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Ben hates when he’s dragged along to his mother’s political gatherings. He’s forced to put on uncomfortable formal robes and make pointless conversation with adults who don’t really listen, only to be shooed off to entertain himself for hours when they get down to the real work. When he was younger, he longed to be a part of the meetings, would cling to his mother’s dress and cry when she shook him free and told him they aren’t for children. But now, at eight, he’s old enough to know better. They’re probably boring anyway.
At least when the events are on land there’s normally interesting vistas to explore or new food to try, but today he’s stuck on a senatorial ship, so familiar it’s not worth investigating. Instead, he’s ignoring his school books in favor of playing with a small ball made of heavy metal, testing how high he can float it before he loses control and it plummets to the floor.
He has it almost to the ceiling, concentrating so hard he doesn’t notice that a stranger has approached him until she leans over and whispers in his ear, “That’s impressive.”
With a start he breaks his hold on the ball. It drops; the stranger grabs it out of the air with a flourish. “Have you seen a robot recently?” she asks. “Small, green, kind of roll-y thing?”
“Do you mean a droid?” he asks, sizing her up. She’s dressed oddly, in a long blue jacket and wide pants. It’s not a style he recognizes, and she certainly doesn’t look like a politician, with their full-length robes and formal manners. To start, she’s moving too much, shifting this way and that, clearly looking for something.
“Ah! I might,” she says with a nod. “I probably do. Yes, small green roll-y droid. Seen it?”
“No.”
“Too bad.” She glances around. Her eyes move wildly — taking in every inch of the long corridor, with its multiple halls leading off in different directions — before landing back on him. “Well, I have no clue where it’s got to, but I have a feeling it’ll come this way again. Mind if I wait with you?”
Ben shrugs and nods. He knows it’s not smart to let random strangers get close. His parents are heroes of the war, and heroes breed enemies; they’ve warned him many times that he could be a target of kidnapping, or worse. But somehow he’s sure this woman isn’t here to hurt him. Plus, he wants his ball back.
“Excellent!” the woman exclaims. “I get bored, waiting around by myself.” She extends her hand. “Hello.”
“I get bored too,” Ben tells her. He grasps the hand firmly, confident and strong, the way his father taught him. “I’m Ben. Ben Solo.”
The woman’s mouth twitches around the edges as she returns the shake, but she manages to keep her expression serious as she says, “Pleased to meet you, Ben Solo. I’m the Doctor.”
“That’s not a name,” he accuses.
“It can be a name. You’re not the name police.” She holds up the ball, turning it this way and that in the light. “How were you doing that? Is it a trick?”
“No,” Ben says, standing a little straighter. Proud. “I used the Force.”
“Oh, did you now? That is very cool. I always wanted to use the Force.” She tosses the ball back. “Can I see?”
He hesitates. Uncle Luke says the force is not a party trick. It has to be respected. Honored. But when he looks at the woman, hesitant, she gives him an encouraging smile, and he doesn’t want her to think he’s a liar. So he balances the ball on his open palm and concentrates, slowly lifting until it’s floating above his head, where he makes it spin and dance.
“Wow,” the woman breathes, and he’s pleased to see she looks genuinely impressed. “That’s amazing.”
She turns her gaze back to him, and it’s filled with appreciation that hits him in his core. He loses his concentration and has to catch the ball before it crashes to the ground, but she doesn’t seem to mind, just keeps looking at him like he’s the most incredible thing she’s ever seen.
“You know, I thought about becoming a Jedi, once,” she tells him. Her eyes go distant. “It turns out I’m no good with the Force. Or staying in one place for so long. Or not loving people.” She snaps back into focus. “Also, there’s too much about lightsabers. They’re not as bad as guns, but still, lightsaber this, lightsaber that —” She shakes her head firmly. “Not a good fit. But the Force. That is very cool.”
Ben cocks his head, puzzled. He’s not good with adult ages. They all seem the same — untouchable, unreachable, mature, filled with knowledge beyond his grasp. But he’s pretty positive this Doctor woman is nowhere near old enough to have been around when there were Jedi, and tells her so.
“Oh, and now you’re the age police, too?” she scoffs.
He doesn’t have a response for that, so instead he says, “I’m going to be a Jedi. My Uncle Luke is starting a new school. I’m going to go.”
“Is that right?” she looks fascinated and his insides squirm. He’s not used to so much focus. He likes it, wants to keep her attention, though he can’t really say why. He’s met plenty of fancy, powerful people, and he normally doesn’t care much about what they think. But it feels like if he can keep this woman interested, he must really be special.
