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Chapter Text

His mind had never been quiet. There was always the buzz of surface thought: the ever-evolving strategies of war; the details of the where-when-why of troop deployment; the constant evaluation of allies for the first hint of hesitance, of betrayal. There was the glass-edged scrape of restrained fear that Snoke would discover the last vestiges of weakness which Kylo had not quite succeeded in dispelling. There was the new, burgeoning curiosity about the girl who dreamed of an island in the midst of an ocean, an image so different from the desert winds he had almost tasted on his tongue when he had first entered her mind.

All that was pushed aside by his father’s arrival, by the fact that his father stood less than five feet from him. He looked much the same, Kylo found himself thinking. Same jacket, same stubborn stance. Grayer. Shorter than he had remembered. Talking of forgiveness in the gravelly voice that used to read him bedtime stories, as if Kylo could just switch sides without the slightest of repercussions.

(The thought of defecting struck a chord in him somewhere deep. He thought suddenly of his bunk on the Falcon, the way it always smelled of engine grease and stale, recycled air. He thought of Chewie slapping his back fondly the first time he successfully piloted by himself. He thought of his mother.)

But he had orders, orders that had seemed so logical, so easy when Snoke had first given them. Kylo Ren had no father; Kylo Ren had not been truly tested in any way that counted. If he truly wanted to bury Ben Solo, the man who called him son had to die.

(His nerves sang as Han stepped closer, as he admitted that he was being torn apart. It was not a lie.)

And so they stood, his father’s hands over his on the lightsaber that Kylo had created in a haze of wounded pride and pain. There was a wary hope on Han Solo’s face, the emotion tempered by every instance that a deal had gone sour over the course of his smuggling career. He had told those stories to a young Ben Solo, framing them as adventures filled with narrow, triumphant escapes. The harsher truth was now etched on the man’s face; a part of him expected betrayal even now.

Betrayal was the order of the day- and yet, Kylo hesitated. Considered, despite the fact that he knew better. There was nothing for him in the resistance-

(His mother.)

-they would call him a traitor, they would shy from him-

(He knew things, he had the intel, he could be useful.)

-they would hate him, they would chain him-

(He was so tired.)

The lightsaber in his hands jerked toward Han and ignited.

The familiar jagged hum startled Kylo into a moment of perfect clarity, quieting the tumult in his mind. He took in the scene in an instant: his father, pierced by the blade, one hand still gripping the lightsaber at a slant. Gripping- pressing- the switch.

Kylo froze, his mind unable to process the sight, a feeling in his chest as if he were the one being stabbed.

(His mother smirked fondly. “Han always shoots first,” she said.)

In what seemed like an endless moment his father pressed a hand to his cheek, staggered, and then fell from the catwalk, a limp form tumbling through the air and far too soon out of sight.

Someone was screaming, he realized distantly. He was fairly certain it was not him, though that was the only certainty he felt as he tried to put together the pieces of what had just happened. His father’s hand on the switch- on the switch, pressing with intent, pressing with deliberation-

Pain brought him back, as it always did. Pushing every doubt to the side, he raised his eyes upward to see the figures on the high balcony, recognizing even from a distance the scavenger by the way the Force flowed around her. Prey, said the part of him that had sparked to life when the bowcaster shot had ripped into his side.

(No.)

He adjusted his grip on his lightsaber, and let the pain fuel him as he ran toward the power that blazed like the brightest star on the horizon.

---

You need a teacher.

His own words echoed in his mind during the frenetic exodus of the rapidly destabilizing planet that had briefly been their most powerful weapon. He felt feverish; his own power could no longer negate the effects of exertion and blood loss. The vision in his right eye was clouded by the drip of blood and sweat from the wound the scavenger-

(-magnificent-)

-the girl had given him.

He found that he didn’t care. She was-

(-desert sun-)

-raw power and determined grit, blazing like-

(-like people he had known, like his mother in the old pictures before he was born-)

-like she could burn him and everything in the galaxy to embers.

He thought he might be beginning to like her.

He found himself slipping into blackness as the medics began their work, and for a moment he thought he could feel a gentle hand on his hair, a motherly touch skimming the edge of his temples.

What am I going to do with you? a voice breathed in his ear, concerned and fondly exasperated in one go. With his last moment of consciousness he opened his eyes, searching his surroundings for whatever fool had managed to hold on to gentleness in the grinding mill that was Starkiller.

Nothing, and no one.

---

He dreamed of lying on his back in a meadow, the sky overhead overcast and gray. Someone was stroking his hair and humming a tune in a minor key. The touch felt familiar, in some odd way; almost motherly.

“My poor boy,” the unknown woman murmured, skimming a finger over where the scavenger had burned his face. The skin there felt like an old scar, not a fresh wound. “It was kind of her to miss your eye.”

The thought of the scavenger did not rile him in this dreamscape. He blinked in lazy contentment, and caught at the corner of his eye the sight of saffron gauze ruffled by the wind. “It’s going to storm,” he noted calmly.

“This is just the eye of the storm.” She leaned forward, a surprisingly young face appearing in his vision. “The rain will be back soon enough.”

- - -

Time passed in a bacta-blurred daze. Later, he would read the medic’s notes and discover that the wound in his side had become infected very quickly- the arrow had been treated with something, the medic thought- and all told he was out of commission for over a week.

He dreamed of walking lonely down long halls, following the sound of distant footsteps. He dreamed of the meadow, empty and gray. He dreamed of the moment his uncle betrayed him.

Finally, as the last of the infection left his body, he dreamed of the woman again.

- - -

“It was a gift, you know.”

The same meadow, green and lush. He sat on the grass opposite her, feeling little of the calm he had felt at their last meeting.

The woman watching him shifted slightly in the grass, her embroidered saffron skirts lapping against his knees. Chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders, only partially restrained by delicate nets. She was young- certainly no older than him.

“You look like Shmi,” she said fondly, reaching forward to brush a hand over his hair. “That hair… I haven’t thought of her in so long.”

He held still, wary. “Who are you?”

She settled back, a strange smile on her lips. Genuine amusement, but deep sadness as well. “The proof was buried,” she said, almost to herself. “No one knows.”

He looked at her more closely, at the hair, the lines of her face. The answer was stunningly obvious, once he thought about it. “You’re my grandmother.”

“Yes,” she said simply, her hands folded on her lap.

He cocked his head, taking in her straight back, her seeming delicacy. The identity of his grandmother had always been a mystery, and she wasn’t what he had expected. She looked fragile, like a doll, and he wondered if it had been merely external beauty that had drawn Anakin Skywalker in-

But then her gaze sharpened, and he saw the same steel that he had so often observed in his mother. No passing fancy, this woman.

“This is no path for you, Ben.”

The words were cool and clipped, severely at odds with the exterior she presented. She sounded like a matriarch displeased with the baby of the family- which would be him, he realized with surprising disquiet.

He ignored her words. “Will you tell me about him? You must know things... secrets.”

She sighed quietly. “You don’t want to know about me?” she asked mildly, and he found himself blushing slightly. “Your grandfather isn’t the only one with a legacy to pass on, you know.”

He was torn between curiosity and the creeping, tearing feeling that he was a failure- a failure at killing his father, at securing an apprentice, even at visualizing his idol in what was surely a fever dream. “I-”

“It was a gift,” she interrupted, leaning forward to take his hands, a line forming between her brows. “It was such a gift, Ben.”

“What was?” he asked without really thinking about it, genuinely confused, even more confused when she freed one hand and tapped his chest. The edges of the meadow seemed to be bleeding, turning from defined lines to dreamy watercolor.

“Your father.” His lightsaber suddenly appeared in her lap, crude lines against the embroidered gauze. “He gave you a gift,” she insisted, her form growing gradually more obscured by a light that seemed to flow from her very skin. One surprisingly calloused hand was still clasped tightly around his. “It will bring you home, if you let it.”

With those words, she disappeared. His lightsaber dropped lightly onto the grass, and he stared at it, shaken, as the color drained from his surroundings until he was alone in the dark.

---

It took all of Kylo’s skill to hide the truth of his father’s death from Snoke, and with it, he hid the dreams. Even so, he sensed what might have been a current of doubt in Snoke’s attitude. He felt his master’s power seep through his mind, rifling through memories before pulling back with a palpable feel of dissatisfaction. “You have done well,” his master said nonetheless. “Your sacrifice will be remembered.”

Snoke settled back in his throne, his gaze still assessing Kylo. “There is a nest of traitors I want you to root out,” he said. “The First Order has a strong presence on Naboo, but the rebels there have proven themselves… a nuisance.”

Kylo considered the name, and quickly remembered the basics: a small, pastoral world near the Outer Rim. Not particularly useful in terms of military strategy, but notable for the very important fact that it had been the homeworld of Emperor Palpatine.

Caves, he remembered suddenly, the lessons of his boyhood coming to fore. Naboo was made up of so many caves and tunnels that an entire warren of rebels could plot there in relative obscurity. It was a pity that Starkiller was no more-

(A sigh in his ear, almost like wind through tall grass.)

-but, he considered, a hard fight might be just what he needed to order his ragged mental state. Victory, and a reminder of what he was fighting for, would dim the part of him that wanted to weep like a child for his father.

(There was a wall around the memory that kept out more than Snoke, and he wouldn’t, couldn’t think of the whys and wherefores, nor of the dream’s insistence that it had been a gift.)

“I will wipe them out,” he promised fervently, thumping a fist to his chest in a show of fealty that also jostled his barely-healed wounds, the pain filling him with the rage he needed. “I will leave immediately.”

“Yes.” Snoke was still watching him as if he were a puzzle to be solved. “Set their cities ablaze, if need be.” Something that might have been a crooked smile settled on his face. “Palpatine would have done the same.”

---

He prepared for departure, occasionally repeating the thump of fist against his chest to chase away inconvenient memories.

(The press of a hand against his face; the startling burst of intense curiosity when the girl’s mind had snapped closed against his power.)

He thought, for a second, that the same grave woman he had seen in his dream skirted the edge of his vision, but when he checked all he saw were dull, blank walls. No sweeping skirts, no concerned looks.

It had just been a dream, after all, he reminded himself with another thump to the chest. Just blood-loss and fever overriding his common sense. He was alone, as he always had been.

---

Another dream. Swampland, this time, complete with drooping trees and squelching mud underfoot.

“You didn’t ask my name,” she said, looking notably younger than when he last saw her. Sixteen, maybe, clad in a burgundy outfit that looked like some kind of royal livery, complete with a blaster on her hip. “Why was that?”

He found himself lacking an answer. She seemed to take pity on him. “You thought it was just a dream, I know,” she said, waving a hand casually. “Still, it would have been polite.”

“I suppose,” he mumbled, remembering how it felt to be taken to task by his mother. “I- I’m sorry.”

“You are forgiven.” She smiled brightly. “You, of course, are Ben Solo-”

“Kylo Ren,” he interjected.

“Ben,” she said firmly, her expression daring him to argue with her.

He did not.

“And I am Padmé Naberrie.”

The name meant nothing to him. “Were you a Jedi?” he asked, though he was fairly certain of the answer.

“No.” She seemed to consider her answer. “I was a politician.”

That made sense. A Jedi at that time in history could have theoretically been assigned bodyguard duty; perhaps that was how his grandparents’ paths had crossed.

“Sit,” she said suddenly, commandingly. “We should talk about… about other things.”

He sat on the driest patch of ground he could see, biting back a complaint about the cold, damp dirt beneath him. “Happy things, I suppose?” he asked sarcastically as she circled behind him. Her hands settled in his hair, fingers sifting through the strands in an intentional way. “What are you doing?”

“Hush,” she said absently. “And yes, happy things. Or neutral things, at least. Tell me about the young woman who gave you that wound.”

He stilled. “The scavenger?”

“She has a name, I assume.”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Very well.” She continued sifting her fingers through his hair, the touch taking him back to when his mother would soothe him to sleep. She was doing it intentionally, he guessed. It seemed more and more likely that she was not a figment of his imagination, but a legitimate apparition.

And if she were the latter… the question was why. Why now? Why not ten, fifteen years ago? Where had she been when the call to the dark had grown intolerable?

She seemed to sense his growing anger. “Relax,” she murmured, her touch so maternal that it fed his anger with frustrated longing. “You’re safe here.”

He yanked himself away from her, leaving strands of his hair still entangled in her fingers as he scrambled to his feet. “What do you know?” he screamed, his voice echoing through the dreamscape. “Decades of nothing, and you think that treating me like an errant child will make me open up to you without a qualm!”

He stalked closer to her, dropping his voice to a growl. She gave no ground, standing stalwart against him. “If my own mother couldn’t pull me from this path, what makes you think you could? At best, you’re a figment of my imagination. At worst, you’re a powerless ghost.”

She stared up at him, silent for a long moment. “I couldn’t save Anakin,” she said finally. “I suppose I wanted a second chance.”

The dream swirled away. When he woke, his scalp ached as if hair had been ripped from its roots.

- - -

The perfection of Naboo was almost a physical ache. He could vaguely remember traveling with his mother to the capital city when he had been a boy- five, perhaps. Maybe six. They had visited a towering waterfall on one of her rare afternoons off, and the water had been warm against his skin. Now the fields were still green, the cities still lovely, but his practiced eye could spot the military outposts that did not quite blend with the traditional architecture.

He was greeted by a woman in her mid-thirties, whose expression revealed only the slightest amount of nervousness. He was impressed, in a sense; so often the representatives he met practically stank with fear. The woman before him was an oasis of calm in comparison, her brown eyes meeting his own squarely- albeit through his helmet.

“Lord Ren,” she said coolly, with a bow calculated to a degree that was neither servile nor intended as an insult. “You are most welcome to Naboo.”

He inclined his head, but made no answer.

She seemed to expect that, and turned slightly, indicating that he might follow her if he pleased. “I am Ruwee Naberrie,” she said, and it was through pure strength of will that he kept walking. “Her Majesty has assigned me to assist you during your time here. If you have need of anything, please let me know.”

What he could see of her through his helmet was similar to the woman in his dreams. “The name is familiar,” he said finally.

She flicked a glance in his direction that might have been startled, though she hid it well. He thought he sensed a vague undercurrent to her- a slight Force sensitivity, perhaps. She probably had always known when bad news was on the wind, without knowing exactly why. “Perhaps you are thinking of my great-aunt,” she said. “She once served as our queen, and later as a senator.”

He kept his pace even, but allowed himself the luxury of giving her another quick look. Assuming his dreams were real- and the way his scalp had ached that morning argued that they were- she was his cousin of some degree.

He considered that thought. He’d never had a cousin.

They entered a portrait gallery, and she slowed as they approached the end of the hall. “My great-aunt, Queen Amidala,” she said, gesturing toward a portrait.

He stopped walking. “She was young,” he said finally, considering the face that lay hidden behind white and red makeup. The teenager depicted could have been nearly anyone, though the skilled artist had managed to capture the determined look in her eyes.

“She was fourteen when she was elected.” Ruwee said with quiet pride.

“I would like to meet her,” he said with studied calm. Said calm sounded more like menace through his helmet- a positive feature, he rather thought.

“She is deceased, Lord Ren,” Ruwee said, the pride replaced with wariness. “I would be happy to show you her grave, if it please you.”

He scrutinized his grandmother’s face for a moment longer, memorizing it. He could see the hint of baby fat still on her cheeks. “No,” he said finally, turning away. “I have vermin to exterminate.”

- - -

Kylo was finding it difficult to focus, though he needed that focus more than ever. The rebel problem was more complex than he had thought. They moved like ghosts through the tunnel system, striking First Order outposts at random. Spoiling the food rations at one location, poisoning the water at another. He was distracted by the memory of the portrait in the gallery-

(-he thought of his father, and he would have wept, if he could-)

-but he pushed forward, rooting out small encampments of traitors with ruthless efficiency and starving himself of sleep as if that would keep away inconvenient dreams indefinitely.

His strategy could only work for so long, of course. When he finally succumbed to an exhausted sleep, she appeared, clad in a plain blue dress and standing amidst sand dunes.

The question he asked was the same one that had been gnawing at him ever since their last meeting. “Why didn’t you try to reach me earlier?” he snapped, the memory of the bloodbath from earlier that day still fresh in his mind. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, the aftermath of that particular battle.

(He lied to himself. He had known that meadow.)

“What makes you think I didn’t?” She raised a brow in slight censure, though her mien was otherwise kind. “What makes you think I haven’t been throwing myself at your walls for years?”

He stopped in his pacing, staring at her. “But-”

“You were locked down tighter than the palace grounds,” she informed him. “Surrounded by thorns of pain and twisted intent. I tried. Anakin tried,” she said with deliberation. “Even he couldn’t breach your walls.”

“But-”

She interrupted his startled exclamation. “He repented, at the end,” she said simply, and shrugged. “The light couldn’t pass your boundaries.”

“He gave in to his weakness,” Kylo countered feebly, remembering what Snoke had told him of Vader’s final moments. “He threw away his destiny…”

“He saved our son.” Her hand landed lightly on his arm, so insubstantial he hardly felt the press. “It was the greatest sacrifice he could make, at that moment.” She raised the same hand to his cheek, and Kylo could swear that the ghost of his father’s hand overlaid hers for the barest of moments. “But you know about sacrifices,” she said softly, her blue gown suddenly shifting to crimson robes of state, her face still bare of makeup. “Your father’s left a crack.”

It was an apt word. He imagined solid, seamless walls; remembered the shock of his father’s death that had seem to reverberate through him like the impact of porcelain on stone. “Then why didn’t he come?” he asked numbly, unsure himself if the ‘he’ was his father or his grandfather.

“I was always more stubborn than Anakin,” she said with a hint of humor. “And more diplomatic.”

“And this was your planet.”

She nodded, and the landscape around them shifted to the same meadow that his stormtroopers had flattened earlier that day. The grass was still wet with blood. “We picnicked here,” she said, pointing to the east. “Your grandfather and I. Some of my happiest memories were in this valley.” She pointed southward. “My father proposed to my mother under that tree.”

Said tree was split nearly in half, the trunk dark with blood.

“Some sacrifice is needed to bring order to the galaxy,” he said through clenched teeth, willing himself to believe it.

“I am tired of members of my family contributing to the destruction of democracy,” she bit out in the greatest show of temper he had seen yet from her. “I’m tired of my family dying in defense of it. There,” she said, jabbing a finger northwest. “And there, and there, and there. My great-nieces and nephews. Your cousins. They died today.” She looked tired, suddenly. “Perhaps this is useless.”

He snagged her arm before he even considered it. “You’re leaving?” The question was angry, and desperate.

“Are you even listening?” She made a futile gesture with her hands. “I have ruled a planet. I have dealt with trade delegations and curried favor with hundreds of politicians who called me child, and I have done all of that since I was a child. My portrait may be in the royal gallery, but I am just one face among many. Those who know my true legacy grow fewer by the year.”

“You’ve ruled a planet, and you think you can’t do anything with me?” he asked, the question slipping out with little consideration.

She stared at him, lowering her hands. “Unfortunately, what I want and what I can accomplish do not always overlap,” she replied quietly, her voice heavy with meaning. “I have been forced to come to terms with that fact more often than I would like.”

For a long moment they stood opposite each other on the battlefield, saying nothing. The crimson skirts of her regalia swept blood-soaked ground, making her look as if she were somehow a part of that patch of earth.

“Do you know what you really want?” she asked finally.

He opened his mouth to reply-

-and stopped. He swept his gaze around the meadow, lingering for a moment at the sight of the ruined tree. “I’m not sure,” he admitted at last. “I thought I knew.”

She nodded slowly. “Sleep on it,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face as she acknowledged the irony. “I won’t come to you again unless you ask.”

The pain of being abandoned again must have shown on his face, because she took a step forward and touched his cheek.

“You’ve had so many ghosts in your head, Ben,” she said gently. “You didn’t invite any of them. Even I just barged in.”

“You’re more pleasant than most,” he said gruffly.

“Faint praise, considering the others.” She stepped back, a sad smile on her face. “I’ll know if you call me. I’ll come,” she promised. “If you want me to help you- if you just want to talk, I’ll come.”

He woke to an oddly empty feeling. As he lay in his bed in the gray light of dawn, he searched himself, finding the inner core of power that his uncle had taught him to meditate on. In his mind’s eye he could see the same tumultuous, roiling cloud that his power had become, shot with lightning black as pitch.

There seemed to be less of that corrosive lightning than usual.

He considered the sight with uncertainty. His power had not dimmed, but without conscious realization the balance had shifted minutely toward the light.

Do you know what you really want?

He opened his eyes, staring upward at the shadows on his ceiling.

He had no idea how to answer that question.

Chapter Text

The food at the palace was excellent. Kylo just couldn’t bring himself to eat much of it.

An aide handed him a holoscreen deferentially as he picked at his breakfast. “The final report on yesterday’s skirmish, Lord Ren.”

He perused the document, taking note of the number of their losses before taking a close look at the section detailing the known identities of the rebels who had fallen. Of those listed, there were two Naberries. Naberrie, he reminded himself, might simply be a common name on Naboo… though he had a feeling it was not.

He also knew that he would not be the only one to notice that their liaison shared a surname with two dead rebels.

“Bring me FN-1843,” he said after a moment of deliberation, pushing away his plate.

The woman who entered was slight and walked almost silently, despite her heavy boots. “Lord Ren.”

“Search Ruwee Naberrie’s quarters,” he ordered. “Report to me and only me what you find.”

She did not display any curiosity at the request, or any confusion that he was choosing stealth as opposed to simply performing the search in the open. Technically he could do just that- he could raze the palace to the ground, if he pleased, and the Queen with it if she protested- but he was conflicted by his dream the night before. It was foolish, a part of him still protested, to be swayed by images conjured up by his brain. It was weak.

Another part of him- one that had been squelched and subdued for a very long time- felt a strong sense of hope. It was an emotion he was unfamiliar with.

For the moment, ordering the search was his only solution, and the only course the two combating parts of him agreed with. If Ruwee were a rebel herself, he could choose to let her unknowingly lead them to their next victory.

Or he could help her.

The idea made him uneasy even as it fascinated him.

- - -

FN-1843 appeared at his quarters the evening of that same day. “Lord Ren,” she said with a salute, “I have found proof that the liaison appointed by the palace is a traitor.” She presented him with a holodisk. “This is a compilation of the various documents which I found hidden in the wall of her room.”

He took the disk, considering it. “You left the originals in place, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How well were they hidden?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the disk.

“Expertly,” she replied, only the slightest hint of pride in her voice at the implication. “She will never know I was there.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He placed the disk carefully on his desk. “Did you tell anyone else of your mission?”

“No, sir.”

He made his decision in an instant. The look of alarm in her eyes when he raised his hand was brief, quickly replaced by compliance as he carefully plucked her memories of the day from her mind. “When you file your report, you will relate that you found nothing in Ruwee Naberrie’s quarters,” he said quietly, implanting the suggestion firmly in her brain. “All evidence suggests she is loyal to her Queen and to the First Order.”

“I found nothing in Ruwee Naberrie’s quarters,” she parroted back slowly. “All evidence suggests she is loyal to her Queen and the First Order.”

He released his mental grip on her, stepping away as the dazed look left her eyes. “You are dismissed,” he said coolly. “Your report is appreciated.”

She saluted and left the room.

He turned toward the holodisk on his desk and considered it for a long moment. “And what shall I do with you, cousin?” he murmured under his breath, tapping the fingers of one hand on the table. After a moment of further thought he activated the disk.

Coordinates. Troop movements. Even a few love notes between Ruwee and a rebel off-planet. He could use all of it, if he wanted, to deal a very heavy blow against the Resistance.

He began to pace, a light sweat breaking out under his arms as he balked at the idea. “They were just dreams,” he sneered, sending a chair smashing against the wall with a wave of his hand. “You are a fool. You are not worthy of your grandfather’s legacy.”

He repented, at the end.

He shivered. “I’ve gone too far to go back.”

The words tasted sour in his mouth. He moved swiftly back to the damning information, scrolling through the last bits with his teeth clenched. There was a letter informing Ruwee of the deaths of a band of rebels on Endor; there was yet another love note.

And there, at the very bottom, a memo that gave him pause.

An encrypted comm used by the Naboo rebels had been contacted by a familiar passing ship. By a woman using rebel codes to identify as friendly. By a woman named Rey.

Rey… in the Millennium Falcon. After Starkiller.

And included in the memo were instructions on how to contact her.

He backed away from the disk as if it were a venomous snake, his back hitting the wall with an audible thump. He pressed his fingertips lightly against his chest, over the spot where his heart thudded rapidly.

He had forgotten how very painful hope could be.

- - -

He carried the disk on him at all times, telling no one of its existence. He also sent a squad of stormtroopers to a minor outpost detailed in Ruwee’s information, giving no reason why and ignoring the ache in his stomach as he did so. He couldn’t explain the ache anymore than he could explain the decision to ambush a mere ten rebels when he could have ordered the ambush of hundreds.

As his subordinates discussed rumors of other locations, Kylo kept his own counsel. They muddled through vague suppositions and whispered hints as he loomed over them, the knowledge they needed present in his own mind. He tried to convince himself that he was merely tricking the rebels into letting down their guard.

He had been on Naboo nearly two months when Snoke lost his patience.

“Worthless!”

The lash of power across his back was not unexpected, but it did nearly cause his knees to buckle. “Supreme Leader-”

“I am tired of your excuses,” Snoke seethed. His power lashed out again, breaking open another strip of skin on Kylo’s back. “You’ve lost your edge, child. You’ve-”

Another lash.

“-grown-”

Another.

“-soft.”

The last lash hit Kylo with such ferocity that he dropped to his knees, dazed. Simultaneously his mind was invaded, Snoke tearing through him with all the subtlety of a grenade. Kylo hunkered down amidst the maelstrom, hanging on to his sanity by his fingertips. The mental shield he had placed around his secrets- secrets that would sign his death warrant, and the death warrants of thousands of others- began to splinter under the onslaught.

Help.

Immediately there was quiet. He could still sense the rampage through his memories, still feel the lash against his body, but his consciousness- and the knowledge he held privy- was tucked away safe.

He can’t tell, his grandmother whispered, pain evident. He doesn’t know I’m here.

He’s hurting you.

Better me than you.

The simple words shook him.

Snoke’s wrath subsided as quickly as it had come. “Go,” he told Kylo brusquely. “Claim a victory or suffer for it.”

The projection disappeared, leaving Kylo kneeling on the floor, bleeding.

You’ll come again? he asked, feeling the shield she had erected around him dissolve.

I’ll come.

- - -

He allowed the medics to treat the wounds against infection, but otherwise suffered the pain. The practice was characteristic for him- a reminder of the rage that fueled him, and a source of power- but in this particular instance he meditated on the pain for a different reason: he could not remember the last time someone had voluntarily stood between him and danger.

The realization was humbling.

When he dreamed of his grandmother again, she was his age, but with threads of white in her loose hair.

“Your dream,” she said when he noticed. “I bring myself and my memories to this meeting ground, but your emotions have the power to influence what you see.” She inspected the ends of a lock of hair. “You felt my pain.”

“How could he affect you?” he asked, edging closer.

“He has a great deal of power- especially over you.” She shrugged slightly. “And I am part of you, in a certain sense. I can’t explain it.”

He looked away, his gaze landing on her parents’ engagement tree. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted quietly. He felt broken anew.

“One step at a time,” she said soothingly, laying a hand on his arm. “You have the knowledge you need.”

“I can’t fail without Snoke tossing me to the side.” He turned his gaze back to her. “I’m of more use inside the First Order than out. I’ll have to… make sacrifices.”

“Yes,” she admitted gravely, and he saw in her a leader who was no stranger to the weighing of military strategy. “But the damage could be mitigated.”

“Warnings?” he hazarded. “Eventually Snoke will look for a mole…”

“Eventually you’ll have to strike.” She handed him a lightsaber- not his, but his grandfather’s. He had last seen it with the scav- with Rey.

He stepped back and activated the lightsaber. The blue was as electric as he remembered; the crystal far more balanced than his own. It felt comfortable in his hand. “I don’t have this.”

“I know.” She stepped toward him, unheeding of the blade he held. She tapped a finger against the scar that very blade had left on his face. “It makes you look rakish,” she added with a grin. “I suggest you talk to her.”

He considered the instructions from Ruwee’s file and nodded slowly, turning the lightsaber off. “I will. But… Naboo. I need your help.”

“I’m not omnipotent,” she said, a bit tartly, “but I do have a few ideas.”

- - -

It was not easy to spoof an existent encrypted comm, but his father (he still felt pain at that word, and it was a pain he could not quite face) had taught him a variety of not-so-legal skills, always followed with a warning to not tell your mother, kid. It was easier when you had all the information about said comm at your fingertips and weren’t playing a guessing game.

He very nearly second-guessed himself when he sent out a signal, nearly did so again when someone picked up.

“Hello, Naboo.” Her voice crackled over the comm, but he recognized it in an instant. She sounded sleepy. He wondered where she was, and when.

“Uh-”

He bit back a groan at his fumble, the speech he had carefully prepared gone from his memory. “Sorry to disturb you,” he continued, flustered. “You should know- in case you were thinking of passing by again- the First Order is keeping a close eye on the planet.”

That… was not what he intended to say.

She made a concerned noise. “Do you need help?”

“No,” he said quickly. “We’re handling it. This is merely a warning to allies.”

“Thank you.” She sounded more awake. “I don’t think I talked to you last time.”

He glanced at the memo detailing her initial call; noted the rebel who had spoken with her. “No. We lost Vima.”

That fact, at least, was true. Vima D’un had died in a raid nearly a month before.

“Ah.” There was a beat of silence, but when she spoke again there was no suspicion in her voice. “Who are you?”

It was as if every name he had ever known disappeared from his mind. “Matt,” he finally said after a frantic search, wincing when he realized that he had offered a name from the core worlds, rather than Naboo. “I’m a radar tech, usually,” he offered before she could reply.

“Matt.” She was beginning to sound tired again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he replied with no little awkwardness.

“Call me again?” she asked, and laughed sleepily. “It’s nice to talk to someone.”

He remembered the lonely woman he had met months before. “It’s just you?”

“And my teacher.” She laughed again, but it sounded sadder. “Not that he wants to be my teacher.”

She had found his uncle, then. She could have hardly gone to anyone else to learn the ways of the Force- the side of the light, at least.

“Is he kind?” he asked, the memory of waking to the green glow of his uncle’s lightsaber fresh in his mind.

“Hmmm. Surly.” She yawned. “He hasn’t chased me off yet.”

He wanted to warn her, to tell her to run.

“I’ll be in touch, then,” he said instead.

He stared at his equipment after letting the connection end. He could trace her location, he mused. He could find her.

He could teach her, better than his uncle could.

Kylo considered the thought, and recognized in it a seed of the man he had been for over a decade. It was dark, that thought. It was lustful. Something in him wanted her- something that was both light and dark in equal measure.

- - -

“‘Matt’,” he grandmother said dryly, looking amused. “Interesting tactic.”

“I panicked,” he admitted in a mutter.

“Yes.” She chuckled. “I noticed.”

- - -

Using Ruwee’s notes, Kylo sent a series of coded messages to the most strategic of the resistance cells on Naboo, conveying the dates and times of future raids. He sent them unsigned, unwilling to be so cliché as to end with the closing “a friend.” It would be true- he couldn’t think of anything more friendly than a warning of imminent doom- but he didn’t feel that it would be particularly honest.

He still felt like Kylo Ren, after all. His rougher edges had been smoothed and his conscious had awakened, but a part of him still yearned for an easier, darker path. There were days when that part of him seemed to surge in desperation, clawing at the uneasy balance he was attempting to establish with the light. When the dark was at its darkest, he thought of his grandmother’s white-streaked hair, which had never gone away. It was a reflection of his own guilt, he supposed. The reminder usually settled him, at least a little.

When the first cell to be targeted ignored the warning, he played his part. Kylo Ren stood on a height above the battle, watching in seeming dispassion as his forces cut down the majority of the Naboo rebels. A few managed to disappear into the forest- a sight he pretended not to see.

The helmet was a blessing, he decided as the bloodshed reached its peak. No one could see when he flinched.

The other rebels learned from that mistake. From that moment forward any cell that had been warned by the nameless correspondent disappeared as if it had never been there, leaving behind tunnels that showed only the barest signs of previous habitation. Those failures were balanced by the inevitable victories against the smaller, less strategic camps of rebels.

“Does it make you angry?” he asked his grandmother one night, shivering in the rain that fell on the meadow they so often met in.

“That you can’t warn everyone?” she replied, looking as bedraggled as he felt. “I never expected that, Ben.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth to respond. “I wouldn’t,” she admitted. “In your place, I wouldn’t. This is a long game we’re playing.” She plucked at her damp crimson skirts, her expression grave. “The Resistance can’t lose you.”

“They don’t know they have me,” he pointed out, and she waved a dismissive hand.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not speaking as a grandmother- not only as a grandmother,” she amended. “Leak too much information and eventually suspicion will fall on you. If Snoke discovers you are the mole, he will kill you.” There was a crack of thunder overhead. “Staying alive is your prerogative.”

He concentrated his gaze on the complex embroidery on the hem of her skirt. The gold and silver threads still shone, despite the rain and the splatters of mud. “I could save more people.”

“Without you, we won’t save any.”

- - -

He called Rey again. Ostensibly his goal was still to retrieve his grandfather’s lightsaber (though with the corner he had backed himself into, he couldn’t imagine how), but in reality he just wanted to hear her voice.

Surprisingly, she seemed happy to hear his.

“Is your teacher still surly?”

She laughed quietly. “Yes. He’s… I think he’s suffered some disappointments. In life, I mean. And probably in me.” The last bit was said in a tone that was indisputably strained. “I think I remind him of someone.”

Kylo thought of the power he had sensed in her, that great well-spring of the Force which had drawn him to her from the first moment of her awakening. A small part of him was very amused by the fact that his uncle had doubtless been scared shitless by it. The rest of him was terrified.

“Maybe you should leave,” he offered tentatively, feeling legitimately nauseated as he imagined his girl of the desert winds facing the business end of his uncle’s lightsaber. “Surely he isn’t the only teacher around.”

“But he is,” she said with a sigh. “And I’m very charming,” she continued with a distinct tinge of amusement. “I’m sure I’ll win him over.”

Kylo wouldn’t find that surprising at all.

“Besides,” she added dryly, “I’ve been told that I need a teacher.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side, unsure how to respond. “It doesn’t sound like you agree.”

“That’s the thing,” she responded. “I do agree. I’m not happy about it, but I agree. I need to learn… control.”

Over the next few weeks he called her again, and again, and again, until only a few days would go by at a time before he reached out to her. He slept better on those nights, he found. There was something about her voice which calmed him immeasurably, even if all they ever spoke of were mundane topics. He wished he could speak to her face to face in the same way- to see her eyes light up and her lips curl into a smile as she recounted little stories about her days, from her first experience with rain to when the porgs nearly interrupted her “weapons training.”

The bit about the porgs had slipped in by accident, he thought. She was generally very circumspect, and for good reason. She must not have known that porgs only existed on Ahch-To.

Of course, he hadn’t known what porgs were at all until he had covertly availed himself of the palace’s library. There was very little information available about their home planet, but what he found fit. It seemed that his girl of the desert winds had finally found her island.

- - -

“Favorite color.”

“Green.” Rey sighed. “You so rarely see it in on Jakku. It’s almost a myth. The first time I saw a forest- it was on Takodana…”

She trailed off. “I’d never seen anything like that before,” she said finally. “It was like a dream.”

A dream that had ended with him abducting her. He stared down at his hands, biting back the apology he wanted to make. “Maybe one day you’ll see our forests,” he said instead, thinking of the immense trees which filled Naboo’s many woods.

“Maybe I will.”

- - -

“Four months, wasted,” Snoke hissed, his projection looming over Kylo. “Vader would have laid waste to the planet in less than half the time.”

Kylo kept his head bent in seeming deference, steeling himself for pain. His grandmother’s presence was almost tangible in his mind, her shield buffering him from any mental assault.

It was a good thing, he acknowledged later, that she was not dependent on him remaining conscious, because when the pain came, it was very bad indeed.

And while he was unconscious, First Order troops razed Theed University to the ground.

- - -

He stumbled through the meadow, feeling his wounds burn with every step. The pain had followed him into his dreams, somehow; he supposed it was too great for even him to ignore. In the distance, his grandmother sat at the edge of a pool, staring into it as if it were a mirror.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for this,” she said without turning around. “You couldn’t have done anything to stop it.”

When he stopped behind her, he saw the smoking ruins of the university reflected in the still pool. “I could have sent a warning.”

She looked up at him at that, guilt on her face when she saw his battered state. “My poor boy.”

He swayed where he stood, despite his efforts to stay still. “I’m not anyone’s poor boy,” he bit out. “I’m- I’m a very bad man,” he finished weakly, slumping to the ground.

She laid a hand on his head. “And tall as you are, that was a long way to fall.”

“Not funny.”

“No,” she agreed, her hand cool on his forehead. “It might be time to run, Ben.”

“Long game,” he reminded her, moving his head slightly to the hem of her skirt. Even in his bitterest dreams she smelled like flowers. “My mother used to smell like this,” he murmured.

“Gingerbells,” she said softly. “From Alderaan, originally.”

“The last fields were in the Hosnian system.”

She kept quiet, and he knew why. Some things couldn’t be replaced.

- - -

“Where have you been?” Rey asked him when he finally contacted her after nearly a week away. “A sudden run of radar failures, perhaps?”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Something like that.”

“What is it?” Her voice had grown more serious. Concerned, even. “Do you need help?”

“We lost the university, in Theed.” He could see the final tally of casualties in his mind. The number at the bottom of the list was very high. “Not a single wall still stands.”

He felt her compassion at that moment, despite being light years apart. The wave of energy made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” he replied, slightly dazed by the warm mental caress.

“You weren’t there, were you?”

“No.” He shifted in his seat, wincing slightly at the pull of still-healing flesh. “But… so many of them were just there. They hadn’t chosen a side. There were no large secret cabals of rebels in the student clubs or faculty lounges.”

“They were just living,” she finished quietly. “I know.”

“Sometimes it’s easier.”

“Before,” she said slowly, “when I was still a scavenger… we all heard about the massacre at Tuanul. It was this village on Jakku, near Niima Outpost. The First Order just… wiped it out. Never heard why. And I barely thought about it.”

“Even though it was so close?” he asked, his mouth dry.

“It wasn’t the first village to disappear in the desert,” she said simply. “And I was so focused on finding the next cup of water, on salvaging any bit of tech that would feed me for another day, I just never thought about it.”

He thought of her, hungry and parched in the desert. “And then an impertinent droid basically dragged you into the Resistance,” he continued, remembering an earlier conversation. Hungry and parched, yet still willing to be kind to a droid with a bent antenna.

“Basically,” she admitted, laughing quietly at the memory.

