Chapter Text
One day, just before Ben’s evening meal, Poe comes in alone, the durasteel door closing behind him. He doesn’t meet Ben’s gaze, doesn’t include any sort of preface to what he’s here to do, here to say. Every time Poe comes to him, Ben notes, a cloud of anxiety, perhaps embarrassment, seems to permeate his movements, as if he’s not sure how to act around Ben Solo.
Today, though he still won’t meet his gaze, Poe is all business. He only takes a few moments of pause before getting through an apparently pre-prepared spiel, gesturing slightly here and there. “The Resistance has been in contact with high-ranking officers of the First Order, including General Hux himself, who’s assumed power since your... absconsion. They’ve not been willing to initiate any sort of exchange of prisoners, or barter for your freedom. Therefore, we’ve been left with limited options going forward.”
Kill me and be done with it, Ben thinks. He turns his head away, readjusting his position on the cell floor until his elbows are balanced precariously on the tips of his knees.
“Inititally, members of high command had suggested a full tribunal at the seat of the New Republic, once it’s reinstated at the end of the war. You’d be tried for war crimes, amongst other charges, as Supreme Leader of the First Order—a title you apparently still hold, according to General Hux.”
That gives Ben pause—there’d be absolutely no reason for Hux to discard the title of Supreme Leader, leaving it for him. Hux is power-hungry, always has been, always will be. And he’d never been fond of Ben. His mind turns slowly, searching for the strategy Hux is testing here, with this move—or lack thereof.
Poe continues. “The evidence of these crimes is ample; you’d be found guilty and sentenced to death by execution, perhaps a life imprisonment if the court was feeling generous. But, due to recent events, General Leia Organa has suggested an… alternate option.”
At the sound of his mother’s name, Ben tenses, shifting in place. He hadn’t forgotten about his mother’s presence on the base; in fact, it’d been apparent in almost every action trickling down to his cell, from the interrogations from officers to the meals the guards would bring him each day. He could imagine Leia standing over durasteel trays in the main kitchens, presiding over the creation of his breakfast—no, don’t give him breadroot, he’ll just turn it away; grainmush isn’t his favorite, but he’s eaten it before—but it was probably more realistic to assume she’d had nothing to do with it.
“It would be beneficial—for us and for you—if you were to… surrender important information about the First Order to us, in exchange for clemency.”
Clemency. The word hangs in the air like an odor. Poe doesn’t like saying it; Ben can tell that much from his tone. Truth be told, Ben doesn’t like the sound of the word either— it’s too vague, But he decides to take the bait nonetheless.
“What kind of clemency?”
Poe stands up straighter. “So you’d take the deal? If we offered it?”
Immediately, Ben backtracks. “I never said that.”
“You said—”
For the first time since his arrival on the Resistance base, Ben’s temper flares, just enough to get him talking again. “It doesn’t matter what I said. Clemency is just about the vaguest term you could have used for whatever this ‘deal’ might entail. So explain the deal. The ‘clemency’.” The more he says it, the more the word tastes acidic in his tongue, sits wrong with him in the pit of his stomach.
Poe sighs, runs a hand through the thick curls of his hair. “Nothing’s set in stone. The decision is out of the hands of high command. But… General Organa has been envisioning a barter with the New Republic that includes a full pardon of your charges and complete protection from any outside actors.”
One beat of silence passes, then two. Ben keeps his eyes on Poe for a moment, then drops them, releasing a shuddering breath. Inside, he searches for the one thing eluding him for all these years—hope, real hope, pure and bright. He pulls at it, begging for its easy arrival, but it only comes faintly, and reluctantly. On the other side of his consciousness, he can still feel the ghost of Snoke pulling back, threatening to rip his expectations in two. You admitted defeat, there on the sand in Korriban. Take your punishment the way your grandfather did—the way I did. The way every great Sith Lord ever has.
Another sigh, and then he pulls away, bringing his wavering gaze back up to meet Poe’s expectant one. “Okay.”
Poe doesn’t bother to hide his confusion. “Okay, what?”
“Just ‘okay’.” Ben swallows, readjusts his position on the icy tiling of his cell floor. “The decision is seemingly out of my hands, and out of yours, too from the way you’ve described it. I don’t believe I’m in any position to dictate.”