“Yeah,” he says, puffing his chest. “And I’m going to be the most powerful Jedi ever. Because I’m a Skywalker.”
“Skywalker…” He can almost see her mind scrolling through information, trying to place the name. Suddenly, she breaks into a smile. “Oh, I see. Your Uncle Luke is Luke Skywalker. Yes, I know about him.”
He scrunches his nose. What an odd thing for her to say. “Of course you do. Everyone knows about him.”
“And now you’re the knowing things police!” she exclaims. “I’m only letting you get away with that because you’re so young. Are you excited to become a Jedi?”
He nods fiercely. “I can’t wait. It’s my destiny.” He mimes using a lightsaber. “I’m going to be the best.”
She considers this answer with a frown. “Destinies can be tricky,” she warns him. “Aren’t you going to miss your parents?”
His lips curl at the thought. Miss his parents? The people who shower him with kisses and fine clothing and praise, as if that will make up for the fear that crosses their faces whenever he shows a new burst of power? The ones who whisper about him when they think he’s asleep, speaking of darkness in hushed tones, the word Vader following him like a shadow?
“No,” he says firmly. “And they aren’t going to miss me.”
Her expression changes — interested, focused, and in a sharper way than before. “What makes you say that?”
“They think I’m evil.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He’s never told anyone that, and wasn’t planning to start. But something about this stranger, the way she listens with her whole body, makes him want to tell her everything. “Like my grandfather.”
“Your —”
“Darth Vader.”
He expects her to recoil in fear or horror, but instead she frowns, confused. “Just because your grandfather is evil doesn’t mean you are.”
“They think there’s darkness in me,” he admits. “They think it’ll corrupt me.”
Suddenly, she’s crouching, her face level with his, completely serious. “You don’t believe that, do you, Ben?”
He can feel his lip quiver, and for a second he wants to throw his arms around her. But that would be undignified, crazy. He doesn’t even know her. Instead, he whispers, “I worry.”
She places her hands on his shoulders, squeezing tight as she gazes into his eyes with a warmth that’s physical; he can feel the sun on him, even though he knows he’s on a ship. “Ben, I’ve met a lot of people. Everyone has some darkness in them. Everyone. But that doesn’t mean they’re evil.”
“Even you?” he asks. It doesn’t seem possible.
“Especially me. That’s how I know the secret to resisting it: be kind. No matter what. Keep being kind.”
He should find that stupid, the sort of trite, meaningless garbage teachers say in school. But coming from this woman, with her eyes like the sun, it feels true, and clear.
As he’s trying to grasp a response, a small green droid rolls around the corner, and suddenly the Doctor is on her feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to catch that robot,” she tells him. “But remember what I said. Just be kind. You’ll do great.”
As he watches her sprint after the droid, he turns it over in his head. Be kind. That seems simple enough.
***
He’s been alone at the temple for several hours when she comes over the horizon, bounding down a hill with gleeful shouts. For a moment, he thinks he’s gone insane.
“Hello!” she calls as she gets within earshot. “Hello, I’m looking for Luke Skywalker! Is this the right place?”
It’s not possible. And yet, it’s definitely her. The woman from the ship, the one who still flits through his dreams, a bright dash of kindness breaking up the nightmares. And she’s exactly the same. Same face, same ridiculous clothing, same haircut, as if she’s been plucked straight from his memories. He slams a fist into his left leg, sending sharp pain through his body. Definitely awake, then.
How.
“Hello,” she says again when she’s close enough that she no longer has to shout. “Hi, I’m the Doctor. Sorry to barge in, but I really need to talk to Luke Skywalker. It’s quite urgent.”
Dazed, he responds, “I know who you are. I’ve met you before.”
“Have you?” She focuses on him for the first time. “Oh — you have! Ben Solo, I remember. You were a little powerhouse. And look at you now, becoming a Jedi, just like you said. That’s quite exciting, isn’t it?”
“You haven’t aged,” he replies, mind scrambling.
“Still the age police, are you?”
She really does remember, then. “And — you’re wearing the same clothes.”
“And now you’re the clothes police!” She looks stern, but there’s amusement in her eyes. “I told you, I only let you get away with that last time because you were young. You’re not young anymore. Look at you, you’re all grown up.”
