The Redemption of Fate ~ A Reylo Story

12

Rey was pensive. Bursting with the idea of her bizarre dream. She didn't understand it. Couldn't understand it. The freakish, unnatural ability to bring the dead back to life--it was absurd. But maybe Rey did hold that otherworldly power in the tips of her fingers. Palpatine was her grandfather. He was also, perhaps, the strongest, most capable Sith lord in the galaxy's history. The incarnation of the Dark Side.
Rey stood up, transfixed in her bewildering thoughts. She paced around the small circumference of her tent, angst-ridden. Eyebrows furrowed in engrossment.
If I did use this power, Rey swallowed nervously, then I would be endangering myself--opening up to the Dark Side. . . But if I don't, Ben will never come back. And for the rest of my life, I'll live with his loss. . .

***

It was around midnight when Ben's holographic, blue-glowing ghost returned to Rey's tent, just as he had promised. Rey's heart leapt into her throat at the long awaited surprise. She ran to him, threw her arms around his translucent waist. His brawny arms embraced her. Emotions inside them just as vigorously untamed as they had been the night before. Since the beginning of time, their bond was always present, always alive. It always would be. All the more reasons why Rey knew what she had to do.
"Rey," Ben cooed, "I missed you."
"I always miss you, Ben."

Rey's hands framed the sides of his face. Ben felt the comforting warmth of her fingertips, the softness in her gentle eyes, accompanied with the misery. He couldn't deny the pain that lingered inside of her. He was gone; his fate was already chosen. And though Ben was there, holding her, he wasn't actually holding her. A ghost was.
"There's so much we need to talk about." Ben said, eyes searching hers. After a few seconds had passed, Rey slowly nodded.
"But first. . ." Rey drew Ben's face into hers, standing on the tips of her toes. He leaned in, gravitated toward her lips. His hand squeezed her waist, desiring her to go on. Then abruptly, Ben pulled away from Rey's lips. A throaty groan escaped him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Sorriness swam in his voice. "You know we can't--"

"I know, Ben." Rey said, mustering an optimistic impression. "But I would still like to kiss you."
Ben nodded, a faint smile grew onto his ghostly demeanor. He leaned in only sightly, but Rey met him, straining her neck to plant her lips on his. It was a quick, but quick was all she needed.
Ben cleared his throat as he took Rey's hands in his.
They sat together on the blanketed floor, knees touching. The yellow hue of Rey's lightsaber was the only source of light in the tent--along with occasional bursts of lightning. Rain still thudded and oozing mud collected around the exterior of the tent. There was something strangely consoling about being in the epicenter of a storm.

"It's hard to even explain. . ." Ben stared down at his fingers intertwined in Rey's. He floundered with words, growing frustrated at his inability to address his thoughts. "I--when that happened--when my mother sacrificed herself for me--everything I ever knew as Kylo Ren. . . I-It was gone."
Ben's eyebrows wrinkled in vexation. "Everything, Rey." He exclaimed, rubbing his forehead in concentration. "Every monstrous action from the time Palpatine possessed me into killing Jedi's at Luke's temple, to killing as a general protocol under Snoke. . . Killing my own father. It shouldn't make sense--it doesn't! But what I did to them"--an internal war raged inside of his tormented eyes--"I should have died long ago. I don't even deserve to be a ghost."

Rey squeezed his cold hand. "No, Ben. That's not true."
"But it is!" He realized the alarm in Rey's eyes, and lowered his voice. "I have only recollected certain memories from my past. The smell of death lingering, because of my doings. The fresh blood dripping down my hands and arms. The eyes of the victims before they were murdered. Seconds before. The desperation in them"--Ben's eyes filled with water, his lips trembled as he sucked in a heaving breath--"to think I could do that. To think I did that to hundreds of defenseless people. How could anyone recover from that?"

Rey's own mind recalled the moment when Ben killed his father, Han Solo. The immense hurt she felt. She actually hurt. The way she screamed in any avail to release the pain. The tears that stung. Kylo Ren's red, crackling lightsaber impaled through Han's heart. He was gone instantaneously. And the way his lifeless body plunged hundreds of feet down into an aimless abyss. . . Rey tensed. The confounding despise Rey was alight with after watching Kylo Ren callously murder his own beloved father--it scarred her deep inside, and a brief flame of heat arose inside her chest. She put it out before the tears collected in her eyes.