Poe keeps his eyes on Ben, through the transparisteel. Then his brows furrow, and he leans forward. “I don’t get you.” Ben has half a mind to interrupt, to stop him before he can launch into a diatribe, but Poe just keeps going. “I’ve known you as long as I can remember, and I’ve never gotten you. You had a family, a future. A power most people would kill for. I don’t understand how you could just… throw that all away.”
Once the quiet settles again, Poe seemingly finished, Ben tries to formulate an explanation, a story that will satisfy, or at least pacify, the man across from him. But he can’t, so instead he settles for the truth.
“I didn’t throw anything away,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Poe to hear. “It all fell away— the family and the future both. Any semblance of support. So when the power called, I just… gave in. I had nothing else.” Ben swallows, and memories resurface of distant fights in the drawing room, a lightsaber igniting over his sleeping form. “If anyone was fond of throwing things away, it wasn’t me.”
“Please,” Poe mutters back, but Ben can hear his voice drop, just for a second. He’s been made aware of the difference, has had it brought to the forefront of his mind. Ben knows Poe had lost his mother young, and subsequently lost his father in a different sort of way. But another family had stepped in, a net of people that became the Resistance, a net that included Ben’s own mother. But not Ben.
“You’ve said what you came here to say, I think,” Ben interjects Poe’s silent train of thought, suddenly tired with this conversation, with Poe’s presumption, with his own stirring thoughts, with the stifling feeling in the room. “And I’ve said my bit, so…”
“So.” Poe pushes off from where he leans against the durasteel wall, ending the word with an air of finality. “I suppose I’ll be in contact with you going forward about what the General decides.”
Not the General, he thinks to himself as Poe leaves, encoding the door shut behind him and re-isolating Ben. But she’s not Leia either. She’s not Mother.
Maybe she never was.
———
Rey still comes to visit that night, entering his cell without pretense—though she keeps her concerned gaze glued to him—and sitting cross-legged on the floor to meditate. Ben tries to find a way to talk to her about this, about the sudden possibility of freedom Poe has waved just out of reach, and it takes him the better part of their first few minutes together for him craft an explanation.
“Poe came to visit” is what Ben chooses to start with. It takes a moment for Rey to bring herself out of meditation, taking a long sigh before her eyes slide open, meeting his.
“I figured he was a frequent visitor of yours,” she mumbles, repositioning herself until her legs are folded underneath her.
“Not really; he was usually accompanied by another, until today.” As if transported back to that moment, he can feel his gaze grow distant, a recollection of their shared encounter filtering through his memory. “I figured he would have told you.”
Rey shakes her head. “Poe’s high command; I’m usually doing repairs in the base’s main hangar. Our paths rarely cross professionally—in fact, I haven’t seen him at all today.” She swallows, picking at a loose cuticle on her finger. “Finn told me at dinner that he’s been stuck in meetings since this afternoon.”
Ben’s heart jumps up in his chest at the end of her sentence. Meetings all day. About this, no doubt. About him.
“What happened?” Rey asks, leaning forward, her brow furrowed. The concern is painted plainly on her face.
Ben can only sigh, leaning back against the cold metal wall he’s been stationed against for the past few days. He hates that she’s worrying about this—hates that she’s been dragged into this entire ordeal at all. But he knows she’ll find out the truth eventually, if he doesn’t just come right out with it.
“He said they’re considering a deal for me,” he admits, avoiding her gaze. “That they could grant me clemency.”
“Clemency?” Rey echoes, and even with her in his periphery, Ben can see her face start to light up, optimism and expectation pouring from her in contagious waves. “Ben, that’s amazing. That could—that could change everything.”
“It could.”
“I mean—your freedom—” Rey shakes her head, unable to fathom the impossible. “It would mean so much.”
Would it? Ben bites back the retort, shoving down his own pessimism, but the sentiment still lingers. He looks away, shoving his fingers through his hair, shifting in place. “I don’t know.”
Rey’s taken notice of his change; she cocks her head in confusion. “Isn’t that what you want? To be free?”
He’s resisted that growing seed of darkness festering in the pit of his stomach, resisted it even when Poe had initially come to speak with him, but in this moment Ben can’t find the energy to push it away. “It isn’t about what I want.” His voice is soft but commanding against the unforgiving metal of his four walls. “It’s about what destiny commands—what my legacy commands.”
“What legacy?” Rey asks, sounding incredulous. “The legacy of your grandfather? Ben, the past is the past. You can’t let it repeat like this. Anakin Skywalker died in your uncle’s arms, but he died redeemed. He died a hero; he died light.”
