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Later, when he thought back on it, he realized that this situation hadn’t been on his list of possible outcomes. Though he’d been trained--by both Dark and Light Masters--to look several moves ahead, he’d failed at that this time. He shouldn’t have been surprised, though. The Force had given him kriff-all in the way of precognition. At this point, he could write a book on popular misconceptions about Force-sensitive beings.
Ben was only a half-formed Jedi at best, and a thoroughly-muddled Dark Side adept at worst, but he could name every single one of the myths he busted on either side.
He could not destroy cities with a thought. He could not commit mass murder with a flick of a finger. He could not stand next to a mountain and chop it down with the edge of his hand.
None of those things were within his power, at least not without the help of some very heavy, entirely non-metaphysical artillery. And perhaps some sort of button or lever that had nothing to do with the Force.
He could not read any mind as easily as a cheap novel. He could not compel any being to do anything at any moment he wished. He could not heal and reconstitute his own body in the blink of an eye.
At various points, he wished he did have any or all of these various powers that the general public assumed were held by all Force-wielders.
What he did have was a battle-honed fierceness that let him dive into any fight. What he did have was a highly-trained skill that made him lethal. What he did have were some powers that defied physics just a bit. What he did have was an uncanny ability to perceive intent and a small advantage over the weak-minded.
And what he did have was a bit of potential to transfer his own life-Force to help another.
This, he did without hesitation after hobbling to Rey on his ruined leg. The sight of her eyes was almost too much for him to bear. They were wide and hazel as they always were. But now, they lacked the life, the spirit that had spat fire at him in every one of their previous meetings.
He didn’t even know how to heal someone else, really. Neither of his Masters had ever taught him. All he did was place his hand on her, close his eyes, and hope .
At that moment, a new, but oddly familiar feeling flowed through him. With his palm spread over Rey, he suddenly felt as he had on Kef Bir. Rey had run him through with his own saber .
*******
Impaled on the crackling red blade, certain he was dying, Kylo had seen and felt a rush of visions and sensations.
Dominant among them was his mother’s face. He’d seen it a hundred times since he’d left to join the First Order.
A hundred times in a hundred ways. She was young and lovely as she kissed his head and smiled as she set him down in his crib. She was always lovely, though, now that he thought about it. Her smile and her eyes never changed, even as her face aged around them.
So many goodbye kisses. All leading up to the last time they’d been physically together. That time, it had been the fire in her eyes that had made him doubt himself. She loved him; he’d known it then; he’d really known it always . But he’d doubted it--he’d been so lost at that point and had fixated upon her perceived lies to him. And he’d thought that his confused tears had made him weak. So he’d gone, and he hadn’t looked back.
*******
Though his mind was full of Leia’s face, Ben’s entire being was full of hope for Rey. He knew that Leia was the entire reason he was here to do this at all. As he’d gasped awake on Kef Bir, his mother had breathed her last.
General Leia Organa had not given herself up for naught, and neither would Ben Skywalker Organa Solo.
He could see the exact moment that life came back into those depthless eyes of Rey’s. In that moment, she focused on him, and she smiled.
He smiled back, his sheer relief loosening the facial muscles he’d always held taut so as not to appear odd. Those muscles felt a little weak from disuse, but it was worth exercising them as Rey lifted herself toward him and kissed his mouth.
Ben closed his eyes and leaned in, trying to tell her everything he’d ever wanted to say to her, from the moment he’d first seen her, trying to pour all of that emotion into her. The coolness of her lips reminded him of the edge of death, and he didn’t want to ruin it with his clumsy words. Anything he’d wanted to say to her was meaningless at this point, wasn’t it? His confession and declaration would only be cruel right now, never mind that they’d been just beyond the reach of his tongue since he’d met her. This wasn’t the time or the place.
But maybe there’d never been a time or place for them, and this was as good as they’d get. Maybe this was all he deserved. He still had so much to answer for, dating back to before he’d ever even seen Rey.
Right then, as if to answer his qualms, something came to him, wrapped around him, pulled him. Warmth washed over Ben. Just beyond Rey’s shoulder stood Leia, radiant, shimmering in Force-light. Her expression held love, acceptance, invitation . . . home .
His body was weakening.
He’d accomplished his mission. He’d saved Rey.
Rey knew he loved her. She would live, would continue to shine into the galaxy. She didn’t need him following her around, dark and hulking and awkward.
Selfish. He was still selfish, so he let himself soak up every moment of her tender touch. The concern in her eyes told him that she knew what was happening, but there was resignation there, too. Yet another thing was being torn from her, and she’d take it in her stride as she always did.
But Ben knew that she now had friends to return to, people who worried about her and wanted to see her again. Rey would survive, as she always had.
She’d go back to her new home, and Ben would go back to his old one.