Ouroboros

Twenty Three

Twenty Three

He could sense they were approaching Dathomir, the sense of the place dark and powerful enough to rouse him from his scrutiny of the Holocron in his quarters. He had been holed up for almost the entire journey from Mustafar, hiding from the others and from his misdeeds. He knew that everyone had questions for him-whether hostile, like Poe and Zorii, or more concerned like Rose and maybe Finn. But he had no mind to answer them, no heart either-for everything he had was being marshalled in resisting the siren call of the Holocron and in preparing for the inevitable to come.

Hunched forward, the sickly yellow light of the Holocron reflecting on his features and emphasising the deep shadows under his dark eyes and the exhaustion on his face, he ran his fingers through his raven hair. He hadn't slept, guilt and desperation driving him on along with a fear that if he slept and his guards dropped, he would be vulnerable to the incessant whispers of the Holcron. So he hunched over a screen, skating through the intelligence and finding what he needed. But as he read through the conditions, he felt his heart sink. He had never expected the process of resurrecting Rey, of plucking her spirit back from the Force to be difficult but what he had read made his blood run cold and he knew...he knew that this was the Universe's final way of repaying him.

But I owe her. I let her die. No...I let her expend her energy saving me and then I couldn't return the favour when she was killed by the effort of slaying the Emperor and saving us all. And I love her.

Kriff. She called me her best friend. She's someone who is so full of light, so full of life-even though she's dead-and she has wonderful, loyal friends who are even willing to help me if it offers a chance to bring her back. And yet she calls me her best friend.

I don't deserve her. I never did. But I certainly don't now.

But I have to. I have to accept the sacrifice because I will never have any rest, any peace anyway. At least my life can mean something now.

He sat back and closed down the screen. The words were imprinted in his brain and he just wanted to try to meditate, to focus his energies for this one, final task. Somewhere, just beyond the veil of sight, Rey was waiting in the Force, hovering close to her body which had been taken by the Dark forces that wanted to use her to be reborn. They knew that she deserved life and that he would cross the Galaxy to rescue her. He could sense Hux's ship, closing on their position, his mind petty and venal and bright with hatred. And he could feel the strands of his life, pulling tighter and tighter around him until it almost felt that he was suffocating.

He closed his eyes.

Sleep was overrated.

Sleep was for the dead.

-o0o-

Rose hadn't slept well either-because there was a sense of foreboding that was nagging her. Ren-or Ben as she was now thinking of him-had implied that the process to get Rey back wouldn't be easy or safe and she found herself wondering what it would actually involve. A nagging voice warned her that Poe would be less than receptive, since he had been in a very strange mood since the escape from Mustafar. And what she had overheard of Ben and Rey talking-how improbable was that?-convinced her that the two were in love. She groaned.

How could she convince anyone who hadn't witnessed that tender conversation that Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order and genocidal monster, was in love with Rey, the Last Jedi and would do anything to rescue her? Even from death.

She sat up and ran her hands over her face. Finn was one hope because he had been convinced by the man. But Poe was still wavering and Zorii, Jannah and Beau were unconvinced. Chewbacca...well, the Wookiee seemed to have forgiven Ben for his horrible deeds, including murdering his own father, Chewie's closest friend but how would he react to Ben's plan?