“And what am I?” Ben bites out, defeat turning itself over to that growing rage. “Am I light to you? Am I a hero? Was Anakin a hero when he captured my mother, held her with hostility as she watched her planet collapse into nothing? Was he a hero when he slaughtered younglings, let the Republic and the Jedi Order collapse, let a man like Palpatine rule over the Galaxy like a madman?”
“You weren’t a hero when you killed your father,” Rey replies calmly; it’s meant to cut him, and it cuts deep. Ben starts, shifting back just an inch, as if to avoid the hurt altogether, but still it lashes him. “You certainly weren’t a hero when you destroyed a government, threw the galaxy into disarray in the name of ‘order’. And I don’t think you’re acting like a hero now.”
He wants her to leave, for the first time since she’d begun arriving nightly. He doesn’t want to see her like this, ripping away layer after layer of him until his true form is exposed to her. Perhaps, this whole time, he’d tricked himself into thinking that she came to him because she couldn’t see him for what he really was, that she may have forgotten him. But this new truth has scared him, shocked him. That perhaps the very reason she’s come, night after night, is because she knows his true nature, knows him better than she knows herself. She’s seen his future, and seen his past. What else does one need to calculate the true nature of a person—especially a person like him? Yes, he decides, she should leave, and not come back. It’s better for them both this way.
“But I’ve seen the light in you, Ben.”
Against his better judgment, Ben rides his instincts, and lifts his eyes up to meet hers. Rey’s gaze is honest, sincere, almost pleading.
“You’re wrong,” he rebukes her, but his voice is weak, just a whisper, a pitiful defense of a truth he’s not convinced of.
“I’m not,” Rey replies, not unkindly. Her words are strong, her tone clear, almost commanding. But still she’s pleading with him, pleading with a man unconvinced by his own quality, his own self, and it shows.
“You saved my life, that day on the Supremacy,” she continues, unrelenting. In an instant, the memory of that day rushes back to him—the hard feeling of the floor beneath his knee as he made to stand above Rey, silent with tears streaking her glowing cheeks. The last command Snoke had given him; the last one he’d obeyed. Supreme concentration, schooling his face into a mask of aloof indifference, and then a blast of blue light, the smell of seared flesh. A fight, still burning in his muscles. A proposal, heat on his tongue. And then their goodbye, later, his eyes flashing up to hers with pleading, dice in his hand, all broken and wrong.
He thinks he must not reply because he doesn’t know what to say.
“You might not see it, Ben,” Rey says in place of his own reply, “but I do. It’s bright, and I think it deserves to be fostered, not shut away. You’ve spurned it for too long.”
“You’re hardly one to speak on the nature of light,” Ben grits out, his resistance slowly wearing down.
“Maybe,” Rey replies, her tone almost indifferent, uncaring, despite her words. “But I do know of the promise of it. The bittersweet pain of waiting for a light that never comes, and of the shining sun that replaces it. I know a thing or two about finding hope and love in places and forms not often looked for. And I see that now.”
Finally, the last vestiges of his resolve have withered away, and he crumples, crumbles. “It’s hard, Rey,” he whimpers, face in his hands. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, as if to stop the tears from flowing, but it’s futile. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried my whole life. But it’s hard.”
“I know,” Rey replies softly, soothingly. Her forehead nearly touches the transparisteel between them, and in that moment Ben wants nothing more than to hold her hand, feel her skin against hers, allow himself this semblance of comfort. “I know how it feels, to try and resist that pull. It’s hard for anyone like us; it would be impossible alone.” She pauses, and for a moment the only sound are Ben’s hushed, sobbing breaths. “But I can help you. You can help me. We can find that balance together.”
Balance. That same terrible word, teasing him all these years. “What if we can’t? What if it’s not meant to be found?”
Rey chokes out a laugh, but it falls flat. “The Force knows, I think. If balance is meant to be found, we’ll find it.”
Ben can’t find anything to say to that; the events of the day have left him emotionally drained, and he can feel that turmoil give way to a deep exhaustion that settles in his muscles, in his bones. His head leans back against the metal wall, and, once his breath is under control, and the worst of his tears have subsided, closes his eyes, letting the fatigue of the day—of his life—overtake him.
Rey must notice this, because she seems to relax, too, leaning back and stretching out. “We don’t have to dwell on this, not if you don’t want to. But think about it—the deal. Don’t say no right away. I can’t force you to take it, but…” Ben can hear Rey sigh, can imagine the way it rolls through her shoulders, as if her whole body is breathing with her. “But I’ll be here, as long as it takes.”