He could hear the muted sound of her shifting in her chosen seat, her breathing soft over the comm. There was still a trace of her mental caress around him, and he wondered if she knew that she had even sent it out.

“Why did you join?” she asked, in the kind of quiet voice that made him think about talking with her in a dark room, their heads on pillows as they murmured. He let the image disappear with a pang of longing.

“My father died,” he heard himself say, as if the longing had conjured up another ghost. He held his breath for a moment, steadying himself, and when he spoke again his words were true and intentional. “He saved my life.”

Chapter Text

“He saved my life.”

Her initial reply wasn’t audible, but another empathic caress that wound around him like an affectionate cat. He let his eyes drift closed as he released a shuddering breath, his entire being feeling as if it had gone haywire. Any kind of caring touch was still so unfamiliar as to be overwhelming.

Still… the pleasant shiver running along his nerves argued that he liked it very, very much.

When she spoke, it was in a whisper. “Oh, Matt.”

His breath hitched at the name, a dull pain forming at the base of his throat. “Don’t-”

He stopped, biting back the words don’t call me that. “I mean,” he began again, awkwardly, “I don’t… I don’t deserve sympathy.”

She waited in silence, that developing sense of his called Rey feeling only patience on her end.

“I made a mistake. A lot of them.” The confession was so insufficient in comparison to his actual crimes. He was briefly tempted to just tell the truth- to spill his identity, his past, the truth of his father’s death into the dead air between them- but the temptation was just that: brief. If (when) he told her, it would be in person. She deserved that much, at least. “When he came to find me, everything went wrong.” He stared down at his empty hands, remembering the weight of the lightsaber in his palms, the brush of his father’s hands against his in the seconds before his path began to change. “I walked out. He didn’t.”

“Did he love you?” she asked quietly.

He blinked, surprised, his hands falling to his lap. “Yes,” he admitted, the ache in his throat a palpable thing.

“That’s probably how he wanted it, then, don’t you think?”

On instinct he pulled his knees up against his chest like a child, ignoring the ache of his wounds. “It never should have come to that,” he said with as much finality as he could muster. He could feel tears beginning to form in his eyes; could feel his nose begin to run. He swiped a sleeve roughly over his face. “What about your parents?” he asked quickly, desperate for a change of topic.

He could feel her shock. She had always tiptoed around the topic before, leaving him to draw conclusions based on what few clues she dropped and what he had seen during her interrogation. “I don’t…”

She trailed off. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “They left me when I was five or so. I… I waited. For a really long time.”

“You thought they would come back.”

“I hoped.” Her quiet laugh was humorless. “I even wore my hair the same way, so they would recognize me.”

He could almost see it: Rey as a tiny child, her hair in three messy buns. Planets like Jakku were not kind to the innocent. It was a miracle she had not only survived, but thrived. “Who were they?”

“I don’t remember. I used to make up stories- silly stories, you know. That they were royalty fleeing assassins, or mercenaries hired to rid the galaxy of some great evil.” She paused. “They were probably just junk-traders. It would have been hard to feed a growing child if they were living portion to portion.”

There was an anger growing in him that was all too familiar. He wanted to snap out a response- not at her, but in general. He had a feeling that if he ever ran across Rey’s parents, he would lose a significant amount of the ground he had gained. “Harder for a growing child to live on her own, portion to portion,” he said instead, the words coming out stilted as he attempted to strangle his rage.

“It happens every day.”

He pressed his face against his knees, unaccustomed tears dampening his trousers. “I’m sorry, Rey.”

“Sometimes I get angry at them, too,” she admitted in a guilty whisper.

He turned his head, pressing one cheek to his knees as he focused on taking in deep breaths. He wondered if she were hungry, even now. He wondered if she were ever cold, on that rainy island. He didn’t think she would appreciate him asking, at least not at that moment. “Have I ruined it?”

She made a noise that might have been a laugh. “No. I’ll still answer, next time you call and I’m around.”

“You answer most of the time.”

“I know,” she said in a musing tone. “Somehow I usually… just know.”

He smiled slightly. His mother had been the same way.

He stayed in the same position after they said their goodbyes, not even trying to fight back the tears when they came. His father’s death still felt so huge, so insurmountable he couldn’t see how he would ever process it, let alone come to terms with his own part in it.

Would he have ignited the lightsaber, if his father had not?

He wasn’t sure, and that uncertainty compounded his grief.

It was close to dawn when he finally unfolded himself from his position, his limbs stiff. There was still grief- a deep, deep, well of it- but he had cried so long and so hard that he felt on the brink of dehydration. He winced as he stood, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he did so.

He had always been a very messy crier. He looked it, at that moment.

- - -

It was late at night, a few days later, as he tossed and turned in his bed in an uneasy doze. A calloused, almost insubstantial hand rested lightly on his head.

Go to sleep, kid.

He did not remember it in the morning.

- - -

His path to the dark had been a long one, paved with a multitude of small, seemingly insignificant decisions which had nudged him ever closer to the man who was Kylo Ren. Snoke had played a long game, chipping away at his confidence and sense of self for so long that the final confrontation between himself and his uncle had triggered a collapse akin to knocking over a house of cards.

On his journey back to Ben Solo, it was a small, seemingly insignificant decision which led to him scrambling back into the light for good: he took a different route to breakfast.

He had just been trying to avoid scaring the maids, really. He wasn’t in the mood to watch them skitter away in fright, potentially dropping whatever they carried in the process. It was simpler to take a detour and just avoid civilians entirely, and so he wound his way through the section of the palace used to quarter the higher ranking members of the First Order who had accompanied him to Naboo.

There, he found Ruwee surrounded by a company of stormtroopers, her expression grim even before she saw him.

He stopped walking, taking in the situation quickly before turning his gaze to the highest ranking stormtrooper present. “Report.”

“The Supreme Leader has issued orders for this woman’s arrest, sir.”

Apparently Kylo had merely bought her time, instead of completely deflecting attention from her. “Why?”

“She is to be questioned due to her familial connections to the rebels, sir.”

Kylo turned his head slightly to gaze at Ruwee, considering how to play this situation. “Were you aware you had traitors in your family tree, Madame Naberrie?” he asked in a tone of such politeness that he could feel the waves of panic emanating from the stormtroopers. Kylo Ren, after all, was rarely polite, and the helmet he wore gave everything he said an edge of menace.

“That might depend on how you define ‘traitor’, Lord Ren,” she replied with her usual level of commendable calmness.

He turned his gaze back to the leader. “I will escort her to the ship.”

“Lord Ren-”

With a wave of his hand he sent the leader flying back against the wall, his temper still flaring at the idea that a subordinate would question him.

(There was panic under that rage. Panic at sending Ruwee to her death; panic at the pain he would see in his grandmother’s eyes if she suffered another loss.)

He took her firmly by the arm as the remaining stormtroopers scattered. Silently, he towed her through the halls, considering the decision he had just impetuously made. The incriminating holodisk was on his person, at least, and the comm device he had been using had been wiped after his last contact with Rey. The only people who would suffer over his disappearance would be those he could no longer warn of imminent attack.

Ruwee’s calm finally began to fracture when he thrust her into a passenger seat on a small, inconspicuous ship. “Lord Ren-”

“In a minute,” he said brusquely. He pulled his helmet off before beginning take-off procedures, wanting as few distractions as possible if his impromptu rescue turned into a fight.

“You’re younger than I thought,” Ruwee said quietly after a moment, and he paused, casting her a glance. He had forgotten that she had never seen him unmasked.

They left with an ease which he could only attribute to his well-deserved reputation for a hair-trigger temper. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had completely upended the order of things, only to stay in Snoke’s good graces.

(Such as they were.)

Only when they were well away did he speak again. “Where is safe?”

She looked away, her hands shaking visibly in her lap.

“You don’t have to tell me rebel coordinates, or anything like that. Just tell me where to leave you.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because sooner rather than later the entire First Order force will be coming after me, and you don’t want to be there when they do.”

Her gaze snapped back to him, her expression suspicious. “This is a trick.”

“If I wanted information, I would just take it,” he snapped. “I wouldn’t need to lull you into a false sense of security.”

“And why would Kylo Ren be helping me?” she asked, her tone acidic.

“I’ve been helping you for months.” Seeing as she didn’t appear to be in a mood to give him any direction, he set course for his grandmother’s meadow. It was dead earth, now. He kept tabs on it, almost compulsively, and satellite imagery as of the night before had showed no sign of Resistance or First Order presence. “Surely you’ve been wondering who the leak was.”

“I should have guessed,” she snapped back mockingly. “What did you do with the real mole? Torture them on one of your ships?”

“I sent another warning just last night,” he replied, not surprised that she didn’t believe a word he had to say. “Though I suppose you’ll tell them to disregard that warning, now.”

She crossed her arms, her expression guarded. She said nothing more.

The journey would have been pleasant if his companion hadn’t been glaring daggers at him the entire time. Naboo’s lake country had a reputation for beauty, and that reputation was deserved. Only the occasional burned field or ruined manor marred the landscape.

Ruwee looked downright wrathful when she realized where they were landing. “This is crueler than I expected,” she said, following him cautiously onto the grass. “Though I suppose there are worse places to die than my family’s land, where my siblings and cousin also fell.”

“You’re not dying here,” he gritted out. He pulled the blaster from his belt, tossing it toward her. When she made no move to catch it, he used the Force to keep it hovering in the air in front of her. “Take it and run. I’ll fly in the opposite direction.”

She eyed the blaster with suspicion. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a very long, very improbable story.” He glanced toward the sky. “They’re probably already tracking the ship. If I’m going to lead them away from you, it has to happen now.”

She was an excellent diplomat, he knew that. An excellent spy, as well.

As it turned out, she was also excellent with firearms- and he probably should have expected that. With a quickness that startled him, she snatched the blaster from the air and turned it not on him, but the ship.

“No!”

It was too late: her single shot had crippled the panel responsible for several essential functions, including the ability to actually lift-off.

“Kriff.” He stamped his foot, not particularly caring that the show of temper just made him look like a child. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

“Scuttled your plans.” She began to back up, the blaster trained on him. “I won’t lead you to them.”

He kept his clenched hands at his sides, frustrated beyond belief. “The women in this family are so kriffing stubborn,” he swore, kicking at a clod of dirt.

“Excuse me?” she said, indignant.

He didn’t have time to explain, even if he thought she might be receptive to the truth. “Same deal,” he snapped. “You go one way, I’ll go another.”

The first glint of what might have been understanding appeared on her face. “What?”

“They’ll want me more than you.” With that he turned on his heels and sprinted in the opposite direction, hoping she wouldn’t take a shot at his back.

She didn’t. Instead he heard her curse and launch into a run, her footsteps growing quieter as she ran away from him.

He passed the blasted tree on his right as he headed toward a stand of woods. It was just a brief glance, but he saw it: the flash of new, green growth from the split trunk.

- - -

The woods in his chosen direction were patchy, which meant that he made excellent time on foot but was likely visible from the air. There was a crumbling building built into the cliffs within walking distance, the only sign of civilization within sight. It looked deserted.

He glanced up at the sky, where dark, rain-swollen clouds were gathering. If he ran, he might at least stay dry.

Sense overwhelmed instinct. Instead of making a beeline for the door, he crept from shadow to shadow, accumulating several scratches from thorn bushes along the way. By the time he slipped into the building, his clothing was soaked through. The building, however, was deserted, as he had thought. The wood floors were warped and the walls scarred.

He took a closer look at a mark on one wall, frowning. The mark looked suspiciously like the burn of a lightsaber.

His grandmother’s voice whispered in his ear, so quiet she was almost inaudible. He took the property from my family.

“Grandfather?” he asked in a murmur.

This is where we were married. He returned once, after I died.

He turned in a slow circle, considering his surroundings in a new light. A once warm family home, marred by his grandfather’s rage. “That explains why no one is here,” he muttered. “The locals probably think it’s haunted.”

He took a right turn down what seemed to be a main corridor, and after a few minutes found himself in what had been the kitchen. He backtracked, pulling from a pocket one of the emergency rations he always carried. He chewed grimly on the leathery stuff as he explored the rest of the building, eventually ending in a bedroom covered in a thick layer of dust.

Rain still fell thickly outside. By his estimate he had only woken three or four hours ago, but he felt as if he had been awake for much longer than that. He also had the very strong feeling that he needed to speak with his grandmother face to face, for at least a few minutes. He stripped the dust-covered quilt from the bed, instead rolling himself into a musty blanket from a nearby closet which probably wouldn’t turn his clothing an uneven gray.

In the same way that he had trained himself to ignore pain, he had also trained himself to ignore physical discomfort. His fatigue was more than enough to outweigh his dislike of damp, clammy clothes.

- - -

“You left your shoes on,” his grandmother said as soon as he slipped into dreams, one brow raised in censure.

“The sheets haven’t been laundered in over sixty years. I doubt anyone cares.” He sat up in the bed, noting the smear of mud his boots had left on what was now pristine linen. The entire room had been transformed to what he guessed had been the height of its glory. “Did you grow up here?”

“Summers.” She gestured for him to follow her. “You can’t stay long. This is the obvious bolt-hole; they’ll check.”

“I know. I need a vehicle.”

She led him down a gleaming staircase, down a hall, and then past a door which placed them in a more utilitarian corridor. “There may be a speeder that still works, but it’s more likely that they’ve all rusted away. You should take the tunnel.”

Another staircase. They were into the mountain, as best he could tell. “How far does it go?”

“To the other side of the mountain.” She stopped at what seemed to be a dead end. “Press here, see?”

She pressed the underside of a shelf, and a section of the wall swung open. “Take a light, Ben. Wake up and run.”

- - -

He jolted awake, immediately sending out his power to sense if anyone were nearby. No one, at least for the moment. He made his way quickly down the path he had followed in his dream, ending at the same dead end. There was a small lantern on a nearby shelf; he pressed the switch and was rewarded with a dim light. Not ideal, but better than carrying a lit lightsaber through a dark tunnel.

As he slipped through the hidden door, he sensed the arrival of his former compatriots- not yet close; perhaps only at the meadow. He hoped that Ruwee had run far and fast to a bolt-hole of her own.

The door closed seamlessly behind him, leaving him standing in a pool of murky light from the lantern he held. The tunnel was carved directly into the mountain, a series of rough steps in front of him and the ceiling so low he had to hunch over slightly. He walked forward at a cautious pace, constrained by both the dimensions of the tunnel and the fact that the light extended no more than four feet in front of him.

“I’ll be covered in cobwebs by the time I get out of here,” he said, more as a ploy to distract himself than in annoyance. He was not quite comfortable with spiders. “How long will this take?”

His grandmother declined to answer.

He took the hint, and spent the next few hours trudging through the dark in silence. Gradually the tunnel expanded outward, until he finally stepped into a large, dark cavern. He explored his surroundings with his senses, finding nothing more than the usual arachnids and insects. He sat, grateful for the opportunity to rest.

Tucked in his small circle of light, the cavern seemed even larger and more ominous than he knew it to be. He wasn’t used to being afraid-

(-not true; he was always afraid-)

-and now he felt small, in that pool of light. Weak.

He felt like prey.

The looming feeling of being hunted grew. Faintly, he felt the claw of Snoke’s mind searching for him. He pulled his knees to his chest, willing his rapid heart-rate to slow as he projected a feeling of not here.

After several long minutes of searching, Snoke withdrew.

Slowly, Kylo allowed his limbs to loosen from their frozen state, his heart-rate slower but with the occasional blip. As he forced himself to take in deep, even breaths, he methodically pulled strands of cobweb from his clothing, thinking back to his childhood almost despite himself. How long had Snoke been lurking there? Since infancy? Earlier than that? Once, when he was a teenager, his mother had mentioned off-hand that he had had terrible nightmares as a toddler, so likely Snoke had been whispering to him for at least that long.

It was the curse of notoriety, he supposed, his hand shaking as he continued his work. Any child of the Skywalker line would have been targeted in the same way; it was just his luck to have been the only one. Rey was lucky, in that sense: no one would have been looking for a child alone, spawned by no one of significance. All that power had been left to grow gradually in the desert, untainted by the agendas of others.

Still, he thought, feeling ashamed as he considered the rations he still carried with him, at least he had been fed, clothed, and housed under a solid roof. More than that, whatever failings his parents had been guilty of, they had loved him.

He leaned back against a stalagmite, worrying the edge of his cloak between his fingers. There was something nagging him- a memory, perhaps, though one so fragmented he couldn’t recall the who or what or why. It felt recent.

There, in the dark, he made three promises to himself:

He would kill Snoke.

He would apologize to his mother.

He would speak to Rey, face to face.

After that, he would consign himself to whatever fate the Force had in mind for him.

- - -

He emerged from the passage in the early light of dawn, the exit blocked by thick bushes and lush trees. The stormtroopers were nowhere near.

There was, however, a familiar woman waiting for him just beyond the exit.

“You look terrible,” Ruwee informed him, herself looking almost impossibly neat after a night in the woods. At some point she had changed into clothing more suitable for the terrain. A different blaster was at her hip, and while she looked marginally more approachable, she didn’t exactly look friendly. “How did you find the tunnel? The Force?”

“You were running in the opposite direction,” he said, unaccountably irritated by her presence. “What are you doing here?”

“As you might have guessed, I know where the Resistance caches are.” She nodded her head toward a speeder half-hidden in the shadows. “I won’t take you there, of course,” she said sharply. “But-”

She broke off abruptly, a faint blush on her cheeks, and he understood immediately. “You dreamed of great-aunt Padmé.”

She gaped at him.

“I’ve been dreaming of my grandmother since before I arrived on this planet.” He tried to brush off his clothing, which was a complete act of futility. “Hello, cousin.”

He could feel her reaching out, unconsciously, with that hint of Force sensitivity she carried. He allowed it to brush over him as she made up her mind, that bit of sensitivity plucking at his thoughts and motivations in a bid to find the truth.

Finally she took a small step forward. “You weren’t lying about being the mole.”

“Grandmother smacked some sense into me at the eleventh hour.”

A small smile appeared on her face. “From the stories I’ve heard, that sounds about right.” Her smile died. “What will you do now?”

He looked up at the sky, still tinted slightly pink. “I could use some clothes. And a way off the planet.”

She considered him seriously. The calm she had always displayed at the palace had not been fake, but it had been a kind of mask, he thought. There was a new gravity to her features that seemed more natural. “I think I can help you.”

She drove, and if it bothered her to have one of the most feared men in the galaxy clinging to her waist, she didn’t let it show. They took a circuitous route that stayed within the tree-line, heading away from the capital city. They skirted the edge of Gungan territory, skimming the outskirts of the marshes until they broke into deep, unrelenting woods. Other than a few breaks, they drove almost non-stop until evening.

She stopped at the base of a rocky outcrop. “It’s not much to look at,” she said, almost in apology, “but it will get you where you need to go.”

A twitch of her fingers revealed the rocks to instead be an advanced bit of camouflage. Beneath the netting was a ship- an old, small ship, one that had seen better days. It rather reminded him of the Millennium Falcon. “It will do,” he said, running his fingers along the side of the ship. “She’s sound.”

“Where will you go? The Resistance?”

He thought of his girl of the desert winds, and how she would soon hate him even more than she already did. After the life she had led, he doubted she would forgive deception any more than she would forgive him for the death of his father. “Indirectly,” he said, his shoulders hunching slightly forward.

“Complicated?” she asked, raising a brow in a way that made him suspect she was the eldest of her siblings.

(Her dead siblings, he thought, feeling ill.)

He turned away from her, allowing his hair to fall over his face. “War always is.”

Chapter Text

“You can’t convince everyone.” He leaned back against the blasted tree- blooming, now, in this dream- and let the light of the sun wash over his face. “Practically the entire galaxy will be after my blood; you can’t sneak into everyone’s heads.”

His grandmother sighed, but nodded. “It’s easier to reach blood relatives,” she admitted. “And Ruwee- she was raised on stories about me.” She flashed him a brilliant smile, a smile that reminded him of his mother when he was young. “You don’t begrudge a little interference, do you?”

He huffed a slight laugh. “No. It got me off-planet.”

“You got yourself off-planet,” she insisted. “You saved her life.”

And he had overseen the battle that had led to the deaths of Ruwee’s siblings and cousin. He owed her a blood-debt that could never be repaid. He mustered a slight smile. “Great-aunt Padmé helped.”

Another brilliant smile. “Maybe a little.”

- - -

He roused from his light sleep, his lanky frame uncomfortably situated in the pilot seat. The view before him was starlit black, with Ahch-To glimmering blue and green close by.

It had perhaps been a mistake to rest before landing. He hadn’t been too concerned about being found by another ship- this was as unoccupied a corner of the galaxy as he had ever seen- but it was entirely possible that his uncle had felt his presence and was preparing himself accordingly.

(Rey could take care of herself, he thought, even as he remembered what had happened the last time his uncle had felt threatened.)

His hands hovered over the controls, a part of him wondering if it would have been wiser to find his mother first and throw himself on her mercy. He knew why he hadn’t, and the urge to find Rey had not been his (entire) reason: he could do more. Helping the rebels on Naboo had barely made a dent in the debt he owed to the galaxy in general; the debt he owed to his mother felt even greater. He had destroyed her life’s work. He had shattered her family.

He had, for all intents and purposes, killed her husband.

The fact that she would have likely welcomed him back with even less a show of contrition on his part did not matter.

He placed his hands on the controls, and made his approach to Ahch-To.

- - -

It was raining when he landed. Drizzling, really: the kind of soft rain that sparkled in the sun, as if there were no clouds at all. He disembarked from the ship, and after a moment of concentration headed north. Rey was somewhere in that direction, and she felt alert.

She had sensed his arrival, evidently.

Her power pulsed like a beacon, drawing him up ancient paths and through crumbling ruins, past the little creatures he recognized immediately as the porgs she had referenced. He was not surprised when he rounded a bend and found her waiting at a plateau on the path, near the edge of the cliff.

He was not surprised, but he found that he was not necessarily prepared. After so many weeks of talking companionably with her over comms, seeing her in the flesh-

(She was lovely.)

-was a jolt. Their handful of actual meetings had been electric, but ultimately brief.

And there she was, standing before him in the soft rain, an expression of pure hatred on her face. Before she could speak, he dropped to his knees in the mud, extending his lightsaber to her, handle first. If she ignited it, he would be pierced in the heart by his own blade.

Her anger visibly diminished, leaving confusion in its wake.

“Take it,” he told her, keeping his gaze on her. Her hair curled slightly in the damp; droplets of rain slid down her face in a strangely fascinating way. She looked fragile, though he knew from experience that she was anything but. A drop of rain clung stubbornly to the tip of her nose, and he smiled slightly at the sight.

His smile, slight as it was, seemed to renew her anger. She snatched the lightsaber from his hand, her cloak falling back from one shoulder as she sent the weapon in a strong arc over the cliff, into the ocean.

He watched its trajectory dispassionately, then turned his gaze back to her. “Excellent throw.”

Her mouth fell open briefly before snapping closed, temper flaring in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to make amends.”

He wasn’t entirely surprised when a burst of power threw him backward by several feet, leaving him on his back in the mud. Her control was very good; she could have easily thrown him off the cliff, right after his lightsaber. “I can explain,” he said calmly, staying where he was in an attempt to seem non-threatening. Rain fell into his eyes, and he resisted the urge to shield them with a hand.

“You killed your father!”

A sudden, entirely psychosomatic weight hit his chest at that moment, leaving him short of breath. What she had said was the truth, in its own way.

He was saved from answering when she continued, walking quickly forward until she was nearly at his feet. “You are a monster.”

“Yes,” he agreed, a wash of hopelessness seeming to drag him further into the mud. “I am.”

She tilted her head slightly to the side, watching him in a way that suggested she wasn’t sure what to make of him. “What are you doing here?” she asked again, quieter.

He responded in a voice that was just as quiet. “I came to help.” He stared up at the sky, rain in his eyes and mud in his hair. “I came to surrender.”

When she responded, she sounded a little lost. “Why?”

“Because I trust you.”

She took a step back, looking bewildered. “Why?”

“Because your favorite color is green,” he said, and heard the hitch in her breath. “And because the first time you saw Takodana, you thought it was a dream.”

He caught a brief glimpse of her face before she ran, pelting away from him up the hill and disappearing into the ruins. She had looked betrayed.

He stayed where he was for a moment longer, before sighing and sitting up. A porg moved curiously toward him, watching him with impossibly large eyes.

“Will she come around, do you think?” he asked it, beyond the point of feeling ridiculous.

As the porg continued to stare, heavy footsteps sounded behind him, coming steadily closer. He waited until the figure walked around him before he moved his gaze upward to meet his godfather’s eyes. Chewie stared down at him, the bowcaster held loosely at his side. He had obviously seen the entire altercation with Rey- or at least a good bit of it.

“You didn’t hit me in the heart,” Kylo said. “Your aim is better than that.”

“I held you as a babe,” Chewie answered, his voice mournful. “Han would have wanted mercy.” He held out a hand in his direction.

Kylo Ren felt his heart stutter at that gesture of unexpected grace.

Ben Solo accepted the offer of help, and stood, tears mixing with the rain.

- - -

He allowed himself to be shepherded by Chewie to the Falcon. When Ben hesitated at the threshold, assailed by memories of the past, Chewie waited patiently behind him for several minutes before firmly, but gently, pushing him forward toward the living quarters. He pulled a pile of clothing from a cupboard and held it out it to Ben.

Ben stared at the messily folded clothes- his father’s- and then gingerly took them in his hands.

“Clean up.” Chewie stood between him and the exit, gesturing toward the ‘fresher. “You look like a swamp rat.”

Ben looked down at himself, his mouth twitching into a slight smile. Ruwee had provided him with a ship, but little else. He was still in the stylized black clothing that was characteristic of Kylo Ren, though after several days of hard wear he probably did look less than impressive.

One look in the mirror confirmed that thought. He looked… he looked the very opposite of terrifying.

Once clean, he padded out to the common area in socked feet, leaving his boots behind to dry. Chewie had given him the kind of clothing his father had worn on his laziest of days: forgiving drawstring pants and loose shirts. The pants were too short, and the shirt snug.

The clothing was clean, but still smelled like his father. It made his throat ache.

Chewie laughed when he saw him, and Ben offered a small, unsure smile which lasted only seconds. He felt as if his godfather’s unexpected forgiveness would disintegrate at any moment, as if he might be in the kind of nightmare Snoke would have dreamed up. He felt like he had dreamed of familial acceptance before, only to have it dashed in his face.

Instead, Chewie made him sit at the old, battered table, and stood over him as he began to eat his first hot meal in days.

“Little Ben.” Satisfied that he was eating, Chewie sat across from him. “Your mother will be happy to see you.”

Ben felt his shoulders hunch upwards, almost to the level of his ears. “Maybe,” he muttered, forcing himself to eat another bite of the stew in front of him. It tasted delicious. It tasted like his childhood.

It tasted like something he didn’t deserve.

Chewie made the kind of high-pitched hum that Ben recognized as a placating sure, sure.

“You’re feeding him?”

Ben didn’t bother glancing back at the door, but he did place his spoon carefully back in the bowl.

Rey stormed in, looking flustered. “Why is he here?” she demanded of Chewie, who shrugged.

“He’s my godson.”

“He’s a killer,” she retorted, turning to gesture at him. “He-”

He saw her look at him, saw the moment when she realized. “You gave him Han’s clothes?” she asked in a horrified whisper.

Ben glanced down at himself, seeing the stain that had never quite washed out of the shirt, the way the hem of the pants passed his ankles and rested an inch or so above the loosely cuffed socks. The emotions spilling off of Rey tugged at his heart, distracting him from the grief that seemed to shadow every move he made.

“You have no filter,” he said, turning his gaze back to her.

She gaped at him, disbelief on her face. “What?”

“You project your emotions. I felt them, even on Naboo.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He could have sent her own anger back at her, or his own grief. Instead, he remembered the concern she had sent him days before. He pushed it back at her, realizing too late that it was intertwined with the dazed longing that it had aroused in him.

She took a step back, her face pale. She believed him, he could tell, and hated it. “I don’t understand.”

“My uncle should have taught you how to control that,” he muttered, feeling more irritated than the situation warranted. “It’s a Jedi thing.”

“And you are an expert on Jedi things,” she snapped back.

“I was his student for years.” He looked back at his rapidly cooling stew. It seemed safer.

“Not a very good one, apparently.”

“No,” he agreed.

His willingness to put himself down seemed to bewilder her. “Chewie,” she said, the name both a question and a plea. He sensed an attachment between them, almost like that between a parent and a child. He wondered if she had felt the same way about his father- his desert girl, alone for so long- and decided that was probably correct.

When Chewie didn’t answer she left the ship. He stared after her, feeling guilty. He had a talent, it seemed, of depriving her of parental figures.

- - -

Once his boots were dry- drier, at least- Ben left the ship, accepting one of his father’s jackets from Chewie with reluctance.

“I look ridiculous,” he told Chewie flatly, finding it easier to focus on his vanity than the fact that he was literally surrounded by his father’s possessions.

“Yes,” Chewie agreed, and ruffled his hair.

It was dusk. Ben considered his surroundings, casting his senses out to reconnoiter the landscape. Rey to the east, his uncle to the north.

He headed east. As angry as Rey was with him, he felt infinitely safer with her.

A small group of porgs followed him cautiously as he kept to the path, creeping closer and closer until they were almost at his heels. He cast them a wary glance, aware that an innocent package could hide very sharp teeth.

His path ended at a hut. Rey met him at the door, blocking the entrance.

“So,” she said, eyes narrow, “Matt.”

“You wouldn’t have talked to me, otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t have been chatting with Kylo Ren, no.” She kept one hand over her lightsaber, as if she were worried that he might try to steal it from her. Even a few weeks before, he might have given it a try, if only in self-defense. “I comforted you,” she said, looking as if she didn’t quite understand how that had happened. “I comforted you over your father’s death, and you killed him.”

He briefly regretted asking his grandmother to stop running interference. “It was my fault,” he admitted, “but I didn’t kill him.”

She sneered at him, her doubt almost tangible. “I was there.”

There, but far away. “He ignited it,” he said, the words falling heavily between them. “Read me,” he insisted when her jaw firmed stubbornly. “You know how. Read me.”

She ripped into him like a lightning storm, sending him to his knees. She certainly knew how, he thought, dazed, but she hadn’t yet learned any finesse. Not that he deserved the kindness. He curled in on himself, feeling as if he were being tossed about despite the fact that the wet earth of Ahch-To was solid beneath him.

The assault stopped abruptly. He didn’t bother to get up; he was rather afraid he would fall on his ass if he did.

She didn’t say anything, but he felt a hint of… of guilt, maybe.

It was inappropriate, but he found himself laughing in a brittle, almost hysterical way.

“What?” she asked, wary.

“I’d take that any day, over Snoke.” The remnants of her attack still shivered along his nerves, but she had left his body otherwise unscathed.

He heard her shifting her weight as she considered him, until finally she took a step back. “You should come in,” she said quietly.

He staggered to his feet. He wasn’t that far from the entrance, but it seemed to be an interminable distance away. He caught her expression- the furrowed brow, her pale cheeks. Guilt, and confusion.

Finally, he made it inside, and sat gratefully next to the small fire. The fact that he was very much at her mercy occurred to him, but he found he didn’t quite care. “You are very powerful,” he said, tired.

“I did find a teacher.” She sat a few feet away, watching him with all due caution. She still didn’t trust him, despite what she had seen in his mind.

He didn’t blame her. He didn’t necessarily trust himself, either. “You did,” he said, noncommittally. Her control when it came to searching his mind had been dismal. His uncle never had been one to teach the finer points of mental manipulation- but then, that was a tool traditionally used by the dark.

She threw a small branch onto the fire, the light flickering over her face. “You didn’t kill him,” she said after a few minutes, her voice low, as if she were still coming to terms with the idea. She tilted her head to the side, gazing at him. “Would you? If he hadn’t… done that?”

He couldn’t be anything but honest with her. “I don’t know.”

She nodded slowly. “And now you want- what? Redemption?”

“I don’t expect that.” The urge to lie down beside the fire was almost overwhelming. “I just want to give whatever I can give.”

“You can’t give enough to make up for what you’ve done.”

“So I should have stayed with the First Order?” He gazed into the flames, his throat tight. “Would that have been better? To not even try?”

“No.”

They kept silent for a few minutes, both of them watching the fire. “Everything I told you was true,” he said finally. “Other than my name.”

“How did you know how to contact me?”

“I was on Naboo. Our palace liaison was working with the rebels; I had her room searched.”

Rey glared at him. “And she’s dead now, I suppose?”

“No.” He shook his head. “She got me off the planet.”

Rey looked as if she had too many questions to number. “Why?”

“Because I was secretly feeding the rebels intel.” He met her gaze straight-on. “My grandmother was from Naboo. Ruwee- the liaison- she’s my cousin- second cousin, I think.”

“You decided to become concerned about family rather late in the game,” she said in a flat voice, and he flinched, slightly.

“I always seem to be a step behind.”

She gave him an indecipherable look.

He forced himself to stand, swaying slightly as he did so. “I’ll leave you alone.”

She was on her feet and in front of him in moments, blocking the exit. “Sit,” she said, looking and sounding irritated. “You won’t make it back to the ship in that state. I don’t want to have to explain to the General why her wayward son died by toppling off a cliff.”

“It would make you a hero.” He raised a brow, shifting his weight unsteadily. “Imagine the songs.”

“I’d rather not.” She fisted a hand in his shirt, tugging until he sat ungracefully at her feet. “Sleep.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

She stared down at him, her mouth set in a thin line and her forehead creased. “You were telling the truth,” she said, rather grimly. “I saw it in your mind. And I believe that your intentions are good.”

“But you hate me,” he said.

She neither confirmed nor denied, just walked away to grab a blanket and throw it at him. “Snore and I’ll toss you off a cliff myself,” she said, rolling herself into a second blanket on the other side of the fire and setting her back to him.

He slumped down onto the ground, dragging the blanket clumsily over himself. With what little strength he had left he searched for his uncle. Still north.

He glanced once more at Rey, who even curled under a blanket held herself with such obvious rigidity that he doubted she would sleep at all. “I’m sorry,” he said.

The blanket rippled slightly. “I know.”

- - -

His grandmother held his lightsaber in her hands, sea-water streaming from it to dampen her skirts. “Will you miss it?” she asked.

“No.” They were on one of Ahch-To’s cliffsides. He picked up a pebble and tossed it up into the air, catching it when it fell. “The crystal was cracked. The whole thing was unbalanced.” Toss, catch.

“Rather symbolic,” she commented.

“I’ve always been pretentious.” Toss, catch.

“Are you worried?”

“About what? Snoke? My mother? My uncle?” He caught the pebble again, glancing at her uncertainly. “Do you… know?”

“About what Luke did? Yes.” She looked sad, and weary. “He was so like Anakin, in that moment. Making a rash decision with only half the facts.”

He threw the pebble over the cliff. “I really thought he was going to kill me,” he said quietly, hearing the note of vulnerability in his own voice.

“I know.” She threw the lightsaber back into the ocean.

“And then I made a rash decision with only half the facts,” he repeated in a wry, dark tone. “I led an attack against my own school. I, personally, murdered several of my fellow students.”

“I know that, too.”

He threw another pebble over the cliff. “Why do you even bother with us, anymore?” he asked, finding the idea incomprehensible. “You could be doing whatever queens do in the afterlife. You don’t need to be here, listening to a murderer whine.”

“I love your grandfather. I love my children. And I love you.”

He looked at her, unsure what to do with the utter sincerity that radiated from her.

“You aren’t innocent, Ben,” she said seriously. “You’ve been manipulated. You’ve been a pawn, for decades. There have been times when you probably weren’t sure which thoughts were yours and which weren’t. Those are mitigating factors- serious ones- but they don’t change the fact that you are guilty of some terrible crimes.”

He nodded jerkily, rubbing his sleeve roughly against his eyes as tears threatened.

“But I still love you.” She patted his knee gently. “And it’s never too late to turn back. You’ve proven that. Your grandfather proved that.”

He stared out at the sea, mulling over her words.

“There is good in you,” she continued earnestly. “And so much light. You’re going to make a difference, Ben. You already have.”

“It will never be enough.”

“Don’t try to quantify ‘enough’.” Her smile was bittersweet. “Everyone has a different scale.”

- - -

For the second time in his life, he woke up to find his uncle standing over him, lightsaber in hand. Inactive, thank the Force. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither making a move.

“What name are you going by, these days?” his uncle asked quietly.

“Kylo,” Rey said from across the hut. She sat up, shedding her blanket and looking grumpy. “Or you could try Matt.”

His uncle raised a brow, looking as if he had finally been given an answer to a long-standing question.

“Don’t,” Rey warned as she stood. She began to fold her blanket neatly. “If the two of you are going to fight, go outside.”

Ben couldn’t help but quirk a smile at that. She obviously wasn’t afraid of either of them, and he was glad of it. “You would send an unarmed man against a Jedi Master?”

She rolled her eyes. “Does a Sith Lord need a weapon to win?”

“It helps,” he replied with an awkward shrug, hiding his instinctive wince at her words.

His uncle clipped the lightsaber back onto his belt and crossed his arms, still standing ominously over him.

“Read me,” Ben offered, still flat on his back. “You have my permission.”

Compared to Rey’s storm, his uncle’s mental touch was a gentle breeze. He would have preferred Rey.

His uncle took a step back, his face pale in the dim light of the hut. “We should talk,” he said as he strode outside.

Ben sat up cautiously, his muscles stiff. He folded his blanket and held it out to Rey, who accepted it silently.

He found his uncle at the peak of the island, staring out at the horizon. There was a slump to his shoulders that was unfamiliar.

“Uncle Luke-”

His uncle waved a hand without looking at him. “What I saw…”

Ben waited for him to finish the sentence, steeled for the mention of any one of his sins.

“But- my mother.” His uncle laughed quietly, the sound all too sad. “She came to you. She’s never come to me.”

Ben shifted his weight, unsure of how to reply. “Maybe she couldn’t.”

His uncle tilted his head slightly to the side. “Maybe you needed her more.”

Ben shoved his hands awkwardly into his pockets. “It’s not a contest,” he muttered. “You can tell it’s her?”

“I can tell.” His uncle sighed, turning to sit on a crumbling wall. “Just like you were able to tell.”

They stared at each other, caught in an unspoken stalemate.

“Ben,” his uncle said unexpectedly, “what I did that night- it’s my greatest regret.” He stood and moved toward him, and after a momentary hesitation placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Leia will be so happy to see you again.”

He left, leaving Ben standing on the peak feeling oddly hollow. He hadn’t expected an apology.

“Why won’t you speak with him?” he pondered quietly, and got his answer almost immediately.

You were a fortress. He is more.