Yes. That’s right. He is grown up now. Too old to be disarmed by this stranger, no matter how improbable her existence. He must remain calm. “What do you need to see Master Luke for?”
“Last time I saw you, he was still ‘Uncle Luke,’” she observes, looking him over carefully, swirling around him to get a full view. “It must be funny, having to call him ‘Master.’ I have a friend called Master, actually. Well, I say friend. It’s a bit more complicated than that.” When he stares at her blankly, she catches on that she’s failed to answer his question. “There’re some artifacts I need to borrow. Vitally important, save-the-universe type stuff.”
She can’t be serious. But then, she also can’t be here. So maybe she is serious. Or maybe he’s really lost his mind. “He’s taken the others into the hills,” he explains. “He won’t be back for another few hours.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay,” she replies with a shrug. “The universe doesn’t need saving for another three thousand years, I can wait. Do you have anything to eat?”
He has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Silently, he nods and gestures for her to follow him back to the main hut, where the remainder of the day’s stew is simmering over a fire.
He points her towards the long table in the center of the room and busies himself with stoking the flames, trying to gather him thoughts. This is all very strange, but Uncle Luke trusted him to watch the grounds while he took the others out to train. He can handle this. He knows how to welcome a guest, and she doesn’t seem like a threat, even if she may be insane. And if he’s wrong — well, he can handle that, too.
“You’re a lot less chatty,” the Doctor observes as Ben scoops stew into a bowl and bangs it down in front of her.
“I’m not a child anymore,” he replies gruffly, taking the seat across from her. He has a bowl of stew for himself, too, not because he’s hungry, but because he wants something to look at other than her.
“Don’t see what that has to do with it. I’m not a child, and I chat all the time.” When he remains silent she barrels on. “So, how’s it going? Are you the most powerful Jedi yet?”
“I’m the most powerful Padawan here, yes.” He shouldn’t indulge her questions. He’s not a child anymore. And yet he can’t help adding, “I think I’m even more powerful than Master Luke.”
“And modest.”
“You asked,” he says with a shrug.
“Good point.” She digs into her stew. “Do you like it here?”
It’s not something he’s thought about, really. Liking it isn’t the point. It’s his path. His calling. He considers before answering, “It’s hard. All I do is study, and train. But it’s worth it.”
“Is it?” She turns her attention fully on him, putting the spoon down, and he feels himself flush under the scrutiny. “Why?”
“Because it’s what I’m meant to do,” he replies automatically.
“Ah right. Destiny.” She tilts her head, looking skeptical. “And how’s that working out so far?”
He takes a bite of his stew and doesn’t reply. He’s not enjoying the turn this conversation has taken.
“Still worried about the darkness?” she asks, voice suddenly quiet.
Surprised by the question, he glances up, meeting her eyes. They’re full of compassion. “Uncle Luke is,” he admits, and for a moment he wonders if she’s a Force user after all. That would explain why truths he doesn’t mean to share keep falling out of him when she’s around.
“And the other students?” she prods. “They’re scared of you?”
He nods.
“I thought so.” She pushes her bowl to the side, leaning forward. “I know when someone’s lonely.”
“I’m not —” He cuts off his protest. There’s no point in lying to her.
She reaches across the table, placing her hand on his wrist, gentle. Sympathy seems to flow through her fingertips. Anger flares in his chest. What right does she have to be sympathetic? She has no idea who he is. Who he could become.
“I bet it makes it harder to be kind, when nobody trusts you,” she says, barely above a whisper. “It’s a hard way to make friends.”
“I don’t need friends.” He spits the word. As if he would be so pathetically weak as to worry about friends. He ignores the way his heart sinks when she pulls her hand away.
“Everyone needs friends,” she argues, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “In fact, I could use a friend right now. I’m kind of between friends. Well, I make friends everywhere. Like you. I’m very friendly. But, I could use a permanent friend.”
He blinks at her, distracted from his anger by the effort of putting that speech into a comprehensible order.
“What I’m trying to say is that I travel a lot, and I’ve found I’m at my best when I have someone to travel with.” She spreads her arms. “Open spot. Any interest?”
“What?” She’s not making sense. Again. And yet there’s a strange glimmer of hope pulling at the back of his mind.
“There’s a whole big universe out there,” she explains, gesturing at the ceiling. “All of space and time. That’s what I do. Travel about, meeting people, saving a world here and there. Might be more interesting than sitting on a planet with a bunch of people who don’t see how brilliant you can be.”