Silence stretches between them, this time more comfortable, and when Ben finally finds sleep, the first truly restful sleep he’s had since arriving here, he dreams of a different life, far away from here. He dreams of her, of course. And he dreams of peace.
———
In the morning, as dawn breaks across the horizon, far above the lower levels of the base, Rey rouses herself from a light doze and, after a stifled yawn and a hand rubbed across her eyes, leaves Ben’s sleeping form in his quiet, empty cell and heads towards the ground level. She has a shift down at the main hangar in an hour or so; one of the main X-Wings they’d been using for surveillance missions on the planet had sprung an engine leak late last afternoon, and it would take the better part of the day for her to fix it. She figured she could hop in the ‘fresher and get a quick breakfast before starting on it, but… something else calls to her.
The planet the Resistance had aptly chosen as their new hub of operations after Crait is not particularly Force sensitive; during Rey’s meditations, she’d been able to tap into the shared energy of the planet and the life that prospered on it, but nothing of substance beyond that. Leia had initially claimed to find some sort of inner communion with the planet when they had first landed, but Rey had not. Secretly, she concluded that whatever link the General felt with this planet was purely sentimental, after watching her own planet die.
Rey had tried to imagine how she would feel if she had watched Jakku die, shrinking and then exploding into millions of little pieces, lives upon lives lost in the blink of an eye. Part of her would feel sad, she thought, but not mournful, or melancholic. A dark part of her she tried to ignore could admit that there would be a smug satisfaction to watching the desert die. It hadn’t been a home, Rey had thought, after Leia’s lengthy recounting of how Alderaan had perished. Jakku had been a prison, little more than a holding cell. A cage, before I allowed myself to be set free.
Still, she submitted to that feeling inside her, driven purely by an instinct in her gut, separate from the Force. Bypassing the stairs down to the mess hall, and to her quarters, she took the lifts all the way up to the planet’s surface, where little more than a slate gray building—concealing an emergency escape hangar—showed any sign of habitation for miles around. This was a lush, green planet—greener than anything Rey had seen since Takodana. A sprawling mountain range dominated the opposite side of the planet, where most of the planet’s population dwelled, and its vast plains lay mostly abandoned, save the occasional village or country estate. Rey hadn’t understood why the inhabitants of this planet had flocked to the mountains when they had lush green plains, sweeping rivers and quaint waterfalls tucked away in rolling hillsides, a home Rey would have killed for on Jakku. But after Leia had showed her old hollows of her destroyed home, a part of her could see the desire to return to what you’ve always known; Alderaan had been known for its mountain ranges, and sometimes, when she was afraid or lost, Rey craved the feeling of sand beneath her shoes, rising with the sun, baking in the heat as she scavenged through the desert.
On instinct, Rey finds herself drawn to the shore of the lake that borders the base’s hangar, surrounded by spindly trees and grass that grows to her waist and sways in the quiet morning wind. The greenery clears by the water’s edge, and Rey settles herself right at the border where soft, loamy dirt becomes dense, damp mud. She can hear bulabirds singing on the branches of trees that surround the berm, the quiet splash of fish moving in the water beneath her. The wind floats down to her, lifting her hair up and whipping it gently around her face and neck. In this moment, she feels enveloped by the beauty of this place, of this planet. Looking out at the clear blue sky, the sweeping green grass around her, she’s reminded distantly of Takodana, where her and Ben first met, and D’Qar, the site of the first Resistance base she’d found. Despite their cruel, unforgiving landscapes, she remembers Crait, and Jakku, too. They were beautiful in their own way, bleeding reds and soft oranges of salt and sand leaving strange imprints on her memory.
She loved this galaxy, she realizes. She loves it still. She wants to save it, just like everyone else in the Resistance. And she wants Ben to love it, too.
He deserves this, she tells herself, fingers combing through short tufts of grass. He deserves to see what I see, love what I love. He deserves the morning sun on his face, wind in his hair, grass beneath his feet. He can, and he will. It will just take time.
Suddenly, the comlink on her hip beeps— someone inside is signaling, probably informing her about her upcoming shift. She’s suddenly reminded of Poe, of what Ben said about their meeting. Of Leia.
It won’t happen on its own, Rey thinks. It has to be fought for, this freedom. And he won’t fight for it himself. She lifts herself from the dirt and grass, wiping her hands on her trousers as she walks back toward the base. But he wants it, even if he doesn’t know it. I want it for him.