Chapter Text

For several days, no one other than Chewie spoke to Ben. No one humanoid, at least. He did cross paths regularly with Artoo, who never missed a chance to whistle and beep sarcastically in his direction.

Ben was not entirely surprised by the silent treatment. After the initial uproar caused by his arrival, Rey seemed unsure how to treat him. She varied between quiet anger and cool indifference, all of it underlaid with a kind of bruised hurt that told him just how upset she was by his deception. After his first attempt at conversation had been rebuffed, he kept clear. She would speak to him again- or not- on her own time.

(He was tempted to beg. He strangled that part of him into relative silence.)

His uncle, on the other hand, was brooding. There was nothing Ben could do about that situation, and the tinge of guilt he felt over something he couldn’t control unnerved him. It wasn’t his fault that Padmé apparently couldn’t speak to her son, and he wouldn’t apologize for his own connection with her.

Chewie, obviously sensing his turmoil, kept Ben busy. They worked their way through the long list of small repairs and housekeeping matters that were often ignored, speaking only of safe topics: food, engine repair, Chewie’s family on Kashyyyk. The work was soothing- he knew every inch of the Falcon, and there was something very nostalgic about fine-tuning the engine or using the finicky, antiquated laundry pod- and it wore him out enough that he was able to pass his days with a modicum of peace.

(He felt, occasionally, Snoke’s pull from far off. Not here, not here became his mantra, feeling it with every fiber of his being.)

He was cooking dinner in the small galley when Rey finally sought him out. He glanced at her when she entered, expecting her to check the room for Chewie before leaving without a word.

“You cook?” she said instead, looking somewhat surprised.

“Chewie taught me when I was a kid.” He covered the pot to let the soup simmer, wishing he had some other task to keep his hands busy. “My-”

He broke off, hesitant to even speak the word father around her. “Chewie’s the only member of my family who knows how,” he said instead, the words coming out awkwardly.

She nodded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “We should train together,” she said abruptly.

He dropped the dishcloth he had picked up mere seconds before. “You want to train. With me.”

“I need to train with you,” she corrected sourly, obviously not pleased with the word. “If we’re going to fight on the same side- fight as Jedi on the same side- we need to be able to trust each other.”

“You’re right,” he replied slowly, trying not to sound too eager. “There’s just one small problem.”

She waited expectantly.

“You threw my lightsaber into the sea.”

Her lips twitched into a slight smile, and she shrugged. “There are plenty of sticks.” She looked, for a moment, like she was considering sitting down at the table to continue their conversation.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” he asked hesitantly.

She took a step back. “No,” she said quickly. Her cheeks flushed red when her stomach audibly growled. “I’ll fend for myself,” she insisted, walking away from him.

He stared after her, surprised at how wistful he felt over her departure. She was not for him, he reminded himself, turning away to pick up the dishcloth. That was a bridge he had burned long ago.

- - -

Sparring with sticks made Ben feel like a child again, in the most frustrating way. There was no grace to be found with this makeshift weapon, which felt clumsy in his hands. He dropped it the first time he automatically made the opening twirl of his blade.

“Fierce,” Rey commented with a grin, and the fact that she was reveling in his failure didn’t bother him. After days of being ignored, her amusement was a relief. She hefted her own stick with more surety.

“All your staff training is going to give you an advantage,” he noted.

“Which I need, what with you being so obscenely tall.” She stepped into a basic opening form, the placement of her feet just shy of perfection. He mentally debated whether or not to point that out to her, and then decided that starting off their training with an argument would not be ideal. Instead, he mirrored her position and waited for her to strike.

Their first duel did not go well. Between the weight of the unfamiliar weapon and his hesitancy to use his full strength against her, Ben found himself staying on the defensive. Rey had no such compunctions: she came after him with the same fierceness that had marked their battle on Starkiller. When his stick finally shattered under her blows, her own weapon stopped a mere inch from his collarbone.

“You aren’t trying,” she said, accusatory. “I’m not kriffing fragile, Kylo.”

“Ben,” he said quietly.

She glared at him, but the expression lacked any true heat. “Fine. Ben.” She picked up another stick and tossed it in his direction. “Try again.”

They settled into their opening stances. Again, he waited for her to make the first move.

When she sprang forward, he did as well, their weapons clashing solidly between them. He met her gaze, feeling a thrill at the satisfaction on her face. In a quick move she darted away, barely dodging the sweep of his blade. With an unexpected, huffed laugh, he followed her.

There was a kind of poetry to a proper duel; a sense of leading and following that was shared equally between two well-matched partners. They were not at that level, Ben thought as they sparred, but he thought that one day they might be.

He shattered her weapon during the second round, and the third. The fourth round their sticks broke simultaneously, inspiring a peal of laughter from her. He smiled as he examined his hands, which were scraped and dirty from the bark.

“Tomorrow?” she asked, her expression still open and light-hearted.

“Tomorrow.” He shifted his weight, unwilling to leave quite yet. “Will you join us for dinner?”

She hesitated briefly, then shook her head. “No.” Bending down, she began picking up the remnants of their weapons. “Kindling,” she explained after a moment, and he helped her pick up the rest.

“I’ll take them,” she said before he could offer to carry the small bundle back to her hut. “Tell… tell Chewie I said hi.”

She walked away in the fading light, barely reacting when a porg landed on her shoulder.

A crooned warble sounded by his feet, and he looked down to see another porg staring up at him. “You can’t ride on my shoulder,” he told it sternly.

Another croon.

“No.”

- - -

“She always gives you the same answer,” his grandmother said with a sly, sidelong glance. “And yet you keep asking.”

He plucked a blade of grass and began to shred it into minute pieces. “She has to eat,” he muttered. “And Chewie’s cooking is better than that green milk my uncle seems to live off of.”

He was beginning to think that he should drop the question entirely. After nearly two weeks of sparring and having his meal invitations rejected, Ben felt as if he were beating a dead tauntaun. He was almost certainly making a nuisance of himself.

“You like her, I think.”

He didn’t bother to deny it. He thought too often of her, awake and asleep. “Moot point. She-”

He paused, considering. Hate wasn’t the right word, not anymore.

“-she tolerates me,” he finished. “I can’t expect anything more.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry if you were hoping for a deathless romance,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m devastated,” she replied with a straight face.

“Meanwhile,” Ben continued, “your son watches us spar without saying a word. I can’t decide if he keeping a mental tally of all my mistakes or if he’s worried I might suddenly try to skewer her with a stick.”

“Neither, would be my guess.” She began shredding her own blade of grass. “Have you asked him?”

“I’m afraid to,” he admitted. “I think you being in my brain threw him for a loop.”

She nodded, and sighed. “I might have been able to reach him when he was younger, but for so long I thought it was better to leave my children in peace. They were- are- adults, and I am very, very dead.” She gave him a wry smile. “By the time I decided to interfere, I couldn’t get through to anyone.”

“Not even my mother?”

“No. She has her own shields, just like Luke. Though,” Padmé added in amusement, “I did manage to get through to your father a few times.”

His smile was pained. “And how did that go?”

“A mixed success. He knew me, in his dreams, but he never seemed to remember when he woke up.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “Maybe that was for the best. It would have only hurt Leia, if she had known.”

After a beat of silence he plucked another blade of grass and shredded it along its spine. “Busybody,” he said fondly, and she laughed.

- - -

“How long are you staying?” Rey asked him unexpectedly, nearly halfway through their third week of training.

He nudged a too-curious porg away with the tip of his boot as he shrugged. “Until you tell me to leave, or until we decide to leave together.”

Surprisingly, she nodded, not taking umbrage at the idea. “At some point I- we- do need to leave. I just…”

She trailed off, casting a quick glance at his uncle, who was perched on a short wall farther up the hill.

“He’s not going to come,” Ben said quietly, knowing that instinctively.

The defeat on her face made it clear that she had already figured that out. “I promised your mother,” she said in a whisper.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, letting his chin dip down to hide his expression. His mother had sent out two trusted emissaries to retrieve the scattered remnants of her family, and it looked like only one of them had succeeded.

(But at what cost?)

“She knows he’s stubborn,” he said instead, peering at her through his lashes. “The knowledge that he’s well will hold her over until she can come herself.”

Rey’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “An… interesting reunion.”

“Loud,” he said, nodding in agreement. “She’s even more stubborn,” he added quietly, as if it were a secret, and she chuckled.

The look she gave him was almost friendly, at that moment. “Do you have a plan?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“To end all this?” He felt Snoke’s pull, and projected not here, not here fervently. “No,” he said, his voice distant.

Her disappointment was clear. “Oh.”

He swayed slightly as the pull faded, using the momentum to step away before she noticed. “I did send Ruwee information,” he said, feeling the sting of her disappointment. “I assume she sent it on to the Resistance. Coordinates, banking information. Anything I could think of.” He picked up a stick and twirled it absentmindedly, its rough weight moving smoothly in his hand. “I was a weapon,” he explained, keeping his gaze down. “Not a strategist.”

He flinched when her hand landed unexpectedly on his arm, and met her gaze, bemused at finding her so close.

“Ben.” She fixed him with a serious look. “I-”

With incredible timing, a porg landed on his shoulder and fixed its wide-eyed gaze on Rey.

Rey spluttered a laugh, backing away. “You’ve been making friends.”

“Against my will,” he muttered, nudging his shoulder upward in the hope that the porg would leave. No such luck. It nestled under his hair, and Ben could feel not only Rey’s amusement, but his uncle’s. “I’m just a good vantage point.”

She nodded, looking as if she were repressing a smile. She hefted her makeshift weapon. “Another round?” she asked. “If you can dislodge your friend, that is.”

The porg crooned under his ear, and he sighed. “This might take a moment.”

- - -

He stared up at his dream of the Naboo sun, a layer of thick grass under his back.

The question he asked was not the one he had intended to ask.

“Was it love at first sight?”

His grandmother’s eyes widened. “Your grandfather and I?”

“Yes.”

She burst out laughing, looking incredibly amused by the notion. “Oh, Force no,” she gasped out. “He was nine and I was sixteen.”

Ben wasn’t sure where he had gotten the idea that they had met as young adults. “Oh.”

“Your namesake, though,” she added with a mischievous expression, once she had gotten her laughter under control. “Ben Kenobi was very handsome.”

He looked at her askance, unsure how to react.

“But he was a padawan, and I was a queen,” she said simply, as if she had said something as blasé as a comment on the weather. “We had our little adventure and went our separate ways. Little Ani went with them.” There was an amused glint in her eyes. “Our paths crossed very occasionally over the years, but I never gave Anakin a second glance until he became my bodyguard about ten years after we first met.”

“Assassination attempt?”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “I was a thorn in Palpatine’s side, even when I thought he was still a friend.”

She drummed the fingers of one hand on the ground. “I was fond of Ani, when he was a child,” she said softly. “And then when he was a man, he exasperated me- and then I loved him. I can’t explain it.” She stared up at the sky, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’ve never understood why the Jedi were- are- so scared of passion. Love they can accept, but only a sterile version.”

“Passion led grandfather astray,” he pointed out, mildly discomforted by the topic.

“Passion for what?” She shook her head. “Maybe I just don’t want to believe that he turned to the dark for- or because of- me. I carry my own guilt over his turn, Ben.” She plucked a nearby flower, and it immediately turned to ash in her hand. “The secrecy of our marriage was initially as much my idea as his. Maybe if we had been honest about our relationship, it would have eased some of the burden. I don’t know.”

“Is there a lesson in this?” he asked curiously, sensing an undercurrent to her words.

“Not so much a lesson as a little grandmotherly advice.” She picked another flower, this one staying whole and fresh. She reached out with it and brushed his nose with its petals, grinning at the long-suffering look he gave her.

“Passion has only gotten me in trouble before,” he pointed out.

“You’re a passionate man,” she replied with a shrug. “You’ll never excise that part of you entirely. You just need a healthier outlet.”

He couldn’t stop the blush that rose on his cheeks. “This is an uncomfortable conversation.”

Her innocent expression almost fooled him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ben.”

- - -

He left the Falcon one misty morning, and he followed a new path.

Something tugged at him from the west. Something that was dark, but also light. Something liminal that demanded to be heard.

He found himself at the entrance to a cave.

He briefly considered turning back. It wouldn’t do to slip back into the clutches of the dark now- not after fleeing the First Order and making his first steps toward reparations. Not while Rey was within reach.

Still.

There was light there.

After a moment of further hesitation, he strode into the cave. He followed the twisting tunnels unerringly, drawn by a source that sang with such bittersweetness it made his throat ache. Several times he glanced behind him, certain that he was being followed, only to see no one.

He stepped into a cavern of mirrors, and none of them reflected his face. Cautiously he walked on, feeling as if he hadn’t quite found what he sought.

When he did, he faced a fogged mirror surface, in which a figure not his own was reflected. Shorter. Slimmer.

The name escaped his mouth before he could call it back. “Rey?”

The figure lifted a hand, beckoning him forward. He followed with barely a thought- and found himself in a new landscape, fogged and grey.

“Kylo.”

The name was said by a familiar voice- a voice that was fond. Loving. He turned his head to see Rey standing beside him, wearing a red gown that made his breath catch.

She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow, staring up at him with an adoration that he had never seen from her. “Are you ready?” she asked.

His answer, when it came, was hesitant. “For what?”

“To crush the Resistance,” she said, her fingertips creeping under his sleeve to rest lightly on a pulse point, sending a pleasant jolt along his nerves. Her other hand emerged from the cloud of her skirts, his old lightsaber resting on her palm. “To win the war.”

He stared at her, seeing in that moment an alternate future: one of power, of a galaxy under his thumb. A future with Rey by his side, in his bed.

He dipped his head, starring into her eyes quizzically. She looked- she looked almost hollow. Dimmed, maybe, as if nearly every light within her had been snuffed out.

Ben stepped away from her abruptly, watching as the adoration in her eyes faded to utter blankness. “We’re going to win the war,” he told the simulacrum, a part of him longing for even the facsimile of love it had shown. “But not for the First Order.”

The false Rey faded into the fog, and a new one stepped forward to take its place. A Rey like he had first met, sharp-edged and hostile. “I’m not a prize to be won,” it spat at him. “Murderous snake.”

“I’m not trying to win you,” he insisted, surprising even himself with the desperation in his voice.

“You want to.”

He took a step back. “Yes,” he admitted, shaken.

The wraith circled him, and he turned slowly to watch it. “The lost prince thinks he can woo the little desert girl,” it said mockingly. “What do you want, prince? A quick fuck?”

“No.”

(There would be nothing quick about it, and it wouldn’t be just once.)

“Love, then? A family?” It stopped, meeting his gaze squarely. “Do you think you deserve that?”

“No.”

“But it’s what you want.”

He thought of his dreams: Rey, smiling just for him. Rey, sleeping naked and warm under his arm. Rey, her stomach curved with their child. “Yes.”

The false Rey regarded him with a weighty gaze. “You can’t have everything, prince.”

He took in a shaky breath, feeling in that moment the loss of everything he had given up and everything he would never have. “I’m just trying to balance the scales,” he said beseechingly, lifting his empty hands to no real purpose. “I won’t take what I don’t deserve.”

“And who determines that?” the simulacrum asked unexpectedly. “Give me your hand, Ben Solo.”

Slowly, he extended his right hand, holding it palm up. The false Rey took his hand, a weight forming between their palms. “Be brave, prince,” it told him, the lines of its mouth softening. “And trust.”

The vision faded. The fog faded. He was left, surrounded by mirrors, a hard lump in his clenched hand.

Slowly, he unfolded his fingers.

Resting in his palm was a perfect kyber crystal.

- - -

“What did you see?”

Ben- still feeling dazed, as if a part of him remained behind among the mirrors- took a seat next to his uncle.

“Rey,” he admitted. “But not Rey.”

His uncle nodded. “I saw you.”

Ben’s mind cleared, somewhat. “Me?”

“You.” Luke shook his head slowly, staring down at his hands. “You as a small boy, and as a padawan. Angry and terrified in turns.” He was silent for a moment. “I saw the same turmoil that I saw on that night- but I also saw the source of that turmoil.”

Ben let out a breath. “Snoke.”

Luke nodded. “All that time we thought there was too much of Vader in you. We were wrong.” He met Ben’s gaze squarely. “I know now that you were fighting the dark, and fighting alone. And I pushed you over the line, Ben,” he said, regret clear on his face. “Leia trusted me, and I failed you all.”

“If you hadn’t forced me over the line, something else would have,” Ben said slowly, almost certain of the fact. “I don’t think I could have withstood Snoke for much longer.”

“But with a bit more time, maybe we would have figured it out.” Luke sighed. “I’m truly sorry, Ben.”

“I am, too.” Ben looked down at his own hands, remembering how it had felt, on that night, to grip his lightsaber and carve his way through the ranks of his fellow students. “The school- that wasn't your failure. You weren’t the one who killed them.”

“I might as well have been.”

“No.” Blood had literally been on his hands, and his alone. “I held the lightsaber.”

“So did I,” his uncle said soberly, and they exchanged a long look, both remembering a hut lit only by a dim green glow.

Ben looked away first, unsure of what to say.

After a few minutes, Luke spoke again. “I’m glad she’s helping you.”

Ben smiled reluctantly, his gaze still on the horizon. “Me, too.”

“I was surprised. I didn’t mean to make you feel… unworthy.”

“I know.” Ben considered for a moment, and finally spoke. “She said that she didn’t think it was her place to interfere, at first. By the time she decided otherwise, she couldn’t get through to anyone.”

After a few seconds his uncle nodded, slowly. “I walled myself off,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t even let Leia in.”

My fault, Ben thought.

“I’m tired of fighting this war,” Luke said quietly. “Even when I thought it had ended, all those years ago… it never really ended.”

Ben looked at him- really looked at him- for the first time. The savior of the last galactic war, now battered and fatigued after decades of being the Jedi Master to friend and foe alike. A man who had seen a member of his own family turn against everything he stood for. A man, sick at heart, who had exiled himself to a lonely planet to die.

“This is my war,” Ben said softly. “This is my war, Uncle.”

He held up his hand, displaying the kyber crystal, which gleamed in the sun.

“It’s time to lay down your sword,” Ben said, as kindly as he knew how, “and let me take up mine.”

Chapter Text

It had been years since he had last built a lightsaber, and he had built that one in secret, often in the dark of night. The second time around, he raided the Falcon’s store of tools and old, worn-out parts, carting his chosen bits out into the light of a clear morning. Several porgs gathered nearby, watching him- and the shiny bits of metal- with their usual level of fascination. One crept closer, sidling toward his knee as he sat cross-legged on a blanket.

He leveled a steady gaze on the porg, realizing that he recognized it- the speckle of black dots on its chin was unique. It was the same porg that had taken to using his shoulder as a perch at odd moments. “No stealing,” he told it sternly. “This is delicate work; I don’t have time to chase after you.”

It hopped up onto his knee, settling down with a fluff of its feathers.

Ben bit back a sigh, turning his attention back to the components in front of him. He began sorting them, carefully laying out the most likely pieces in front of himself.

He had been working for roughly an hour before he was interrupted (the porgs, mercifully, seemed content to just watch), though the interruption was a welcome one.

“Is this the traditional way?” Rey asked curiously, kneeling across from him. She kept her hands circumspectly in her lap, though there was a look in her eyes that forcefully reminded him of the trade she had practiced for so many years. She looked as if she were calculating just how many portions she could get for the bits and pieces scattered between them.

“No.” He did his best to hide the sadness- and fondness- that look had inspired in him. “Usually you meditate for hours upon hours, all alone in a room. I did a lot of that last time.” He smirked self-deprecatingly. “You saw the result.”

She glanced around them, a small smile on her face. “This time- porgs and bits of your father’s ship?”

It was the first time she had mentioned his father since the day of his arrival. He met her gaze, feeling slightly nervous. “It seems appropriate to carry a lightsaber made of the Falcon.” He smoothed a finger lightly over a bit of metal. “As a reminder.”

“I think Han would approve.” She said the words with a tinge of uncertainty, but he could read her clearly: she meant what she had said. She just wasn’t sure how he would react.

“I think you’re right,” he replied, and she relaxed.

“Luke told me that you got the crystal from the cave,” she said after a moment, idly scratching the head of a porg that had decided to nestle against her hip.

“Yes. It was an interesting experience.” He watched as her expression changed slightly, as if a shadow had passed over her face. “Have you been inside?”

“Yes.” She forced a quiet laugh. “When I first arrived. I… I thought I saw you for a moment.”

“Really?” he asked, mouth dry. He thought of his two false Reys: the placid lover and the hostile adversary. “Only for a moment?”

“I was hoping to see my parents.” She shrugged self-consciously. “Instead, I saw something I thought might have been you- you as Kylo Ren. And then I was alone.” Her smile was a smile in name only. “I suppose I’ll always be alone.”

“No.” It was a struggle to stay still, to not touch her. “I really doubt that.”

“I’m used to it.” She dug in her pocket, looking flustered. The emotion he felt flowing from her was restrained; she had managed to put up a weak, patchy shield. “I have something for you,” she said, holding out her hand. “I found it on my way out of the cave.”

He took the object from her, the brush of her fingertips against his palm causing a slight hitch in his breath. Quickly, he focused his attention on what he held, scrutinizing it. After a moment he sat up straighter, raising a brow in surprise. “It’s a stabilizing ring.”

“Useful, then?” she asked, looking pleased.

“Very.” He placed it carefully in front of him, aware that his expression probably revealed far more than he would like. His ordeal in the cave had focused his already existent feelings for Rey into almost painful clarity, and her gesture made him wish for more than was wise.

(Neither of them had to be alone, he wanted to say, and maybe he felt that thought a bit too loudly.)

“Thank you,” he said instead, trying to tamp down his own emotions. She gave him a quizzical smile, her gaze sharp. He felt the moment when her shield fragmented; felt as her initial confusion became a startled understanding, and braced himself for her reaction.

Instead of yelling at him, or running, she regarded him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Her emotions were suddenly locked down tight, beyond his reach. Silently, she stood- and took a step toward him.

He looked up at her, confused himself. The porg rested quietly on his knee without making a peep.

Rey reached out a hand and laid one finger on the portion of his scar which lay on his forehead. “You’ve never said anything about this,” she said.

“There’s nothing to say,” he replied honestly.

She gently traced the line of the scar down his face, her brow furrowed. Her fingertip lingered for several seconds on his cheek, and then she turned, and walked away without another word.

Shaken, he stared blindly at the components laid out in front of him, barely noticing when the porg abandoned his knee to nestle under his ear.

“Well,” he said finally to the empty air, “that could have gone better.”

- - -

There was a difference between his dream meetings with his grandmother and his other dreams: the former felt nearly as real as life, and the latter were filled with shifting shadows and fragmented longing. Often he dreamt of running from Snoke’s lash through long, dark halls, only to wake up in a cold sweat. Occasionally he would dream of sifting his hands through Rey’s hair, kissing every inch of her that he could reach as she laughed. He would wake from those in a state of frustrated arousal, which always made him glad that his bunk- though small- was very, very private.

“She’s avoiding you again,” Chewie noted one morning. He was clearly amused. “Your courting skills need work, Little Ben.”

Ben kept his gaze down, on his plate, hoping his hair hid the slight blush he could feel on his cheeks. “I’m not courting her.”

“Not well.”

“We’re in the middle of a war,” he replied. “And until recently, we were enemies.”

“War is a good time for courtship,” Chewie said unperturbedly. “Stirs the blood; gives you something else to fight for. Peacetime is for raising young.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Ben said dryly.

“She would be a good mate for you. Han would have thought so, too.”

That Ben could agree with. He could imagine Rey fitting into the Solo family unit all too neatly. “Even if I were… interested,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “the way we met would always overshadow any relationship we might have. And,” he added, feeling this with bone-deep certainty, “if I’m still alive after this is over, there will be a trial.” He shrugged in as casual a manner as he could manage. “Switching sides has probably saved me from the death penalty, but imprisonment is likely. I’m no one’s potential mate.”

“Once she makes up her mind, she might not give you a choice. Stubborn as your mother, that one.”

“Yes, she is,” he murmured.

“And she cares deeply,” Chewie continued. “She sees the best in people.”

Ben pushed away his half-finished meal, his appetite gone. “Then she’s already seen what ragged shreds of ‘best’ that I still have in me.”

- - -

He finished the lightsaber during an overcast afternoon. Intentionally he held off on igniting it for as long as he could, feeling as if the blade would reveal more about himself than he might wish to see. He put away his tools and scraps; he meticulously polished the casing.

Finally, he reached a point when he could no longer put off the task. The lightsaber fit into his palm as if it were a natural extension of his arm, the metal quickly warming to body temperature against his skin. It felt more comfortable than his first weapon ever had. With a flick of his thumb, he ignited it.

A blade of silver appeared.

“An unusual color for a lightsaber,” his uncle said quietly, appearing from behind him.

“I’m just glad it isn’t red,” Ben admitted. He parried against a non-existent combatant, keeping an eye on the blade. The energy was calm and contained, instead of roughly constrained as his last weapon had been. After a moment of hesitation, he turned it off and offered it to his uncle, who took it.

“Well-balanced,” Luke said after inspecting it with a practiced eye. “It’s a beautiful weapon, Ben.” He switched it off and offered it back to him, appearing unconcerned that the business end of the weapon was pointed toward his chest.

Ben reclaimed the lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. “I’ll do my best to use it well,” he promised.

“I know you will.” His uncle laid a hand on his shoulder, his expression the closest Ben had seen to peace since he had arrived. “We all underestimated you, I think- including Snoke.”

“Hopefully that will work to my advantage, at some point.” He gazed thoughtfully at his uncle. “You can come with us and not be a part of this,” he said. “Or only in an advisory capacity. I’m sure that my mother misses you.”

“You think that Leia would give me a second glance, if you were standing in front of her, repentant?” Luke asked, obviously amused. “Which is as it should be. I’ll see Leia again,” he continued. “Later.”

Which could mean any number of things, to a Jedi. “I’ll keep her safe for you,” Ben said, the words honest if awkward in his mouth.

“If she lets you.” Luke stepped back. “What did you say to Rey, exactly?” he asked, switching topics abruptly. “She’s been in a mood for days.”

Ben sighed, scuffing the toe of his boot in the dirt. “I didn’t say anything,” he prevaricated.

“What did you think very loudly, then?” His uncle was speaking in that same mild tone he had often used with difficult students. Ben was familiar with that tone.

Instead of capitulating and stuttering out a response- as he might have done as a teenager- Ben straightened and met his uncle’s gaze. “That’s between Rey and myself,” he said.

Luke smiled. “You’re right.”

Ben scowled, though the emotion behind it was weak. “Was that a test?”

“I’m not very good as an uncle, but I reserve the right to occasionally poke fun at you.” Luke clapped him on the back. “Go talk to Rey before she starts dismantling the ruins as a distraction.”

“You realize that if she decided to take this island apart, you wouldn’t be able stop her, right?”

His uncle rolled his eyes, looking surprisingly calm at the idea. “Could you?”

Ben considered the question. “Better to ask if I would, not if I could.”

“Between the two of you, you could probably split the island in two. Please don’t,” his uncle added. “It would upset the porgs.”

“Force knows we don’t want to upset the porgs,” Ben said with a sigh.

One landed on his uncle’s shoulder at that moment, as if cued. Luke gave it a sideways glance. “They are a delicate species,” he said in a desert-dry tone.

And with that, they were both laughing.

Ben honestly couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

- - -

She was sitting on a rock near the peak, an odd look on her face. She slanted a gaze at him as he approached, but held her tongue.

Ben stopped a few feet away, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing his own clothing, for once: a bit worse for wear after laundering, but comforting in the sense that it fit and was his own. He was glad that they wouldn’t be having this talk- because he sensed that they would be having a talk of some import- while he was wearing his father’s clothes.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” he said, the words coming out in a more formal tone than he had intended.

“You didn’t offend me,” she said, surprising him. “It’s not the first time.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “The first time?”

“I could have earned more portions,” she said, in a seeming non-sequitur, “for a while, anyway. But the girls who sold themselves to the off-worlders for a night always seemed to die young. Scavenging is dangerous, too, but you tend to live a bit longer. So I always said no, when they asked.” She paused. He, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. “Besides,” she added, in a tone that was entirely practical, “I couldn’t afford the birth control implant. I definitely couldn’t have afforded a baby.”

He was unable to take his eyes off of her. Of all the reactions he might have expected her to have, this had never been one of them.

“There are no happy couples on Jakku?” he asked, haltingly.

“I convinced myself that I was waiting for my parents.” She threw a pebble toward the cliff. “I couldn’t get entangled with anyone. Besides, I’ve seen how those relationships end.” She looked straight at him, her expression serious. “Life is cheap, in places like Jakku.”

It was difficult to speak when she looked at him like that, as if she were much older than her actual years (and she was, in many ways, he reminded himself). “I wasn’t thinking about sex,” he managed to say, finally, the words coming out in an almost defensive fashion.

Her expression turned scornful. “Yes, you were.”

“Fine,” he bit out. “Yes, but not like that.”

The fact that she looked confused was heartbreaking. “Like what, then?”

“Not as a transaction.”

“It’s always a transaction,” she replied, in the same way that someone might kindly disagree with a child.

“No, it isn’t,” he shot back, belatedly realizing that getting into a heated argument with her about this particular topic would not exactly be helpful.

She raised a brow, looking obstinate. “You have proof, then? Did you experience this before or after joining the First Order?”

His hesitation told her everything. “Neither,” she said flatly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“My parents,” he said quietly. “When we were all together, they were always affectionate with each other.”

Her brow furrowed. “You didn’t live together?”

“My mother had her political duties, and my father never could stay in one place for very long.” He felt his shoulders hunch upward slightly. “At most, they were in the same place three or four times a year.”

“And what about you?” she asked, sounding as if a piece of some puzzle had slid into place for her.

“I bounced back and forth.” He shrugged. “When I became… difficult… I went to my uncle’s school.”

She nodded slowly, turning her gaze back to the horizon. “Surely,” she said after they had both been silent for several minutes, “you experienced such a transaction in the First Order.” Her tone was so thoughtful, so quiet that he couldn’t construe the words as combative.

“It was offered,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to be… serviced.”

“Hmm.”

“And Uncle Luke disapproved of that kind of fraternization at his school,” he said in a mutter.

“Huh.” She shook her head. “You’re a romantic, Ben Solo.”

He was struck dumb by that description, unable to quite reconcile the word with himself.

“And I never did get that implant,” she continued. “You’ll have to get your relief after we land on some other planet.”

She stood in one smooth movement and began walking away. After a moment of complete befuddlement, he turned to stare after her.

“You really think I want to have sex with you because you’re the only woman on the planet?”

She paused several feet away, looking up at him. “I think that you used to hate me, and now that you don’t there’s all this… excess emotion everywhere.” She waved a hand in the air, presumably swatting away whatever imaginary emotion she was talking about. “Seems reasonable enough. And I’m the only human you aren’t related to on this island, so…”

He took two quick steps toward her, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her up onto her toes, against his chest. “You don’t feel this?” he asked in a murmur, dipping his head until their lips almost met.

She blushed, her eyes dilating slightly, seeming at a loss for words.

It was hard to think with her body pressed against his, but what did come through were simple concepts: Rey, warm, perfect.

(Undeserved, a part of his mind hissed.)

The rebuke was enough to make him release her and step back. She seemed to sway slightly as she blinked up at him in shock.

“My apologies,” he said stiffly, and took another step back. He hesitated. “It wouldn’t be a transaction,” he said again, the words tumbling over each other, and walked quickly away.

- - -

“How much,” Ben asked his grandmother that night, the words coming slowly, “do you see?”

She gave him a dry look. “I may not be omniscient, but I know when to look and when not to look. I understand the value of discretion, Ben.”

He stared down at his hands. “I don’t know what to say to Rey.”

“Ah.” She looked up at the sky, a contemplative expression on her face. “I thought you said it very well,” she said finally.

He gave her a doubtful look. “Really?”

“Yes. And in any case,” she said, “I don’t want to feed you lines. She’s smart enough to see through that.”

He could only imagine how difficult that scenario would be to explain. “Right.”

“Honesty,” she said with a nod. “Just be honest, Ben. And kind.” She smiled softly. “She needs kindness.”

Rey had, Ben thought, probably seen precious little kindness under the Jakku sun.

“I don’t deserve her.”

Padmé’s expression was patience itself. “I am biased,” she said, “but I think you need to concern yourself less with what you deserve. What one deserves is another one of those concepts that is hard to quantify. That you are in the midst of atonement I won’t deny, but you don’t have to turn yourself into-”

She broke off in the middle of her sentence, and he wryly picked it up for her. “My uncle?”

She drew herself up into a positively regal glower, somehow looking down her nose at him despite his advantage of height. He found himself grinning at her, unrepentant.

“Just be kind,” she said in foreboding tones. “To everyone, including yourself.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Troublesome child.”

- - -

The next time he saw Rey, it was for one of the usual sparring sessions. This one was unique for two reasons: one, because it was the first after their conversation about the nature of transactions the day before, and two, because it would be their first- friendly- spar with lightsabers.

She smiled after he ignited his blade. “It’s beautiful,” she said earnestly.

“Thank you.”

Rey lifted her own weapon, but did not ignite it. “This was your grandfather’s,” she stated, sounding uncertain. He followed her thought process clearly enough.

“And now it’s yours.” He twirled his own blade in his hand. “It called you, didn’t it? It never called me. It belongs to you.”

She nodded. Her shields came and went, but for the moment she was unreadable. She ignited her lightsaber. “Are you ready?”

He stepped into the opening position. “I’m ready.”

Their blades clashed, eyes meeting between. “I’m nobody, you know,” she said, so seriously that his throat ached in sympathy. The blades sizzled between them. “Just a desert scavenger.”

He replied in the same tone he might use for making a vow. “Not to me.”

She blinked, still unreadable.

And then she whirled away, and they were pursuing each other back and forth across the plateau, so in sync that Ben never had to think what movement to make next. It was a dance, pure and simple.

When it ended, and their weapons were put away, they stared at each other for a long moment.

“It’s time to leave,” she said finally.

He nodded, and held out a hand. She met his gaze, then looked toward his hand, and back at his eyes again. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his.

“Come on,” he said, in a low, soft tone, “let’s plot our course.”

Chapter Text

The morning mist was barely gone when Luke saw them off. He clapped Ben on the back, the two of them sharing a meaningful look.

“I’ll see you soon,” Luke promised, a smile on his face. “And your mother.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Ben shifted his weight, a part of him still in disbelief that his uncle looked at him with such trust. “You have the ship, if you decide to follow us.” He nodded his head in the direction of the small ship he had brought from Naboo. “I made some repairs.”

“You always were an excellent mechanic. Han and Chewie taught you well.”

“Yes,” Ben admitted, able to say the word without feeling it stop in his throat. “They did.”

Luke gave him another smile before walking over to Rey, drawing her out of earshot. Ben kept his gaze averted as they spoke- except for a few, covert glances- pretending instead to inspect one of the landing gears. When they both returned to the Falcon, his uncle moved with a relaxed stride, while Rey seemed to be distantly thoughtful.

Ben waited until her gaze seemed more present- twenty seconds or so, nothing more- before speaking. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Abruptly she flung her arms around Luke, hugging him tightly. Before he could even respond in kind she backed away. “Thank you,” she told him gravely.

Ben knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but he was- just a little bit.

“We’ll see each other again.” Luke laid a hand lightly on her shoulder, his face kind. The grave expression on Rey’s face softened. “You were a far better student than I deserved. May the Force be with you.” He looked toward Ben. “With both of you.”

Without quite thinking about it, Ben placed his hand lightly on Rey’s lower back. “And with you.”

- - -

“Ben!”

He jolted up from the co-pilot’s seat before realizing that Rey’s voice- though loud- was amused, not panicked. Chewie chuckled as Ben nonetheless ran down the corridors toward the ship’s hold.

He skidded to a stop inside the door, not quite willing to believe the fact that a half-dozen porgs were roosting comfortably amidst the various supply crates strapped against the wall. “Where did they come from?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, shaking with laughter, one hand propped on her hip as the other covered her mouth.

“How did they get in?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

One porg- the one with black chin speckles, he realized- hopped up onto a crate, placing it nearly at Ben’s eye level. It made a sharp, demanding sound in his direction.

“We’re six hours out,” he muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll have to turn around-”

The porg screeched.

“I don’t think it likes that idea,” Rey commented, sidling closer to him. “And we don’t want to risk running out of fuel.”

Her words- though eminently practical- were tinged with amusement. Amusement at his expense.

He gave her a long look, admitting silently to himself that he would suffer a lot worse than porgs if it kept her happy. Aloud, he said, “They might be an invasive species.”

Rey looked toward the wide-eyed birds as he kept his gaze on her face. “We could keep them on the ship.”

“They snuck onto the ship,” he reminded her.

“We would lose almost an entire day, if we turn back now.”

What little he could read from her was clear: she didn’t want to turn back. Maybe she was eager to return to the Resistance, maybe she wanted to see her friends, maybe she genuinely liked porgs- or maybe, he thought with a sinking heart, she just wanted to be rid of him.

“Fine,” he said shortly, drawing a confused glance from her. “We’ll keep going.”

He stalked back to the cockpit, dropping into his chair with a thump.

“Problems?” Chewie asked.

He huffed out a sigh. “Stowaways.”

- - -

Ben prepared dinner, and it wasn’t until he was halfway through cooking that he realized the menu was, perhaps, meant to impress.

He half-heartedly glared at the dishes in progress. Definitely meant to impress, and with his luck Rey would just grab a handful of protein cubes rather than sit across the table from him for a meal. He was fairly certain that their conversation about transactions- he cringed inwardly- and his impetuous decision to pull her close had stalled any progress he might have made with her.

He picked up the dishcloth, pleating the fabric between his fingers. He loved her, he admitted to himself, giving a name to the emotion that had been building in him for months. He loved the woman who offered him compassion even when he didn’t deserve it, but was willing to lash him with a desert storm when absolutely necessary.

And- selfishly- he didn’t want to do without her. He wanted her as a friend, and as a lover. He wanted her at his back even as he would be at hers- and he was so, so tired of trying to hold himself back.

Thinking of his failure the day before, he smirked self-deprecatingly. Rey read him too well at this point for him to hide his feelings, even if she had misunderstood his intentions.

“No point in scaring her,” he muttered, stirring a sauce. He didn’t want her to throw kriffing transactions back in his face again.

He mulled over the problem as he finished cooking, tensing when he felt Rey leave her post in the cockpit and make her way toward him.

“That smells good,” she said, almost diffidently, and he turned to face her. She was lingering near their store of dried rations, what looked like reluctant longing in her eyes.

With a flick of his wrist one of the chairs slid out smoothly from the table. “Good. Sit down; it’s ready.”