She gives him an encouraging smile, and for a brief, shining second he imagines saying yes. Leaving this planet, running off with this strange dream creature, going to a distant place where he’s not surrounded by people who look at him with fear —
But they only look at him like that because they know how powerful he could be. How powerful he is. Because they know he’s the best among them. A Skywalker, Vader’s heir. He can’t walk away from that to chase a fantasy.
“No,” he says, though it doesn’t come out as firmly as he wants. “I have to finish my training.”
“Are you sure? Final offer.”
He forces himself to nod. Why would he leave his destiny to follow a crazy woman? He can’t. He can’t.
“Well, okay then.” She sighs. “I’m disappointed, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”
He frowns at the odd reply. This conversation keeps taking turns he doesn’t expect.
“What, I can’t pull that one off?” When he shakes his head, confused, she throws her hands up. “I can never tell. See, you would be such a useful travel partner! One last chance. Final final offer?”
It’s like she’s testing him. Or maybe it’s the universe trying to trick him away from his path. He won’t let it. He shoves himself to standing, knocking over his bowl. It clatters to the floor, spilling stew.
“No!” he snarls, looking away so he doesn’t have to see the hurt that flashes across her face. He steadies himself with a deep breath and then, as emotionless as possible, he adds, “Master Luke will be back soon. Stay here.”
And with that he stalks outside before he can be tempted again, ignoring as she calls his name. He’s not sure he has it in him to refuse a third time.
***
Kylo is storming through the halls of his ship, fuming about the ineptitude of every single person under his command — how can the entire First Order be so incompetent at everything? — when he’s halted by a loud, mechanical sound that reminds him of a dream and brings with it a bright blue box. A bright blue box in the middle of his Star Destroyer. A bright blue box that he immediately knows contains the woman who can’t exist.
The door opens and she pops out, a blur of motion, looking this way and that. When she spots him her face lights up.
“Okay, now this is getting weird,” she declares.
“What are you doing on my ship?” he growls back, hand automatically falling to the lightsaber at his hip.
“What are you doing owning a First Order battlecruiser?” Suddenly, she looks excited. “Did you steal it?”
He stares back at her with what he hopes is icy disdain. He sees the moment she understands, because her face crumples in disappointment.
“Oh, Ben, you didn’t.”
“My name is Kylo Ren,” he tells her through gritted teeth. As if she is in a position to judge him. As if she has any idea who he is. What he’s been through.
“Ah, I see. Rebranding.” She looks him over with a skeptical eye. “That explains the cape. Gotta tell you, I’m not a fan.”
He resists the urge to toss her against the wall. He still doesn’t understand who she is, but he remembers watching her slip into this same blue box with an ancient Jedi text under her arm, merrily waving at Luke as she and her “ship” disappeared into nothing with a loud screech. Those texts were sacred, Luke’s prized possessions, but he just let them go. When Kylo had questioned him about it, he’d merely shrugged and said, “I trust her.”
And now here she is, still the same bright face, the same ridiculous coat and cropped pants. If he were a different kind of person, the kind who got frightened, he would be frightened. He’s not, of course. He’s Supreme Leader of the First Order, so he’s not frightened. But he doesn’t want to antagonize her, either.
“Tell me what you’re doing on my ship,” he demands.
“I must be here to see you, actually. I thought it was a misfire, but I should’ve known better. My girl never gets it wrong.” She pats the box, giving it a fond smile. “Sometimes I just have to catch up to what she’s on about. Shall we have a chat? If you’re in charge of the whole spaceship, you must be able to get tea, yeah? I could use a good cuppa.”
Kylo sputters, astounded that anyone could have the audacity to ask him for a cup of tea. Him. Kylo Ren. But then, this is the woman who hadn’t even seemed to know who Darth Vader was when they first met. All of time and space, she’d once told him, and sometimes he imagines what it would mean if that was true. But how can it be true?
He turns on his heel and calls for her to follow, as sharply as he can. He’s not quite sure what to do, but he knows he doesn’t want to be caught out in the hall with her, where anyone might walk by to see the Supreme Leader speaking with this mysterious woman. As quickly as he can, he leads them back to his chambers, ignoring her attempts to strike up a conversation until they’re finally behind closed doors, when he whips around and demands, “What do you want?”
“I told you, a cup of tea,” she says, grabbing a chair and collapsing into it, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“I’m not getting you tea,” he barks, beginning to pace around the room. He’d hoped that once he had her alone he’d think of how to handle her reappearance, but he’s no clearer now than he was a few minutes ago.