She knows what she has to do.
———
Rey finds Poe in his makeshift office on one of the lower levels, where the rest of high command lives and works. The room is small, with room for little more than a desk and chair, with datapads strewn about on otherwise empty shelves. Poe jumps from his seat when he sees her enter, an easy smile already painted on his face.
“Rey,” he starts genially, winding around the desk to meet her at the door. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you. I know the mechanics are looking for you down at the hangar, but—”
“I’ll be down there in a moment,” Rey interrupts. “We need to talk.”
Poe sinks back into his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s about Kylo Ren, isn’t it?” There’s no lilt at the end of his sentence; it’s hardly a question.
Rey swallows, takes a moment to retrace her thoughts. Of course he would know. Even with the mind tricks on the guards, the prison halls are still monitored by security cameras. Ben’s own cell might be recorded. At that, a flush of pink creeps up into Rey’s cheeks.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been seeing him,” he says, confirming her suspicions.
“Does it matter?” Rey replies, trying to keep an air of indifference about her.
“Probably.” Poe clears aside some space on his desk, his elbows steepling to support his chin as he leans forward. “But I’ve got bigger things to worry about than late-night philosophical discussions with the enemy, so I’ll let it slide.”
A flare of indignance crops up in Rey’s chest—he’s not the enemy, she nearly says—but she lets it pass. “I know you’ve propositioned him.”
Poe sighs. “The deal we’re crafting. I should have known he’d tell you.” He looks away from her, toward the corner of his office. “But I suppose we can use this to our advantage. Does he seem… interested?”
“He seems resigned,” Rey replies in earnest. “He was expecting a trial, an execution. But even if he’s ready…” She looks down, picking at her fingernails. A blush comes to her cheeks unbidden. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s done living yet.”
When Rey looks back up, Poe giving her a sidelong glance, mounting suspicion growing in his gaze. “I don’t think so, either. He’s too useful to the Resistance to send off to a lifetime of prison. But every confession comes at a price; the deal we’re creating should be ample enough of an exchange.”
“I don’t care what happens. Give him the deal, question him,” Rey says; suddenly she can’t find a reason to keep her truth to herself anymore. “Just let him live. Just let him be free.”
The words might be a mistake, judging from the stiff silence that follows them. Poe keeps still, his eyes trained soberly on her.
“You care about him,” he finally says, shattering the uneasy quiet between them. “You care for him.”
There’s no use hiding it anymore. “Yes.”
Poe sits back in his chair, hands still poised beneath his chin. “I thought something had happened on the Supremacy—between you two. You’re a strong Jedi, but it takes two to take down a Supreme Leader and his personal guard. We—high command, that is—figured you had help from within; it didn’t take long to conclude it was probably Ren himself.”
“I know him,” Rey says, hoping Poe hears the truth of her words. “I know Ben Solo. Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader—it’s just a mask he’d put on to keep himself, to hide from the galaxy what he truly is.”
“And what is that?” Poe replies, insistent. “A fallen Jedi, responsible for the disappearance and death of his uncle—your master? A spineless man standing by while systems are destroyed at the drop of a hat? You can’t ignore his crimes, Rey.”
“No,” she agrees. Poe must expect some pushback from her against his own anger, but finding none, he seems to dip back into faint attention. “And he doesn’t either. He’s guilty, Poe, he knows it. I just need to convince him to repent, to give the Resistance the information you need, and allow himself some forgiveness. Some clemency.”
Poe purses his lips, and switches gears. “He was a member of the First Order for years—according to Hux, he still is, as Supreme Leader. What makes you think he won’t lie, or keep his lips sealed about what went on there?”
“The First Order was never his home; he has no friends there.” He has no friends anywhere, Rey can’t help but think. “He’ll confess; he’ll give you the truth you want, if I can convince him.”
“And you?” Poe says. “Why do you want this so badly? You care for him, I know this now, but your time on the Supremacy was brief—there can’t possibly be a motivation for vengeance there.”
There is, Rey thinks, a bit sheepishly; vengeance is hardly the Jedi way. But not for me. For Ben, and for the people who hurt him. “Vengeance is just one side of the coin,” she says simply, standing and turning to leave.
“And the other side?” Poe calls after her.
She smirks, the corner of her mouth turning up ruefully as she says the word.
“Redemption.”