She did so with barely any hesitation, and if her shields hadn’t been so weak he might not have noticed- but they were weak, and there was uncertainty there. He prepared a full plate and held it out to her, holding his breath for what seemed like an interminable moment until she took it from him with quiet thanks. He busied himself with preparing his own plate, watching from the corner of his eye as she began to eat. She still ate like someone who had grown up making the most of every crumb. More than that, her arms were curved around the plate, as if she was subconsciously worried that he might try to steal food from her.

(He had a feeling she would stab him reflexively with her fork if he tried.)

He sat across from her and tasted his own food, satisfied with the blend of spices. “Do you like it?”

She nodded, but he had the suspicion that she would have done so even if the food had been burned. They ate in silence, though he occasionally snuck a glance at her- and once, caught her sneaking a glance back. Their eyes locked, and she froze with a piece of bread halfway to her mouth.

He looked away first, intentionally.

When her plate was empty, she placed her hands flat on the table. “It’s very strange to eat without working for it,” she said quietly. He thought of the work they had done that day- piloting, a minor engine repair, barricading the porgs into the hold- and wondered why none of that counted. “The first time I was on a Resistance base, I missed several meals because I didn’t realize that I could just eat. Finn finally dragged me to breakfast one morning, swearing up and down that no one would question me about whether or not I deserved the food.”

Something he was tempted to thank the man for, assuming his former subordinate didn’t try to kill him at first meeting. “No one ever just gave you food, before that? Even as a child?”

He knew the answer. He just wanted her to keep talking.

“Not without wanting something in return.”

He reached over to the counter, grabbing the container that held the bread. “This is as much yours as it is mine and Chewie’s,” he said, placing it between them. He felt the overwhelming urge to refill her plate, but suspected she would just start worrying over whether or not she owed him something. “And neither of us want anything for it. Besides, you did plenty of work today.”

“Hard to set a value,” she murmured, but took another piece of bread anyway. The smallest piece, but it seemed like a victory of a kind. “It was always set for me, and it changed daily.”

“Here it just keeps going up,” he replied, the words quiet.

“You are a very smooth talker when you want to be, Ben,” she said after a moment.

He thought of his mother’s diplomatic skills, of his father’s way of talking himself out of nearly every situation. “It’s a family trait.”

She continued nibbling at the bread, her body more relaxed than it had been. “When I read you, after you first arrived on Ahch-To,” she began after swallowing a small bite, “I saw… who was she?”

“Brown hair?” he asked, wondering how long she had been wanting to ask this question. “Extravagant dresses?”

“Yes.”

“My grandmother,” he said simply, watching her closely in case she choked on her bread in shock.

She did not, though she did stop mid-chew to give him a piercing look. “Your grandmother?” she repeated after swallowing. “Is this a Jedi thing?”

“She wasn’t a Jedi,” he replied with a small smile. “She was- is- very stubborn. I started to see her after Starkiller.”

The weight of that word alone hung heavy between them. She put down what remained of her bread, not even bothering to shield it with her hand. “Are you sure she isn’t a trick?” she asked, looking concerned. “Or a distraction?”

“She’s real,” he promised. “My uncle saw her in my mind, too- he recognized her immediately.”

“The stories all say he was orphaned.” She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her expression openly curious. “How did he know?”

He leaned forward himself, drawn by this new facet of her. Romance she had no experience with. Stories, though? Myths and legends? He wasn’t surprised that she still believed in those, seeing as she had spent years believing in her own small mythology. “Not a satisfying answer, but I think he just… knew.”

“A Jedi thing?” she asked, a small smile appearing on her face.

“Do you want to see?” He leaned a little bit further over the table. “You have my permission, if you want.”

She licked her lips, looking tempted. Slowly, she reached forward, her fingertips barely touching his cheek.

Last time he had made this offer, she had literally sent him to his knees. This time, her approach was more controlled.

You’ve either been practicing or last time was an intentional attack, he thought directly at her, amused.

A little bit of both, she admitted, grudgingly.

Eventually she pulled away, a new look on her face. He couldn’t define it. “She loves you,” she said, sitting back.

He wasn’t entirely sure what she had seen and what she hadn’t. “Yes.” He tilted his head slightly to the side, trying to figure out her expression. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, flashing a bittersweet smile. “You’re very lucky, Ben. People keep coming back for you.”

She said the words with that innate compassion of hers, which had somehow managed to survive the desert. What sadness he could see lurking in her eyes was nothing like jealousy.

She held still as he slid his hand across the table, laying it over hers. “I ran to you,” he pointed out quietly. “Not to my uncle. Does that count?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, looking unsure. “That was a first.” She looked down at their hands.

He dragged his fingertips slightly across her skin, watching with interest as a faint blush rose on her cheeks. “Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head, the movement slow. “No. This is fine.”

Three minutes. They sat in silence for three minutes, Rey watching him stroke the back of her hand as if she had never seen such a thing before. “I should spell Chewie,” she said finally, pulling her hand away. She gave him a look that made him think she wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. “Sleep well, Ben.”

- - -

He was running, in the dream, through the snowy woods of Starkiller. Running with desperation, with intent, though every muscle burned with overuse. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was running to, but even that knowledge- and the fact that he knew this was very much a dream- couldn’t stop him from plunging into snow drifts and veering past trees, faintly feeling the sting of running straight into the smallest branches.

Trees, trees, and then a wide expanse- and there was Rey, locked in a battle with himself.

Her blue blade clashed against his red, and the look on his double’s face was one of almost bored cruelty. This Kylo Ren had no interest in telling his opponent that she needed a teacher; he was solely interested in dispatching her.

Ben dashed between them, sucking in a breath when Rey’s blade swung through his midsection with no more impact than that of a hologram. He attempted to grab his double’s arm, only to to have his hands swipe through the arm like it was smoke.

He couldn’t stop this, he realized, panic rising in his mind despite a part of him chanting dream, dream, dream.

“You think you can save her, child?” came a voice from above, and he looked up to see Snoke looming over him. “She’ll die at your hand, one way or another.”

Bereft of any weapons, he grabbed a stone from the ground and flung it uselessly at his taunter. “She’ll still be alive long after you die,” he hissed, feeling instinctively that this conversation was very, very real: a mental connection across the galaxy, long-delayed.

“You had such potential,” Snoke spat, his voice booming across the landscape. The dueling figures paid no heed. “And you’ve wasted it. You have too much of your father in you, young Solo.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” Ben held his ground, glaring up at his former master. “That sounded like a compliment.”

“Says the father-killer.”

Ben smirked. He had hidden that truth very well indeed, it seemed. “Am I?”

Snoke pinned him with laser-like focus, something like a cheated anger on his face. “Like your father, indeed,” he said in a low, foreboding tone.

Rey’s scream of rage sounded behind him at that moment, and Ben was helpless to do anything other than spin around to find her.

She stood, bleeding, in the midst of the battlefield, her right arm at her feet. His double’s blade swept through her legs, sending her to the ground in pieces.

Ben ran to her, falling to his knees next to her body. She was staring up at the sky as she gasped in breath. She seemed to see him, in that moment, her eyes finding his. “There’s no green,” she said in a halting whisper. “Where-”

The crackling red blade swept down across her chest, stopping her words entirely. His hands shaking with anger, he looked up at himself, at a face unmarred by Rey’s blade.

“This is who you are,” his double said, the weapon still live in his hand. “Stop fooling yourself.”

He didn’t bother to make a retort. Instead, he stood, feeling as if he were struggling against an invisible weight.

“Come back.” His double held out the lightsaber, hand wrapped around the pommel so that the blade was held level, facing away from both of them. “This is your destiny.”

The weight kept him from lunging at himself. Snow began to fall from the sky- first a few flakes, and then with wild abandon. His double faded into the swirling white as Ben himself was pulled away, something dragging him into the darkness.

In what felt like an instant, he was awake- and once awake, realized he was pinned to his bed. It took him a moment of futile thrashing to realize that the weight on his chest was Rey, holding him forcibly down with both her own strength and the Force.

“Calm down,” she said softly, as he stared at what he could see of her in the shadows of his bunk, still feeling lost in the snow. “It’s all right.”

“I could have killed you,” he snapped at her, horrified at the risk she had taken. “What are you doing in here?”

“You were in pain,” she told him in a matter-of-fact tone, her hands still pressing gently on his chest. She eased off on her Force hold until it was just her weight that held him down- which was the moment that he realized she was straddling his waist. “Your mind was screaming, Ben.”

He searched for the right words, distracted by both her close proximity and the aftershocks he could still feel in his nerves. His shirt and hair were damp with sweat. “I often have nightmares.”

“I felt them sometimes, on Ahch-To,” she admitted. “But not like this.”

He took in a breath, and then grabbed her by the hips, lifting her off of him and over to the edge of the bed. “You don’t need to hold me down anymore.”

He got a flash of emotion at that: unexpected disappointment which transformed quickly to embarrassment. “Right.”

“Snoke’s trying to reach me,” he murmured, very conscious of the fact that her hip was now pressed against his. “He’s been trying ever since I left, but that was the strongest pull I’ve felt.”

“Do you think he’s found you?” she asked. “Does he have our coordinates?”

“I don’t think so,” he said slowly, thinking hard. “I think he had a back-door into my mind. I’ve blocked it off-”

(He hoped, he prayed.)

“-but he still knows how to find that door.”

She laid a hand on his shoulder, and he shivered, remembering her dismembered in the snow. “Ben.”

He rolled onto his side, away from her. “Go to bed, Rey.”

He felt as her weight lifted from the mattress, sensed as she leaned over him. “You are very good at hiding your pain,” she said softly. “And your fear.”

“Habit,” he said bitterly.

She didn’t respond, but her fingertips swept his hair away from his face, lingering on his temple.

And then she left.

He stared into the darkness, projecting not here, not here with the fervency of the newly converted.

- - -

Rey treated him as if nothing had happened the next morning, which Ben felt was a kindness. He didn’t want to tell her the specifics of his dream, and he definitely didn’t want to discuss the episode with Chewie. Instead, he watched as she devoured with barely hidden enthusiasm the breakfast he had made, finding the sight much more enjoyable than what had happened before- and what would happen later that day, when they made landing.

His mother would be happy to see him.

That didn’t make him any less nervous over their coming reunion.

“Your friend, Finn,” he began as she popped her last bite into her mouth, “he knows what I look like.”

Her head snapped up, realization in her eyes. “Everyone else only saw you with a mask.”

“And Snoke kept my identity secret.” He leaned back in his seat. “I don’t think I can just blend in.”

She pushed her plate aside, worry on her face. “The General won’t let them do anything.”

He took in a breath. “Even if they listen, it might be easier for you if you keep your distance.”

Her face took on an obstinate look that he found strangely adorable. “No.”

“Just a warning.”

He stood and strode away, at that, moving quickly toward his bunk. He had just pulled his shirt over his head when the door opened and Rey stormed in behind him. She stopped abruptly when she saw him shirtless, looking utterly flustered.

“Why?” she asked, waving a hand at his chest.

“I reconsidered my outfit.” He dropped the shirt onto the bed- his father’s shirt- and pulled his own worn shirt from a shelf. “I’m not sure how my mother would feel, seeing it- and I’d rather wear my own clothing, for this.” He leaned back against the wall, too amused by her reaction to bother redressing.

“It will make you look like who you were,” she pointed out, her gaze occasionally flicking down to his chest.

“Unavoidable.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, tightly. “I didn’t realize how far down my scar went.”

He glanced down at the mark she had left on him. “I’m not upset.”

She nodded toward his side, practically hugging herself. “Chewie?”

“Yes.”

Rey took in a deep breath. “And… your back?”

There was just one scar on his back: a long, branched stripe, running jagged from his left shoulder down to his right hip. “Snoke. The first time he was displeased with me.”

He pulled on the shirt, her too-perceptive gaze hidden from him for a few seconds.

“‘First’?” she asked.

“Usually the medics kept the wounds from scarring,” he replied, avoiding the issue of how many times, exactly, Snoke had ripped into his skin. “Occasionally Snoke ordered otherwise.”

“As a reminder?”

“Something like that.”

To his surprise, she picked up his discarded shirt and folded it neatly. “I’m sorry, Ben,” she said, holding the small square of cloth out to him.

He took it from her, debating what to say. Finally, when she turned as if to leave: “Rey?”

She looked at him as if expecting some harsh truth.

“He would have wanted your scar to make me angry, every day,” he explained, and she bit her lip. “But even before I turned, it never made me angry.”

“Never?”

“Just curious.”

Her grip on herself loosened. “Because I beat you?” she asked, a blessed glimmer of humor appearing in her eyes.

He nodded ruefully. “That- and because even then, I wanted to know you.”

She dropped her arms to her sides, slowly. “I’m glad you found me.”

He took a step toward her, leaning in slightly. “You’re the best discovery I’ve ever made.”

The corners of her mouth drew slightly upward as her gaze warmed.

He leaned closer, until his cheek brushed against hers and his mouth was next to her ear, and spoke in a murmur. “You’ll help me cage the porgs, right?”

She burst out laughing, stumbling back to lean against the wall of the corridor. He grinned slyly as he watched her through his lowered lashes, pleased at making her laugh before she had turned skittish.

“I suppose,” she said at last, still smiling. “If you’re scared.”

“Terrified.”

“Poor Ben.” She crooked a finger in his direction, the gesture more stimulating than she might have guessed. “Come on, then. I’ll protect you.”

Chapter Text

He felt the moment when his mother first sensed him. She coalesced within the range of his senses, sharp and surprised and so very knowing that he felt his stomach clench with anxiety.

“Ben?”

He glanced over at Rey, drawing on his long-ago breathing lessons to try and calm his racing heart. “Do you feel her?”

She nodded, a strand of hair slipping loose from her buns to curve against her cheek. “She’ll be waiting for us.”

She would be, and perhaps that was best. They would meet for the first time on the Falcon, which was a nostalgic location for both of them. “I’m not sure what to say to her.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she said with confidence. “She doesn’t feel angry.”

Rey was right; what he felt from his mother was largely a blend of relief and hope. “She might be, eventually.”

“She’s your mother,” she replied, her voice quiet as she began the co-pilot’s portion of landing procedures. He did his own part automatically. “She loves you.”

There was a subcurrent of longing to her words, though he didn’t think it was intentional. Using the merest touch of power he brushed the loose strand of hair off of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She scrunched her nose at him in response, but the brief burst of pleasure he felt from her offset the expression.

As they finished landing he considered the landscape, immediately thinking of his parents’ stories of their time at the base on Hoth. This was a similar location: replete with ice and snow, much of the habitable space hidden within caverns and under man-made drifts. He glanced at Rey, frowning slightly. Her outfit was more suited for the cool mists of Ahch-To, or even her native desert.

Once they had landed he stood and walked quickly toward his bunk, where he pulled his old cloak from a shelf.

Rey raised a brow when they met in the hold, a confused expression appearing on her face when he held out the bundle of fabric.

“It’s cold,” he said in explanation. “You saw what’s outside.”

“I thought you wanted me to distance myself,” she pointed out. “Hard to do that in your clothes.”

He huffed a rough sigh, snapping out the cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders. She made no move to stop him as he fastened it around her, the excess fabric puddling around her feet. “You were the one to say no,” he replied as he worked. “And I don’t want you to freeze.”

Even with his mother’s nearness- and she was growing closer by the second- he appreciated on a very primal level the sight of Rey in his clothes.

(He’d like to see her naked under that cloak, a part of his mind noted helpfully. He’d like to join her.)

She smoothed a bit of fabric between thumb and forefinger before gathering the fabric in her fists, pulling the cloak around herself in a way that wouldn’t hinder her steps. “Soft,” she commented, giving him a slight smile. “I’ll try not to freeze, Ben.”

“We’ll find a proper coat for you at the base.” He averted his gaze, focusing on an innocuous corner instead of Rey or Chewie- the latter of whom was lingering near the exit, looking amused as only Chewie could.

Ben kept still as the door was opened, feeling his mother just beyond. With his gaze on the same corner, he saw everything from the corner of his eye: his mother, entering the ship; his mother, stopping in the middle of the hold; his mother, waiting while Chewie and Rey left, the door closing behind them.

Even the caged porgs were quiet as she walked slowly toward him. When she was three feet away he turned, and looked her in the eyes for the first time in years.

Her eyes were the same: an indicator of her blazing intelligence, but somehow as soft as they had always been for him.

It was the softness that made him literally drop to his knees. During his time under Snoke’s tutelage he had recast that softness as weakness, or as a means of controlling him; now he saw it for what it was: love.

“Ben.” She moved closer. Her hands landed on the sides of his face, one thumb tracing over the bit of his cheek where his father’s hand had once rested. The same bit of his cheek now indelibly marked by Rey. “My baby.”

Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face against her stomach as if he were an upset child- and then he was weeping with a fierceness matched only by the moment when he had finally wept for his father.

Her fingers sifted through his hair as he cried, her entire being seeming to emit the same soothing waves that he vaguely remembered from his childhood, when she had comforted him after a nightmare.

“I knew you would come back,” she murmured when his tears slowed. “My poor boy.”

His chuckle bordered on cruel, but it was a cruelty directed only at himself. “Don’t make excuses for me,” he said, pulling away. Through tear-swollen eyes he caught sight of a small, empty crate halfway across the hold. With a wave of his hand it skidded across the metal floor, stopping behind his mother. “You should sit.”

She did so, but only after digging a handkerchief out of her pocket and holding it out to him.

He accepted it tentatively, sinking back to sit on his heels as he examined the bit of cloth with far more attention than it was due. It was easier to examine the weave than to meet his mother’s eyes again.

“Ben,” she said, her hand smoothing his hair away from his face even as he kept his head bent down. “This was my failure, too.”

He sneered in the general direction of the floor, but the expression was weak.

“I felt the darkness while you were still growing inside me.”

He did look up at that, shocked.

“And I was scared,” she admitted, brushing away one of his tears with her thumb. “But I thought we could fix it- and there weren’t any resources available that covered pregnancy and Force sensitivity. I tried to convince myself that maybe, maybe, it might be normal.” She sighed. “And I was wrong.”

“He was looking for me,” Ben whispered. “Even then.”

“Yes.” Sad and guilty she might be, but there was still love in her gaze. “Forgive me.”

He leaned into the hand that lay against one cheek. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

She opened her mouth, looking ready to argue, but he pulled away and shook his head sharply. “My choices,” he said fiercely. “I let myself be led.”

“He was there from the beginning,” she said gravely, “and I didn’t understand.”

“How could you? How could you have known? As far as anyone knew, you and Uncle Luke were the only Jedi left- and you weren’t trained.”

A small, unexpected smile appeared on her face. “You’re ready to argue with me for hours about this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he snapped back.

“Just like your father.”

He froze, at that, his breath catching in his throat.

“You look like him,” she said fondly, placing her hand back on his cheek. “He loved you so much.”

“Mother,” he said, so quietly the word was barely audible.

“Yes, Ben?”

He couldn’t find the words to explain. They hovered at the tip of his tongue, but could not be grasped. He could feel himself shaking, slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said instead, the words unsteady.

“Me, too.” She smoothed a hand over his hair. “I asked him to bring you back. I told him there was still good in you.” She smiled at him, the expression genuine if teary. “Of course, I wasn’t expecting him to do that.”

He stared at her, not quite understanding the implications. “What?”

“Oh, Ben.” That same fond smirk, aimed at the man who no longer stood with them. “You know your father always shoots first.”

He could feel his lower lip quivering as he processed her words, remembering with a flare of grief-stricken emotion that he had thought that same thing, months ago. “You knew?” he asked, managing to speak despite the fact that it felt as if his entire body were in the process of shaking itself apart.

“I felt it.” She was crying herself. “We had a bond, and for a man with no Force sensitivity, he could broadcast very loudly when he wanted to.” She placed one finger under his chin, gently making him meet her eyes. “I’m not pleased with his methods,” she told him, tears dripping down her cheeks, “but I can’t argue with the result.”

And then he was crying again, his head resting on her knees, the tears born of both pain and sheer relief that his mother knew he hadn’t dealt the blow himself.

“My boy,” she said softly, her voice rough. “My little boy.”

- - -

He wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed before he felt it- enough time that he had cried himself into a fierce headache, which his mother had chased away with a touch of Force healing- but one moment he was leaning his weary head against her knees, and the next he was on his feet, something like fierce, protective irritation propelling him toward the exit.

Both Rey and Chewie were waiting on the entry ramp. Chewie was seemingly impervious to the cold, but Rey was pacing a stretch of about six feet, shivering.

When he pulled her inside- gently, even as he inwardly cursed her stubbornness- her expression shifted from determined to sympathetic once she caught a glimpse of his tear-ravaged face.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his frustrated anger evident. “Why didn’t you go inside?”

“We have to present a united front,” she replied, her teeth chattering.

He growled under his breath, ignoring the fact that his mother was openly watching them like they were the most fascinating sight she’d seen in years. He pulled Rey roughly against him, practically willing his own body heat into her.

“You couldn’t convince her otherwise?” he asked Chewie, tightening his grip on Rey when she grumbled and poked him in the side with one finger.

“She’s right.” Chewie shrugged. “Was I supposed to throw her over my shoulder and carry her in kicking and screaming?”

“Yes,” he muttered.

“That would have certainly attracted the attention of everyone on base,” his mother said dryly. There was a hint of barely-suppressed amusement on her face. “Though I suppose we could have snuck you in during the furor.”

“United. Front.” Rey practically snarled the words against his chest, poking him in the side again to emphasize her words. “Let me go, Ben.”

He did so, reluctantly, stepping back as she adjusted the mass of fabric around her so that she could freely plant her hands on her hips. “I told you I wouldn’t distance myself from you,” she said fiercely. “We go in, together, or I drag you back to Ahch-To and strand you there.”

There was a muffled chuckle from his mother.

“I don’t want you hurt by this,” he told her through clenched teeth.

“What are they going to do to me?” she shot back. “They need us, Ben, whether they like it or not. Both of us. We’re the only trained Jedi they have.”

“She’s right,” his mother said as he searched for some way to express his fear for her without revealing the fact that he was afraid at all. “We do need both of you, desperately. Most of the people on our side will understand that.”

Most. He glowered at everyone in general. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” his mother agreed.

He shifted his weight, releasing a harsh sigh. “Fine. A united front it is.”

Rey dropped her hands from her hips, looking satisfied by his concession. “Good.” She stepped toward him, tapping a gentle finger on his cheek. “Splash some cold water on your face, first.”

He stalked away to the ‘fresher, where he glared at himself in the mirror. She was right; he still looked like someone who had spent a good bit of time having a cathartic cry.

When he finally looked something like normal, he rejoined them, his temper subdued. “We’ll follow your lead,” he said with a nod toward his mother, who nodded back. “Your move, General.”

They followed her out into the snow, walking quickly across the landing pad to the camouflaged entrance. Several people lingered at the door, obviously intrigued by the arrival of the Millennium Falcon and whatever that portended. They gave Ben curious looks as he passed, for the moment entirely unaware of who he was.

The largely benign curiosity lasted until they reached the mass of people gathered inside. Two very familiar people waited at the front: the pilot he had interrogated months before, and the former FN-2187.

His mother raised a commanding hand when the latter straightened, a look of shock and righteous anger on his face.

“I will have silence,” his mother said in a crisp, carrying tone, immediately quieting the whispers emanating from the large group. FN-2187- Finn, Ben reminded himself- refrained from speaking, but was watching him with single-minded intensity. “Many of you know that several weeks ago a mole within the First Order supplied us with much-needed- dare I say priceless- intelligence. This same intelligence has allowed us to deal a number of heavy blows to our common enemy.”

It wasn’t difficult for them to read through the lines; the curious looks aimed in his direction began to shift to hesitant welcome.

“That mole was my son, Ben Solo.”

His mother waited in stoic, expectant silence for the initial hubbub to fade. Finn’s expression went grim, his gaze shifting from Ben to Rey and back.

His mother continued. “You would know him better as Kylo Ren.”

That bombshell unleashed a distinct feel of snarling anger from the group as a whole, as well as a number of raised voices.

“It’s a trap!” someone shouted from the back of the group, inspiring a flash of anger from Rey. His cloak slipped from her shoulders to flutter to the floor as she stepped in front of him, her move blatant. Chewie roared a challenge, the echo momentarily surprising the mob into silence.

“You’ve welcomed defectors before,” Rey said, her voice carrying. “Why are you balking at this man?”

She knew why. Everyone knew why, and the mutters that swept through the room proved it. They needed to get away from this gathering, Ben felt instinctively, and his mother seemed to feel it too.

“He is to be treated as an ally,” his mother said in a tone of finality that all but demanded obedience, and such was their trust in her that Ben could feel the shift from mob mentality to begrudging acceptance. They hated him, that was for certain- not a one of them would stir an inch to help if he were dying in front of them- but they loved their General more.

The crowd parted when his mother stepped forward, leaving an empty space between for Leia and her entourage to pass through. Ben kept his gaze forward the entire time, studiously creating a mental buffer between himself and the almost physical press of seething distrust. He felt as two figures slipped in behind them, following at a safe distance: the pilot from Tuanul and Finn. Both followed them down several corridors, coming steadily closer until they were nearly at Ben’s heels. He resisted the urge to glance back at them, but did roll his eyes.

His mother led them into a room that was obviously part of her personal quarters, looking unsurprised to see the two additions to their party. “Be civil,” she said, the words seeming to be a general warning to all. The pilot stationed himself near his mother in a way that suggested his entire motive for following had been to guard Leia from her own son. Leia cast him a glance, appearing to have expected that move as well.

So his mother had an admirer, in a filial rather than romantic sense. Ben had to admit that the knowledge smarted, somewhat.

Finn distracted him at that moment by moving straight to Rey’s side and wrapping a hand around her upper arm with the air of someone attempting an intervention. Ben struggled to stay still as an unbidden mine flared within him.

“Rey-”

She shook her head, pulling her arm from his hold. “Don’t, Finn.”

Finn moved in front of her, carefully angling himself so that his back wasn’t toward Ben. He turned his gaze toward Leia. “How do we know this isn’t some kind of mind-manipulation?” he demanded. “He was always good at that.”

“Because I’ve read him,” Rey replied, obviously irritated. “More than once. And so did Luke. Unless,” she added, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly, “you doubt the abilities of Luke Skywalker? Because he believes that Ben has returned to the light.”

“It’s pretty convenient that he isn’t here,” Finn snapped back.

“Civil,” Leia said again, meaningfully. Finn stepped back, his fists clenched. “I have not brought my son back into the fold solely on the strength of a mother’s love,” she continued, pinning Finn in place with just one look. “I am just as capable as my brother when it comes to reading someone, and I expect both of you to remember that.”

“General,” Finn began, almost beseeching, “you know who he killed.”

“I’m well aware of what he is culpable for,” she replied quietly, so still that it was almost uncanny. “I don’t expect you to trust him, Finn- but I do hope that you can trust me.”

Ben watched as Finn’s fists relaxed, the sole indicator that the man was backing down from a fight. “I do trust you, General,” Finn said, begrudgingly. “And I’ll guard your back.”

Finn cast a look at Rey that indicated they would be having a long talk at some point in the future as he moved away to flank Leia’s other side. Ben sidled closer to Rey, resisting the urge to place his hand on her back. No need to antagonize anyone else- even if a part of him wanted to lay claim in some clear way.

His mother released a quiet sigh, looking at each of them in turn. The look she exchanged with Chewie was that of rueful commiseration. “Now that we’ve finished this pissing contest,” she said with bone-dry sarcasm, ignoring the flash of amusement from the pilot, “perhaps we could turn our attention to actually winning this war.” She glanced at Ben. “I believe you’ve met Poe Dameron, Ben,” she added with a tinge of sardonic humor.

Ben struggled against the urge to let his shoulders hunch upward at the implied scold. “You could say that.”

“We were once close,” Poe agreed slyly, obviously enjoying his discomfort. “Painfully so, one might say.”

His mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “Settle, Poe.”

“Of course, General.”

Ben glanced down at the feel of Rey’s hand brushing against his.

Relax, Ben, he heard her think, and he released a long breath before sending back a reply.

I’ll do my best.

- - -

By the time he was able to retreat to his assigned room for the night, Ben felt as if every nerve were raw and exposed, leaving him jumpy and anxious despite his exhaustion. He began preparing for bed nonetheless, expecting to spend the entire night staring at the ceiling.

When he felt someone meddling with his lock, he very nearly reached for his lightsaber before identifying the presence as Rey. With a wave of his hand he unlocked the door, and she slipped inside within seconds.

She hesitated slightly when she saw his bare chest- a reaction that he still found very satisfying- and then relocked the door, dropping a blanket onto the ground.

“Sleepover?” he asked dryly. Her mere presence was beginning to calm the worst of his nerves.

“You need a bodyguard.” There was a pinched look on her face. “There’s so much anger in the air,” she said with a slight shiver. “I’m worried.”

He felt it, too: the ugly, creeping wrath that seemed to simmer in shadowed corners throughout the base. No one was willing to go against his mother’s edict in the light of day, but a blade or blaster shot in the dark? A distinct possibility.

“I can defend myself,” he told her, his brow furrowing as he watched her stretch out on the hard floor in front of his door.

“I know.” She looked up at him, concern in her eyes. “But fighting with your allies- even in self-defense- it would just make everyone angrier.”

She had a point. “So if an assassin comes, I should just hide under the covers while you beat them into a pulp?”

“Basically.” Her gaze flicked downward briefly toward his chest, then back up at his face. “Put on a shirt,” she said gruffly, and rolled over to face the door.

He did as she asked as he considered the situation.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he decided aloud.

“I’m-”

She shrieked- quietly, thankfully- when he picked her up off the ground, blanket and all. “Ben,” she protested, thrashing in his arms. “Put me down!”

He grunted when one of her elbows caught him in the ribs. “You’re supposed to be protecting me, not injuring me,” he said as he dropped her onto the bed, claiming the space next to her as she gaped at him. “The bed is big enough; we can sleep together.”

She narrowed her eyes, looking distinctly disgruntled. “I’m used to sleeping on the ground.”

“It’s cold here, though,” he said practically. “You’ll freeze.”

“The desert gets cold at night, too,” she pointed out, but did not move.

“Maybe I get cold easily,” he said, in a tone that was intended to be innocent but even he read as something quite the opposite.

She muttered something indistinct. “You’re sleeping against the wall,” she said after a moment, rising to her knees with her blanket puddled around her.

“Of course,” he agreed, scooting over as she crawled to the other side of the bed. “The better to protect me.” He hesitated, then laid a hand on her arm as she began to situate herself on top of the covers. “Rey,” he said quietly, taking in her wide eyes at his touch. “You realize what people will say if they find out you slept here, right?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “I don’t care.”

She might care, later, but he felt warmed by her response nonetheless. “Thank you, then.” He removed his hand from her arm, feeling short of breath when she lay down, her head on one of his pillows. “There’s no one I trust more to watch my back.”

She half-turned toward him, her eyes on his. “I feel the same way about you,” she admitted. There was a look on her face- a look he thought might be an invitation, but a hesitant one. He lay on his side, propped up by one elbow, considering- and then leaned down, hoping he hadn’t misread her.

His kiss landed on her cheek, just brushing the corner of her mouth. “Sleep well.”

She nodded, no anger or disgust on her face. She looked soft.

In the dark, she felt even closer than she actually was. It would be so, so easy to move closer, to wrap his arm around her, but he held still, feeling far too warm under the blankets. She had come to him voluntarily- and had come specifically to keep him safe. He would keep her safe, in turn.

She spoke in a whisper. “Ben?”

“Rey?”

She shifted. When her hand landed on his on top of the covers, he realized that she had turned toward him, rather than away. With a mental tug, she pulled him into her mind.

(Scouring desert wind screeched along the sides of the rusted AT-AT, sand seeping in along the seams. He was both Rey and not Rey, huddled on a bed of ragged feed sacks, hunger in their belly. Loneliness, deep and broad.

Rey and not Rey, running through the woods on Takodana.

Rey and not Rey, staring at himself in the hut on Ahch-To, unsure what to do with the man at their feet who both was and wasn’t an enemy.

Rey and not Rey, thinking of scars and transactions and what if and his hands on their skin.

Rey and not Rey, uncertain and brave and in bed with someone they would protect to their last breath.)

She released him with an abruptness that slammed him back into his own body, leaving him gasping.

“No one is going to hurt you,” she said quietly, twining her fingers with his. “I promise.”

Keeping his hand clasped in hers, he risked wrapping his other arm around her, pulling her close. She squirmed, but before he could do more than worry she tucked her head under his chin, her nose brushing against the skin of his neck.

“I won’t have you hurt,” he said, the hand at her back pressing her closer, closer. It was for the best that they were separated by layers of blankets, but he cursed them all the same. “Not one bruise, Rey.”

Her free arm crept around him, her hand pressing lightly against his upper back. “We can’t sleep like this,” she said softly, almost reluctantly. “In case we’re ambushed.”

“Right.” He blinked into the darkness, his grip still tight around her. “Rey-”

She interrupted him, her breath warm against his neck. “I know.”

Loosening his hold was an act of pure will, but he accomplished it. His heart racing, he stared up into the darkness as she shifted beside him. She released his hand, leaving him missing the twining of her fingers with his.

Then, a slight reprieve: her hand landed lightly on his chest, just above his heart- and there it stayed.

Chapter Text

After several nights without dreaming of his grandmother, it was a relief to find himself leaning against the railing of a stone balcony, staring out at a vista that was definitely of Naboo.

“Is this the same house?” he asked, spotting in the distance what looked like the meadow.

“It is.” She leaned against the balcony railing as well, clad once more in saffron. “This is the spot we were married.”

He glanced around the space curiously, almost able to see the moment in his mind’s eye. It was one thread more in the tapestry that was his grandparents’ romance, this secret wedding in the open-air, the lake country stretching out before them. “It’s beautiful.”

“My maternal grandparents were also married on this balcony,” she informed him, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Perhaps it skips a generation.”

He looked away, toward the horizon, not surprised that her gentle jibe hit home with a pang. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“You don’t need me as much,” she said simply, looking neither offended nor disappointed nor relieved. For her, it was simply a fact. “I’m always here for you, Ben, but I think we can both agree that your grandmother shouldn’t be guiding your steps indefinitely.”

He nodded, realizing the truth in her statement. “And do you have a lesson for me today?” he asked, allowing himself to tease her a little bit.

“I think you’ll be learning enough lessons over the next few days,” she replied dryly. “You have quite a problem on your hands.”

Propping his elbows on the railing, he buried his face in his hands. He had managed to forget, at least for a moment, that he was sleeping in a building surrounded by people who wouldn’t mind watching him bleed. “Right.”

“Luckily, you have a very dedicated bodyguard.” She chuckled quietly. “I do believe that if anyone lays a finger on you she really will beat them into the ground.”

He laughed himself, the sound muffled against his hands. “She told me once,” he began, straightening, “about how she met Finn- the former stormtrooper. A droid she had known for barely a day told her that he had stolen its master’s jacket, and without hesitation she went after him with her quarterstaff.”

“Oh, I do like her,” Padmé said with a grin. “As do you, obviously, otherwise she would be sleeping on your floor.”

“That would be rude, don’t you think?” he replied, hiding his smile.

“I would have made Anakin sleep on my floor,” she admitted wryly, then grew more serious. “I’m glad she’s at your back- and your mother, and your godfather. You’ll need them, I think.”

“I know.”

“And now I’ll let you sleep.” She brushed a strand of hair off of his face, looking very fond. “Good luck, Ben. I’ll see you soon.”

- - -

Ben cast out his senses before he was even fully awake, reading the emotional state of the base. Quiet, for the moment, with only the night watch up and about. Thin grey light seeped in through the frosted window, illuminating the room just enough for him to see.

He turned his attention to the woman sleeping beside him. Rey was curled up in a tight ball, facing toward him, one hand still on his chest. He wondered if she had taught herself at a young age to take up as little room as possible in sleep, or if her catlike pose was natural inclination. It didn’t look particularly comfortable- and she looked cold.

He tempted himself for a moment with a fantasy of easing her under the covers, of feeling her limbs loosen as he gathered her close. “Safe?” she might ask him, sleepily, nestling against him. He could guard her for a few hours.

Ben let the fantasy fade as she stirred, blinking slowly to semi-wakefulness. It was a measure of her trust in him that she allowed herself to stay in that unguarded state, instead of bounding to her feet as only someone accustomed to near life or death situations on the regular could.

They regarded each other for a moment, her hand flexing slightly against his chest.

“One night down,” she said, her voice rough with sleep. Her lips quirked into a small smile. “It does get cold here.”

“You’re always welcome under the blankets.” Even as he said the words, he wasn’t entirely sure how to inflect them, but the deep murmur he used did the job for him: a promise, a vow, edged with longing.

“Dangerous.” The word came out in a soft sigh. There was enough of a sleep-muddle about her to loosen her tongue. Her shields were down, as well: contentment, sleepiness, longing, disregard for the chill in the air. “You make me want things.”

From someone else, he might have read the words as hyperbole. From Rey, starved of food and touch and love, the words read as a kind of bittersweet declaration.

“Would getting what you want be so bad?” he asked her quietly.

That seemed to make her thoughtful. He wondered what she was thinking, his desert girl- what bits and pieces she was contemplating from her forays into his mind. Finally, a tendril of power drew him into a mishmash of memory.

(Their arm caught in Unkar Plutt’s hard grip as they cried come back, come back. Learning to trust another scavenger, only to have the same woman disappear with their small stash of carefully hoarded portions. Waiting, waiting, waiting for a return that would never come.)

They were separated by less than a foot, but it seemed like a far wider gap. “I’m not going to leave you,” he insisted, low and soft.

“I know,” she replied, surprising him. “Not intentionally.”

He slipped a hand across the covers toward her, nudging his fingertips against hers. “Rey.”

“Ben.”

“Come here.”

Her face scrunched up, slightly, as if she were trying not to cry- but she moved closer, under the curve of his arm. He nuzzled his nose against her hair, feeling more tender toward her than he had ever felt toward anyone. “Don’t wall yourself off,” he murmured, not imagining the quiver of her body under his arm. “Let me try to convince you.”

Her reply wasn’t spoken, but felt: tired resilience and quiet fear. After a moment her arm crept around his waist, a kind of capitulation.

A few months ago he would have taken that capitulation as a victory, but the man he was now wouldn’t settle for anything less than uncoerced joy. “Think about it,” he whispered into her hair, feeling distantly the waking emotions of the rest of the base: that anger, again, so very intent. “Just think about it.”

She nodded against his chest. After a minute she pulled away, sitting up next to him. She looked delicious in her sleep clothes, even if she was on the edge of tears. “Ben.” She paused, appearing indecisive- and then she nodded, as if to herself. “Luke can’t read me.”

He sat up himself, confused by the abrupt change of topic. “What?”

“You said I didn’t have a filter, remember? I asked him how to fix it.” She shrugged, seeming at a loss. “He can only read me if I’m projecting.”

