A/N:

OKAY!

Before anything, I'd like to point out that this idea came to me in a dream.
Like, an extremely vivid dream of what I thought would be a "cool" Star Wars movie.
So, if anything, try not to take this too seriously.

It's not a fix-it fic, just probably kinda crack-ish, with a smattering of
cool ideas that came from a weird dream I had last night.

Either way, enjoy the fan-service of what I want
to be the Fallen Order vs the Final Order.

I repeat, this fic may not have the best reasoning, but I'll do my best.
If I fail, I apologize, I'll try to dream better next time. -_-

Star Wars:
The Final Battle of the Fallen Order

- Chapter 1/3 -
"Don't be Sorry, Be Better"

Let the past die.

Kill it if you have to.

That is what Ben had said to her, back on Snoke's ship little more than a year ago. Then, she found the notion ridiculous and horrifying, knowing her efforts to bring him to the light only served to push him further into darkness. Yet, here she found herself wishing nothing more for the past to die. Her past. Her true self. The knowledge festered like a rotten wound, open and painful.

She was of the same blood as the man who once brought the Galaxy to its knees, who the Order she sought to join had sworn to defeat only to fail and be reduced to nothing. To think, she had wanted to know. Know why her parents abandoned her. Why she was forced to be "just Rey" all these years.

And now that she knew, she never felt more disgusted with herself.

She tossed more pieces of wood and the ship to the flames, teeth clenched in her barely restrained anger. Rage at herself, at who she was, her failure of both Luke and Leia. She grasped for the lightsaber on her belt - It would be better if she were to remain here, in exile for the rest of her days, much like the Jedi before her - and gave it a heated glare, before tossing it as hard as she could to the flames.

But a hand caught it, glowing a gentle blue as it walked amidst the flames, untouched. "A Jedi's weapon should be treated with more respect."

She knew that voice. "M-Master Skywalker?"

Rey froze up in shock, the ghost of her former Master stepping from the wreckage and standing before her. She almost averted her gaze, expecting to see hatred in his eyes, disappointment even...

"What are you doing?"

But all she saw was...bewilderment?

Let the past die.

Kill it if you have to.

That was his mantra, his way of life once his shackles had been broken. Then, as much as he refused to admit it, he had only gone and grovelled before a new master. In this life he'd submitted himself to, the one thing he forever lacked was freedom. And now, one of his last connections to his old life, the last person to truly believe in him, was gone now too.

The waves crashed against the platform, showering him in a light mist. Kylo Ren, for once in his life, was at a total loss.

Then, a voice called to him from beyond. A familiar voice. He almost refused to believe it, ignoring it, before it called again, this time from behind him.

"Hey, kid..."

His heart stopped, the waves crashing in the distance only to leave a deafening silence. Slowly, he turned around, not at all expecting the old man standing before him. He looked...exactly the same as last he saw him, when he ran him through and let him fall to his death. He thought it would have strengthened him, but all it did was conflict him further, and now that he was looking at this ghost of his past, the conflict hung heavier on his heart.

But those kind, caring eyes hadn't lost a bit of their light, as Han Solo smiled at his only child. "I miss you, son."

"Your son is dead." He had said those words before, what felt like years ago now. They were empty, stuttering excuses however, begging not be put through this. But the apparition before him just his head, taking four heavy steps forward.

"No." He stood before him now, his presence weighing down on him. "Kylo Ren is dead...My son...is alive."

He was shaking, fumbling for words. "You're...just a memory..."

"Your memory..." His warm smile didn't ebb. "Come home."

"It's too late." He shook his head, almost choking on his voice. "She's gone."

The spirit seemed to concede this, nodding its head. "Your mother's gone...But what she stood for...What she fought for..." It's hand motioned to his, and to the weapon it held. The damaged exterior revealed the crystal glowing within, cracked crimson glaring at him like a bloody wound. "That's not gone."

His mind raced along with those words. For a second, he contemplated his lightsaber. The damaged, unstable blade seemed to reflect himself. He could never fix what he had done. The path he was considering to take, could very well be the end of him. But if he stood, idling by, than what he had left would be stripped away, leaving him with nothing, as he truly feared.

"Ben..."

His head snapped up. "I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it."

His father only looked to him, his hand slowly reached to touch his cheek. With the same gesture that sent him further into darkness before, his father eased every single burden he still held with two simple words. "You do."

