The Redemption of Fate ~ A Reylo Story

23

Rey grunted as she sprawled out onto her lumpy, ground-level mattress inside of her disheveled tent. She still managed to thank Ben and Finn for tentatively transporting her back to camp. And she swore she wouldn't dare attempt walking until she had slept so long she could sleep no longer. Her joints felt like rubber that had begun to burn and melt into nothingness. And her muscles were nonexistent, her bones turned from solid to liquid. 
Ben watched as Rey curled into a fetal position, facing away from him and Finn. Her head sunk into her uneven sack of a pillow, and though Ben could feel through the Force that she was conscious, Rey looked just as slack and lifeless as she had been when he'd found her resting on that loamy soil. 

"Let's, uh--give her some time." Finn said, though it came out as a question, as if in his mind, Ben was still a part of Kylo--still the supreme leader, still a tyrant who had to be bowed down to. 
Ben turned to face him. Finn sheepishly dropped eye contact with Ben. An icy chill ran through Finn's blood, and he turned around, walking with haste as he stepped outside of Rey's tent, arms folded in vexation. Though he still had much to hone in the Force, Finn could sense the nagging awareness that Ben was no longer Kylo Ren--his mother had undone those immoral deeds, she had erased the dark side indefinitely from Ben. And that enormous deed took her life. Doubting Ben meant doubting General Organa's effort, and that was unethical after everything Leia had entrusted in Finn--in the entire Resistance. 

As if reading Finn's mind, Ben stepped outside of the tent beside him. Outside, the early morning sun bounced off the tops of the palm fronds and glossy jungle flora. A harmonious melody of jungle birds and croaking frogs filled the tranquil quietness. There had to have been nearly one hundred tents in the campground, all oddly shaped and designed with mismatching fabric and metal scraps as the main structure that kept them from falling in on theirselves. Ben scoped it out, took it in. This was what the Resistance was living on--measly fortresses and makeshift stations. On the cusp of impoverishment. A faint breeze blew at his raven hair and Ben suppressed a shiver.

He--Kylo Ren--had done this to them, to every soul dwelling on that poverty-stricken planet. Kylo was the one who had hunted the Resistance down with such fervor and ambition. He destroyed their sophisticated bases, their aircraft, every resource they had. Kylo had pushed them to the brink of doom, where they stood now, coping with a horribly humid planet and muddy filth below their feet. Kylo had mercilessly slaughtered hundreds of Resistance fighters, and now, as Ben Solo, he stood there amongst the sleeping Resistance members his past self had travailed to annihilate. Fortunately, everyone was still asleep--for now. But once they awoke, their immediate assumptions of Ben would point to the malicious supreme leader, and before he could blink, they would have pulled out the infantry and began war there on that primitive planet.

Ben sighed. Sweat soaked the collar of his shirt, and truthfully, he was exhausted. Finn undid his arms and let out a huff of frustration. "Listen, you gotta understand this whole thing," he waved at Ben for a clear emphasis of his stupefaction, "you are going to take me a while to get used to."
Ben nodded. "I know--"
"No, I don't think you do. . . Look, the last time I saw you, you were trying to--"
"Murder you. Yes, I know." Ben replied indifferently and Finn pulled back. 
"But I've changed. I have to believe my mother did this for a greater purpose. . . Possibly she had been waiting for the day she was strong enough with the Force to change me, I'm not sure. . . I'll never know now."
This was all too baffling for Finn, but he had to force himself to gain a new perspective on the man beside him.

"Look, I trusted Leia--we all did--and this Resistance would be nothing without her. God, I never thought I'd say this, but I. . . trust you. I have to anyway."
Ben blew out a breath of air; he actually laughed despite the glumness behind it. "Well, I doubt everyone else will look at me the same."
"They're gonna have to." Finn threw up his hands in exasperation. He almost slapped Ben on the back but awkwardly retracted. His cordial disposition couldn't win the best of him. At least not yet. "One thing's for damn sure--there's going to be some explaining to do."
"I know I don't deserve any of this," Ben exhaled, watching as a stick-like bug sprawled its purple wings out on a tree branch close by, "I don't deserve you or them--or life, really."

Finn bit his lip. True, maybe you don't, he wanted to say, but quickly rebuked himself. Before he could reply, footsteps sounded in the distance; someone was approaching. Poe Dameron, Finn quickly realized.
"Finn, buddy, you're up this early--" Poe began, but abruptly came to a halt. His demeanor instantaneously changed the moment his eyes flickered onto Ben's shape. Onto the face of the man who had once captured him, tortured him, stripped him of hope. Poe pulled back, an incandescent rage clouded his brown eyes. His thick, black eyebrows were pinched together so fiercely it was as if they were their own weapon, ready to fire all hell on Ben. But then Poe actually did extract his own weapon from the belt holster of his cargo pants, revealing a handgun, sleek and lethal, in his steady hand.