They stared at each other. He thought of every burst of emotion he had felt from her over the past months, even when he had been thousands of parsecs away.

“Force bond.”

She smiled weakly. “That’s what he said.”

He remembered, suddenly, inexplicably, his parents: of the way his father used to kiss his mother’s hand when he was feeling particularly debonair or sarcastic or both. He took Rey’s hand from where it lay on the covers and gently kissed her fingertips.

She watched him, a kind of longing on her face. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally, standing and pulling her hand away. “I need to dress- you’ll stay here until I’m back, right?”

Even in an emotional tailspin, she was ready to guard his back. “I’ll be here.”

She slipped out of the room, and he locked the door behind her with a wave of his hand. The stream of conflicted emotion she had left behind her was, apparently, just for him to read- as were his own emotions for her, which explained how she had read and misunderstood his intentions to begin with. He stared at his hands, keeping tabs on her until she had safely found her own quarters.

She was scared of him, he realized. Not in the way people were usually scared of him, and not of him, exactly. She didn’t know what to do with any kind of promise.

For that matter, even with all his good intentions he wasn’t sure he could follow through with the promise he had already made.

With a ragged sigh he hurried out of bed, determined that he would be ready to go the moment Rey appeared.

- - -

They arrived at the mess when it was still almost full, and the way the cavernous room went absolutely silent made Ben wish that they had snuck off to the Falcon to have breakfast with Chewie. The hundreds of people staring them down reminded him all too strongly that while two Force-wielders could hold their own against an army, it would always be at the cost of spilled blood and broken bones.

He had barely hesitated at the door, only a slight hitch in his step before he strode with practiced determination toward the food along one wall. Rey followed at his side, keeping up admirably with his longer strides. Turning his back to the room made him nearly clench his teeth, but he did so, keeping his senses heightened on the off-chance that someone would be foolish enough to fling a knife at his back- or at Rey’s.

There was an empty table near the door, and he automatically sat in the most defensible position, so on edge that the brush of Rey’s foot against his ankle under the table nearly made him jump.

“Eat,” she said in a low tone, pushing her own emotions toward him: a hint of her own nervousness, almost overshadowed by fierce protectiveness. That protectiveness- and the fact that she was clearly waiting for him to eat before she started- made him put fork to plate. Even at that moment, he wouldn’t have been able to say what he was eating, only that it was like ashes in his mouth. Rey ate her own food methodically, the fork in her weaker hand. Her dominant hand was placed casually in her lap, inches from her weapon, instead of curled around her plate, as it normally would have been.

Poe Dameron nearly slammed his tray onto the table, caf sloshing over the rim of his mug as he offered them a calculated grin. “May I join you?”

Brash, charming, an excellent pilot- it struck Ben that Dameron was the son that his parents ought to have had. “I don’t suppose we can stop you.”

“No.”

The tension in the room seemed to decrease slightly when Poe dropped into a seat. It puzzled Ben for a moment, before he realized why: the others trusted Dameron to deal with him, to deflect his attention from them. He was either a delegate from the unwilling or a distraction.

Or his mother had asked the man to be friendly.

Rey was regarding the newcomer with well-hidden wariness that he himself barely spotted. Dameron flashed her an easier grin, and then- kriff- took her hand and kissed the back of it, making the move look effortless despite the fact that she still held her fork.

Rey barely twitched an eyebrow.

“Finn has a lot to say about you,” Dameron said after she reclaimed her hand, seeming not to notice her lack of a reaction. “From the moment he woke up, it was Rey this and Rey that.”

Ben realized belatedly what, exactly, Dameron meant by woke up. Another of his sins.

For some reason, Rey seemed to thaw, at least slightly. “You’re the one he rescued.” Her gaze flicked toward Ben, somewhat apologetic.

“Yes,” Ben gritted out, dropping his fork onto his plate. “Rescued from me, the bantha in the room.”

Her lips twitched. Dameron regarded him with a kind of veiled, hostile amusement. “Your hospitality was lacking,” Dameron said. “Can you blame me?”

“You didn’t like the accommodations?” Ben asked acerbically. “Next time I see Hux or Snoke I’ll lodge your complaint.”

“Please do.” Dameron’s smile was sharp and lacking in humor. “Though I suppose I should just be grateful that you didn’t show me the same kind of hospitality you showed your father.”

A kind of muttered hiss came from a number of people in the room. They were all openly watching their table, eavesdropping without shame.

There was a flash of alarm from Rey, and more: frustrated indignation. She knew as well as he did that trying to convince them he hadn’t killed his father would be almost impossible; his reputation was such that they wouldn’t believe him without visual proof, which didn’t exist.

“Or the kind of hospitality you showed the villagers at Tuanul,” Dameron continued. “Or the Hosnian system.”

He had no excuse for those crimes. He stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping roughly against the floor, desperate to leave before Dameron could continue reminding the crowd just what else he was guilty of. Rey seemed frozen in her seat, her hand clenched around her fork.

She didn’t follow him when he left.

- - -

It wasn’t until he was outdoors that he realized he had left his coat behind at the table. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he walked at a swift pace across the landing pad until he reached a stand of trees, only stopping in his tracks once he had broken line of sight with the base. Shivering, he stood among the drifts, resisting the urge to find any source of warmth.

He deserved this, after all, didn’t he? He deserved this pain and discomfort.

He felt, faintly, Rey’s flickering emotions: anger, embarrassment, concern. She was growing closer, obviously searching for him. Intentionally he closed himself off from her, hoping she would return to the base and to the acceptance she deserved.

And yet, after five minutes or so- “Ben!”

Rey. He turned with a sigh, unsurprised that she had managed to track him, experienced scavenger that she was. She was wearing her new coat- unbuttoned- but no hat or gloves. His coat was tucked under one arm. He scowled, the cold nipping at his own skin. Before he could scold, she extended her free hand with an obstinate expression- the same hand that Dameron had kissed. “Is this how it works?” she asked, sounding uncertain.

He took her cold hand in his, chafing her skin gently. “Is this how what works?”

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted.

Considering her, he tugged her closer, carefully. With equal care he kissed the back of her hand- and then the inside of her wrist, and the well of her palm, a little bit of him healing as he did so.

“You’re a possessive nerf-herder, Ben,” she said, the words unsteady as she shivered.

He kept his lips against her palm, his eyes on hers. “And if I find other hands to kiss?” he asked, his lips brushing lightly against her skin. The question was moot; they both knew it.

Nonetheless, his fierce desert girl snarled. “Don’t.”

“I won’t, then.”

He kept her hand, pulling her closer. After shrugging on his coat- she had thrust it toward him with a wave of stubbornness- he dug into her pockets, retrieving her balled up hat and gloves. She pulled them on as he searched for his own.

“Button your coat,” he told her gruffly, their light moment ebbing away as he focused again on why, exactly, they were standing out in the cold.

“You can’t run out into the snow every time they taunt you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not even the Force will keep you from freezing to death.”

“I never should have come,” he said in reply. “I should have stayed with my uncle, or gone to take down a First Order outpost. You don’t deserve to deal with this.”

She scowled. “No, Ben. We need you.” She took a step closer, grabbing his coat. “I need you.”

He stared down at her, at a loss for whatever he had done to inspire this level of concern. “How can you bear to be near me?”

“I told you once that you couldn’t give enough to make up for what you had done.” Her hand was still fisted in his coat, holding him in place. “I was wrong, Ben.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“You can never erase Kylo Ren,” she continued, ignoring his words. “But I’ve seen you, Ben Solo. I’ve been in your mind, remember? I saw the little boy with terrible nightmares. I saw Luke’s mistake. I felt the way you shattered under unimaginable pressure.”

He was frozen to the spot, unable to tear his gaze from her, unable to speak.

“They don’t understand, but I do,” she said firmly. “Maybe they’ll never understand- but your mother does. Chewie does. Your uncle does. You dragged yourself back into the light, and we’re going to keep you there no matter what anyone else thinks.”

He took in a deep breath, and then another. “Okay,” he said finally, nodding. “Okay.”

She released him, but before he could feel unmoored her hand slipped into his. “Come on,” she said, tugging gently. “You need to warm up.”

“Not on base.”

“No.” She smiled, the expression warming him from the inside. “On the Falcon. The porgs need to be fed.”

He laughed, the sound rusty and uncertain. “I can’t believe I’m looking forward to letting those stowaways clamber all over me.”

“You are their favorite vantage point.” She squeezed his hand. “Courage.”

- - -

High-ranking allies arrived that afternoon, which meant enduring hours of interrogation from people whose doubt and anger never diminished. Patience had never been one of Ben’s strengths, and he was hard-pressed to maintain what little he had in the face of being asked the same questions over and over again.

Still, he endured. For the sake of his mother, who watched the proceedings stoically, and for the sake of Rey, who had not been allowed to cross the threshold into the meeting room. Not his mother’s idea, he could tell, but she had apparently chosen not to fight that particular battle. Even her sway had limits, he knew- and he suspected that she was saving it all to keep him out of a cell, at least for the time being.

There was one bright point, relatively speaking: his information really had done a great deal of good, a truth that even these hardened soldiers begrudgingly admitted. First Order outposts had been taken and ransacked; bank accounts had been drained. A number of battleships had been successfully destroyed, thanks to the override codes he had provided.

Of course, there had been no new victories since, at least leading from his intel. Codes and account numbers had been changed. Coordinates were obsolete. His usefulness now rested on two particulars: the fact that he knew the layouts of the most important ships in the First Order fleet like the back of his hand, and the fact that he would be able to find Snoke’s coordinates through the Force, once they were ready to strike.

“He’ll know we’re coming,” Ben warned them. “He’ll sense me just as I’ll be able to sense him. We would be walking straight into a trap.”

“You will be walking straight into a trap,” Vice-Admiral Holdo corrected coldly. “This is your blow to strike.”

There was a surge in fierce agreement from everyone other than his mother, whose bland expression masked the turmoil he felt from her.

So. A suicide mission.

Ben found that he wasn’t surprised. It made sense: he was the perfect distraction. They could send him in blind, secure in the knowledge that he would do an immense amount of damage while they struck a fatal blow against the main fleet. What he didn’t know Snoke could never tear from his mind, after all. And if he managed to destroy his former master in the process, so much the better.

There would be no rescue mission if he failed, that much was clear.

It was also clear that he would not be allowed to turn this assignment down.

“You’re right,” he agreed, feeling with grim certainty the rightness of his path. “This is my burden to bear.”

Holdo’s smile was sharp. “Just so.”

- - -

Rey was waiting in his room when he arrived, sitting cross-legged on his bed with a holo in her hands. There was a tray of food on the small desk, long gone cold.

“They didn’t let you eat,” she said, more a statement than any kind of question.

He smirked wearily. “Why waste time letting me eat when they could make me map out the Supremacy for the sixth time?”

She pointed at the tray with a commanding air. “Sit.”

He wasn’t hungry- he was too tired, too beaten down to be hungry- but he knew that refusing food from Rey would hurt her in a way that he could never truly understand. It didn’t matter that food was given freely, here; food was still a precious resource to Rey. It was a gift- and so he ate, slowly and without complaint.

She was standing behind him when he finished, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “Do they have a plan?” she asked.

Not one she would like. “They won’t tell me,” he prevaricated, which was true enough. “Are you staying?”

“Yes.”

He changed in the small ‘fresher attached to his room. When he emerged, she was sitting on the bed again, on the side closest to the door. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, a worried expression on her face. “What did they say, Ben?”

He felt stuck. His future arrowed toward what would likely be his death, a fate he had no desire to share with her.

His only other option was to make her endure another abandonment.

She held out a hand, and without really thinking he obeyed her unspoken request. He knelt on the bed next to her, close but not touching. The hope he had felt that morning seemed childish, in retrospect. He had known better than to offer her rash promises and soft words. “They don’t trust me enough to tell me anything.”

Her head tipped forward onto her knees, hiding her face from him. “Ben.”

He slipped under the covers before he could give in to the urge to wrap her in his arms, turning his body away from her. “Thank you for guarding me.”

With a flick of his wrist the lights went out, plunging the room into utter darkness. He listened to the way she breathed, at the persistent catch in her throat that made him wonder if she were crying. She was as walled-off to him in that moment as he was to her.

Without warning she was pressed against his back, one arm holding him fast. All he felt from her was stalwart determination not to let go, no matter what.

And Force, it scared him.

Chapter Text

The warmth against him on waking could only be Rey. She had her face pressed against the back of his neck, her breath hot against his skin and stirring his hair. One arm was still slung over him, her small hand barely grazing the covers on the other side.

Maybe, he thought wistfully, maybe in some other universe there was a ring on one of those fingers. Maybe there was some universe in which he hadn’t irretrievably kriffed up, and they lived somewhere green and verdant.

She snuffled against his neck, her hand clenching, her legs tensing behind him.

Carefully, he turned over, cinching an arm around her back and tucking her head under his chin. She whined under her breath, still fully asleep as her hand fisted in the covers. He caught a splattering of images- snow, blood, his red lightsaber- and grimaced when he realized she was dreaming of Starkiller.

Then another image: him, eviscerated in the snow, her blue lightsaber dispelling the shadows. He didn’t need to look to know the wetness against his neck were her tears.

As he rubbed his hand in soothing circles against her back, he made a decision. Better to leave her, he realized with a sinking heart as she wept. Better to leave her among friends, better to let her have a clean slate. With the First Order extinguished she could go anywhere. There were so many worlds she would delight in, if he could only make them safe for her.

The decision hurt.

He loosened his grip as her breathing regulated, pulling away before she could wake. Rolled over for good measure, not even allowing himself a kiss against the crown of her head.

All the green in the galaxy, he thought, drawing on his old breathing exercises to calm himself. Every sky, clear for her.

- - -

He had a problem.

(He had many problems, this was just the most pressing.)

Rey was far too perceptive for her own good.

“You’re plotting something,” Rey said later that morning, her eyes narrowed. She had dragged him from the base to eat breakfast with Chewie on the Falcon, apparently as eager as he was to repeat the disaster that had been their last meal in the mess hall. “You’ve gone all broody.”

Chewie chuckled. “More so than usual.”

“Of course I’m broody,” he replied, purposefully sounding defensive. He had their bond in a stranglehold, trying to keep his emotions from leaking over to Rey. “Everyone hates me.”

“It’s more than that.” Rey propped her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands. “Whatever they told you yesterday, it has you tied up in knots.”

“Nothing,” he huffed. “They told me nothing.”

“You always were a bad liar.”

“And you were dreaming about it,” Rey added quietly. “Something about Snoke, and the Supremacy. What do they want you to do, Ben?”

“Take him out, eventually,” he muttered, thinking wildly of some way to spin the situation. “Once they figure out a plan.”

He could tell by the way Chewie and Rey stared at him that they were only partially appeased by his explanation. Rey extended a hand across the table; a gesture that, from her, was both rare and precious. With a pang he leaned back in his seat, glancing away toward the porgs dozing across the room. He caught a brief flash of confusion from her, tinged with a little bit of shock. “I’ll probably be at the officials’ beck and call most of the day,” he said. “What are you going to do?”

She sat back, somehow seeming off-balance. “They still won’t let me in?”

“Be glad.” He grimaced. “You don’t want to be there.”

Rey hesitated, glancing at Chewie. “They probably need help in the hangar.”

“Always.”

“I’ll be there, then.”

An awkward silence descended as Chewie took away their empty plates.

How much time do I have left? he wondered, watching Rey even as she watched him. How long would he have to keep himself at an emotional remove from her, upending the careful pursuit he had started?

He had no clue- and by the time he went to bed that night, he still didn’t know. The Resistance wasn’t ready to make a final strike, and might not be ready for weeks, even months. All he knew was what he had felt in the back of his mind throughout the day: the way Rey had cycled through confusion to annoyance to low-grade unease, all of it shivering through their bond in a kind of whispered what did I do?

“Talk to me,” she murmured in the dark- because Force help him, she was curled up on his bed again, clearly ready to defend him.

(He could not take months of this. He wasn’t sure he could take days of this and still maintain any kind of equilibrium.)

“About what?”

Answers, he heard through their bond, but when she spoke: “You.”

They were separated by mere inches. The warmth she radiated called to him like nothing else. “You know about me,” he murmured back. “Everyone knows about me.”

“Everyone knows about Kylo Ren,” she corrected, her fingertips gliding lightly down his cheek. “I want to know more about Ben.”

Ben gave her fingertips a mere whisper of a kiss when they lingered on his lips, unable to resist. “You’ve been in my head. What more could you need to know?”

He could feel her frustration with his evasiveness- sharp, like glass- and it only grew when he rolled over to face away from her.

“I’m going to figure this out eventually,” she warned him, her words at odds with the gentle way she pressed herself against his back.

He got a flash, then, of the hurt she was hiding under the stoic facade she had developed on Jakku. It lingered in her mind like a bruise.

- - -

He was in the crumbling remains of an old library, rain pattering against the windows. His grandmother was perched on a window seat, staring at him meaningfully. “How very familiar this feels,” she said dryly. “How pleased I am to see history repeating itself.”

“It isn’t the same,” he said, knowing even as he spoke that he was lying.

“Ben.” She said his name with such forbearance that he almost shuddered. “This is going to blow up in your face.”

“Your faith in me is truly reassuring,” he replied sarcastically, stung.

“Dying in a blaze of glory is overrated, you know.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

She raised a brow, all regal disapproval. “You’re hurting her, Ben.”

He sat abruptly in a chair almost too delicate to hold his weight. It shuddered beneath him, but he paid the threat no mind. “I know,” he said with uncharacteristic meekness. Even in this dream he could catch a glimmer of Rey’s own dream- she was walking through a desert, alone, though she kept looking back as if she sensed someone. “I’m terrified for her,” he admitted in a whisper. “No wonder the Jedi avoided love.”

“If you leave her behind, there is still a good chance that she’ll fall on some other battlefield.” Padmé drew up her knees, wrapping her arms loosely around her legs. “And she’ll be furious if you make this decision for her.” She was clearly drawing on personal experience as she spoke those words, her gaze distant. “You’ll just be one more person who took the ability to choose from her hands. One more person who left.”

He slumped in his chair, ignoring the wobble. “She’ll survive. She’s brave-”

Padmé snatched up a small cushion from the window seat and threw it at him. The projectile bounced off his head as he stared at her in shock.

“Honestly,” she said curtly, her patience clearly nearing an end. “Let her be brave for you-”

A clap of thunder cut off her words. She paled. “Oh.”

“What?” He stood, the chair collapsing the moment his weight left it.

“The palace.” She tilted her head slightly to one side, grief on her face. “Naboo will have to elect a new ruler.”

He thought of the young, gangly Queen- barely fifteen- who had watched him with shrewd eyes during his tenure on Naboo. She had never been frightened of him. “May she live in memory forever.”

Padmé’s sigh was a long, slow exhalation, her expression more befitting the old woman she never got to be. “Memories are so very short.”

- - -

“Ben.”

Rey. Rey, warm and under the covers, concern fairly bleeding off of her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her calloused thumb wiping away the tears from his cheeks. He frowned in the dark, still half-asleep. Why had he been crying?

Naboo, he remembered, his grandmother’s grief all of a sudden sharp in his mind. He had been crying for Naboo.

“Ben?”

Instead of answering he rolled onto his side, pressing his face against her breasts and curling himself around her. Slowly her arms came around him, her breath whispering against his hair. “What happened on Naboo?” she asked.

“The Queen is dead.” He wasn’t sure why it hurt so much. He- Kylo Ren- had only met with Queen Sola a handful of times.

But she had been brave, he realized. Brave like Padmé was brave, like his mother was brave, like Rey was brave. He had no clue why she was dead, not yet, but he knew instinctively that she had died for her people.

Rey made a quiet sound of consolation, one hand slipping into his hair to cradle the back of his head. “You knew her?”

“Kylo Ren thought she was a worthy adversary,” he said in a dull, brittle whisper.

There was the faintest of pressure against the top of his head. A kiss, he realized with faint surprise.

“What happened?”

He wanted to know- he needed to know. “I don’t…”

“Would it be possible?” she asked, the fingers tangled in his hair warm against his scalp. “To see?”

He breathed in, smelling recycled air and regulation soap and Rey, a very comforting combination. “I can try.”

Her arms tightened slightly around him. “Try, then.”

Even grieving, peace came easily there, in the dark and in her arms. One moment he was present- and then he was not, but one with the Force, and the Force wanted him to see. To see the rebels hiding in tunnels below the palace, to see the discovery, to see the slaughter- and to see Queen Sola dragged from her bed by one of his former knights. She had faced her death with grim acceptance, this Queen who was no more than a girl, who stood barefoot in rumpled pajamas, valor personified as she stared down the barrel of Hux’s blaster.

One shot to the head.

She had not been tortured, at least.

He was crying again when he came back to himself, and Rey crooned wordlessly to him in a way that he had never heard from her. He had never had her this close- wrapped around each other under the weight of blankets, as if they were lovers and alone in the galaxy- and he allowed himself to sink into their bond, submerging himself in the bright sun that was Rey.

When she spoke again, long minutes later, she asked a question: “Who was that man?”

He blinked, then realized- of course she had seen. She had seen it all. “General Hux.”

There was a kind of savagery to her mood, the same savage nature he had sensed when they had first met, that had fooled him into thinking he might turn her dark. “He would know all kinds of things, wouldn’t he?”

He considered, turned the idea over in his mind- and something that was neither light nor dark nudged at him. Hux was still on Naboo, that bit of the Force said. Hux had been sent to tidy the mess Ben had left in his wake.

“Nearly everything,” he whispered in response. “He would be invaluable.”

She kissed his head again. “Take me to Naboo.”

- - -

They appeared at his mother’s door just before dawn, and when she looked the both of them up and down he thought- too late to do any good- that they should have stopped to dress. Instead, they were both in rumpled sleep clothes, lightsabers in hand.

“Are we being attacked?” she asked, but the question seemed perfunctory. She stepped back to allow them entrance. “If not, do you have other news for me?”

There was an amused, far too interested cast to his mother’s face.

“We want to go to Naboo,” Rey said bluntly before the door had even finished closing, and his mother’s gaze sharpened.

“Naboo?” She glanced at him, then back at Rey. “Why?”

Rey shot him a look. “Ben?”

He had dreaded this. After the way his uncle had reacted, he cringed at what his mother might say- but she needed to know. “It’s easier to show you.” He handed Rey his lightsaber, then extended both hands to his mother. “If you’ll let me.”

She gave him an unreadable look, but with barely a hesitation took one hand and led him over to a small couch. “Show me.”

The memories flowed, as gently as he could direct them. Padmé, wise and funny and occasionally irritated, with her elaborate gowns and even more elaborate hair. Padmé, smiling- and Padmé grieving as someone in the line of her successors died at the hands of the First Order.

He was almost afraid to open his eyes, but when he did, his mother was smiling. Smiling joyfully, in a way he hadn’t seen in years. She wrapped him in a tight hug, every emotion he felt from her bright and somehow raw. “What a gift, Ben.” She pulled back, the same smile on her face, but the start of tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”

“She reminds me of you. Strong. Brilliant.” He paused, grinning despite the gravity of the moment. “Extremely stubborn.”

“I’ve been called worse,” his mother said dryly, brushing away a tear. “Oh, Ben.”

Rey took a few steps toward them, hesitant.

He gestured for her to come closer. “Mother, the Resistance needs to know whatever Hux knows.”

Leia met his gaze steadily. “Even if you get him here… you know what they will want you to do.”

Ben did know. And he knew that the kind of interrogation he was so skilled at- that Kylo Ren had excelled at- was distinctly dark in nature. Rey’s worry pulsed through their bond.

“I know,” he said finally.

His mother placed her hand on his scarred cheek, her eyes sad. “Maybe it won’t come to that.”

They all knew it would, just as they all knew that whatever knowledge Hux carried would likely be the sword that allowed the Resistance to deal their final blow.

“We have to get him, first,” Ben said softly, leaning into her hand.

She studied him- and then nodded. “I’m sending you with Poe,” she said unexpectedly, causing him to gape. “And Finn.”

Rey snorted, a brief burst of amusement rippling from her.

“They hate me,” he groaned, leaning back on the couch.

“You need more backup than just Rey.” His mother sat up straight, every inch a general. “And you can’t take the Falcon- too distinctive. Poe is the best pilot I have, and Finn knows more about blending in with stormtroopers than any of us. Naboo is probably crawling with First Order troops.”

“She’s right,” Rey said, her words blunt but kind. Still, he could feel a slight frisson of anxiety from her. “We’re not going to find Hux alone in the open. We need their help.”

They were both right.

Not that he wanted to admit it.

Finally, in a mutter: “If I must.”

The dual satisfied smiles aimed in his direction were scarily similar.

- - -

They were scheduled to leave at noon, but an hour before their departure Rey ran off, an odd, indefinable something running along their bond as she muttered an excuse.

Ben was talking with Chewie, trying to ignore his own anxiety over being locked in a ship with two hostile allies for nearly three standard days, Force help him, when he felt it- a sharp pain in his left arm, as if he had just been jabbed with a skewer. Rey.

Ben was running before he even considered his actions, sprinting down corridors as people threw themselves to the side to avoid him. He nearly crashed into the lodestone of his attentions outside the medbay, gasping as he slid to a stop mere inches from her.

Rey stared at him, obviously unsurprised by his appearance, her cheeks pale.

“What happened?” he asked frantically, taking her left arm in gentle hands. He barely noticed the looks they were getting, too intent on figuring out why she was in pain.

Rey pulled away. “Nothing. I saw a medic. I’m fine,” she insisted, backing toward a relatively shadowed and uninhabited corner. “Are you ready to go?”

“What?” He still felt it, that blaze of pain in his arm. “Rey,” he said, bending toward her, his voice low, “what did they do?”

There was a blush over the pallor in her cheeks. “I got an implant,” she mumbled, ducking her head.

For a moment, he didn’t understand.

And then he was enraged, and only her automatic grip on his collar kept him from barreling into the medbay and tripping closer toward the line that lay between Ben and Kylo Ren. “They’re supposed to use local anesthetic for all implants,” he hissed, one hand combing gently through her hair as his other grasped her hip. “It isn’t supposed to hurt like that.”

He felt her burst of frustration and embarrassment and a remembered mutter of sith-fucker. “I’m used to pain,” she hissed back, her grip so tight on his collar that it almost hindered his breath. “Please,” she exhaled, pleading in her eyes as her grip loosened, “please calm down.”

Calming himself down was difficult. Easier was pulling her deeper into the shadows, where he wrapped his arms around her tense body and purposefully set himself to nudging the Force into and around the injection site, numbing the nerve endings that should have been numbed to begin with. She let her head rest against his chest as he worked, relaxing against him in a way that only equaled trust.

His work done, he kept a careful eye on the hall. Empty, for the moment. “What kind of implant, sweetheart?” he murmured against her hair.

“You know,” she murmured back.

Ben reflexively tightened his grip on her. “Right,” he said, feeling knocked off his axis. “That.”

That. That.

“We need to leave,” she said, sounding far calmer and more self-possessed than he felt. “Ben, come on.”

He stared down at her, remembering belatedly that he had intended to distance himself.

The helplessness he felt as he stared at her- and the throb in his arm- told him that distancing himself would be a far harder task than he had once thought.

(He could leave her good memories, a part of him thought. Sweet ones.)

Without really thinking about it he kissed her forehead, finishing with a nuzzle of his nose against her hair. Sweet memories sounded reasonable, he decided with some relief. He could be kind. He wouldn’t take that, if she offered-

(Right, something darker thought snidely.)

-it would be too much like the transactions she had spoken of, to have sex with her and then disappear.

“Okay,” he murmured, turning to follow her down the hall, his hand on her back. “Okay, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

“You are right on the edge, darling boy.”

His mother appeared at his side as if from nowhere, her sharp eyes taking in the remnants of rage he was trying desperately to dispel. Rey had been called away by Dameron as soon as they had reached the ship, and the moment she had left his side his mind had seemed to go into overload: his anger at the medic, his anxiety over the coming trip, his uncertainty over what, exactly, Rey intended by getting that implant now.

They had never even kissed, he kept thinking. She was barely comfortable being held.

And here was his mother, reading him in a single moment.

“I am… displeased,” he admitted slowly, in a low tone, his voice making it clear that ‘displeased’ was an understatement. “With one of your medics.”

It was clear from her expression that she was taking him very seriously. “What did they do to Rey?”

His eyes widened slightly. “How did you guess?”

“I always had to drag you to the doctor, as a child.” Her lips tipped upward slightly. “And you trust only a handful of people on this base. Since you are clearly not at death’s door, and therefore desperate- Rey.”

He jammed his hands into too-small pockets. “They gave her an implant without anesthetic,” he muttered, glancing around to make sure no one could hear. “They called her a sith-fucker.”

The epithet was almost as bad as the pain they had put her through. She was too talented, too brilliant to be treated so- as if she were sullied because she was presumably sleeping with him.

Leia’s countenance shifted from sympathetic mother to an ice-cold fury that rivaled his, somehow seeming to grow taller in a handful of seconds. “I will look into it,” she promised, a martial light in her eyes. “Do you know which one?”

“She wouldn’t let me take care of it.”

“For the best.” Her smile was sharp. “I’ll figure it out.”

Ben felt himself relax incrementally. The culprit would probably confess the moment his mother walked in the door. “Thank you.”

She patted him on the shoulder, her touch gentle in contrast to the anger that still limned her features. “Rey’s a smart woman.” Some of the anger seemed to bleed from her, leaving just his mother standing in front of him instead of the war heroine of legend. “Better to try for a baby after all this is over.”

He froze, looking everywhere but his mother. “We’re…”

“You’re sleeping in the same room,” she said when his voice faltered, the words half-statement and half-question.

“She was afraid someone would try to kill me in my sleep.”

“Huh.” She actually looked disappointed. “I wish I could say that she was overreacting.”

He stared down at the floor. When he spoke, the words were muttered. “She’s very special to me.”

“I know.” She touched his chin with her finger, making him lift his gaze just enough to meet her eyes. “I like her quite a bit. I did even before she brought you back to me.”

He edged closer to her, lowering his head slightly. No one was nearby. “I need you to take care of her for me. After… after I leave.”

His mother paled. “What?”

“She needs-”

He paused, unsure of how to phrase his request. “She needs a mother,” he finished, finally.

She stared at him, for once visibly shaken. “I thought she was going with you.”

“I haven’t told her.”

His mother glared. “Ben Organa Solo.”

He winced at the sound of his full name.

“We will be discussing this after you return,” she said, the words a solemn vow- and, in their own way, a threat. “And don’t think you’ll be able to avoid it.”

And there it was: one good reason to be boarding a ship with two men who hated him. They weren’t his mother, and they wouldn’t be haranguing him about whether or not he was willing to lead the woman he loved into a death trap.

(They would just assume that he would be willing to lead Rey into a death trap, if asked.)

“We’ll talk,” he said, then leaned in quickly to kiss her cheek. “Stay safe.”

“I should be telling you that,” she humphed, her ire barely abating. “If we don’t talk,” she warned, “I will tell Rey.”

She was utterly serious. “We will talk when I get back,” he assured her. “I promise.”

“Good.” She searched his face, and finally nodded, as if she had confirmed something for herself. “Be careful, Ben. Don’t make any hasty decisions.”

- - -

The shuttle was barely larger than the Falcon, but was in better repair. Sturdy, innocuous, barely worth a glance- the perfect vehicle for sneaking onto an embattled planet.

Within the ship, the atmosphere was cold. Brittle, even. Three men who couldn’t stand each other, and Rey, who watched them as if she expected to be called to break up a fight or mediate a dispute at any given moment. By unspoken agreement Ben kept to the small common room for most of the first day, with Finn and Dameron in the cockpit and Rey floating between the two groups. Ben tried to give his attention to plans, to meditating, to an old holo-novel, but nothing held his attention for long. He was relieved when Rey finally disappeared into her bunk to sleep, allowing him to find his own berth.

His relief was short-lived.

He missed sharing a bed with her. No tempting warmth, no soft sigh of her breathing, just him alone on a thin mattress. The bunks were too small for two people- the one he lay on was too small for him, truthfully- but the handful of nights he had spent with Rey on guard had spoiled him.

He felt her mind brush against his, a note of shared loneliness bleeding from her. She offered up a question that was more understood than heard: okay?

Ben sent back a thought reminiscent of a mental shrug. He felt a faint throb in his arm: his work on the implant site had worn off, but when he sent a query she sent back a similar mental shrug.

A price I was willing to pay, he heard clearly. And it’s bearable, right now.

She must have caught the bitter edge to his thoughts, because she followed up with There’s always a price, Ben. Even when credits or portions aren’t on the line.

He left his bunk at that point, creeping down the short hall and slipping into hers with as much stealth as a man his size could employ. She watched him through half-closed eyes, her bunk lit only by the dim glow creeping in from the hall.

“You can’t sleep here,” she murmured when he knelt on the floor, his upper body leaning into her bed. He let his arms rest on the mattress, nearly brushing her side. “No room.”

“I know.” Finn and Dameron were in the cockpit, too far away to hear, but he kept his voice pitched low nonetheless. “Let me heal you a bit more.”

She moved her left arm closer to him, shoving her sleeve up with her right hand. “You told your mother, didn’t you?”

He paused in his work, one hand hovering over her arm. “How did you know?”

“She was angry. I felt it from inside the ship.” Her eyes closed fully, the slight strain in her face easing as he gently sped along the healing of irritated flesh. “I could have borne it,” she said with a soft sigh, “scavenging isn’t kind work. I have a lot of scars.”

He could see a few in the dim light: thin lines on her arm from where her skin had split against the sharp edges of long-downed engines and ship innards. “You won’t scar this time,” he promised.

“Do they bother you?”

“Your pain bothers me, past and present.” And future. He lifted his hand from her arm, having done everything possible. “The scars themselves don’t put me off.”

“Those are the nice ones.” With her free hand she tugged up her shirt, revealing a starburst of scar tissue on her side. “He tried to scavenge me when I was thirteen,” she said, her tone straight-forward. “I knocked him unconscious. Spent several days hiding, trying to fight off a fever from the infection.” She paused. “I never saw him again. I always wondered…”

Anger simmered, but there was nothing he could do about that nameless man, most likely long dead in the desert. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss against the scar, hoping he hadn’t gone too far when he heard her soft intake of breath. He kept close, his mouth barely an inch from her side, wondering if he might dare another.

In answer she carded her fingers through his hair, drawing him back with the slightest of pressure.

“You crept up on me,” she murmured as he pressed another kiss to the mark. “I never knew someone could burrow so deep inside a person.”

He inched forward, half-lying on the bunk, his head on her stomach. “You make me sound like a parasite,” he teased.

She snorted, her fingers still gentle in his hair. “When I first realized what was happening, I might have thought something similar.”

He was too amused to be offended. “And then I won you over with my charm.”

“No.” She laughed quietly. “It was… every time you let me into your mind, even when I thought I hated you… there I was, burrowed into you. At first I thought you carried me around in your mind because I used to be your enemy, but no.” Her fingertips traced the curve of his ear. “You carry me everywhere, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

She nodded. “I carry you, too.”

He brushed one last kiss against her scar, some sharp-edged part of him dulling and settling back into place. A little remnant of Kylo Ren, exorcised. “There’s no one I would rather carry with me.”

“I know. Me, too.” She let out a long breath, a kind of sleepy satisfaction bubbling up from her. “That’s why I got the implant,” she admitted. “I knew- I know- that eventually just carrying you with me wouldn’t be enough.”

He shut his eyes, his traitorous mind reacting to that statement with an immediate burst of joy and lust and sorrow. It rocketed along their bond, causing her hand to still in his hair.

“Why so sad?”

Footsteps echoed in the hall, coming closer. Ben had been so wrapped up in their conversation that he had missed movement elsewhere on the ship. The footsteps paused outside of Rey’s partially open door, disapproval roiling from Finn.

I’ll let you sleep, he thought toward her, coming to his feet. In the hall he met Finn’s gaze straight-on, closing Rey’s door as he did so.

“Does Dameron need a co-pilot?” he asked the other man, aware that his voice sounded more condescending than he had necessarily intended. “Don’t ask Rey; she’s sleeping.”

He felt Rey’s irritation at that, but she stayed put.

There had been a time when Finn had been terrified of him- all the stormtroopers had been- but if any of that terror remained it was buried under righteous anger. Finn stood his ground, staring up at him with narrowed eyes. “What kind of hold do you have over her?” he asked, tension underlying his voice.

Ben considered the question, sending a soothing thought toward Rey, who was now irritated with the pair of them. He didn’t need to hear her words to know that she was offended at the idea that she was under some kind of spell.

Yet, she stayed where she was, letting him fight this battle.

“We’re the same,” Ben said. True enough, in its own way: at their cores, they both carried a legacy of deep loneliness. He could have expanded the thought, made a proper defense, but what lay between Rey and himself was none of this man’s business.

“Rey is nothing like you.”

“She’s better than me,” Ben admitted freely, relishing the spark of shock his words inspired. He allowed a small, dark smile to appear on his face. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“It’s certainly the truth,” Finn gritted out.

“Yes,” Ben said with deliberate softness- a softness so different from what he offered Rey that it was on an entirely different spectrum.

They stared at each other, the former stormtrooper and the blood-stained knight, unwilling allies at an impasse.

“Let her sleep,” Ben said again, before taking the few steps needed to disappear into his own bunk. There, in the darkness, he waited, casting his senses to the hall. Finn stood still, hesitating in front of Rey’s door- and then the man walked away, frustrated.

Ben released a breath; curled up on the mattress.

Combative, he heard Rey think, her mental voice sleepy and chiding. Scrabbling over me like ship-raiders.

He winced.

I wouldn’t allow myself to be scavenged then, she continued, something like a yawn trickling through their bond. I won’t now.

I’m sorry. He sent the words and his regret to her unhindered. Rey.

The feeling he got from her was like a sigh, like a brush of hands. Ben.

Then- Rey, slipping into sleep, her mind quiet.

- - -

Other than the constant tension, the trip was largely unremarkable. Ben kept clear of Dameron and Finn, and they kept clear of him. While the other men slept, he and Rey took over the controls, flying the quieter routes, the ones generally avoided by the First Order. There was peace to be found there, in the starlight.

“I found a flight simulator once,” Rey said during one of those moments. “Fixed it up; ran the routes until I needed the portions too much to justify keeping it. I never thought I’d actually fly.”

“You’re a natural.” Rey had an instinctive understanding of how to make the ship purr beneath her hands, an eye for positioning. “Few people transition from a simulator to an actual ship so smoothly.”

She glanced at him, her mood almost hesitant. He answered the question before she could ask. “My father taught me. And Chewie. I was very young when they started.”

“They taught you well.”

He nodded, feeling a kind of sobering nostalgia. “I could barely see over the controls.”

She leaned across the gap between their seats. “Hard to believe you were once so small,” she said, a slight smile on her face.

