Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: I am so sorry. I have no words for how sorry I am that I took so long to get the chapter posted. I admit I'm not quite happy with it (as Ben just looks like he's good as walking into a trap), but I hope you like, at any rate.
It was after the sparring session was over that Ben asked Yana about the vision. He was already nervous about asking him, he wasn’t going to lie, but there had been something about Revan’s mask that had already brought back memories of the masked figure.
The masked figure that had ordered the execution of the villagers so callously. The masked figure with his face underneath.
Yana looked at him, and it was as if those blue eyes came alive with intense interest. “Indeed?” he said.
“I saw it,” Ben said. “It was three years ago. I should have told someone, but I was ashamed.”
“You haven’t even told Poe Dameron?”
“I haven't,” Ben said. How did he tell Poe, anyway? How did he tell him about the vision he had had three years ago? Poe would likely think that he was some sort of disgusting monster, and Ben couldn’t bear that idea. The idea of being unworthy and disgusting and soiled for Poe was always something that Ben knew he feared.
Even when he was nineteen, he had felt it. Felt that fear. That fear of, simply, not being good enough for Poe. It was still a fear that cropped up, that simple wondering if am I good enough for you?
He would crawl on his hands and knees and beg if he had to. It was a good thing that Poe would never expect him to do it then.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ben said. He didn’t want Yana to see it, how he needed Poe. He didn’t want Yana to see how much he would do anything, just about everything, for this miracle. How much he feared he wasn’t good enough. How much he loved him.
But Yana seemed to pick up on it anyway. “You fear how he’ll react, don’t you?”
“His opinions...they matter to you.”
“I daresay he underappreciates you. I dare say that he doesn’t realize the depths of your devotion.”
“I think he knows.”
Yana narrowed his eyes. “If you say so.”
“Can ren be fought?” Ben said.
Yana was quiet for a long while. It was as if what Ben said had genuinely caught him off-guard. Then he said, “Do you want to fight it, Ben?”
“I don't want to become the monster I saw in that vision.”
“I see,” Yana said. “That depends on your definition of the word ‘monster’, of course.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Ben, when is a monster a monster? When others deem it to be so.”
“Ren can be fluid. What might be might be, but it might not be.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You’re not making sense.”
“What I’m saying, Ben, is that what you saw on Milara might not be what you think it is.”
“Really?” Ben said. “I’d say it was pretty clear-cut.”
“Did Master Yoda once say that the future was always in motion?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“You could very well become a hero in your own right, Ben. A defender of the weak. Wouldn’t you give anything for deaths like Thomas’ not to happen again?”
“I would. Anything.”
“And for slavery to be stopped?”
“What if you used it for good, all of it?”
Ben hesitated. “How?”
“Well, you wouldn’t have to use the visage. But really, have the Jedi Order ever done anything for those they swore to protect? Remember what happened with the Black Supernova. Remember the war with Snoke.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“What if you did something better? What if you did something that truly improved this broken galaxy instead of neglecting it?”
The thought was too wonderful to imagine.
Yana smiled. “Then you’re learning.”
Ben walked out of sparring practice, already troubled by the idea that things, simply, may not have been what they appeared to be.