Chapter Text
He thought he was finally dead.
Life had been a burden most of his existence, or at least it seemed like it. Always carrying anger or hurt, always looking to be worthy of something or someone but never quite getting there.
It hurt, obviously, thinking that after finally finding the only person in the entire universe who could understand him he could only die. That his was a life so devoid of love or hope that whatever Maker existed determined that the only way he could find peace would be through eternal rest.
At least his death was a worthy one. He sacrificed the last of his energy to save the only person who’d ever mattered, and his death at least —it was painless. Like floating in the middle of nothingness, where his body was immaterial and his sins had been erased. Unlike his every waking moment, at least then he managed to settle his heart and die what he could not be while he lived: a hero.
He doesn’t know how long he was dead —how long he floated as nothing, finally no one who had to live up to some great legacy— but suddenly, he wasn’t.
He wasn’t dead anymore.
Ben Solo opened his eyes…
And whined.
Just my fucking luck, Ben grumbled to himself as he brought his hands up to dig his palms into his eyes, warding off against the incoming headache. The memories were incoming, one after another —fresher, rawer and just as annoying as the first time he lived through them. He kept hearing the latest whispers from Palpatine coiling around his heart, seeing the disappointed sighs leaving Luke’s lips as his nephew threw another tantrum in private, the longing in his soul to have at least one parent visit him in the Jedi Praxeum.
As he heard the rest of his uncle’s pupils wake up and shift around in their tents, Ben sat up with a long groan. His chrono was blaring annoyingly that it was time to get the fuck up, and without thinking much about it he extended a hand out and crushed it with the Force. Nothing had the right to be so shrill at o’five-hundred standard hours.
Shifting, Ben swung his legs around so his feet were touching the ground, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. He felt wound tight, like he needed something to hold onto so he wouldn’t fly away again. He had so many feelings and memories swirling in his head he couldn’t quite land on any single thought, and as such he wasn’t even sure of who or where he was.
There was a rustling, and then an old face popped in with the tent’s flap risen over his head —it was Tai.
Ben’s air left his lungs.
“What are you doing— Ben? What’s wrong?” Tai’s kind blue eyes narrowed in worry, and Tai didn’t waste a single moment before he was kneeling on the floor in front of his old friend. A fellow human, he and Ben used to joke that they were polar opposites —dark and light, moody and friendly, luscious hair and bald.
The two had been such close friends that Tai could tell through the Force how Ben was feeling, no matter how hard the moody boy tried to hide it. Right now, there was a storm brewing inside of Ben Solo, but it was strangely unlike any emotional episode Ben had displayed during their time together. Which weren’t many, mind you; Ben was excellent at suppressing himself around everyone else, but sometimes there was a spark of something. As if he was only waiting for the slightest thing to set him off.
And Ben, he couldn’t believe he was seeing Tai again after seven years. Healthy, good, alive. His death at the hands of the knight Ren seemed so long ago, and now —it was almost too much for Ben, who before waking up had lost nearly everyone he’d ever cared about.
“You’re alive,” Ben breathed, unable to help himself. His eyes flickered up and down over his friend, needing to confirm with his own eyes that he hadn’t been killed. That his terrible mistakes hadn’t followed him into whatever this second chance was.
“Did you have another nightmare?” Tai flinched, knowing how realistic these were for his friend; he cast Ben a sympathetic glance, recalling all the times he’d wake up due to Ben moaning and crying in the middle of the night, back when they roomed together. Tai never did ask what the nightmares were about, but he could imagine they were nothing worth talking about.
“A nightmare,” Ben breathed, willing to believe that the last few years of his life had been that —a bad dream that ended with the death of his parents and uncle, with his demons being defeated and eternal death. But, he knew better; those weren’t dreams, too harrowing to be anything but reality. “No, I just…” Ben shook his head. He looked at the young face of his friend, thinking how young they were back then. “What day is it?”
Casting him a worried look, Tai stood up and parroted the day and year, unknowingly freezing the blood in Ben’s veins.
The sun was barely rising, and the cold that enveloped him was the type unburdened by sunlight. He felt his ears beating to some unknown pulse, as though his blood was begging to be let out through some outlet. Nausea rumbled in the pit of his stomach.
Today was the day he almost killed Luke Skywalker, and the day a storm annihilated nearly the whole Jedi Order. He’d convinced himself for a long time that he’d had nothing to do with the storm, but the truth was that night there had been clear skies. He’d been the only one to blame, he now knew.
There was no time to think, to process what was going on and what this meant for him. Whether indeed this was all a dream or if he’d gotten his late night tea spiked with spice, it mattered very little. If there was even the slightest chance that he could stop this tragedy from occurring —all of it— maybe things would be better.
“Tai,” Ben said, holding a hand out and summoning his lightsaber. Tai’s eyes widened, and he took half a step back as Ben stood to his full height. They’d just seen each other the previous day, but all of a sudden Ben looked older —as if he’d seen the future and had been beaten down by it. “There’s something I need you to do.”