Strangely, he thought not of himself, but of another boy: one with her eyes and his hair, small and then growing to tower over his tiny mother. A gentler son than he had been, this child who would never exist. “For a few years, at least.”

She was still leaning across the gap, just far enough away that if she stretched out her hand, her fingertips would barely reach his shoulder. He resisted the urge to lean toward her. Someone was coming.

“I thought you were flying,” Dameron said to Rey, distrust coloring his voice. “Not our cheerful friend.”

“Ben has more experience than me,” she replied, settling back into her seat. “He was taught by the best.”

Dameron cut him a glance, a sardonic smile on his face. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“So modest,” Ben muttered, keeping his gaze ahead as he eased into a short hyperspace jump.

“People often say so.”

Dameron continued to hover behind them, instead of returning to the passenger areas as Ben dearly wished he would. “How do you intend to pull this off, anyway?”

Ben resisted giving in to an irritated sigh. “I have a contact within the rebellion on Naboo.” And she was still alive, he could tell- the spark that was Ruwee yet burned, parsecs away. “We speak with her, first.”

“Her?”

Ben felt his lips curve into a smile, felt Rey’s quiet amusement. “My cousin.”

Ben could practically feel Dameron’s planned smart-ass reply crumble into thin air. “Cousin?” the man asked instead, sounding stunned.

“On my mother’s side.”

As he thought, there was nothing negative Dameron could say. Any slight he might make against Ruwee would be one against Leia, and Dameron’s hero worship wouldn’t allow for anything like that.

(A part of him, deep within, thought good. Even after Ben was gone, his mother would still have a son.)

“Ruwee was close to the Queen,” Ben continued in a more serious vein. “Even in hiding, she’ll know what we need to know.”

The rumble of thought he vaguely sensed from Dameron seemed to be surprise that Ben could actually be useful. “Get in touch with her, then.”

“I sent a request. I’m still waiting for a response.” And if Ben never got a response, he would track her. Once they breached atmo that would be easy enough.

Footsteps from the corridor, and then Finn joined them in the small space. “Why is he flying?”

Ben sighed, slumping back in his seat, and let Rey talk for him.

- - -

The shuttle broke through the cloud cover of Naboo at dawn. Golden light spilled over the mountains and the plains, gilding the autumn landscape and shimmering off the water. Ben’s pleasure in the sight was secondary to his pleasure in Rey’s reaction: her hitch in breath, the way she pressed closer to the small viewport in the common room. She radiated wonder, pure and simple.

It was only after that burst of wonder that he managed to focus on the smaller details: the scars across the plains, the burned husks of homes. Clear proof that the First Order had razed at least this part of the countryside. Firming his lips into a thin line, Ben stalked toward the cockpit, focusing on the spark that was Ruwee. There had been no answer from her, but she was… she was… northwest.

Dameron and Finn gave him a cautious look, clearly unhappy with his sudden appearance.

“Do you have a map?” he asked without prologue, and with one raised brow Dameron called up the requisite holo.

Northwest, northwest…

“There,” he said definitely, jabbing a finger toward the looming mountain range. “Ruwee’s there.”

“The Gallo Mountains?” Dameron shot him a look. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” he replied with certainty.

“Chatter over the back lines says that there is a significant First Order presence in Dee’ja Peak,” Finn said suspiciously.

“She’s in a different part of the mountain range.” He crossed his arms, a part of him missing the days when whatever he said went, no matter how nonsensical. “I can feel her there.”

She was free, not chained in a prison. He would have been able to tell the difference.

“Ben,” Dameron said, his name sounding foreign and dark on the man’s tongue, “if this is a trap-”

“I would never lead Rey into a trap,” Ben said immediately, almost growling out the words. The implications were unfortunate but honest. He could feel her coming down the hall, and lowered his voice in an attempt to keep her from hearing. “And if either of you get her hurt, you will wish that my mother had picked some other poor soul to accompany us.”

He felt more than heard Rey’s sigh. “Stop threatening our allies,” she said sternly, poking him in the side. “Take us to wherever he says,” she told the other two. “I trust him even if you don’t.”

Dameron grumbled, but steered them northwest. Ben stayed where he was, watching the landscape pass by as the tension in the small cockpit gradually increased. Rey’s hand slipped into his, easing his nerves slightly. The shuttle soared unimpeded through the sky, obscured by the best cloaking technology the Resistance had available.

“She’s going to have trouble over this, you know,” Dameron said quietly, his tone grave. “The General.”

Ben glanced toward the other man for a split second before returning his gaze to the sloping hills ahead. He didn’t reply, though he felt a twinge of panic.

Dameron continued. “Imagine what the officials and troops will think about her letting you leave. If you never come back, they might begin to question her loyalty.”

“Your point?” Ben asked.

“My point,” Dameron said in a musing tone. “My point is that I will drag you back to the base, even if I have to lop off a few limbs first.”

Rey’s hand tightened on his. Ben felt cold, despite the fact that he was wearing at least one too many layers. “I promised my mother I would return,” he said. “I’ll keep my promise to her even if I have to abandon you in the middle of Theed.”

Dameron’s laugh was dry. “As long as we have an understanding.”

Ben.

I won’t abandon anyone, he grumbled back immediately, then consciously eased his mental tone. Especially not you.

Her gaze flicked up to meet his. I carry you with me, he heard, a whisper of a thought. He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles, his tension diminishing.

And I carry you.

Chapter Text

The look on Rey’s face when she first heard the crunch of leaves under her feet was adorable: slight confusion, mixed with a childlike glee that made Ben want to smile in turn. Too soon her expression turned serious, a furrow appearing between her brows as she seemed to realize just how much noise they were making.

“I don’t sense anyone nearby,” she murmured to him as they walked several feet ahead of Dameron and Finn. “Do you?”

“No.” They had landed within walking distance of what Ben suspected to be a rebel enclave, but not close enough to immediately attract attention. “I think any First Order troops are at least one mountain over. Noise shouldn’t be an issue.”

Unless they met up with someone more inclined to shoot first and ask questions later, which would hopefully be an inconvenience instead of a disaster. She cast him a glance that seemed to acknowledge the same thought, but her bearing relaxed all the same.

“This is autumn?” she asked, her tone almost shy. “I’ve read about it, but…”

She plucked a red-gold leaf from a low branch as they passed, examining it intently. “Are these same trees green in the summer?”

“Yes.” He would have stepped closer, placed his hand on her back if they had been alone, but with their erstwhile companions staring at him suspiciously he decided it was best to keep away. “New leaves bud in the spring.”

She kicked a pile of leaves as they walked, a smile flickering over her face. “I’d like to see it in the spring.”

Ben thought of her sitting on the spring grass, flowers in her hair, and wished. She looked at him with the same kind of longing- and then stepped closer, her hand sliding into his. There was a mental grumble from the two men behind them, but neither spoke.

Not for his sake, he knew. For hers. They would try to intervene later, when he wasn’t around.

(And he wondered, with every possessive instinct in his body, if after he left she would let one of them into her bed.)

A bit of that possessiveness seemed to seep through the bond to Rey, who shot back a beleaguered mental sigh even as she inched closer.

He had the barest second of warning, just long enough to wrench his hand from Rey’s and to take several steps away, before pain was cascading through his nervous system and the Force equivalent of a war-hammer attempted to break into his mind. His grandmother’s shield deterred the mental invasion, but he could still feel the punishing impact of the blows, leaving him dazed and, he realized belatedly, in a heap on the ground.

Distantly, he felt Rey’s panic and anger, felt her rush toward him, and he threw up a hand in warning with what remained of his strength before she could touch him.

(No lightning along her nerves, a part of him babbled. No chance for Snoke to get a hook into her mind.)

The attack ended as quickly as it had begun, the sudden lack of pain almost as shocking as the pain itself had been. And then the aftershock kicked in, as his body recognized injury and affront and violation.

“He’s bleeding,” he heard someone say, as if from underwater, and only then did Rey’s hands land gently on him. Her training in Force healing was minimal, but he could feel as she began to chase away infection, to encourage his skin to sluggishly knit back together.

Coordinates? he thought blearily, unsure who exactly he was broadcasting to, but the reply came from the very familiar voice of Padmé.

I kept him from getting a lock on you, she replied. He must have been saving his energy for that one.

With no little relief he released what tension there had been in his body, allowing his mind to drift in a semi-meditative state as Rey worked. Vaguely he heard Dameron and Finn having a heated discussion nearby, but couldn’t muster the energy to actually follow the thread of their argument.

He did perk up when he heard Finn snap an order, felt Rey’s healing falter. A visitor, then.

“I’m friendly,” said a familiar voice. “Your group is making far too much noise.”

Rey’s voice, when she spoke, was certain. “Ruwee.”

“Yes.” He heard footsteps through the leaves; a rustle as she knelt next to him. “Back so soon, cousin?”

He huffed out a humorless laugh. “I missed… your sparkling wit.”

Even sapped of energy as he was, he could feel a hint of her amusement. “Such charm must come from the Solo side of your family.” The leaves rustled again. “We’ll have to carry him back,” she told the others calmly. “We can patch him up with bacta there.”

He wanted to tell her to save those resources- intended to tell her just that- but words seemed… fuzzy.

“We don’t need to carry him,” he heard Rey say, her voice strangely distant. The press of leaves against his face disappeared, replaced with thin air. His desert girl had amazing control over the Force, truly.

Someone snickered. “‘My desert girl’?” someone asked, almost in disbelief, and Ben realized that he had spoken aloud. Kriff.

“Hush,” Rey said, a soothing mental caress edged with slight embarrassment washing over him. “Leave Ben alone.”

The forest faded to shadows, and then to black.

- - -

He was sprawled over the bed in his family’s ancestral summer home, the sheets just as dust-covered as the last time he had taken a nap there.

“I should have dreamed of the clean version,” he said toward the ceiling, and his grandmother chuckled in response.

“It is certainly cheerier.” She appeared at the edge of the bed, staring down at him with a concerned expression on her face. “He has a hold on you, Ben. I don’t know how to break it.”

“Neither do I.” He took in a breath, examining the core of power within himself. The whitish-gray of static, flecked with black lightning. Far lighter than it had once been, with nothing that looked foreign, that looked wrong. “I thought I had blocked him.”

“I don’t think you can.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I think- I think he’s been part of you for so long that only death will sunder that hold.”

“We hope,” he muttered, not particularly liking the idea of being haunted by Snoke, assuming he lived through the ordeal that killing him would be.

The look on her face was not dissimilar to the one his mother had worn when he had told her about the medic. “I can do more against him after he’s dead,” she said with a razor-sharp smile. “Your ghosts would outnumber him.”

He supposed that there was a kind of comfort in such a weird statement. And- he had to admit- the idea of Snoke coming up against Padmé Amidala was startlingly funny.

Less funny was the realization he had come to shortly before succumbing to a (not at all dignified) dead faint. “If he can do this without even knowing where I am, he’ll shred me once we’re in the same place.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, her expression grave. “You have depths you haven’t tapped yet, Ben. But yes- that may very well happen.”

“Still a good distraction,” he muttered, the bit of hope he had been carrying with him flickering.

“A bond like that goes both ways.”

He blinked, considering- and then sat up straight. “I don’t… that power is very dark,” he said slowly, meeting her eyes.

“Doing to him what he just did to you- yes, that would be dark.” Her gaze was steady and calm. “I’m no Jedi, Ben, but surely there are other ways to exploit your connection.”

“I’ll never be some shining ray of light,” he whispered, thinking of the legends he had read as a child. “I can’t destroy him with the blinding glow of my purity.” The latter was said with a distinctly bitter air.

“No,” she said easily. “But you have- if you will forgive the pun- a Rey of light.”

The look he gave her was a mix of despair and disbelief and the kind of horror he had formerly reserved for his father’s terrible jokes. “I’m not taking Rey.”

“You are stronger together.” The you stubborn idiot was unsaid but strongly implied. “I know you love her, Ben, but she’s strong.”

“Of course she is,” he snapped. “She’s entirely capable.”

“But you still won’t tell her.”

He thought of his years in the First Order, thought of the knights he had trained. All Force sensitives, all inclined to the dark- though some less than others. He had very distinct memories of several knight-elects who had been found wanting and had, despite their best attempts at defense, died at Snoke’s feet. “If he can do this to me, someone with nearly two decades of training, the things he could do to her…”

“She, too, has untapped depths.” She laid a hand on his arm, her gaze pleading. “If your grandfather had turned away from Palpatine, I would have followed him to any corner of the galaxy,” she told him softly. “You turned away from your dark path, Ben. Let her choose whether or not to follow you, this one time.”

He buried his face in his hands, tears pricking at his eyelids. “If she’s hurt-”

“I would rather have died at Anakin’s side than lived a long life in luxury, alone. Leaving her in your mother’s hands will barely make a dent in her grief or her anger.”

He knew instinctively that what she said was true.

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered into his hands.

“Good.” The mattress creaked as she stood. “And now you should sleep. You’re more injured than you think.”

“Not the first time,” he said, dropping his hands with a sigh.

“No.” Her smile was bittersweet. “No bad dreams. I promise.”

The room seemed to shimmer, and slowly dust and grime were replaced with soft light and scrupulously clean linens. Suddenly overcome with weariness, he slumped back onto the mattress. “I think you’re bewitching me,” he grumbled, fatigue dragging at his limbs. “I need to wake up- find Hux-”

“You need to sleep.” She brushed his hair away from his face as if he were a child. “Just sleep.”

And he did, slipping into dreams within dreams within dreams.

- - -

When he woke up- truly woke up- it was to a small, dim room, his body on a hard cot. He was on his stomach, the distinctive feel of bacta patches on what seemed like every inch of his back. With a groan, he rolled to his side, nearly falling onto the floor.

“You’re alive.”

He could barely see Ruwee, sitting as she was in a shadowy corner. “You should have saved the bacta,” he said, the words coming out with a tad of difficulty. “Your resources-”

“Are strained,” she admitted, one shoulder lifting in a casual shrug. “Everyone agreed you should benefit from what we had.”

He blinked in confusion, the words making little sense. “Everyone?”

“Everyone on base. All one hundred and three of us. We took an informal poll.”

That might have been a joke; he was processing too slowly to tell. “They should hate me.”

“Love for Queen Amidala runs deep.” She stood and moved closer, kneeling next to his cot. “And respect for you- that runs deep as well.”

“Respect,” he scoffed, wincing as he rolled onto his back. “Doubtful.”

“I don’t think you understand how many people you saved, when you were last here.” She was utterly serious. “And beyond that… it takes a strong person to admit when they’re wrong, Kylo.”

“Ben.”

“Ben. A better name,” she said softly. “We respect that, too.”

“You shouldn’t.” He thought of the battle in the meadow, so many months ago. “I was there, when… when your family died.”

“I know.” She patted his uninjured shoulder gently. “What do you want me to do, Ben? Be angry that you didn’t change your mind earlier? They weren’t the first members of my family to fall on a battlefield. Not even the first of my siblings.” She sighed quietly. “It would be easier to embrace my anger,” she admitted, “but I was raised by parents who espoused mercy.”

Mercy felt distinctly like running aground on a rocky shore. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

They were both quiet for a moment, in that dark room. Her hand still lay warm on his shoulder.

It struck Ben, suddenly, that something was missing. Someone significant.

“Where is she?”

“Theed.”

Ben tumbled out of the cot, nearly into Ruwee’s lap, his surge of panicked adrenaline barely giving him the strength to do even that. “What the kriffing hells is Rey doing in Theed?” he asked, his voice rising as he struggled to stand. He had to prop himself against the wall, his muscles trembling. “Theed?”

“You’ve been healing for almost two days,” Ruwee replied, sounding irritated. “She left with your companions yesterday.”

The idea that Rey had simply left him in foreign territory- Rey, who understood more than anyone what it was to be abandoned- was almost incomprehensible. The fact that it made a certain amount of sense strategically barely registered. “She left me?”

Ruwee moved forward, slipping under his arm to keep him upright. “Get back in bed, Ben. Falling on your ass and injuring yourself further won’t help you, right now.”

“But she left me.”

“Only after I let her into my head.” Ruwee forcibly hauled him back to the cot, grunting with the effort. “I let your desert girl-”

“Does everyone know that?” he groaned as he half-fell into bed.

“-rifle through my mind, because she refused to leave until she knew for a fact that we wouldn’t hurt you.”

Abandoned.

(Hypocrite.)

He stiffened, and it was not entirely because he had inadvertently put his weight on a very sore spot.

“Ben?”

He took in a deep breath. “They made it to Theed safely?”

“Yes. They should be back tomorrow, if their plan goes off without a hitch.” She tapped a finger on his cheek, forcing him to look at her in the dim light. “Ben, you need at least one, maybe two more days in bacta strips before you’re even close to fighting form. This Hux-”

Her mouth twisted in a snarl, an expression he had never seen on her. “-he’s leaving in one day.”

“Right.” Tentatively he reached out along the bond, quickly finding Rey at the other end.

Even quicker: not now, and a wash of energy that signaled concentration and tension.

“If the situation were reversed, would you have left her?”

Ben curled up on his side, facing away from Ruwee. I was going to, he wanted to say. His energy was already fading. He thought of his many nightmares: her blood on the ground, her skin shredded by Snoke’s lightning, her bones broken by the Praetorian Guards.

“Is it better,” he asked, his eyes fixed on the wall across from him, “to be left with good intent? Or to take someone into a dangerous situation, accepting the risks?”

She was quiet for a moment. “That seems like a very specific question. But, if everyone involved is able, and willing- you should always give them the choice to go.”

He sighed into his scratchy blanket.

“Not the answer you wanted?”

“The answer I keep getting,” he replied, his voice sounding drowsy despite his continuing flow of thought.

“It’s natural to be afraid for the ones we love,” she said quietly. “But stifling them- that isn’t love at all.”

Ben shivered. Ineffectually he pulled at the blanket trapped under his body, barely freeing an inch. The thought of stifling Rey, of crushing her into that blank-eyed specter from the cave- of making her feel the same helplessness that had taken root in his mind- it quailed him in his exhausted state.

A prick in his arm. “You need to rest,” Ruwee said firmly, whatever sedative she had given him working quickly. “You need to heal.”

He did not dream.

- - -

He could vaguely remember waking several times after that, but the next time he was fully cognizant he woke to find Dameron sitting only a few feet from his cot.

“Rey?” Ben asked immediately, sitting up with an ease that was a relief. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping,” Dameron replied with a jerk of his head, directing Ben’s attention to a second cot near the door. Rey lay draped over its hard frame, one foot resting limply on the floor. “Keeping Hux in his chains turned out to be a full-time job. Did you know he can dislocate limbs at will? The man’s practically a contortionist.”

Ben slipped out of bed, almost crawling across the floor until he reached her side. “She’s unharmed?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes, though it took all her Jedi mind tricks to lure him away from his bodyguards and then keep him sitting still afterward.”

Ben reached out to touch her, to smooth away the strand of hair nearly caught in her mouth, but stopped with his hand hovering just above her skin. He wouldn’t wake her, not now. She deserved this rest.

He withdrew his hand, sitting back in a slightly more comfortable position at her side.

“Snoke do that often?” Dameron asked, and waved a hand in his direction when Ben glanced back at him.

“Often enough,” Ben mumbled in reply, turning his gaze back to Rey.

“Rey wouldn’t tell us anything,” Dameron continued. “That was a guess.”

“She wouldn’t,” Ben said quietly.

The emotions he felt from Dameron were less aggressive than they had been, but no friendlier. “You should have known the kind of master he would be,” the other man said, his light tone almost like a slap. “Didn’t you expect this, when you invited him in?”

“I was in utero at the time,” Ben replied, his shoulders hunching forward. “My bargaining skills weren’t very sharp.”

In the ensuing silence Ben risked delicately pulling the strand of hair away from Rey’s mouth, rubbing the ends between his fingers for the space of a second before tucking the lock away.

Unexpectedly, Dameron stood. “I’ll find my own bed, then.” He took a few steps toward the door, pausing only when he reached Rey’s cot. “We need to leave in the morning.”

Ben glanced up at him, a frown forming on his face. “You’re leaving me alone with her?” he asked skeptically.

“Don’t get me wrong, Solo,” the other man said, taking another step forward to lean against the door frame. “I doubt we’ll ever be the best of friends. But Rey?” Dameron shrugged. “You won’t hurt her. Not purposefully.”

Dameron disappeared down the hall. Ben peered contemplatively after him, unsure what, exactly, had tipped the scales even slightly in his favor. Finally he exhaled a rough, quiet laugh. Amazing how powerful pain could be, in so many different ways. Grabbing his blanket and pillow, he arranged himself on the floor next to Rey’s cot, content to wait.

- - -

The feel of small hands grabbing his arm dragged him from his doze. With a grunt he crawled onto Rey’s cot, tucking his face into her neck as she laughed. “You’re squishing me,” she said, not sounding very distressed by her situation. “Ben.”

With a sigh he adjusted himself so that he was only pinning half her body down as opposed to three-quarters. “You left me,” he grumbled against her skin, and felt something odd through their bond: a kind of excitement focused on the feel of his lips and scruff against her neck. The excitement was quickly subsumed by guilt, which caused him to flinch.

“We were constrained by time,” she said apologetically, and in response he pressed a lingering kiss against the curve where neck met shoulder.

“I know. I-”

He broke off, moving back to the floor as his conscious came to the fore. “We need to talk.”

She peered at him from her supine pose, looking more disgruntled by the loss of contact than suspicious. “About me leaving?”

“No.” He took in a breath. “About- about what the Resistance wants me to do.”

She sat up sharply, her hair wild and half-falling out of its bindings. “With Snoke?”

“Yes.” He swallowed, plucking at the hem of his shirt. “Not my mother, but everyone else… it’s a punishment, Rey, which I deserve.”

In seemingly an instant she was off the cot and straddling his lap, her gaze fierce. “Tell me.”

“I’m a good distraction,” he said, almost pleading, his hands settling on her hips. “I go to the Supremacy, pull their attention from the Resistance, do as much damage as I can…”

She was glaring at him, and he trailed off. “It makes sense,” he finished quietly.

“They’re sending you in alone?” she asked, her tone dangerous. “Alone. Without troops. Without me.”

They had not specified that Rey could not accompany him. That had been his own idea. “I have to atone, sweetheart,” he murmured. She was so tense, so unreadable that he had no idea what she was thinking. “They don’t need to waste resources to guard my back.” He took in a deep breath as her gaze turned downright murderous. “Including you,” he continued. “You’re the most precious resource they have.”

She stared at him, the corners of her mouth twitching downward. Finally, after several excruciatingly long seconds, she said, “You were going to leave me.”

“I’ve dreamed of every way Snoke could tear you apart.” He could feel his lower lip quivering, and didn’t care. “You deserve so much better.”

She leaned into him, the move so restrained that he barely noticed. “Are you trying to protect me, Ben?” she asked, her voice brutally soft.

“Yes.”

She tilted her head slightly to the side, examining him as if he were some unknown discovery. “I won’t be scavenged,” she said, echoing her words from days before. “And I won’t be protected, like this- in secret, without my knowledge.”

He nodded in acknowledgment, unable to find the words to respond.

“I’m going with you,” she said firmly, her anger bolstering her determination until it was a force even he found intimidating.

“Okay.” His hands flexed against her hips. He had to let her go, he knew. She was angry with him- he had destroyed something, yet again, and this whole endeavor might still destroy her, and-

Her hands settled on either side of his face, fingers weaving through his hair. “You are-”

She shook her head, clearly exasperated. “United front,” she finished. “I- I won’t do without you.”

And then inexplicably- impossibly- her mouth was on his.

Chapter Text

The feel of her mouth against his briefly shocked him into utter stillness. Despite everything- the trajectory of their relationship, the quiet intimacies she had allowed him- this new step suddenly seemed entirely unforeseen.

Rey pulled back, a feeling of uncertainty creeping through their bond. The realization that his shock was making her second-guess her actions gave him the impetus to move. He slid one arm around her back, holding her snugly to him, and buried his other hand in her hair.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured before slanting his mouth over hers, trying to find just the right angle. Another minute shift, and- there. Perfect. She pressed closer, looping one arm around his neck, a noise that sounded suspiciously like a moan emanating from her. She was an open book, at that moment: startled pleasure and desire and a mantra of mine.

“Very much yours,” he told her when they finally broke apart. Her breathing was just as ragged as his, which pleased him on a deep level. “Only yours.”

“I’m still mad at you.” Despite her words she rubbed the tip of her nose against his, her lips tipped upward in a small smile. “Don’t try to distract me.”

“You kissed me first, Rey.”

“Hmm.” She shifted on his lap, reminding him that his body was finding this entire exchange very intriguing. “No one’s ever tried to protect me, before,” she said unsteadily, the only sign that she was at all aware of his arousal. He got the sense that she liked it, at least a little- not just his arousal (though she liked that too, he felt the spark in her mind), but the idea of being protected. She liked it in a guilty kind of way, like it was a fantasy she was ashamed of.

He considered that feeling, considered her independence and fierce drive to protect those she considered in her care. “I know you don’t need protecting,” he said quietly, the words barely a whisper. For once they were at eye-level, a rare luxury. “And I was wrong to try and protect you in the way I did. Maybe… maybe we could compromise?”

She raised a brow. “I’m still going with you.”

“I know.” He was resigned to the idea, now, and with that resignation came a certain amount of peace. “But maybe you could give me something I’m allowed to protect you from.”

She grinned, breaking into a laugh that delighted him. “You expect me to believe that you’ll funnel all your protective urges into one random thing?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I can try, Rey.”

“All right.” She laughed again, dropping her head to rest on his shoulder. “Spiders.”

“Spiders?” He pressed a kiss against her hair, grinning. “Really?”

“I never saw them on Jakku.” She turned her head just enough to meet his gaze. “The first one I saw was on Ahch-To. It was huge, the size of my palm, and I-”

She hesitated. “I don’t like them.”

He tried not to laugh. She wrinkled her nose at the choked sound he made. “That’s your allowed excuse,” she said. “Protect me from spiders.”

“Gladly.” He stroked her hair, gently releasing the strands from the last of the loose bindings. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to give me an excuse?” she asked.

“I trust your judgment.” She was so warm under his hands, and compared to him, so small. “Just be careful.”

She lifted her head and pulled him into another kiss, one slow and sweet. The bond between them shivered as if alive, humming with pleasure that was both theirs and not theirs. “The Force seems to like this,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his.

“The Force likes balance,” he whispered back. “The two of us, together- a perfect balance.”

He kissed her again, giving himself over to the quiet thrill of something that was slow and gentle and soft.

After far too short a time Rey said, with palpable disappointment, “We need to get ready to leave.”

He brushed one last kiss against her temple. “I know.”

Letting her go was difficult. Watching her straighten her mussed clothing, her hair loose around her shoulders, he did something far easier: he spoke a truth.

“I love you.”

Rey stared up at him, her slow smile a benediction. “I know.”

Impulsively he grabbed her up, kissing her even as he grinned at her startled squeak. This kiss was messier, wilder, but the way her hands fisted in his shirt told him that she was enjoying it just as much as he was.

“Do they do this a lot?” he heard Ruwee ask, and he realized belatedly that the door was halfway open. Rey pulled away from the kiss, still caught in his arms. She was blushing. He was fairly certain they both were.

(She was pink with a blush, and with the burn from his facial hair, and he liked it.)

“No, this is new.” Dameron sounded almost amused. “I hope they don’t do this all the way home.”

The groan in reply sounded suspiciously like Finn.

He let Rey go when she tapped his back, her eyes pleading, but kept behind the shield of her body when she turned. He tried not to smirk.

(He did not succeed.)

“Ready to go?” Rey asked, her voice somewhat strained.

“Just need to load the prisoner,” Dameron replied, one corner of his mouth twitching upward. “We’ll be in the mess hall when you’re ready.” He ushered the other two away with a wink that Ben wasn’t entirely sure how to define. Friendly? Sarcastic? Not antagonistic, at least.

He leaned forward to speak softly in Rey’s ear. “Did I embarrass you?”

“No,” she said immediately, turning to look at him. She was still blushing. “I never worried about manners before I left Jakku,” she said with a self-conscious shrug. “Not manners the way everyone else seems to know them. Scavengers have different standards.”

“They interrupted us,” he pointed out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”

“I’m just a desert girl,” she said, the inflection on the words making it clear she was quoting his accidental slip. “I’m not… your mother was a princess, Ben.”

“And my father was a smuggler.” He let his hands settle loosely on her upper arms. A comforting move, he hoped, and not one of restraint. “I’m no prince, Rey.”

No matter what the cave specter had said.

“I don’t embarrass you?” she asked, her gaze penetrating.

“Never.” He didn’t care how she ate, or her proclivity for collecting what seemed like small, useless engine parts. She could kiss him in the middle of the most prudish royal courts and he would accept the affection, gladly. “You’re perfect.”

Her blush deepened. “Flatterer.”

“Get used to it.” He smirked at her, ignoring the way the drying bacta strips itched against his back. He felt happier than he had in… in years, probably. “I’m a Solo.”

- - -

The mess hall for the base was more like a small room, best used in shifts. Rey’s damp, freshly washed hair spilled around her face as she tucked into her plate of food, patches of her skin still faintly pink around her mouth. Ben was having trouble keeping his eyes off of her, but he forced himself to focus on the group’s discussion.

“We can lock him in one of the bunks,” Dameron was saying, “but we’ll need to keep him under constant guard. And given the kind of trouble he gave us after Theed, I think that means Solo and Rey on alternating shifts.”

Ben nodded, reluctant but accepting. He foresaw some very uncomfortable discussions in his future. “Makes sense. What kind of distraction did you leave behind in Theed?”

Rey swallowed a bite, her food already half-gone. “Explosives. The wing of the palace Hux was staying in was destroyed.” She shrugged apologetically at Ruwee. “We did manage to evacuate the palace staff, first.”

Ruwee lifted one shoulder, her expression one of resigned acceptance. “I never liked the way those rooms were decorated, anyway.”

“They’ll be searching the rubble for a while. We have three days more, maybe four, before they realize he isn’t dead,” Finn said. “You may want to interrogate him on our way back, instead of waiting.”

Ben’s palms itched at the idea. He was still not entirely comfortable with the prospect of resuming that particular duty. He would try to be gentle, but he wasn’t entirely sure how- and even edging closer to his darker self made him nervous.

Under the table Rey’s foot tapped against his. I’ll be with you.

“I can do that,” Ben finally said with a jerky nod. “Poe, are there any shortcuts we can take?”

Poe blinked at him, clearly caught off guard by the use of his first name, but rallied admirably. “A few. I can shave off a day, with a little risk.”

“I say yes,” Rey said, mopping up a bit of gravy with her last bite of bread.

“Me, too,” Finn added, and met Ben’s gaze with reluctance. “Let’s go.”

- - -

Hux was temporarily housed in a sturdy cell on the base, one guarded by four guards, all armed to the teeth. Despite Ruwee’s words, Ben was still surprised when the guards gave him nods that were not only friendly, but almost respectful.

“We’re ready to transfer the prisoner,” he informed one of the guards, a woman with the air of assured capability. The way that the others almost unconsciously deferred to her argued that she was likely of higher rank.

She nodded, holding out a hand to one of her subordinates for a set of shackles. “He’s probably slipped out of the pair we provided to him,” she said, a dry note to her voice. “He’s very talented.”

Ben had never even suspected that Hux had that kind of physical skill, but the man was so canny he wasn’t entirely surprised. “I would be glad to hold him still while you secure him,” he replied smoothly.

She gave him a slight smile. “Very efficient.”

When the door swung open, a flash of movement proved that Hux had, indeed, escaped from his restraints, but his freedom was brief. Ben froze him in place with the Force, his face expressionless.

Hux’s own face showed at first disbelief, and then disgust, and then- when he spotted Ben- he paled.

“General Hux,” Ben said with frigid gentleness. “Allow me to escort you to your next destination. There are,” he continued, “questions to be asked.”

Hux’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Ren.”

“Solo,” Ben corrected coolly.

“The Supreme Leader will burn your mind to ash,” the other man snapped as his limbs were securely restrained. There was a livid bruise on his face. “The story of your death will terrify children for generations.”

“Perhaps.” Ben glanced at the woman who held sway over this small cell. “Does he have any injuries we need to tend?” he asked. “He deserved them, if so, but we do need him alive for interrogation.”

“Bruises.” She sneered in Hux’s direction. “Incidental ones, when he tried to escape.” She turned a sharp gaze on Ben. “You know what he’s done,” she said- a statement, not a question.

“I am very aware.” He gave her a slight bow of his head. “If he were anyone else, we would leave him to Naboo’s justice.”

She nodded, looking as if she understood. “We’re trusting the Resistance to deal with him appropriately, after.” She quirked a brow. “We’re trusting you.”

“Understood.”

It would have been a waste of their time to force Hux to walk to their ship. Easier and faster to float him along, keeping him bound in real and invisible chains. Ben contemplated gagging the man, but after his initial insults Hux seemed determined to stay silent- and he did, right up until the moment when Ben secured him to the bunk.

“After the Supreme Leader finishes with you, he’ll move on to the girl.” There was a fierce light in Hux’s eyes, reminding Ben that Hux wasn’t simply Snoke’s sycophant, but a believer. “With her in thrall he’ll raze the galaxy.”

Ben snorted a disbelieving laugh, his dark amusement overwhelming the hint of panic. “If he truly thinks he can mold her, Snoke’s more foolish than I thought.”

“If she can’t be molded, she’ll be discarded.” Hux sneered at him. “You know what the Supreme Leader is capable of, when he isn’t constrained by the need to keep someone alive. Things get… messy.”

“You sound like a third-rate holo villain,” Poe said from behind Ben. “Did you practice those lines, General Hugs?”

Ben felt his lips twitch into a smile.

Hux’s hissed “Rebel scum” merely added to Poe’s observation.

“You’re right,” Ben told Poe, glancing over his shoulder at him. “He does sound like a poorly scripted villain. Or a henchman.”

“Maybe we should leave him to think up some new material.” Poe rolled his shoulders, looking for all the galaxy as if he were about to go on a relaxing walk. “Can you hold him there for a while?”

It would only take a little bit of effort to keep the Force bond in place. Ben stepped back, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Do you have the route mapped?”

“It’s ready.” Poe crossed his arms, glancing at the closed door. “When will you…?”

A touchy topic, given their shared history in an interrogation chamber. “After we leave atmo.” Ben kept his gaze on an innocuous patch of wall. “I’ll need Rey with me, to make sure I don’t…”

He trailed off, having said a bit more than he had intended to say.

“I guess you don’t specialize in the delicate approach.”

The silence that followed was awkward.

“No,” Ben said finally. Give him a piece of paper and a calligraphy pen and he could produce something worthy of the adjective ‘delicate.’ He could, and would, extend a delicate touch to Rey. That was the extent of his delicacy. “That never was my forte.”

“Well,” Poe replied, stretching the word out to cover several syllables, “good luck with… all of that.”

Ben leaned back against the wall as the other man walked away, feeling his anxiety begin to ramp up. Almost immediately he felt Rey, her side of the bond brushing against him, the feeling akin to the warmth of her hand sliding into his. He let slip a taste of his uncertainty, his fear, and she soothed him in turn.

I’m going to act as co-pilot for departure, he heard clearly. And then I’ll be there.

He slowly slid down the wall to sit on the floor, the metal grid beneath him shimmering as the shuttle neared take-off. Inside the cell Hux’s anger was a living thing in and of itself.

Ben allowed himself to slip into a meditative state as he waited, the leash on Hux’s bonds clutched loosely in his mind. The lighter side of the Force tugged at him like an unhappy child, clearly displeased with what he was planning to do. He tried to placate it, but it practically whined in his ear.

When it settled, dulling from a whine to a hum, he knew that Rey was approaching. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted without even opening his eyes. Her footsteps stopped, and then they were hip to hip as she sat beside him.

“I think you can.” She waited for him to look at her before continuing. “What can I do to help?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I only ever learned interrogation from Snoke. I was never taught how to do this carefully.”

She looked thoughtful. “I know… I know we’ve both hurt each other in that kind of way,” she said slowly, pressing a hand to his knee when he opened his mouth to apologize, “but is it very different, with someone who isn’t Force sensitive? They wouldn’t have our shields, would they?”

“Even people like Hux develop their own shields, largely subconsciously, and he doesn’t exactly have what I would call an open mind.” He leaned his head against hers, releasing an uneven breath. “This will need to be almost surgical. I need you to ground me.”

“I can do that.”

“I want to hurt him,” he admitted quietly. “Not just for Naboo. The things he’s done- that we’ve done-”

“I won’t let you,” she interrupted. “I told you we were going to keep you in the light, remember?” Her small fingers entwined with his. “I love you.”

She spoke the words softly, in a way that told him they were unfamiliar to her tongue. It was entirely possible she had never said them to anyone else, not even her parents in the years before they abandoned her. When he turned his head to meet her eyes, she looked more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.

“You know I do,” she said before he could speak. “And I know I do, even if I always thought love was something from a children’s story.”

He pressed a kiss to her hairline, warmth spreading through him. “Sweetheart.”

“When I was on Takodana- when I found my lightsaber- I talked with Maz.”

He smiled, even as he felt a pang. Maz still lived, thankfully, and he had anonymously diverted First Order funds to her shortly after fleeing. Despite that, he still felt guilt over destroying her livelihood. “Oh, I know Maz.”

Rey spoke slowly, obviously quoting words that had affected her on a deep level. “‘The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead.’” She squeezed his hand, leaning against his side. “I think she meant us, Ben. The Resistance, too, but mostly us. And I’m not losing you now.”

Her faith in him settled his nerves. “No, you’re not.” He would have preferred to stay sitting with her on the hard floor, her hand clasped in his, but he had a task to accomplish. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She pressed a kiss against his chin. “I’m ready, Ben.”

- - -

He wished, briefly, for a uniform- specifically, for Kylo Ren’s uniform. There was something about tailored, imposing lines that had always given him a kind of confidence, and he wondered idly if the idea of fashion as armor was a genetic trait passed down from the Naberrie side of his family.

Instead, he was wearing clothes that fit him, but were more akin to something his father might have worn. There weren’t many people with builds like his on the Resistance base; clothing himself had definitely been a matter of accepting what was available, rather than what he wanted.

(He had his vanities, and one was the knowledge that he actually liked wearing black, Force dichotomies be damned.)

Ben loosened his collar, looking toward Rey. “After I sit down, keep your hand on the back of my neck. The skin to skin contact- it helps.”

“Okay.” She looked entirely confident. “United front.”

He nodded, tapping his fingers nervously against the stool beside him. “United front.”

Hux, when Ben opened the door, directed a poisonous glare in their direction. “The traitor and the Jedi whore.”

