For the first time in his life, the Force offered Ben Solo no insight. He couldn't sense her motives or thoughts at all. He hesitated a breath longer, measuring her sincerity, before breaking from his spot and dashing up to rejoin them.

Rey gave a tight smile, and they all raced for the Falcon together.

"Finn's right," she whispered as he came abreast of her. "This is only the beginning."

A trill ran down his spine. He could tell she was speaking just to him. "I don't think I know the story," he risked, peeking over.

Another smile, warmer and kind, answered. "You will," she assured.

The boyfriend—Finn—glared from her other side, and Ben swallowed. "Any chance you can give me the notes now?" He probed. "Seems like we're short on time."

Her smile widened, even as Finn grimaced. "I didn't know you could be funny," she said, wonder tinging her tone. "You sound like Han."

The Falcon loomed close, and Ben mocked a wince. "Hopefully without the unfounded bravado," he quipped.

His father tapped a button for the ship's landing ramp, and shot him a baleful look. "Unfounded?" He snorted. "I just disarmed a Death Star. Again."

Chewbacca bellowed in agreement, and Ben raised his hands.

"Right, right," he conceded. "I get it." Channeling his dad, Ben flashed Rey his most winning grin. "They always gang up on me," he divulged.

She stiffened, before her mouth swung wide in a shocked gape.

Maybe he'd shown too much teeth, or his joke hadn't landed right, or he was just as awkward and bumbling as always. What was the point of all these new muscles, if they didn't help soften his ineptitude?

Finn-the-Boyfriend's glare darkened. "Oh, I don't think you understand at all," he muttered. "Not even a little." He throttled Rey's hand. "But we'll set you straight."