"Dad..." I love you.

"I know."

And just like that, a weight lifted from his chest. Ben looked to his lightsaber and crystal inside, the crystal that once shined blue before he bled it crimson, making it feel every ounce of his pain and suffering, his fear and hatred. Slowly, he held the blade with both hands and let out a breath, calling on the force. This time, he felt a certain clarity, a clearness. Like he could finally take another breath without choking on it.

Fear is the path to the dark side.

He felt the Crystal's fear, and eased it.

Fear leads to Anger.

He felt its anger, and tempered it.

Anger leads to Hate.

He felt its hate, and resolved it.

Hate leads to Suffering.

Then he felt its suffering...

And healed it.

"-I saw myself on the dark throne. I won't let it happen." She finished her explanation with as much perseverance as she could muster, leveling a determined glare at the spirit before her. "I'm never leaving this place, I'm doing what you did."

"I was wrong, Rey." Luke merely shook his head. "It was fear that kept me here. What are you most afraid of?"

She opened her mouth to speak, nothing coming out as her breath hitched, gazing averted. Softly, she answered truthfully, "Myself..."

"Because you're a Palpatine?" The bluntness hit her hard. "Leia knew it too."

"S-she didn't tell me..." Why didn't she tell me? Then she realized. "She...still trained me..."

"Because she saw your spirit. Your heart." Luke sat beside her. "Some things are stronger than blood, Rey. Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi."

"I...can't..." She shook her head weakly. "To face him...I'm just one Jedi...Even the spirits of the Jedi of before aren't with me. If I go alone, I'll lose."

"You don't have to go alone." Her former Master stood and began to walk away. "There are plenty willing to fight."

"Who?" She stood, trying to follow him. "I don't know anyone who could..."

Her protest died as she stopped at the horizon beside Luke's spirit, the distant roar of an engine growing louder and louder as a ship appeared in the sky. It's three wings folded and locked, almost like a mantis, as it flew over them. Turning mid-air, it's landing gear came down as it landed next to the Ren's burning ship. She stared as the door open and the ramp descended, three figures exiting onto the wet grass.

"Go." Luke urged her forward. "They will help you."

"Who are they?"

"Friends."

Whether or not that vague answer was meant to reassure her, Rey stepped forward and approached the group of three. One wore an orange jacket, the other a black poncho, and the third a hooded white cloak like she wore. They seemed incredibly calm, only giving a passing glance to the burning fighter, before looking back to her. Not only that, each of them had lightsabers.

"Master Skywalker was right, you were here." The robed one, a woman spoke as they stopped before one another. "Rey, is it?"

"Y-yes...Who are you?"

"Fellow Jedi, in the loosest of terms." The man in the jacket shrugged.

"There are other Jedi?" Her eyes widened at that revelation. "Why have I never heard of you?"

"While we did have contact with Master Skywalker's order, we were never an official part of it and weren't there when it was destroyed. We've been in hiding ever since." The one in the poncho crossed his arms, a small droid sitting on his shoulder beeping pointedly. "Heh, good point B-D. It wasn't much a difference than during the Empire's time."

"Empire-?"

"Regardless, Rey. We are here to help." The woman let her hood down, revealing herself to be a Togruta. "My name is Ahsoka Tano, and these are my friends and allies, Ezra Bridger and Cal Kestis, Jedi Knights."

"Is...it just the three of you?"

"Nope, we've got plenty."

"An army?" She asked hopefully.

"How about an entire Order?"

"The Princess of Alderaan has disrupted my plans, but her sacrifice shall be in vain." The Emperor's haunting visage flickered. "Come to me on Exegol, General Pryde."

The aged man looked up, "As I served you in the old wars, I serve you now."

"Good...Good...You are to take the fleet to a world they know, let it burn." He hissed with venom. "In time, the girl will come to me, and the Final Order will begin."

"My lord, if she doesn't?"

"Worry not, General. I have contingencies." He rasped a chuckle. "Loyal Contingencies, isn't that right, my apprentices?"

As if to emphasize, four figures appeared behind the hologram. Metal on metal. Lightsabers humming. Red light glowed behind the Emperor, tainting the hologram violet. A horned warrior snarled, an elderly man bowed, a mechanical beast coughed and hacked, before, finally, a deep, mechanical breath rasped, joining in a chorus of voices.

"Yes, master."