Only the unspoken warning from Rey kept Ben from lashing out at that particular epithet. “Charming as ever,” he gritted out instead, dragging the stool inside the door and taking a seat. Rey’s cool hand clasped the back of his neck loosely. “Surely you can think of a way to insult a woman without bringing sex into the equation.”

“It irritated you,” Hux replied, and that was certainly the truth.

Ben hid his grimace as he examined his former ally. Angry, bruised, his clothing torn- yet still completely in control of himself.

Really, Hux was stronger than Ben had ever given him credit for.

“You know why I’m here.”

“To interrogate me.” Hux’s expression slid into a smirk. “Tired of the light, Ren? Ready to slip back into what you do best?”

Ben leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. There was no need for Hux to think that he had lost his edge; Ben could intimidate without resuming Kylo’s mask. He tilted his head slightly to the side, the move calculated- and then sent Rey an unspoken apology. When he spoke, it was with deadly softness. “You know I can take what I want.”

Hux shivered.

Encouraged, Ben kept his gaze intently on Hux. “You’ve seen my methods,” he continued in the same tone. “You’ve seen the results.”

Hux looked away, his jaw clenched.

“Very well.”

Ben took in a breath, and reached out. Gaining access to the surface of Hux’s mind was easy, and he found what he expected: panic, anger, the biting snap of how dare he. It took more effort to gently infiltrate the next layer, and even more the next, but he sensed that what he needed lay deeper.

Rend.

He flinched, losing ground as a dark voice spoke slyly- one that sounded suspiciously like the one he had once attributed to his grandfather.

Tear.

Snoke. Was that Snoke? Was it Kylo Ren? Was it the darker aspects of the Force? Control over Hux seemed to slip through his fingers.

Consume.

The pressure on the back of his neck increased, and with it came Rey’s voice.

You are one with the Force.

There. He solidified his hold; wriggled through a barrier.

The Force is one with you.

Another barrier, and another.

You are loved.

Emboldened, he slipped through the last barriers like a ghost. Memories and information flowed through him, a wealth of knowledge stolen from a mind that was held in a kind of stasis.

Ben returned to himself with ease, opening his eyes to see Hux still smirking. A drop of blood slid from one nostril, but Ben could tell that was the extent of the damage.

“You’ve failed, Ren,” Hux said, clearly delighted, and Ben realized- the man had no idea how deeply he had delved.

His own lips curved into a smirk, and Hux froze.

“Have I?” Ben asked, and as Hux gaped at him, Ben collected the stool and left the small room.

With the door locked behind him, Ben finally met Rey’s gaze. She beamed up at him, fairly glowing with pride. “Good job.”

He pulled her into an embrace, limp with relief. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.” He kissed the top of her head, his end of the bond suffused with gratitude.

(A thread of worry nagged at him. It couldn’t have been Snoke, he argued to himself. He would have known. Padmé would have warned him.)

“We have a message to send,” he murmured against her hair, pushing the disconcerting feeling aside as best he could. “The Resistance needs to prepare to move on Crait.”

Chapter Text

“Where did it come from?” Ben asked his grandmother as soon as he had slipped into the dream meadow. “Who did it come from?”

“I don’t know. The bond, maybe.” Padmé’s dress was wrinkled, her lip-paint clearly bitten off. “But it wasn’t Snoke, not in any direct fashion. A ghost of memory, perhaps.” She ripped a budding weed from the earth, obviously as frustrated as he was with the situation. “Anakin doesn’t know, either.”

Ben rubbed a hand against his face, wishing for even a hint at the source. Rey had only felt his struggle; she had been entirely unaware of the voice until he had confessed it.

(She had gone protective and fierce, her fingertips running gently over the lines of his face even as their bond had sung with resolve.)

“It didn’t tempt me,” Ben said, partially as a reminder to himself. “It distracted me, but I never felt the desire to comply.”

“Good.” She nodded, her demeanor slipping from frazzled to that of a leader, completely in control. “That would truly worry me, but this- this is just a blip.”

“A bit more than a blip,” he muttered.

“If the voice- who or whatever it was- could control you, the prisoner would be dead. As would Rey and everyone else on that shuttle.” She began shredding blades of grass, her gaze distant with thought. “Presumably Snoke wouldn’t want you to interrogate Hux successfully.”

“Not unless the information was planted, which would mean Hux was sent to Naboo specifically to lure me back.” Ben mulled over the possibility. “Hux believed everything I found,” he said after a moment. “Snoke could make him believe those things, but… Hux is a crucial piece of the First Order hierarchy.”

“A piece worth sacrificing, if doing so means retrieving his knight?”

Ben lay back in the grass, one hand over his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“A desperate gambit.”

Ben breathed in air scented with spring blossoms. “The longer I think on all this, the more suspicious I am,” he said after a moment.

“Me, too.”

- - -

“Ben.” His name, murmured, and a mental brush of affection. “Wake up.”

He briefly considered just reaching up and pulling her down on top of him, wanting the comfort of her body against his for just a few minutes, but instead he gave in to the inevitable.

“Hux is sleeping,” Rey said, smiling despite the shadows under her eyes. “I thought he never would, after all the banging around he was doing.” She held out a portion of dried rations and a cup of water. “Eat while you have the chance.”

He resisted the urge to make a face as he chewed the flavorless, tough rations that the Resistance had supplied them with. Cheap, he thought with a mental sigh. Easy to buy in bulk without attracting attention. They were too shorthanded on this return trip to cook, with as much trouble as Hux was making.

(Ben missed feeding Rey. It was as simple as that.)

She perched on the edge of his bunk as he sipped the water, one hand laid loosely over his knee. Normally he might have tossed the cup’s contents back in a few gulps, but Rey- ever a child of the desert- still regarded water as a precious resource. From her, water was a gift, and he savored it despite the metallic tang.

“Stay here,” he said quietly, and pulled her in for a kiss. A peck, really- just a brush of lips as a reminder until they had time and privacy again. “The bed’s all warm for you,” he added with a teasing smile.

They switched places, Rey kicking off her boots before wrapping herself in the blanket. “Smells like you,” she murmured with a smile, curling up in her usual fetal position. “Call me, if he’s too much trouble.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair, cast his senses to Hux- still sleeping- and waited until she slept. Just a few minutes, nothing more.

Ben crept out into the hall, closing the door as quietly as possible behind him. Finn was waiting, leaning back against the wall, and they shared a glance as Ben pulled on his boots.

“She’s out?”

“She is.” Ben leaned against the wall a few feet from Finn, setting a small part of his mind to keeping tabs on the makeshift cell.

Finn crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “We all heard the rumors,” he said after a moment, his quiet voice still somehow loud in the dim corridor. “About what Snoke would do to you.”

Ben tensed briefly, and then forced himself to relax. “I’m not surprised.”

Snoke had punished him often, after all. Sometimes just to remind him what a punishment was.

“They were surprisingly accurate.” Finn met his gaze squarely. “Did you know he could do that, from a distance?”

“Yes.” Ben didn’t look away. “He is exceptionally skilled at projection.”

“Does he know where we are?”

“No.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed, his chin tilting up slightly. “I don’t like you.”

“You don’t have to.” Ben lifted one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “I’m not very likable.”

Inexplicably Finn’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “An understatement, don’t you think?”

Ben shrugged again. Hux was stirring in his cell. He would need to be fed; need to be escorted to the ‘fresher. Both onerous tasks.

“Did you defect because of Rey?”

The question was both unexpected and not. Ben shook his head. “No.” Not really. “I had… family reasons.”

Finn took that the way Ben had expected, a scowl replacing the smile. “He was a good man.”

Ben remembered the look on his father’s face, the feel of the lightsaber being tugged away from him. The way his father’s hand had briefly lain against his cheek. “Yes, he was.”

Finn had a better shield than most, likely because of his own Force sensitivity. Ben remembered sensing that Force signature over a year ago and following it to Finn’s squadron. He had made a habit of it, whenever he had detected a sensitive in the fleet- there was always a need for new knights-elect, what with the odds of death in their ranks being so high- and what he had seen that day had convinced him to leave the man where he was.

Weak, he had thought.

In terms of Force sensitivity, perhaps- Finn would never have Rey’s power- but certainly in no other respect.

“Tuanul wasn’t the first battle for either of us.”

Ben shot Finn a glance, aware that for at least a moment his expression had shown how startled he was. “No,” he agreed, unsure what Finn was thinking.

“I let my shots go astray in the others,” Finn admitted. “But some still struck a target. No clue who my father is; maybe one of my shots took him down.”

Ben did not think this was an attempt at rapport. He had no idea what this was. “It’s not the same thing.”

Finn jammed his hands into the pocket of his jacket, a crease forming between his brows. “Rey had a lot of things to say to me on our way to Theed.”

Ben repressed his smile. “Did she call you a hypocrite?”

“She didn’t go that far.” Finn scowled, but the corner of his mouth twitched up as if he wanted to smile. “But she did a lot of cursing in Huttese, and what I could make out wasn’t nice.”

Ben huffed a quiet laugh. “If it helps,” he said, “it’s really, really not the same thing.”

“I don’t know.” Finn sounded surprisingly thoughtful. “Rey was close-mouthed about the specifics, but I read through the lines. I was raised from infancy in a First Order creche, handed a weapon as soon as I was old enough to swing a stick. Recruited young, fed propaganda… there are similarities there, maybe.”

Ben looked away, his gaze trained on the door to Hux’s cell.

“The stormtroopers told other stories about Snoke,” Finn continued, more quietly. “About what he could do in someone’s head.”

Ben held utterly still. He was willing to tell Rey those stories. His mother. Possibly his uncle. No one else. They were too painful, too raw to be told indiscriminately.

Finally, he spoke. “But you still don’t like me.”

“Nope.” Finn kept his hands in his jacket pockets, staring straight ahead. “You nearly severed my spine. I definitely don’t like you.”

“Fair.”

They were both silent for several minutes, until the banging in the cell grew too loud to be ignored.

“Are you ready to feed him?” Ben asked, and Finn sighed loudly.

“Kriff.”

- - -

By the time they reached the base (two days, just as Poe had promised), Ben’s nerves were on edge. Hux was a pain in his ass, he hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with Rey, and there was a dull ache in his stomach as he continued to obsess over the voice, over whether or not he was compromised.

The fact that they were met on the landing pad by a large group of very upset Resistance members, all of whom were glaring directly at him, did not help.

“Ben!”

His mother, Force bless her, smiled at him in a way that was both reassuring and a warning. She crossed in front of the hostile group, reaching up to lay a hand against his face. “Come inside,” she said, urgency under her warm tone. She glanced at Hux, raised a brow at his gag- Ben hadn’t wanted to know what Hux would say to his mother, not after hearing what he had had to say to Rey- and waved a commanding hand at a detail of soldiers who looked at least somewhat calmer than the rest. “Take him to his cell.”

Unsettled, Ben followed his mother with a utterly blank expression, relieved when Rey fell into step at his side.

I don’t understand.

Ben didn’t either. There must… I don’t know.

His mother led them deep into the base, walking unerringly toward what Ben knew was the command center.

“Have I gotten you in trouble?” he asked her in a murmur, bending toward her as they continued to move. “Mother-”

“Shh.” She looked faintly harried, but her smile was genuine. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

She stopped in front of the closed door, looking between him and Rey, her gaze far too perceptive. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses,” she told him tartly, inspiring a flash of amusement from Rey, but there was no time to respond. The door had opened, and the majority of the Resistance’s leadership had their attention fixed solely on him.

Rey slipped in with them, her hand light against Ben’s back. A number of gazes immediately switched to her, frowns building- but then his mother stepped around him, taking Rey by the arm and pulling her forward. “She stays,” Leia said in a way that defied opposition.

“You kept her out?”

His uncle stepped forward from a corner, his expression stern even as amusement glinted in his eyes. Ben doubted that many of the others noticed the latter. “One of the few Jedi remaining, and you wouldn’t let her in?”

Ben recognized that voice of gentle reproach, and judging by the averted gazes among the crowd it was just as quelling to a group of powerful adults as it had been to padawans. One of the few who refused to be cowed was Holdo.

He wondered if she remembered how he had often brought her flowers, as a child. There had been a time when she had been like an aunt… and then he had grown too difficult to control, and had been sent to the academy. The next time he had seen her had been when she had effectively handed him a death sentence.

“She was- and is- clearly an ally of someone who was recently our enemy.” Holdo stared down his uncle coolly. “That’s good enough reason to keep her at arm’s length until we are certain of her loyalty.” She cut a glance at Ben, little of the aunt he remembered in that gaze. “And given our reconnaissance on Crait, their loyalty is in question.”

Ben exchanged a glance with Rey, who looked as confused as he felt. “What was on Crait?” he asked, his palms beginning to sweat.

“Nothing.” His mother, speaking more gently than he deserved. “The planet is empty.”

Ben’s lips felt numb. “He believed it,” he said, remembering his dream and the speculation he had shared with his grandmother. “Hux believed, one hundred percent, that the First Order was based around and on Crait.”

“Empty land, empty sky.” Holdo crossed her arms, almost indignant. “It’s a dead end.”

The others began speaking, voices tumbling over each other in a buzz of anger that Ben knew would only end with him in a cell.

“No.”

That single word, snapped out in an utterly commanding tone, cut through the noise. Rey slipped past his mother, her cheeks flushed red with anger, and stationed herself in front of him. “I was there,” she said, her lips thin as she faced down a room of people who barely cared what she thought. “Ben is right. General Hux completely believed the information Ben took from him.”

“Then he didn’t dig deep enough.” A general Ben had never met looked to his uncle. “That’s possible, isn’t it?”

Reluctantly, his uncle nodded.

“Then we go deeper,” the general said, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. She pinned Ben into place with a meaningful look. “Jedi?”

The depth of panic Ben felt at the idea surprised even him. “It would shred his mind,” he said stiffly. “And might be useless. If Snoke implanted memories, he probably erased the actual truth from his brain. I’m not reducing him to a vegetative state on the off-chance that Snoke didn’t cover his tracks.”

Most of the people in the room did not like that answer.

“He’s a war criminal,” Holdo pointed out. “He assassinated an allied Queen.”

“Then try him before a tribunal and execute him humanely,” Ben shot back. “What you want me to do isn’t humane.” He resisted the urge to scrub his palms against the shirt he wore. “Let me go to Crait instead,” he continued before anyone could speak.

There weren’t many people who liked that idea either, including his mother. Rey simply looked back at him, one brow quirked upward in a silent question.

Of course you’re coming, he told her. I’ve learned my lesson.

She gave him a slight nod, a satisfied look on her face.

“We’re going to Crait,” Rey said firmly, directing her words more toward his mother than anyone else. “Obviously there’s something we need to find, there.”

“A trap,” Leia replied dryly, not at all pleased.

“Do we have any other leads?” Ben said in reply, lifting one shoulder in a subdued shrug. “I could open a connection with Snoke and find his location, but then Snoke finds me- us. There’s no turning back from that.”

Holdo was watching him, the barest glimmer of what had once been his Aunt Amilyn in her eyes. “Let them go.” The glimmer disappeared. “Better they fall into a trap than us.”

As her fellow officials voiced their opinions- there was little opposition- his mother subtly grabbed his elbow, tugging him until he bent toward her.

“We are still talking before you leave,” she whispered in his ear, her tone indicating that she would chase him to Crait itself if he disappeared, most likely with Luke in tow. “First thing in the morning, Ben.”

Defying her would be more trouble than it was worth, and- if he were honest with himself- he wanted to speak with her before leaving. And with his uncle, which surprised him. “Meet me in the Falcon for breakfast,” he whispered back. “Bring Uncle Luke.”

What he felt from her was sheer, unmitigated relief. “Good boy,” she murmured, stepping forward to shoulder her way to the center of the room. It didn’t require much effort. People stepped aside for Leia Organa-Solo, whether they wanted to or not.

It was, Ben reflected, a quality he’d been trying to emulate for years.

- - -

Rey followed him into his room- their room, he supposed, seeing as she hadn’t spent one night in her own bed- where she grabbed one of his shirts and disappeared into the ‘fresher. He looked after her askance, though admittedly intrigued.

When she reappeared, entirely nonchalant about the fact that the shirt ended right above her knees, he took refuge in the small room she had just left, his own sleep clothes under one arm. He stared at himself in the mirror for one long minute, unsure of what to do with himself, before he felt unmistakable amusement from her end of the bond. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his toothbrush.

She was curled up on top of the blankets when he reemerged, staring up at the ceiling with an intensely thoughtful look on her face, one that veered toward troubled. “Words are very strange,” she said. “People lied to me all the time on Jakku, but in a straightforward way. Politics… and other things…”

She waved a hand in the air, a crease between her brows. “Is this what you grew up with?”

“With everyone other than my parents, yes.” On surer ground, he sat next to her on the bed- the side closest to the wall, per usual- and tried not to stare at her bare legs. “My parents were always refreshingly honest, even when they were arguing. Except,” he added, his mood darkening somewhat, “when they were talking about me to my face. They saved their worst theories about my demeanor for when they thought I wasn’t listening.”

She shot him a questioning look, and he lay down with a sigh, aiming his own gaze at the ceiling. “‘Too much Vader in him’,” he quoted. “After I joined Snoke I clung to that descriptive for far too long.” A thought occurred to him, making him tense. “Rey, it might be dangerous for you to sleep here.”

“Because of possible assassins?” She shrugged. “I’m not worried.”

“No, because of Snoke.” He kept his gaze stalwartly upward. “If he attacks again, and you’re close, I’m not sure how it would affect you. He might be able to find you.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” There was no arguing with that tone. “I’m not leaving unless you actually want me to leave.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I’m staying.” The fluctuation in the mattress told him she had shifted to her side. “Ben, look at me.”

He turned to face her, knowing even before he saw her face that everything she had said had been a prelude to something. Her grave expression told him that he had been correct.

“I’m sorry for leaving you.” She curled toward him, almost but not quite touching. “I… it felt like betraying you.”

As close as they were, it was easy to see the hint of tears in her eyes and the downturn to her mouth. Without hesitation he slid his arm around her waist, tugging her a little closer until they were chest to chest. “You didn’t betray me. Ruwee said that you wouldn’t leave until you were sure I was safe with them. You didn’t have time for me to heal.” He idly ran his hand along the ridge of her spine, the cloth of her loose shirt catching against the calluses on his fingertips. A part of him wondered if maybe, one day, he would have the opportunity to dress her in silk. “And-”

He gave her a small, embarrassed smile. “I admit that my reaction after I woke up made it clear how unfair it would be for me to run off and fight Snoke by myself.”

She turned her head into the pillow, the side of her mouth he could see twitching upward. “In that case, I take back my apology.”

Ben brushed a kiss against her brow, another against the fragile skin under her eye. Their last conversation on this topic had been derailed by kissing, but that wasn’t his intent this time. “I was foolish. I’m sorry.”

“You were scared. So am I.”

A kiss to the side of her nose, to the curve of her cheek. The bond between them hummed lazily, but he could feel it, that shiver of fear in her. Fear felt different in Rey than in most people: she feared the keening sand storms that stripped flesh from bone. She feared the heady faintness that accompanied starvation and dehydration, which slowed the reflexes in the face of predators. Fear, for Rey, was truly primal. What other people might fear she simply had a wary respect for.

“Scared for me?” he asked.

“I had a lot to think about, on the way to Theed,” she answered, closing the last bit of space between them, her head tucking under his chin. “I felt so guilty. I- I told you that I love you, Ben.”

He wished he had been able to see her face at that moment, when she had abruptly skipped over a period of time. Her emotional state didn’t feel like someone recanting a confession of love, but he braced himself nonetheless.

Words, he thought. Her relationship with language was different from his, something he had failed to take into account, and he had no idea what that meant.

“I had only heard that phrase on holos before I left Jakku,” she said, in a way that told him she needed him to understand. “Just words from stories, you see? And I was on the way to Theed, drinking a cup of water, and…”

She trailed off, pushing away from him slightly so that she could meet his eyes. “There’s nothing more valuable on Jakku than water,” she said, moving one hand to touch the scar on his cheek. “I scavenged for water even more frantically than I scavenged for parts. And even now that I have unlimited access to water, I still feel a grateful thrill whenever I drink it.” Her eyes searched his face, that same need for understanding still etched on her end of the bond. “You’re like water,” she said softly. “Necessary. Rare. I think- I think that’s what love is, for me.”

He had been raised by voluble parents with highly creative vocabularies, but he couldn’t seem to string together the words to even adequately respond to what she had said. Desperate, he searched for the unspoken: the breathless awe he felt, the dizzying heat that seemed to sweep his whole body. He fed it to her along the bond, relishing her wide eyes and unsteady intake of breath. The kiss he gave her then began gently, before quickly escalating to intoxicating. Consuming. She wrapped herself around him as if she expected someone to try to drag them apart at any moment, and he was no better. When he rolled her underneath him she laughed, her legs twining around his.

“Ben,” she murmured against his mouth, laughing again when he began to kiss his way down her neck. Her grip on him loosened as she began to stroke his back, her touch more soothing than seductive. He could feel, through the bond, the inverse to his situation: his promising weight on top of her, the dazzling trail of kisses down her neck, every nerve alight with pleasure. And hesitance. “Ben.”

He lingered at the curve of her neck. “Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?”

“No, but…”

He rolled them to their sides, keeping her firmly tucked against him. No consummation, not yet. There was nothing but joy from her as he resumed brushing kisses against her face. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I need you to understand.” She pulled him into a kiss, deep and slow. After, she rested her forehead against his. “When you said ‘I love you’, I could hear how much weight those words had with you,” she said. “Mine sounded hollow.”

“I understand.” Her words then hadn’t been lacking, but her words of just a few minutes ago… she was right. The emotional impact had been like night and day.

Her smile verged on incandescent. “I’m going to sleep under the blankets tonight.”

“Thank the Force.” He released her long enough to drag the covers over them both, pulling her back into his arms only once she was tucked in to the chin. “We would have been having an argument, otherwise.”

“That was another realization.” She snuggled against him, one foot slipping between his calves. “Why deny myself water? Pointless torture.”

With a gesture he switched off the lights, not bothering to blink away the tear that threatened to slip down his cheek. “I want to give you everything,” he admitted in the dark.

“Words,” she said again, her head resting over his heart. “For me, everything is right here.”

And, once more, he could think of nothing to say.

Chapter Text

He was fairly certain that he was tangled in one of Rey’s dreams. The sand dunes surrounding him were familiar, but in a way that felt borrowed.

“We’ve never dreamed together before.” He turned to find Rey staring up at him, her old staff held in one hand. She was wearing the same clothing she had worn on Starkiller, and looked painfully thin- but she was very clearly Rey, and no figment of his imagination.

“We’ve never fallen asleep with you clinging to me like a carnivorous plant before,” he replied, reaching out to caress her shoulder. His hand stilled in midair as he realized exactly what he was wearing: pure Kylo Ren, gloves and all. Possibly exactly what he had worn in Tuanul.

Her face softened when she saw his expression. After strapping the staff to her back, she took his outstretched hand and carefully drew the glove from his fingers. “At one point these gloves would have gotten me a week’s worth of portions,” she said idly, taking his other hand in hers. “Blaster-proof?”

“Yeah.” With his free hand he tugged at his stiff collar, the top few buttons scattering into the sand when he pulled too forcefully. “I had forgotten how uncomfortable these clothes were.”

“You surrounded yourself with discomfort, didn’t you?” she asked, tucking the gloves into her belt. “All the power in the galaxy and you needed constant irritation to keep yourself dark.” She captured one of his hands again, rubbing her thumb against his palm. “That’s why you kept hitting yourself on Starkiller, wasn’t it?”

“Pain leads to anger.” He searched her face, glad that her cheekbones were no longer quite that sharp. “Remind me to give you extra protein in the morning.”

Her grin was sunny. “I’m incapable of arguing with food, Ben.” She turned to walk away, pulling him along. “Come on.”

She led him to the rusted shell of an AT-AT, one he recognized from a scrap of the memories he had garnered during her interrogation. He glanced around the landscape, searching for any other sign of life, and found nothing. Just a metal behemoth under a harsh sky, surrounded by sand as far as the eye could see. Ben followed her inside, the battered seams allowing in more than enough light to see his surroundings.

“Rey.” He said her name in a murmur, unable to look away from the multitude of score marks on one makeshift wall.

“For the first few years Plutt let me sleep in one of his tents,” she said, picking up a rag doll in a way that could only be described as tender. He wondered if it had been a holdover from her life with her parents, or if it had been something she’d cobbled together from rags after being abandoned in the desert. “I think I was eight when I found this place. I’m still amazed that I managed to hold it for as long as I did.”

He sat in one corner, feeling far too large for the space. Marks on the wall, one plant, a battered flight helmet, a small doll- the touchstones of her life, before she had been dragged into a galactic war. “Sweetheart,” he said, holding out his hands.

Her cheeks flushed pink as she took the few steps needed to reach him, the doll still dangling from one hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said apologetically.

“It’s not your fault. Sit with me.” More of a plea than a request, really.

To his surprise but gratification, she situated herself on his lap, one cheek pressed against his chest. “It wasn’t so bad,” she said quietly, snuggling closer as his arms settled around her. “It could have been worse.”

In the dream she smelled like sunlight and desert wind. “You’re getting extra fruit, too.”

She laughed, drawing up her knees until almost all of her was contained on his lap. “I didn’t bring you here to make you feel bad, Ben. There were times when I was almost content, on Jakku. Sometimes I need to remember that.”

He kept looking back toward the scored wall. “I suppose I know what you mean. I wasn’t happy at the academy, but… I had good days.” He tore his gaze from the wall, the irrefutable proof of how long she had waited. He could see one small arm of the doll peeking out from between her legs and torso. “Do you-”

He paused, trying to make his voice sound something like normal. “Do you want children?”

She didn’t stiffen, exactly, but she did still. “For a very long time I made myself not want them,” she said finally. “You can’t scavenge with a baby, not by yourself, and I… I would have done anything not to leave a child of mine. Even if that meant earning my portions on my back.”

Ben regretted even bringing up the topic, but just then her fingers slipped under the collar of his shirt, stroking the skin there lightly. “I don’t think you would leave, either,” she said, her fingertips lingering over a pulse point.

“No.” He wouldn’t blame his parents for doing the best they could; he would just do differently.

“Ask me again. After.”

Not a definitive answer, but a promising one. He kissed the top of her head, nuzzling his nose against her hair. “Okay.”

- - -

“You look settled,” his uncle told him after a quick, assessing look. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so at home in yourself.” He said the latter with genuine fondness, but there was a note of guilt in his voice.

“I think this is the closest to Ben Solo I’ve ever been,” Ben admitted in reply.

Luke shook his head. “Your name was never something you should have felt was placed on a pedestal,” he said regretfully, the guilt even more present. “You were Ben then. You’re Ben now- but maybe a version you like better.”

“That’s true enough.” Ben switched off the stove and immediately began filling a plate (extra protein, extra fruit), ignoring his uncle’s amusement when he turned and placed the plate in front of Rey, who was talking with his mother. Ben stepped aside, gesturing toward the food. “Help yourself.”

He served himself last, though he did take a piece of bread while he waited and divvied it up amongst the porgs who stared at him from the floor.

“You’re going to get stepped on,” he muttered to them, feeling his cheeks flush at his mother’s quiet chuckle. “Go higher- just don’t land on any plates.”

The seat beside Rey was still free when he sat down, which Ben suspected was by design rather than coincidence. She bumped his arm with hers gently, a general air of encouragement radiating from her. Ben grimaced at his food, but obeyed the unspoken request.

“I heard a dark voice when I searched Hux’s mind,” he said bluntly, cutting into whatever his mother had been saying about Coruscant. “And before that Snoke reached me through the bond.”

“Tortured you,” Rey said grumpily around a bite of eggs.

His mother looked concerned. His uncle, on the other hand… did not look surprised.

“You expected this,” Ben stated, finding that he wasn’t angry. “Both parts.”

“He’s been in your mind for so long that the pathways are well-worn.” Luke rubbed a hand over his face, looking weary. “That he can still reach you, still hurt you- no, I’m not surprised.”

“How badly were you hurt?” his mother asked, setting her fork on her plate.

“Ruwee patched me up,” he said evasively. “I’m fine.”

Perhaps suspecting just how loudly and long his mother would yell if she knew the truth, Rey stuffed another bite into her mouth instead of elaborating. She was the only person at the table still eating, though she was consuming her food at a slower rate than she might normally. A concession to the gravity of the situation, he supposed.

“I need to meet this Ruwee,” Leia muttered, clearly plotting some kind of interrogation.

“You should,” Ben agreed. “She’s family.” And blessedly off-planet.

“And the voice?” Luke asked.

“Distracting.” Suddenly Ben felt nauseated by the amount of food on his plate, though it was no more than he usually ate in the morning. He nudged the plate closer to Rey, who glared at him and nudged the plate back.

Eat.

“Just distracting?” Luke seemed to relax somewhat. “We can work with that.”

“Just distracting,” Ben confirmed. “Rey kept me steady.”

“There were stories in the archive about those kinds of partnerships.” His uncle stabbed a piece of fruit with his fork, but didn’t lift it to his mouth. He looked far-off, as if he were trying to remember something. “It must be the bond.”

His mother raised a brow. “Bond?” she asked, her eyes alive with curiosity. She looked directly at Rey, rather than at Ben. “What kind of bond?”

Rey swallowed her mouthful of fruit, flicking a glance to him. “Master Luke said it was a Force bond.”

Leia looked downright predatory as she switched her gaze to her brother. “Luke?”

His uncle sat back in his seat, though he managed to convey a kind of vague amusement in the face of Leia’s attention. “Force bonds are rare. They’re usually found between master and padawan, or sometimes between Jedi who are… intimate.”

“Two very different relationships, I should hope,” Leia said, crossing her arms. “Luke, what the kriffing hells.”

“Leia, it happened before Rey ever showed up on Ahch-To. I had nothing to do with it.” With a distinctly mischievous look in his eyes, Luke continued. “It probably happened when they first met.”

Before his mother could even ask, Rey spoke, her end of the bond a strange blend of disgruntled pragmatism. “My Force powers woke when he interrogated me. It was probably then.” The arm that had been curled around her plate slipped off the table, her hand landing squarely on his thigh. It took all of his self-control not to react beyond what he hoped was a slight blush. “Let’s talk about Crait.”

His mother stared at her, at him- and then smiled in a way that pricked the hair on the back of his neck. “Crait. Of course.” She began shredding her piece of bread. “Type 1 atmosphere. Mineral rich and covered with salt flats. At one point it was mined extensively, but it’s currently uninhabited.”

“Except for whatever trap the First Order has set,” Luke added dryly.

“And an empty Rebellion base.” Her smile turned sad. “My father- Bail Organa- established it. I had it earmarked as a possible hiding place for the next time we needed to move. I’ll have to strike it off the short list, now.”

Ben got the distinct sense that she was a little relieved. Perhaps the possibility of returning to a place that would remind her of everything she had lost had been weighing on her. “We’ll be careful,” he said, leaning toward her across the table. “And soon you won’t need to worry about finding another hiding spot.”

She almost looked amused. “Ben, I can’t even count the number of times someone in our family has said ‘I’ll be careful’ and then proceeded to get into terrible trouble. Your father was a champion at it.” She smirked, looking at her brother. “And so are you.”

“I can think of a few times when you were the culprit,” he replied. “Including that time on Charis, when Ben was two.”

“Yes, well.” Leia didn’t look at all irritated or embarrassed by the memory; she merely continued to smirk. “We all survived.”

“Barely,” Luke muttered.

“Should I know about this?” Ben asked, his curiosity piqued despite himself. “I wasn’t there, was I?”

“No,” Leia said with a wave of her hand. “You were in the nursery running circles around Threepio and Artoo.”

Half-forgotten memories of Master Ben, stop! drifted through Ben’s mind, the refrain an oft-repeated one. Artoo had generally contributed a mocking descant aimed at Threepio, if he remembered correctly.

“But yes, please, be careful.” Her smirk disappeared completely, her expression turning serious. “Be cautious. I don’t want to lose you again, not after finally getting you back.”

Without even thinking about it he stood, moving to her side and crouching down to press a kiss against her cheek. “I’m coming back. We both are.”

His mother ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes soft. “Good.” She looked toward Rey, a faint smile on her face. “Don’t let him do anything too heroic,” she said. “The same goes for you.”

As close as they were, it was child’s play for his mother to speak directly and privately into his mind. I have high hopes for grandchildren, after all.

If his uncle and Rey wondered why he suddenly blushed, they didn’t ask.

- - -

Crait lay white and luminous below them, and utterly, utterly empty.

“What’s the catch?” Rey asked, as if to herself, a furrow forming between her brows.

He felt it, too- that utter certainty of something beneath that he couldn’t feel. “The trap would spring after landing,” he murmured, staring at the small planet. “Out here- we’d just fly away if they suddenly appeared.”

She slumped back into the copilot’s seat, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. She felt like the embodiment of caution.

“Rey?”

“I survived on Jakku by not rushing into situations like this,” she said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I’ve been running into them ever since, but a part of me is still screaming to run away and find a safer haul.” She gave him a weak smile. “Not helpful, I know.”

“But smart.” He considered the orb below. “We can run,” he said in a low tone. “Go back to the Resistance. We’d catch flack for the decision, but my mother would be relieved.”

“No.” She shook her head. “We’ve come this far.” She extended her hand to him, releasing a breath when he took it. “It’s strange,” she said quietly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Does it feel like one spot is emptier than the rest?”

Startled, he focused, and quickly found the spot. “It’s almost like a beacon.”

“One meant for us.” She squeezed his hand. “The trap is probably there. If we skirt around the edges, find a safe spot to watch…”

“A good bet, though one they would expect.” He slid a glance toward her, and almost didn’t voice his suggestion- but still did. “Or we split up, and I walk in.”

Her only reaction, to his surprise, was to pull up a map and scrutinize it. “I walk in,” she countered, zooming in unerringly to the right point on the map. A ravine on one of the southern continents, surrounded by flat plains with no signs of cover. “You play guard.” She met his gaze in a way that told him she would not budge, at least not without concessions on his part. “We’re not going back as failures,” she said firmly. “I won’t give them one more reason to doubt you.”

“So we walk in, together, like fools,” he muttered gloomily. “Though that has always worked for my uncle.”

She laughed quietly. “Will you tell me, someday? The true stories?”

One quick glance confirmed her curious, hopeful expression. “Threepio could give you a better factual account,” he replied, her request feeling like yet more evidence of her faith in him. “But I would be happy to tell you what I know.”

“Good.” A flicker of happiness from her; a zing of excitement. “I’ve always wanted a bedtime story.”

As they broke through the atmosphere he smiled quietly, secretly. If she wanted the stories, he would give them to her: whispered in her ear over the course of a thousand nights, wrapped up tight in his arms against the dark and cold. “You can have as many as you want.”

- - -

They landed within walking distance of the entrance to the ravine, though far enough away to (hopefully) keep the ship from harm. He made sure to wipe the ship’s database before leaving, removing all traces of coordinates and codes in case someone broke in after they left. Losing their transport would be unfortunate, but not crippling- they both carried encrypted comms in their pockets.

Outside the ship the day was warm, and the glare of sunlight off the salt flats would have been debilitating even an hour earlier. Rey scanned their surroundings with the practiced eye of someone used to appraising barren landscapes for threat.

She stiffened when a fox-like creature darted past them, but he caught the smile playing over her lips. Still, she stayed silent, and he followed her lead. Sound would travel easily over this landscape, he guessed.

The temperature cooled as they traveled into the ravine, his senses finding nothing out of place in their general surroundings. Rocks, salt, scrub- all organic materials.

We could still turn back, he told Rey.

She had a puzzled look on her face, though her gaze was as sharp as always. There’s something here- something beyond nothing. Beyond the trap.

There was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that supported her claim, but he couldn’t quite latch onto it. Something… something light?

Rey-

An explosion from behind them, the earth beneath their feet trembling as the entrance to the ravine collapsed into rubble.

We knew we were walking into a trap, she thought at him, her demeanor unsurprised but grim. Her hand hovered near the lightsaber on her hip. They were being shepherded, that much was clear, and he wondered how the detonators had been hidden from them farther back on the path- or how whoever had placed them after they passed had been hidden.

One step, and then another, and then-

Ben stumbled, catching a glimpse of Rey shuddering from the corner of one eye. In a single moment every vestige of the Force was torn from him, leaving his limbs leaden and his mind utterly empty of Rey’s presence.

“What?” he heard her say aloud as he turned on unsteady feet. She had her hands pressed against her ears, her eyes wide with shock.

Another explosion behind them, and then a second. Ben grabbed Rey’s hand and dragged her forward, scrambling ahead of a series of detonations and cascading earth. A reptilian creature slithered across the path ahead of them, and he felt a lurch in his stomach as he recognized it. Unbidden a stream of the most vulgar obscenities he knew raced through his mind as he realized the implications.

The ravine had been seeded with kriffing ysalamiri.

On faith alone they ran through the terrain, Ben practically dragging Rey along with him by virtue of his longer stride. Not being able to read her felt almost like losing a limb; the quick glances he got of her as they ran only reassured him that she still breathed.

(I’m sorry I’ll heal you I’m sorry hells you’re going to bruise I’ll kiss every inch-)

They bolted around a corner and fell.

The slap of his body against cold water momentarily drove the air from Ben’s lungs, disorientation slowing his ascent to the surface. For one long moment his muddled thoughts hid what was missing.

“Rey?” He gasped out her name, panic suffusing him. She couldn’t swim. Rey couldn’t kriffing swim. With a silent swear he took in a breath and dived, eyes stinging as he searched beneath the water for any sign of her slight body. Silt muddied the water, blurring his line of sight, but-

There.

He struck out for the spot, grimly holding his breath as he dove deeper. To his relief she was still struggling, albeit ineffectively, when he grabbed her under the arms and tugged her toward the surface.

They surfaced in a dim cavern, the only sounds their own breathing. Rey gasped frantically, coughing up a little bit of water as she clung to him.

“I don’t like this much water,” she said in a small voice that rocked him. “Ben.”

“Shh. Just breathe.” He struck out for a nearby slab of rock, one arm around her. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”

Once they were safe on the rock shelf, he cradled her face in his hands, searching her eyes. That bit of panic was still there, but he could practically see her steady, see her come to terms with the fact that they were both still living. “I’m going to teach you how to swim,” he vowed in a murmur, stroking the soft skin over her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Somewhere a bit nicer than this.”

She took in a shaky breath, straightening from her previously slumped posture. “I can’t feel the Force.”

“I know. I’ll explain after we get out.” He looked around after she nodded, trying to find an escape route.

“Is that a tunnel?” she murmured after doing her own visual reconnaissance, only half in question. “Do you see it?”

He did, and wished for even a shred of his usual Force-enhanced senses. Maker only knew what was in the blasted thing, but it looked like their best chance. “We’ll have to swim over to it.”

