Balance of the Force

Ben stands on the exterior pinnacle of the tallest spire of the Jedi Temple. He tightly grips the vane which extends from the exact top, his feet planted firmly on the slanted roof, as he leans out over the abyss. He can see the steps leading up into the Temple itself, complete with little insect-sized people, thousands of meters below.

A gust of wind rips through his hair, pulling at him, snapping his robes around his body and trying to fling him from the roof. The vane in his hand shakes slightly, and he looks up at the demilune icon twists in the wind. He knows that he shouldn’t be up here – that his mother does not approve of it, that’s she scared when he does this, when he hangs out over the empty space this way.

Yet he feels alive up here with the wind pulling at him, where he can sit up here and watch the people as they scurry beneath him.

He can feel the mental summons, a tug from Jacen on his consciousness. He thinks for a second on staying here, on ignoring the summons, but shakes his head as he realizes that he’s too much of a devotee of the rules of the Order to do so. For a moment longer he stares out at the abyss, and then he lets go.

He quickly slips into a free fall, he can feel his robes flapping behind him; hear the wind rushing past his ears. And he grins.

He reaches a stable speed, and rolls over onto his back, pulling out his grappling hook and a cord. With a fling of his arms and a touch of the Force, he sends the hook sailing through the open air; he lets out a whoop as it swings neatly into his window.

He falls a bit further, pulling the Force to him, slowing him down, and braces for the inevitable pull. Then it comes, a yank on his shoulders and arms, an excruciating pull which nearly dislocates his shoulders. The rope arcs and he comes up against the side of the building, allowing his legs to absorb the force of the impact.

He quickly climbs the thin robe, and throws his leg over the window sill, hauling himself into the room. He flips over the edge, leaning against the wall and looks up, to find Jacen standing there, staring down at him.

“You know your mom doesn’t like you doing that.”

Ben shrugs. Keeping his stare directed towards his cousin.

A moment later Jacen turns away. “We need to go to the Council now. There’re things that I need to tell Uncle Luke.”

Ben watches Jacen walk away, his face darkening slightly.

“Go.”

Startled, he looks around, trying to find who spoke to him, only receiving a short brush of familiarity. Of family.

Shrugging off his concerns, he stands, grabbing up his dark brown overcloak and rushing through the hallways, arriving at the Council Chambers just as his mentor drops a bombshell in the midst of them all.

Ben stops outside the doorway listening, a frown crossing his features. Jacen’s calm voice is counter-balanced by the steady thrum of multiple ignited sabers.

“I’m the Sith Lord, Uncle.”

Ben leans against the wall next to the door, the Force writhing in tension, disbelief and betrayal.

Then he hears that small, still whisper. “It’s time. Accept the power.”

Ben screws his eyes shut, and slams his hands against his ears, trying to ignore the voice. Trying to ignore the sounds of the sabers.

When their pitches change from the solid steady thrum, to the whine and clashes and zaps of sabers in use, Ben opens his eyes, and walks around the corner and into the Council Chambers.

There is Jacen in the middle of the seven Masters currently on Coruscant. His blade a wall of green light which seems to surround him on all sides as he parries away the Master’s blades.

A wave of Force energy blasts out from Jacen, slamming against the Masters; throwing them away.

The Force energy washes, slashes around and over and through Ben. While the Force push tossed everyone else away, Ben stands calmly there. Unmoved, unconcerned, unfazed by the massive display of Force power. On the far side of Jacen, Ben can see Luke struggling forward, his blade slashing in towards his mentor once more.

Time slows down. Stops.

And Ben still watches.

“You have a choice here.”

Ben turns, to find himself staring at his grandfather.

“The same choice I was given. Will you be a part of this mortal plane or will you be above it?”

Ben frowns, chewing on his lower lip. “What do you mean?”

Anakin gestures towards the frozen fight. “You’ve frozen time. You’re pulling infinite power to you, in preparation to make a choice. Good or evil. Light or dark. Jedi or Sith. God or devil.”

Anakin puts a hand on the young boy’s shoulder. “But the choice is even beyond this. I chose to stay mortal for my wife. You can choose something more. You can choose to become the Force.”

Then Anakin fades away. Leaving an empty spot as if he was never there. Ben stares at the spot for a moment longer, and reaches for the Force once more.

He can feel it pour into him, suffusing him, becoming him.

“Stop.”

A simple command. An immediate response.

Jacen and Luke both stop, and turn their attentions on him, mouths ajar, faces slack with surprise and awe.

For a heartbeat Ben has a doubt, but it is quickly washed away in the pure flow of the Force.

Ben reaches out and touches everything.

He laughs as comprehension fills him. He focuses his attention once more on his father and his mentor.

“This feud ends now. Jedi. Sith. I deem them both useless distinctions.”

Ben closes his eyes, is unaware of his body, of the brilliant white light which shines from his every cell. Unaware as it grows brighter, blinding and pure.

In an eye blink, Ben connects himself to every Force sensitive in existence. He can feel them all. Their sacrifices. Their fears. Their hopes. Their dreams. Their nightmares.

For that brief second of time, he is them all.

He is everyone and no one.

He knows the end of all things, because he realizes that it is him who has written it.

The Force created him, created his entire family, all for this single moment of time; this second when he would become more than himself, more than human, when he would become the Force itself.

He grins at his father at the same time as he grins at his mentor. He can hear the words he tells them both.

“Balance will be served,” and “Peace will reign.”

Though each hears a different statement, he speaks to them at the same time.

He can feel his cells start to explode. A cascading rupturing which renders his body unable to sustain itself. He instinctively knows that he can repair the damage, that he can deny the power, and that he can keep himself from becoming the Force.

But he doesn’t want to.

He reaches out, and slams Luke and Jacen together, watching as their disparate parts merge. As they both become something, someone greater than either of them alone could have been.

A Jedi. A Sith.

Meaningless distinctions. A less than useless dogma.

The light fades from the Council Chambers, but Ben is unconcerned with this. He watches his new creation. The undeniable power of a Skywalker, the unending humanity of a Solo.

The perfect amalgamation of both lines.

The perfect balancing of the Force.

As Ben transcends his mortal coil, as he becomes all that is, all that was, and all that will be, he grins.