She leans forward, resting her arms on her knees and propping her chin on her hands, frowning. “You were a much better host before you went evil.”
His heart misses a beat and he almost stumbles, but he catches himself against the swell of rage. “I’m not evil.”
“You’re part of the First Order,” she points out.
“I’m not part of the First Order,” he hisses. “I am the First Order. I’m the Supreme Leader.”
“Sounds pretty evil to me.” Her eyes radiate disapproval.
He stops pacing to stand tall, ignoring the nausea that clutches at his stomach. “I don’t believe in evil,” he tells her. “Not anymore. Good, evil, light, dark. It’s all wrong. The old ways, choosing one or the other, it doesn’t work. I’m going to change it.”
The Doctor tilts her head, judgement disappearing from her face, replaced by contemplation. “I like that,” she decides. “I told you, I couldn’t be a Jedi because I love people too much. That always struck me as a bad way of doing things.”
“So you understand.” He hates the hope that sparks through him, the childlike instinct that if she believes in him — no. No. He doesn’t need her approval.
“I do,” she says slowly, carefully, as if he’s a wild animal. Or maybe a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “But I also understand that the First Order kills people. A lot of people. A lot of innocent people.”
There’s nothing to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. For a moment, Rey’s face flashes through his mind.
“See,” she says, pointing at him as if he’s admitted something. “Evil.”
Her disappointment is back, radiating through every movement, and for a wild moment he feels compelled to throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness. He trembles with the effort to keep himself still.
“You gave into the darkness.” The sadness in her voice could drown him. “What happened, Ben?”
“It’s Kylo Ren!” he shouts, as if that’s the point.
She raises an eyebrow, unshaken in the face of his rage. Her calm makes him want to scream. “Okay then, Kylo Ren. Same question.”
“Luke Skywalker tried to kill me.” His voice is shaking and erratic, but he doesn’t stop. Can’t. “He was so afraid of my power that he came into my bedroom and tried to kill me.”
“Did he really?” she asks. She sounds astonished, but not incredulous. As if she’s willing to believe anything he tells her. The one person who always has.
“Yes! He almost murdered me in my own bed!” The memory floods his senses, and for a moment he’s back in that hut. He sends a chair flying across the room in fury; it smashes against the far wall, breaking into pieces.
The Doctor flinches. “I wish you’d come with me,” she says, with such sympathy he almost bursts into tears. Then she leaps to her feet, and her tone shifts, from deep caring to brusque efficiency. “Well, there’s no undoing what’s been done. You just need to start being better. Stop this First Order business.”
The proposition is like a sick joke. He chokes on his outrage. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” She sounds genuinely puzzled, but she can’t possibly be that stupid, can she?
“This is — my life is —” He stops, trying to figure how to explain something so obvious to this woman, who’s observing him with gentle bemusement, as if he’s the one being ridiculous. “I’m a monster.”
“I know lots of monsters who are perfectly good people.”
How does she always manage to twist the world into a fairy tale and then make it sound attainable? She really must be insane. “You can’t come back from what I’ve done.”
“As long as you’re still alive, you can change.” She closes the gap between them, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You can keep trying. To do good. To be kind. You remember what I told you about being kind?”
“Children’s nonsense.”
“No, just the truth.”
“You don’t understand.” Why does he sound like he’s pleading?
“Don’t I?” Her fingers dig into his shoulder, voice suddenly cold. “Whatever you’ve done, Kylo Ren, I promise you, I’ve done worse.”
The absurdity of the idea is grotesque, and he laughs, dark and pained. “I’ve stood watch while whole planets were wiped off the map.”
“And I’ve destroyed entire species with my own hand. Many times.” When he laughs again, disbelieving, she demands, “Look at me, Kylo Ren. Look at my eyes.”
He does, and to his shock he sees the pain that burns through his veins reflected there.
“I’ve lived more lifetimes than you can count,” she tells him, voice low and deadly. “I’ve seen horrors you can’t imagine, and committed more atrocities than you could ever hope to, even if you were your worst self for the rest of your life. I’ve killed so many people I’ve forgotten the number. There’s so much I’m ashamed of, but do you know what I do? I get up every morning and decide that today, I am going to be better. Today, I will not give into the anger. Today, I will be kind.”
