Force Destiny

Death of the Past

"Ben!"

Kylo opened his eyes, blinking away snowflakes from his eyelashes. When had he fallen asleep? He was surrounded by cold. As he sat up weakly, examining the frozen landscape, he remembered why he was there.

"Ben!" Rey screamed again from somewhere in the darkness. He forced himself up from the ground to go after her. He stood, but his knees immediately gave out. He pushed himself back up and stumbled forward, collapsing again in the snow. Forcing himself up, again and again, he attempted to reach Rey as engines rumbled over the snow. He became weaker with each effort until he could no longer push himself up.

It's useless.

Kylo rolled over and stared up at the heavens. The Upsilon class command ship, his command ship, flew off into the night. His eyes followed it to a fantastic firefight in the sky. He was impressed. The Resistance had created a force to be reckoned with.

But they will do nothing against those deflector shields.

He knew he had to get up there, to Rey, but his body protested with every attempt he made. The world spun turbulently around him. Each shallow breath was not quite deep enough to satisfy the demand from his lungs for more oxygen, subjecting him to the torment of perpetually straddling the border of consciousness. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, but it was a hopeless one. Attempts to focus and lower his heart rate were ineffective; whatever was spreading inside him was beyond his control. The scene around him was blurry and the sound distorted. Muffled. His head felt heavy, his muscles weak. The only benefit of this toxin spreading through his body was that he could barely feel the pain of his injuries. His connection to Rey was still intact, but little else. He struggled against the shackles of the toxin that fettered his efforts, but the weakness was unyielding. His unsuccessful exertions were futile.

Kylo wasn't naïve to the grim reality of the situation. The only other person who knew the destroyer enough to have a chance at mounting a rescue attempt was Finn. Unfortunately, he had been taken prisoner alongside Rey. Dameron or any other member of his plucky anarchists didn't have the benefit of surprise this time. They had already launched their attack on the Finalizer; if they tried to infiltrate the ship, they wouldn't make it past Hux's increased security measures of battle. Without Kylo's intervention, he knew there was little anyone could do to save Rey and her friends. They needed him, and – not for the first time – he was too weak to help them. It was unfair that when he was finally strong enough to do the right thing, he was thwarted by something as mortal as a toxin.

It's hopeless.

Kylo reached for his lightsaber, and it found its way to his hand from somewhere in the darkness. He activated it, admiring the unstable crimson blade. The fractured crystal inside called to his fractured soul, begging him to find the matching unstable fire within him, promising the destruction of everything that stood in his way if he could only find the strength to wield it.

But he could barely find the strength to lift it. He was once the Supreme Leader of the First Order and the master of the Knights of Ren, arguably the most powerful man in the galaxy, and yet, none of that power would give him the strength to save her. The fate Anakin promised was unreachable. Kylo was as useless to her as Anakin was to him now... or was he? Anakin had guided him from the Force. He had altered his fate from beyond. There was no reason Kylo couldn't do the same for her. The only power that he still possessed was the power over his own fate. There was still a way he could help her.

If I cannot save her in life, then I will help her through death.

He lowered the base of the blade and the right lateral vent to his own throat. It would be relatively painless, he knew, and it would be over swiftly. It would be a quiet, lonely end to a life filled with suffering. Closing his eyes, he allowed his final resolution to bathe him in warmth. He tried to swallow his fear, but his breathing was uneven as he felt the intense heat of the vent prickle over his skin. His hands trembled in anticipation, wondering if she would be angry that he broke his promise by taking his own life. He forced the thought away, focusing only on her and the beautiful ring of her voice.