Tai blinked, confused about the sudden clarity in Ben’s emotions. He wasn’t a whirlwind anymore, but rather focused like he very rarely achieved during meditation.
“What is it?”
“I need you to to take everyone to the Palace of the Woolamander for meditation. I need to talk with Master Skywalker,” the old title felt bitter in his mouth, but he knew if he acted more suspicious than this Tai wouldn’t agree. And he needed to talk with his uncle, but he didn’t always trust his temper. He couldn’t afford more deaths on his conscience.
“You’re aware that Hennix, Voe and I are leaving on a mission in a few hours, right?” Tai asked, frowning.
“I know that.” How could he forget? It was the reason why they’d survived. “Please, I’ll explain when I can but… Help me, Tai.”
Shocked, Tai could only nod dumbly as he saw his friend breathe a sigh of relief. Ben tugged on his boots wordlessly and clasped his lightsaber at his hip, feeling like he needed his heart to stop squeezing every time he turned to look at Tai.
It was just…
He was alive.
Fighting back tears, Ben clasped his old friend’s shoulder for a beat before letting go and stomping out of his hut.
He had a bone to pick with his uncle.
Ben found Luke Skywalker in the middle of meditation; he had a straight back, and he was alone in the center of the room. Before Ben could even get one word out his uncle raised his prosthetic hand, turning to look at his nephew over his shoulder.
“You have Ben Solo’s signature Force energy,” Luke said, closing his fake hand and lowering it slowly. His eyes were wise, tired. “But I can tell you’re not the Ben I know.”
Of course.
Fucking Luke could tell.
“Come, sit. Let us talk.”
Glaring, Ben stepped around his old master and came to sit down in front of him.
Death hadn’t made him all that more lenient towards the man who would’ve killed him in his sleep.
“Who are you?” Luke pointedly asked, his sky blue eyes roaming his nephew from head to toe, eyes narrowed deep in thought. He was looking at his nephew’s face, but it seemed… different. Aged, though only a few hours had passed since he’d last seen him.
How odd.
“I’m…” Ben frowned, realizing just how many years it had truly been since he’d given up the mantle of his birth name. It was right around now, in fact. “Ben Solo. Reborn, if I had to guess. Or I went back in time, maybe.”
He couldn’t hide it from Luke, especially if he hoped to avoid the same mistakes that led him to Snoke.
Luke allowed himself the tiniest frown before motioning for his apprentice to explain himself.
So time went on and Ben did his best to explain the last seven years of his life. Luke’s failures, Snoke’s whispers (“Your master thinks of you as a child. Someday he will realize your true capabilities.”), the Jedi’s downfall, the First Order, killing Han Solo and Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa and Sheev Palpatine. There was only one person he left out of this tale, and it was because of how badly he needed to keep something to himself.
Something good.
By the end of his tale, Ben was ready to fight his old master to prove his honesty. It was why he’d sent away the younger ones, after all; mostly because he’d thought he would blow up at his uncle, but also because he wanted to beat Skywalker’s ass without another thought if the opportunity presented itself.
It turned out, however, that Ben had no more anger left to stoke.
Here, in Yavin 4 seven years before his death, all Ben could think about was what a waste it had all been. All the fighting, the angst, the fury that dominated his every waking moment… And for what? An illusion for power, which he gave up when he had nothing else to lose.
He’d lost it all for a thing which he hadn’t even earned and much less enjoyed.
“I can’t believe I failed you so horribly, Ben,” Luke ran a hand down his haggard face, his eyes astonished. He was here, but he was also far away imagining a future which had come to pass. “I mean, I have been worried about the dark shadows that cling to you, but… That I’d even raise my lightsaber at you…”
And Ben, he understood now.
He’d been so furious then, so hurt because to him Master Skywalker had been a symbol of everything good in the world —no, not only a symbol but family. And in those eyes, he’d been no better than a monster.
Now, after all the losses and pain Ben could clearly see that this was just a man —an outstanding one for certain, but one whose fuck-ups were undeniable. This, understandably, lifted a terrible burden from his shoulders.
Luke Skywalker was no longer a symbol of peace, a Rebellion hero, the perfect son.
He was just… Luke.
Just like he was nothing other than Ben Solo, at least here in the past.
“I hope you understand why I’ve come to give up my place among the Jedi. I cannot risk becoming a weapon for Darth Sidious, and I need you to do a better job in keeping an eye out on the children. Snoke… He made it clear I wasn’t the only one under his influence. We must root him out.”
Luke frowned, aggravated by all he’d heard. It kept swirling through his mind, how to tell his twin sister of his failure; how to come to terms with it himself, now that Ben was even going to leave the Praxeum.
“Well then what will you do, Ben? Where will you go?” Luke asked, resting both hands on his knees. His posture wasn’t so straight anymore, and the sun was well up in the sky by this hour. No fighting had ensued, which was a small blessing amid all this chaos.
Ben didn’t know what to say, not really.
He shrugged.
“For now? Home.”