Fairy tale or not, he longs to crumple into her arms, accept that she’s right. That there’s another path. But he’s Supreme Leader of the First Order. There’s no room in this universe for him to be kind. “They’ll never forgive me.”
“It’s not about forgiveness.” She drops her hand, looking disgusted. “Or do you need praise to do what’s right?”
Again Rey’s face swims into his vision. The tears in her eyes as she begged him not to go this way. The hatred written across her body as she shut the door on him, maybe forever. He’s called and he’s called, but nothing. She will never forgive him.
Suddenly the Doctor’s face goes soft. “Oh. It isn’t they you want forgiveness from. It’s her. Or him. Or agender alien. I don’t judge.”
“Her,” he says, too surprised to stop himself from answering. Is he really so obvious, or can this woman read minds? It’s possible.
“Who is she?”
There doesn’t seem to be any reason not to tell her the truth. She always gets it out of him in the end. “Her name is Rey.”
“And you love her.” It’s not a question, so he nods. He wouldn’t have put it in those words, but no point in pretending. Not to the Doctor. “Did she love you?”
He remembers the longing as their hands nearly brushed; the way they fought in sync, perfect, almost as one. “We — had a connection.”
“But now she’s gone. Because you’re evil.”
The bluntness of the words is a knife to the heart, but he can’t deny them. He nods again.
“Smart woman.” The Doctor flashes a smile. “I like her.”
“I thought you were on my side,” he protests weakly.
“She was wise enough to realize that somewhere inside you is a man worth loving,” she explains. “And wise enough to stop when you didn’t live up to being that man. That’s a smart woman. That’s someone I like.”
He scowls but doesn’t argue. Where did his anger go? He feels drained, ready to collapse.
“Well, the solution here is obvious,” she says, smile widening.
“No,” he disagrees. “I don’t see anything obvious.”
“Yes,” she retorts, as if frustrated at his continued protests. “It’s very obvious. Be better. Be the man Rey wanted to love. Get her back.”
“She’ll never forgive me!” he bursts out, despairing.
She shrugs. “Be worthy of her love anyway.”
“To what end?” There’s the anger again. How dare she come here offering hope in such a useless package?
“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Now she seems to be getting angry, hands spinning dramatically. “Is that so hard to understand?”
“I’m Supreme Leader of the First Order,” he insists. “That isn’t a job you walk away from.”
“Okay. Doing the right thing isn’t good enough for you?” She’s definitely angry, incredibly so. It fills the room, a vibration electrifying the air. “Then how about this: I’m going to leave, but we’re going to meet again. I know it. I can tell these things. We’re going to meet again, and if you have not become the man I know you can be, the man that little boy I met could be, I will destroy you, and I will destroy the First Order. All of it. I’ll bring it to its knees.”
She punctures this declaration by looking him dead in the eye, and he feels the truth of her words as a punch to the gut. Suddenly, he understands that she was not exaggerating before. At the core of her there is as much death as there is love. That’s why he’s always felt so seen by her; they’re the same. And if she can be kind, maybe he —
No. He’s not that much of a fool. He doesn’t live in the fantasy world of a crazy woman.
“I could kill you right now!” he warns her.
“Maybe. But you’re not going to.” He quivers in rage at the taunt, but doesn’t make a move. “That’s what I thought.”
She walks to the door and then levels him with a final burning glare. “I’ve given you advice before, but you didn’t take it. So let’s be clear. This is not advice. This is a threat. Fix what you’ve done.”
And then she’s gone. He’s left panting, sweating and exhausted, as if he’s been through a fight.
***
It’s not a surprise when she appears at his wedding. The ceremony is small, private, hidden away on the same distant planet where he and Rey had occasionally met in secret during the war, finding their reconciliation, growing their love in stolen moments, delighting at being in the same place, experiencing real touch. But what are secret ceremonies and hidden planets to the woman who never ages, never changes, who threatened the Supreme Leader of the First Order with no weapons and complete confidence?
And so when she skips up to the two of them, smile wide, arms outstretched, the surprise is not her presence, but the flicker of pleased recognition he catches from Rey’s mind.
“It was a lovely ceremony,” the Doctor gushes, throwing her arms around them both, an exuberant embrace Kylo would have rejected from anyone else. “I hope you don’t mind my sneaking in to watch. It’s so hard to get the timing right on RSVPs, it’s easier to just show up.”
“Of course we don’t mind,” Rey says with a laugh, pulling back and grasping the Doctor’s hands in her own, smile bright and beautiful. Her joy is infectious; Kylo can’t tell where the Force bond ends and the sheer power of her physical presence begins, and he doesn’t care. They’re one now, anyway.
Though apparently he doesn’t know his wife quite as well as he thought.
“You know each other?” he questions. “How do you know each other?”
Rey turns that laughing smile to him, eyes alight with mischief. “You thought I agreed to speak to you again all on my own?”
Kylo remembers the moment, after months of reaching out — begging into nothingness, convinced she must be able to feel him but never getting even a hint of compassion back — when finally, finally Rey had appeared before him in his room, trembling with rage, snarling, “What do you want, Ben?” He can still taste the fury that flowed through her, hate and betrayal as fresh as when she’d closed that door on him. But she’d listened. And from that day on, she’d answered when he called.
He never asked why she had finally allowed him back in. He’d been too grateful for the connection to examine it closely, as if the second chance was a scared bird that might fly away if he prodded. Now, looking between the two women as they share a secret smirk, he realizes he was a fool. They’d had a plan, had met and not even told him.
He feels a sharp flash of rage, embarrassment at being tricked, but then Rey grabs his hand, her love and assurance flowing through him like a balm. The Doctor is smiling at him, too, sly, gaze also full of love — a different kind than Rey’s, but just as strong, infused with understanding and satisfaction. No, it wasn’t trickery they’d engaged in, but something else. Something much kinder.
As he lets his anger flicker and die, he realizes Rey is squeezing his hand, telling him she’s going to let them have a minute. Then she’s gone from his side, weaving her way through the small crowd of guests, hugging the friends who still look at him with trepidation, but who are there because she told them this is what she wants. He doesn’t like them very much, but they understand Rey’s brilliance, and he respects that.
He turns back to the Doctor, whose expression has gone serious.
“Sorry about going behind your back,” she says. “I really didn’t want to have to kill you.”
He laughs. It’s still a new sensation, laughing, genuine and happy. A distant memory from childhood. “I don’t really have a right to complain.”
“No, you don’t,” the Doctor agrees. “And she never would have listened to me if she hadn’t wanted to see you again, in her heart. She just needed a push.”
Kylo accepts this, knows it’s right. Rey came to him, she forgave him, she loves him. That’s what matters. “I’m grateful.”
“You should be.” The Doctor slips her arm through his and guides them away from the party, leaning close to whisper, “I really like her, by the way.”
“Me too,” he agrees.
They walk in silence until they reach the edge of a cliff, overlooking a large, red lake that sparkles in the planet’s two suns. The blue box is standing there, completely out of place and yet exactly right.
“The First Order is gone,” the Doctor comments, staring out along the horizon. “What’s next for you, Ben Solo?”
“I still go by Kylo,” he tells her. “Rey says anything else would mean denying who I chose to be.”
The Doctor considers this, and then shrugs. “What am I, the name police?” They share a small grin. “What’s next for you, Kylo?”
“Rey and I will start a new school for Force users. Here.”
The Doctor nods, as if that’s exactly what she expected to hear. “I take it the rules will be a bit different?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “And far fewer of them. No more hiding from emotions. No more light and dark. We’ll teach our students how to channel it all without losing themselves.”
“Well, that sounds fantastic.” Out of nowhere, she throws her arms around him again, pulling him tight. “I knew you had it in you,” she whispers in his ear, and he feels pride swell through his body, the same pride he’d felt as a child, when she’d been impressed by his trick with the ball.
“You could stay,” he offers when the hug ends. “You told me once you wanted to learn how to use the Force.”
“Will there still be a lot of lightsabers?” When he nods, she shrugs and says, “Thought so. Thanks for the offer, but it’s really not for me. Though very, very cool.”
He inclines his head in acknowledgement. He hadn’t expected her to say yes, but he’s hit with a profound sadness, and in that moment he knows, somehow, that he’s not going to see her again.
She seems to sense it, too, because she places her hand on his shoulder, and looks straight into his eyes. Hers still carry the sun. “I’m very glad I met you, Ben Solo.”
“And I you, Doctor.”
And with that she pivots and heads back towards her ship with sudden urgency, as if responding to a summons he can’t hear. Before she can close the door he calls after her, “We are going to have one rule, here.”
She turns to look at him, hand clutching the side of the box. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“Always strive to be kind.”
The smile she gives him could light up the world, and it stays in the air, infectious and joyful, long after she and her inexplicable craft have disappeared.