“I know.” She tilted her head slightly to the side as she examined the water, remarkably composed. He noticed, for the first time, the object clutched in her hand.

“Rey.” Carefully he took her hand in his, fingers wrapping over hers. “What is that?”

She frowned, lifting their joined hands to inspect the circlet she held. Just tarnished metal, as best he could tell. “I don’t know.” She looked toward him. “I must have grabbed it when I was underwater.”

He huffed a humorless laugh, flicking a glance upward at the gap they had fallen through to make sure no one had crept up on them. “Keep it,” he advised. “Just because we’re cut off from the Force doesn’t mean the Force is cut off from us. Maybe you were meant to have it.”

She nodded, slipping the circlet onto her belt so that it hung from the hip opposite her lightsaber. “Are you ready?”

Their second stint in the water was much less anxiety inducing than their first. Within several minutes they were at the threshold of what was, indeed, a tunnel, peering into the unrelieved darkness.

“Nothing for it,” she said with a shrug, unclipping her lightsaber from her belt and igniting it. The blade cast an eerie glow over the tunnel walls, revealing only carved rock. “One of those mine shafts your mother mentioned, maybe?”

“Hopefully one that leads to the surface.” Before she could step forward he laid a hand against her shoulder, noting that she was shivering in the cool air of the cavern. “Rey?”

When she turned to him, weapon held conscientiously away, he leaned down and kissed her gently. “We’re going to be fine.”

She smiled as she reached up with her free hand, tugging him back down for a second kiss. “Remember,” she said, her forehead pressed against his and her smile turning mischievous. “No heroics.”

They laughed quietly, but to Ben’s ears they were both- despite their relief, despite their acknowledged capability- clearly shaken.

(A matter of seconds and she might have inhaled; a matter of minutes and he might have dragged a corpse from the water. If there had been more silt, if he had swum after the shadow of some freshwater kelp-)

A third kiss, for luck, her lips cold against his.

Igniting his own blade, he followed her into the darkness.

Chapter Text

“Who was this tunnel built for, Ewoks?” Ben muttered in disgust as he ducked through yet another uncomfortably low passage. He wasn’t claustrophobic, but he dearly wished for a chance to stretch.

Rey glanced back at him, a sympathetic smile on her lips. She barely had to hunch to make it through the worst of the tunnel. “Do you need to sit for a minute?”

“I need to get out.” He caught a glimpse of something up ahead in the glow of her saber, and a small, wicked smile curved his lips. “Sweetheart, stop.”

She did, looking forward in confusion to try and spot whatever he had seen. “What?”

“Spiders,” he replied, feeling sudden and welcome satisfaction. “You’re about to walk into a web. I’ll take point.”

Rey’s eyes narrowed, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Ben.”

“You promised me that I was allowed to protect you from spiders.” He propped his free hand on his hip, lamenting his lost ability to loom imposingly. “I don’t recall any restrictions on that promise.” He leaned closer, until his lips were almost on hers. “Rey.”

Her breathing quickened, and what might have been a blush highlighted her cheeks as her pupils widened. He wished that he could feel her response through the bond, because what he could see was fascinating.

“I…”

“Hmm?”

“I like it when you say my name like that,” she admitted in a whisper. “When your voice dips that low.”

He bridged the slight distance, brushing his mouth against hers in a far too brief caress. “I’ll say your name like that a lot, then.”

She stepped back against the wall, her blazing weapon nearly brushing the rock. “Go on ahead.”

He had been raised to treat a lightsaber with deference and dignity- “an elegant weapon for a far more civilized age,” his uncle used to say, a wry twist to his mouth- but he didn’t hesitate to incinerate each and every spider web in their path with abandon.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” she noted with quiet amusement from behind him.

“Consider yourself lucky. If I weren’t practically crawling out of this hells-damned tunnel I’d be carrying you.”

She snorted. “I don’t see why.”

“Again, no restrictions.” He smirked. “Would you prefer being tossed over my shoulder?”

There was a beat of silence before she replied. “I’ve never experienced either. You’ll have to demonstrate the difference, someday.”

(The idea of Rey draped over his shoulder made him hungry.)

“Though your memories of Takodana implied that you carried me then,” she added dryly. “You know, when you first let me into your mind I found that confusing- that you didn’t immediately hand me off to a lackey. It makes more sense, now.”

“I was fascinated.” He spoke softly, feeling a pang as he remembered his actions at their first meeting. “I couldn’t seem to look away from you.”

There was a light touch against his shoulder, and he halted, glancing back at her. “Don’t worry about that. We’re here now,” she said, her eyes soft in the blended glow of their lightsabers. “And I still want that demonstration.”

In their cramped quarters he didn’t have to move much to brush a kiss against her forehead. “Assuming my spine hasn’t permanently fused into a curve by the time we get out of here, you’ll get it.”

They continued on, Ben eradicating the stretch of tunnel of any trace of spiders with merciless efficiency.

When his lost senses exploded back into being, it was sudden, intense sensory overload. Shuddering against the onslaught, Ben took a few shaky steps ahead and leaned back against the wall. For a brief second Rey was merely one small part of the universe struggling to order itself in his mind. Then she stepped outside the bubble of the ysalamiri’s influence, and their bond flared into life.

Pummeled by her own disorientation as well as his own, Ben gritted his teeth as he rode it out, trying to shield her from the worst. When his mind finally settled- after what seemed like hours, but had probably been no more than a minute- he found himself sitting on the floor, the blade of his weapon burning into the rock.

“Rey?”

She was sitting across from him, her lightsaber off beside her. She blinked, looking dazed. “I’ve never felt anything like that,” she said, pulling herself to her knees. She didn’t need to do much more than twist to move to his side of the tunnel, her body leaning against his with welcome warmth. “Are you okay?”

“I feel like I’ve been thrown from a speeder, but other than that…”

Wearily he rested his cheek against the top of her head, letting the ramshackle shield he had hastily built drop. Her end of the bond glowed with vitality, even as shaken as she was. “There you are,” he murmured, feeling her curl into his side. “I’ve missed you.”

“What caused it?”

“The reptiles in the ravine- ysalamiri. They automatically create a null zone in the Force.”

“Ugh,” she muttered into his sleeve. “Wretched things.”

He didn’t particularly want to move- would have preferred to spend a few more minutes sitting with her, feeling her soft hair under his cheek- but a quick glance ahead with his newly restored senses gave him a reason. “We’re almost out.”

She pulled back, excitement akin to his flaring in her. It tempered quickly. “What if we walk into another bubble?”

“Then at least we’ll be able to stand up straight.” He concentrated, trying to figure out how far they were from the ship. A few klicks at most, though-

He stiffened, nearly in tandem with Rey. “Sith?” she asked in a whisper.

“Four of my former knights.” Lurking near the exit, clearly waiting to cut them down if they managed to escape the ravine. He kept his voice low. “They’ll attack on sight.”

“And they’ll be able to feel us now, just as we can feel them,” Rey replied grimly, grabbing her lightsaber.

This was no time for subtlety. Long experience with his retinue meant that Ben was still, on some level, attuned with the men and women waiting for them outside the tunnel. He felt the moment when Thera caught his approach, and knew her well enough to imagine the thrill of wicked intent that was likely running through her.

When they at last came round a bend to find the end of the tunnel, Ben didn’t hesitate to throw his mother’s warning to the wind. He sprinted forward, ignoring Rey’s burst of irritation, throwing himself to his knees just before reaching the threshold. Using the Force to continue sliding over the rough terrain, he bent backward under the sweep of Gunthar’s blade even as he swept his lightsaber to the right, literally cutting the man off at the knees. A second slash narrowed the fight to two against three.

He jumped to his feet as Rey ran out into the sunlight, catching a glimpse of her as a rock shot out of her free hand at Force-assisted speed, hitting the side of an unknown knight’s head and sending them to the ground, unconscious.

Thera smiled, her teeth sharp. “You haven’t lost your edge, I see.” Almost lazily she stepped forward, her intent gaze belying the languid move. “I like your pet.” She side-stepped the branch that had come at her at lethal speed from behind. “Innovative,” she said approvingly. “You’re very powerful, aren’t you?” she said to Rey, still keeping her eyes on Ben. “It would have taken someone special to lead him away from Snoke.” She smirked. “Perhaps you’re the pet, Ren.”

With that, she darted forward, attacking with ferocity as the remaining knight- Domin, taller even than Ben- went after Rey.

Sparring with Thera had always pushed Ben to his limits. Fighting against her, no holds barred, was worse. She had practically no tells, and she switched from form to form at dizzying speed, never allowing herself to settle into any predictable pattern.

Ben heard a pained yelp from Rey and a roar from Domin, the sound giving him the adrenaline needed to launch a flurry of blows against Thera, one blow landing against the shoulder of her dominant arm. She spat, switching her lightsaber to her other hand and coming after him with increased fury.

DUCK.

Instinctively he did so, a fierce wind laden with glittering salt sweeping over him and straight at Thera, who emitted a shriek as she was temporarily blinded. With a desperate pull, Ben tore the lightsaber from her hand, sending it flying across the plain.

The wave of rage he felt from her almost burned. She raised a hand, her eyes red-rimmed and laden with tears, and from her fingertips came the unmistakable crackle of lightning. Ben tensed, waiting for impact, but the stream of light shot past him, hitting Rey in the back.

Rey jerked, a scream ripping from her throat as she stumbled straight into the path of Domin’s descending blade. Without even thinking, Ben pushed, sending the other man flying. Domin slammed against the ground yards away with an audible crack. Whirling to face Thera, Ben slashed his blade down, cutting her hand off at the wrist.

She skidded back with a screech. “You think you’ve changed,” she mocked in a hiss, pulling herself straight even as she visibly shook from the pain. “Your weakness will be your undoing, Ren. Snoke will destroy you- but first he’ll make you watch as he tears her apart, limb from limb.” She smiled wide, her amusement bloody. “Go on, light-sider. Kill me. Add to your body count.”

Before he could move, Rey stepped forward, her expression rigid and her blade pointed directly toward Thera. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Thera asked, sneering- and then her face went blank, and she slumped to the ground.

Rey let the blade of her weapon die, her arm dropping to her side with a long, unsteady exhale. “I hope I did that right,” she said wearily as he turned off his own weapon, moving forward to wrap her in his arms. “She’s still breathing, I think.”

His hands skimmed over her as, in a haze of relief and worry, he tried to ascertain just how injured she was. “I’ll be fine,” she said, picking up the thread of his thoughts. “We need to move.”

She was correct, but he still stole a moment to pull her into a desperate kiss, his mouth slanting over hers with an intensity he was hard-pressed to contain. She clung to him, pouring herself into the kiss for a handful of seconds before pulling away. “Get me to a ship, Ben,” she said, her hands still fisted in his shirt. “Please.”

He knew that she was using his protective instincts to get him moving, but he didn’t care. “Don’t argue,” he growled as he picked her up, cradling her against his chest. She was just as light of a burden as she had been on Takodana. “I know you can walk, but you aren’t going to. And as soon as we’re safe, I’m going to strip you out of your clothes and drench you in bacta.”

She let her head drop against his shoulder. “I can dress my own wounds.”

“Not the ones on your back.” He caught a glint to their right, and abruptly changed directions. “We’re stealing their ship.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my ship,” he muttered. “And unlike the one we brought, it will be fully stocked with medical supplies.”

“A First Order ship would be useful,” she admitted, curling one hand around the nape of his neck. “Put me down; there might be a guard.”

“Not yet.”

The sweep of her thumb against his skin soothed him, a little, and she kept up the motion as he trekked across the plain. As they drew closer he focused on the shuttle. Empty.

The gleaming, spartan interior was just as he had remembered. It had once fit him, this shuttle- but standing in the entry, with Rey clasped in his arms and his clothing white with salt, he felt as out of place as a bantha at a banquet.

“I think I like this being carried about,” Rey said in a murmur, recalling his attention to her. “You can’t tell anyone, mind.”

“Our little secret.” His voice sounded wrong in their current confines, but he forced himself to move, setting her gently on the copilot’s seat. After dismantling a panel overhead, he reached into the small space and pulled out a part the size of his thumb. He tossed it outside, locking the entrance after it. “Tracking,” he explained when Rey raised a brow. “Let’s get out of here.”

- - -

Only once they were well away from Crait and in empty space did Ben allow himself to relax back into his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. Granules of salt fell from his hair, stinging his irritated skin. “Rey-”

“I want a shower.” She stood with a groan, an echo of her sore muscles making itself known to him. “Come on.”

Suddenly feeling every bit of his own fatigue, he followed her without complaint into the ‘fresher, not quite putting together what was going on until she pulled her tunic over her head with a grimace. “What are you doing?” he asked, unable to look away from the sight of her wearing only leggings and the bindings around her breasts. She was all muscle and sinew, his Rey, the outlines of her ribs faintly visible and the jut of her hipbones even more so.

She lifted her hands to the bindings, pain flickering across her face as she tugged on the end, pulling it from where it had been tucked. “You said you wanted to take care of my back.” She turned slightly, a blush appearing on her cheeks. He caught a glimpse of the lacerations on her back and stepped forward to take a better look. The blood was already coagulating, her previously white bindings stained red.

“Stop,” he said softly, staying the hand with the end of the cloth. “You should soak this off. Pulling at it will just reopen the wound.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Will you help me, Ben?” she asked, her request clearly sincere. “Please.”

He took in an unsteady breath, moving his hand to curve over her shoulder. “Okay.”

Without hesitation Rey stripped off her leggings, her only sign of modesty or nerves the blush she wore. He kept his gaze firmly above her collarbone, aware that his own face was likely flaming red. She didn’t look at him as she turned on the water. “Get undressed, Ben.”

With fumbling fingers he removed his own clothing, painfully aware that his body was choosing this Force-damned moment to become inappropriately aroused. Desperate, he began running through the driest facts he knew: the seemingly endless list of Alderaanian monarchs he had, for some forgotten reason, memorized as a child.

Rey hissed as she stepped under the water and salt streamed into the cuts on her back. He followed her with halting steps, catching a brief glimpse of the starlike scar on her side and the curls at the apex of her thighs before he jerked his gaze back up.

(Bethen, Jerralt, Oran-)

She had her back to the spray, her eyes closed and her mouth pressed into a thin line as the water struck her skin. “Gentle,” he said, the word slipping from his mouth. He reached behind her, adjusting the temperature and water pressure. “Don’t hurt yourself further.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she stared up at him for a long, silent moment. Finally: “Will you wash my hair? It hurts to lift my arms that high.”

Ben huffed out a laugh, somehow disarmed by her admission. “Turn around.”

It was easier when he could concentrate on the back of her head, on gently washing the salt and dirt from her tangled hair. “Close your eyes,” he said softly before rinsing away the suds. Turning his attention to her back, he began carefully unwinding the long strip of cloth wrapped around her chest. Soaked as it was, the last of it slipped easily from her, dropping to the floor with a wet slap. As dispassionately as possible he examined her back, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

“Not bad,” he said with a sigh of relief, his hands almost but not quite touching her skin. “She went after you with more enthusiasm than focus.”

“Was she one of your uncle’s students?” She began scrubbing her front with a washcloth, the scent of familiar soap rising with the steam. He allowed himself one guilty look at the line of her back, at the flare of her hips and the curve of her ass, before turning to face away from her.

As he washed his hair, he answered. “Yes. Thera was tricky. Sly. Her sense of humor always veered toward cruel. I think my uncle was wary of her, even then, but she was too strong for him to send her away.” He felt her brush against him, and bit his lip to muffle the sound he made in the back of his throat. “Do you need me to wash your back?” he asked, unable to help himself.

“Yes.”

She was still turning away when he turned toward her, giving him a glimpse of one small, rosy-tipped breast. She held out the washcloth to him, her cheeks pink. Silently cursing himself, he carefully washed the last of the dirt from her skin, running the rough cloth gently over her wounds. A little bacta and she wouldn’t even scar.

When she stepped out from under the spray and wrapped herself in a towel, it was simultaneously the biggest relief and greatest disappointment of his life. “I’ll get the medkit,” she said in a breathy voice, leaving wet footprints behind her as she walked.

He washed hastily, determined to have his erection covered before she returned. While he would have preferred actual clothing, a towel was definitely better than nothing.

A minute later, he found himself wondering if that was really true. The drape of the towel hid nothing. If anything, it highlighted what he was trying to keep hidden. He gave his reflection in the mirror a flustered, wild-eyed stare.

“These supplies are much better than ours,” he heard her say as she padded back toward him, her hair dripping around her shoulders. “Even I can tell that.” She held out the kit, her eyes bright and a faint smile on her lips. “Help me.”

He couldn’t stop the words that tumbled from his mouth, even if he regretted them as soon as they were said. “I want to touch you so badly. Everywhere.” He placed one fingertip on the fragile hollow at the base of her throat, then carefully traced the line of her collarbone. “You’re covered in bruises and scrapes, you’ve been tortured, and all I can think about is having you underneath me.”

Her smile widened. “I was hoping you would put this on my back first.”

He stared at her, aware he was probably the biggest idiot in the galaxy at that moment but needing absolute proof. “You’re seducing me? Now?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

He hesitated. “You’re sure?”

She pushed her certainty through the bond, sending with it a blend of need and desire and love. There was nervousness there, too, but no fear or doubt. “Be with me,” she said softly, a cap to her clear invitation.

His own smile was slow to come, but when it did she beamed. “Rey,” he murmured, his voice low, more for the pleasure of saying her name than anything else. “Turn around, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

A thought occurred to him as he opened a package of bacta gel, disrupting the anticipation burning through him and causing him to frown. “And then I need to change the sheets.”

She snorted a laugh as he began smoothing the gel across her skin. “What?”

“We’re not having sex on someone else’s dirty sheets,” he said stubbornly. “You deserve better than that.”

He sensed that she was going to humor him on this one particular point, though he knew that a reply along the lines of ‘cleaner than most I’ve had’ was probably lingering on the tip of her tongue. “I’ll help,” she said instead, contentment winding its way from her to him. She had the towel held loosely against her front, letting it drape down in the back as he worked. “Ben, will you get the scrapes on my legs?”

“Of course,” he replied automatically, kneeling at her feet. He applied the gel to a long scrape on one calf, then to a spot on her knee. With less care he slapped some on his own injuries. “Where else?”

The towel dropped, puddling around her feet. He slowly looked up the length of her body until he met her gaze. She licked her lips. “That’s it.”

“You are-”

He stopped, unable to think. “Beautiful,” he finally breathed out, a pale shadow of a word compared to what she was.

She brushed his wet hair back from his face. “So are you.”

When he surged to his feet, intent clear on his face, she darted away, casting a grin back at him. “Hurry,” she said, and he obeyed.

Chapter Text

He caught Rey before she had gone more than a few feet, grabbing her up into his arms and tight against his chest, careful not to put pressure on her upper back. Her laugh was almost a gasp as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re always so warm,” she said in a murmur, calloused fingertips running through his hair. Her eyes were fixed on him as he moved, and he was finding it difficult to do such basic things as not walk into walls when she was staring at him like that, her breasts pressed against his chest. “Even your hands. I love your hands.”

Ben was automatically veering toward what had been his quarters, months before. He tightened the grasp he had on one hip, feeling almost smug at the way she shivered. “Have you been thinking about my hands, sweetheart?”

The burst of response from the bond, the way her thoughts tumbled with no restraint to him (the rumble of your voice; stars, Ben, what you do to me)- he quickened his pace, ignoring the towel when it finally dropped from his hips to land on the ground. He stepped into his old quarters, barely glancing at anything other than her.

Stripping sheets from a bed- already tangled ones that he could swear felt like Thera’s Force signature, rasping against his nerves- was probably a use of the Force that his uncle would disapprove of, but Ben didn’t care. The way Rey was kissing his neck made him realize that maybe, just this once, he didn’t care about replacing them, either. Their descent onto the mattress was more of a controlled fall, leaving Rey sprawled on top of him, her lips and tongue still moving down his neck to his chest.

She was following the line of his scar, he realized. The thought came on a delay as he lay there, overwhelmed by how much of her he could feel, skin to skin, and entirely indecisive as to where to touch her first.

When her tongue flicked across one of his nipples, her curiosity broadcasting undimmed, his hands made the choice for him: clasped around the back of her thighs, fingertips teasing the soft inner skin. The noise she made in the back of her throat felt like a victory; the more he heard even more so.

When he rolled her onto her back, she smiled up at him even as he felt her discomfort. “It’s not that bad,” she said when he frowned, kneeling beside her. “Touch me.”

He placed his hand on her stomach, spreading out his fingers across her soft skin, and let his frown melt into a smirk as she lifted a half-inch from the bed.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use the Force that way,” she said, her amusement obvious. She licked her lips, glancing toward his erection then flicking her gaze up his chest until she met his eyes. She looked like she longed for him, and it made his breath catch.

“Touch me,” she said again in a whisper, her own hand creeping toward him, bypassing his scraped knee and stroking his thigh instead. “I want your hands everywhere.”

He was more than happy to oblige. Moving to lie on his side (there was no grace to it; his eagerness to comply was utterly clear), he slid his hand up to graze the underside of one breast. “You’re so tiny, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing the curve of her shoulder sloppily, nipping at her skin with his teeth as his thumb circled one pert nipple. “I like that noise,” he said with a grin at her unmistakable whimper. “Do it again.”

The noise she made when his mouth closed over the peak of her other breast was even better.

“I’m not tiny,” she gasped out, carding one hand through his hair as her other grabbed his shoulder. “You’re just huge.”

He was only half-listening, distracted as he was by the way she moved under his mouth and hands, and by the way she felt through the bond: giddy and warm with pleasure. Propping himself up on one arm he nuzzled his nose against the damp skin of one breast before switching his attention to the other, his hand sliding down her belly.

She made that sound again, the one that made him want to pin her down and immediately slide inside of her, the moment his fingers brushed against the heat between her legs. He was fumbling, now, he knew; going solely on instinct as he delicately explored her. Unable to resist, he pulled back, staring down at his fingers and her spread thighs with a fervent, worshipful gaze. Rey shifted her hips against his hand, color building on her cheeks- and then reached down, guiding his touch.

Her eyes, pupils blown wide, met his as he followed her unspoken instructions, daring to slip a finger inside of her in the moment before her mouth opened on a gasp and her back arched, her thighs squeezing around his hand. Through the bond he felt as she came, her mind like light refracting off faceted crystal, shivering into brilliant pieces.

He was still staring at her in awe when her eyelids fluttered open, her lips curling into a slow, sated smile. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he admitted, his hand still tucked intimately between her thighs.

“Really?” she asked in a soft, thick voice, relaxed in a way he’d never seen her. Her smile turned almost predatory as she languidly rolled to her side and came to her knees, pushing him onto his back. “I want to see.”

He reached for her hips when she straddled him, a part of his mind not quite believing that this was actually happening. “I’m worried I’m going to hurt you,” he confessed.

Rey shrugged, grinning as he hissed out a breath the moment her small hand curled around him. “I’m not afraid of pain,” she said, and without ceremony he was partially inside her, his hands clenching around her hips as he fought the instinct to move his own hips up or to drag her down. “Oh,” she said in a whisper, wearing an odd look of concentration as she slowly took him in.

It took him a second to realize that the whine he heard had come from his own mouth. Trembling with the need to move, he focused on what he could: the indescribable joy of being joined with her; the blend of discomfort and burgeoning warmth he could feel from her end of the bond; the way the bond itself seemed to deepen between them.

Rey leaned forward slightly, her hands pressed against his chest and a startled, considering expression crossing her face. “I think,” she said, tongue darting out to dampen her lower lip, “that I’m going to like this a lot.”

And then she started to move, and every thought seemed to fly from his mind.

Their first time was messy and ungainly, with barely a common rhythm between them, but Rey’s laugh at their efforts was a happy one and tugged a smile from him. When he came, her wonder and snatches of her thoughts (flashes of Ahch-To’s sea, of her hand under rainfall, of dense green woods, and her mental voice saying just as beautiful) were intrinsically tied up in his pleasure.

She curled up against his side, after, her head resting on his shoulder and one hand lying over his heart. She looked immensely satisfied with herself. “You enjoyed that,” she stated, her eyes bright.

“‘Enjoyed’ would be an understatement,” he replied sleepily, shifting to nuzzle his nose against hers. “I’m not sure there is a word for this.” He met her eyes. “Did you enjoy it?”

She pulled him into a soft kiss. “Water,” she replied, encapsulating everything into one word in a way that nearly overwhelmed him. “I think I might get addicted to all this touching,” she admitted with a shy smile. “I love feeling your skin against mine.”

“Me, too.” He raised a hand, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. He didn’t want to move, but he did want to take care of her. “And speaking of water, we could both use some. And some food.”

She nodded, but cuddled closer. “Ben?”

“Hmm?”

“You were right, on Ahch-To.” She was looking at him so softly, no edge to her. “That wasn’t a transaction.”

Sliding his fingers into her damp hair, he kissed her as tenderly as he knew how.

- - -

The rest of their journey was a kind of dance. They circled each other at close range, brushing hands and exchanging soft looks after they finally left the bed to take care of more mundane matters. Ben had no compunction about raiding the food stores to find whatever delicacies they had aboard. She ate everything he offered her, curled up on his lap in some officer’s shirt.

(He’d rather it was his shirt, but Rey’s bare thigh was under his hand and that was everything.)

“Are you upset that we made a mess of the bed?” she asked teasingly, and opened her mouth when he held up a piece of fruit.

He fed it to her, and then glanced down at the mattress and smirked. “Best thing that’s ever happened to this bed, trust me.” He couldn’t seem to stop brushing his lips in gentle kisses against her hair and face, and as he pressed one to the uneven part of her hair he decided that he didn’t care. He was tired of suffering, of the never-ending conflict that his life had been for as long as he could remember. He would embrace this joy for as long as he could.

“Ben.” His name, soft and quiet. She was smiling when he met her gaze, and it was clear that she knew exactly what he was thinking. “You deserve so much more than you think.”

(“I won’t take what I don’t deserve.”

“And who determines that?”)

His mind was open to her. She tilted her head slightly to the side, obviously reading his memory of the cave, which had been pulled to the forefront of his mind the moment she had said the word ‘deserve’.

“You saw me?” she said in wonder, barely a question. “I saw you- and you saw me.”

He nodded, unsure of what to say.

She seemed to consider that for a long moment. Finally, she pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, her mien that of acceptance. “Balance,” she said simply.

He released a breath in relief. “Balance,” he agreed.

- - -

The moment they broke atmo above the base, Ben was ready on the comm, his tone dry. “This is Ben Solo. Rey and I would appreciate not being blown out of the sky.”

His mother answered. “Noted,” she replied, her voice equally dry. “Welcome back.”

She was waiting on the tarmac when they landed, along with Poe and Finn. “I see you brought us a present,” she said as soon as she saw him, her lips curling into a small smile. “How kind of you.”

On a whim he bent and kissed her cheek. In a deadpan tone he replied, “Would you have preferred it gift-wrapped?”

She smirked. “A bow would have been nice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Without even thinking about it he placed a hand on Rey’s lower back, urging her forward when he felt her shiver from the cold. “Was there any trouble while we were gone?”

Leia shot him a look as they walked, and somehow that same look managed to encompass both him and Rey in a very knowing fashion. “We were fine. Judging by the pair of you, Crait was eventful.”

He was fairly certain his ears were tipped red in a blush, just as he was fairly certain that Dameron was snickering behind them. “Trap, like we thought.”

Rey looked around him toward his mother, her hands clutching a blanket around her.

(It had been a choice between a blanket or one of the knights’ cloaks, and she had diplomatically chosen the blanket, much to his relief.)

“He saved my life,” she said, and he felt from her a need that this be known, even if only to the three people who were arguably the majority of his allies on the base.

He spoke before anyone else could, his tone more revealing than he had intended. “Someone can’t swim.”

Finn came up on Rey’s other side, his expression one of concern. “You didn’t inhale, did you?”

“Ben got me out first.” The smile she gave him was sunny. “I’m fine.”

They stepped into the base proper, then, and Ben felt his stomach drop as nearly everyone within range immediately turned wary. Instinctively he hunched his shoulders forward, his fingers clenching in the blanket at Rey’s back. Rey’s own mood turned cautious and irritated, barely lifting when BB-8 rolled forward with imploring whistles.

“How did that happen?” Rey asked, stopping to lean forward and adjust the droid’s bent antenna. “There. You’re perfect, now.”

“BB-8 insisted on waiting for you.” Poe stepped forward, wedging himself between Leia and Ben and ostentatiously clapping a hand against Ben’s back. “You and Ben.”

Startled looks were exchanged by those within hearing distance. His mother felt distinctly amused. BB-8 gave Poe, and by extension Ben, what could only be described as a skeptical shimmy.

“BB-8 loves Ben,” Poe continued, apparently deciding that his strategy in this surprise campaign on Ben’s behalf was to just continue lying with fervor. Ben had to admit that the man’s astounding level of charisma almost made it convincing.

Almost. The wariness remained beneath the bemusement that most of the crew members around them now wore.

“You’re overplaying your hand,” Ben muttered to Poe as their group walked through the crowd.

“They’ll come around eventually,” Poe replied quietly, shrugging. “You’re not as bad as I once thought.”

“How much of this is due to your obvious hero worship of my mother?”

Poe grinned. “About twenty percent.”

Ben pressed his lips tightly together, resisting the urge to smirk.

Poe and Finn left them once they reached his mother’s quarters- she had made a hand gesture that had immediately been obeyed, sending Poe swaggering off and Finn marching after him, both trailed by BB-8, who was beeping defiantly in binary- and when Ben and Rey followed her in, they found his uncle waiting.

Luke looked at them and immediately raised a brow.

Is it that obvious? Ben heard from Rey, her mental voice more curious than anxious.

Ben thought of how the pair of them moved, now: the way they couldn’t seem to stop swaying toward each other, the fact that he couldn’t stop looking at her. Maybe.

His uncle stood and walked toward Rey, frowning. “Who hit you with Force lightning?”

Both Ben and Leia snapped to attention, but for very different reasons. “What?” his mother asked, even as Ben leveled a considering glance at Rey.

“How did you know?” he asked, stepping toward Rey as she began haphazardly folding the blanket she had been wearing. The loose shirt and trousers she wore beneath nearly swallowed her, and were only contained by the belt she wore with her lightsaber and the tarnished circle of metal. “I can’t see it.”

His uncle gave him a long look, then held out a hand. “I’ll show you.”

Ben remembered this, from years ago: the way his uncle could pull a padawan into a bare scrap of memory and use it as a teaching tool. From Luke’s perspective Rey’s Force signature was imbued with subdued lightning, focused on her back. Once Ben pulled away, it was the matter of a moment to find that previously unseen sidestep in his own mind.

Rey dropped her blanket onto a nearby table, appearing unconcerned by the attention she was receiving. “We met up with-”

She stopped, a faint smile appearing on her face. “From the beginning?” she said, looking directly toward Ben.

“Right.” There was a small cluster of chairs in one corner. He placed a hand on Rey’s lower back, very aware that he was standing closer to her than he might have in previous months. “Let’s sit down.”

(She was so open, on her end of the bond, and he could feel that she needed to sit even if she would never admit it. Aching back, twinges from various scrapes, and a soreness between her legs that made him both smug and contrite at the same time.)

They told their story with as little elaboration as possible, the only pause being when Rey passed the circlet she had grabbed from the lake floor to Luke. He examined it carefully, his expression carefully neutral.

“Nothing,” he said finally, in a kind tone, as if he worried that she might be disappointed. He returned it to Rey. “It’s not a Jedi relic, if that’s what you were hoping.”

Rey nodded, not even remotely disheartened. “And then we found the tunnel.”

Their version of the story was fairly cut and dry, though by the end of it his mother was giving him a look.

“I said no heroics,” she said sternly.

He was very careful not to look her in the eyes. “Minimal heroics.”

Rey sent him the image of him taking out Gunthar at the knees, but to his relief did not speak of it aloud. “We thought a First Order ship would be useful,” she said instead, neatly skipping to a new subject. “And it will be. Don’t you think?”

The look his mother leveled on her was fairly restrained, all things considered. “Most likely.” She sighed, her regal bearing slipping. “Amilyn says that we’re almost ready to move.”

Then he would be facing Snoke in a matter of weeks, possibly days. A part of Ben was relieved. Another part- a stronger one, in truth- wanted to bury itself in the peace that he had found in Rey’s arms.

The ache he felt from her end of the bond only amplified his own feelings. She tucked her hand just above his knee, clearly uncaring of the audience. “We’ll be ready,” she said, her voice steady.

There was a shadow in his mother’s eyes, and it was a twin to the one his uncle wore. Ben thought of all those stories of Endor, of his uncle’s confrontation with Vader and Palpatine. He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

(But maybe, maybe- if fate was kind- this same moment wouldn’t be visited on the next generation.)

- - -

Rey placed the tarnished circlet carefully on the desk in his room, laying her lightsaber beside it. She then began to strip unceremoniously from her clothes.

“What are you going to do with it?” he asked curiously, his gaze fixed hungrily on her as more and more skin was revealed.

The expression on her face was both pleased and amused as her overlarge trousers dropped to the ground, leaving her clad in nothing at all. “I’m going to keep it.” She turned serious all of a sudden, glancing toward the metal round. “It probably seems strange,” she murmured, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing her face. “I’ve scavenged for so long…”

He moved toward her before she could finish, placing his hands gently on her waist and dropping a kiss on her hair. “Keep it.” She was warm under his hands, and the way she curved into him without hesitation was like a gift. “You’ll find a use for it.”

Rey nodded as she slipped her arms around his waist, holding him close. “I’m sore,” she admitted in a whisper, and as she said it he could see the way her own thoughts instinctively overlaid I’m not afraid of pain with her current words, the overlap feeling almost sheepish.

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” he rumbled against her hair. As much as he wanted her, he had no intention of causing any more pain than he already had. “Just come to bed, sweetheart.” He pulled away just enough to catch her gaze. “To sleep.”

He retrieved one of his shirts from a drawer and helped her tug it over her head, catching her wince as she lifted her arms over shoulder height.

“It’s not an issue,” she said before he could speak.

Raising a brow, he began herding her toward the bed. “Lie down. I should have taken care of this earlier.”

“You can’t heal me every time I get injured,” she argued, dropping onto the bed and rolling onto her stomach even as she spoke. She watched him over one shoulder as he placed his hands against her shoulder blades. “And we were busy, earlier.”

He smirked, concentrating on directing a stream of healing warmth into her muscles. “Nice euphemism.”

She huffed, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

By the time he was finished she was almost asleep, her body snuggled into the mattress. “Don’t leave,” she whispered as he drew away his hands and stood.

“I’m not leaving.” Gently he pulled the covers over her before removing his own clothing. When he slipped into bed with her she shifted with a sigh, rolling to her side so that he could curl up behind and around her. She fit so neatly under his arm, so perfectly against the line of his body. Balance, he thought, the word bringing a kind of peace that he had never before associated with the concept.

She didn’t slip immediately into sleep, though she was certainly on the cusp. “Your mother knows,” she said quietly, the words blurring into each other. “Without even asking.”

He nuzzled his nose against her hair. “She’s good at that.”

“Is that what it’s like, having a mother?”

Her words were said in an almost wondering tone. He tightened his arm slightly around her, hurting for the little girl she had been and the woman she was now. “It’s what it’s like having my mother,” he replied. “I’m willing to share.”

Rey made a low, pleased humming noise. To his ears it sounded surprisingly close to the way a droid would communicate happiness in binary. He thought of the snatches of memories he had seen, of how much of her socialization on Jakku had been with the creaky Empire-era droids scavenged from downed ships. Safer to chat with than living beings, he thought. A droid wouldn’t lie to or plot against her. Little wonder they seemed to worship her wherever she went, as attuned as she was to their language and mindsets.

She squirmed back against him, closing what little gap there had been. Love and gratitude for his warmth was what he felt from her as she fell asleep, and then more filtered lazily through the bond as her breathing slowed: the certainty of safety under a strong, trusted arm.

(A gift, and one he would remember.)

Chapter Text

He was not surprised to find himself on the terrace at Varykino, restored to its former glory in this dreamscape. A muted, misty dawn peeked over the horizon.

He was also not surprised by the smug grin on his grandmother’s face, even if it did embarrass the hells out of him. “Don’t be weird about this,” he said preemptively, and the way she somehow grinned wider made him groan and cover his face with his hands.

“What, I can’t be happy for my grandson?” she asked, all innocence.

“It’s a very private thing,” he muttered into his hands. “You said you were discrete.”

“I felt a ripple in the Force,” she replied airily. “I would never watch, Ben. I’m no voyeur.”

His “Thank the Maker” was barely audible.

“Now,” she continued, sounding so serious that he actually risked looking at her in the hopes that she was moving on to a better topic. “Do you have any questions?”

Definitely not a better topic. He could feel the blush as it prickled across his skin. “No.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” she said patiently, her expression downright maternal. “What they show on those holos isn’t exactly a healthy guide on pleasing a female partner. I thought you might prefer discussing it with me than with your mother.”

He turned away from her to lean against the balustrade, begrudgingly admitting to himself that she was right about that, at least. “Thank you, but I’m really not comfortable discussing it.”

“That’s fine.” She moved to his side and copied his posture, the upturned tilt of her lips visible from the corner of his eye. “I wouldn’t have been comfortable discussing it with either of my grandmothers, either,” she admitted. “Partially because one was an inveterate gossip and everyone would have found out within a galactic standard day. If you change your mind, let me know.”

He nodded, less in agreement and more in the hopes that they would never mention it again.

She stared off at the horizon for a long moment. “Your Rey- she’s remarkable.”

“She is,” he agreed, his shoulders relaxing.

“I’ve never come across someone who was better at seeing the possibilities in broken things. Anakin could, to an extent, but never quite like her.” She nudged his arm with her shoulder. “I think that trait will come in handy, and soon.”

“Is this a reminder not to leave her behind when the last stand comes?” he asked dryly. “Because I won’t. I do learn from my mistakes, you know.”

She shrugged. “No, not so much a reminder. I just- I never felt the Force while I was living. But sometimes, now, I feel a glimmer of something.”

He turned his head to look at her, noting the furrow between her brows and the look of intense concentration on her face. “And that’s what you feel now?”

“It is,” she said slowly. “The overlooked, the ordinary- it’s important, somehow.”

Ben bent and kissed her cheek, the remainder of his embarrassment washing away as he felt a surge of tenderness toward her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She patted his cheek, all affection. “I’m very proud of you.”

A wash of virulent crimson spilled over the sky above them, causing him to step back from the balustrade, sick with dread. Padmé’s hand clamped down on his wrist, but just as quickly the pressure eased: she was fading away as he looked at her, a resigned expression on her face.

“So that’s your shield,” Snoke hissed, his voice echoing until it was impossible to pinpoint his location. Padmé disappeared entirely, and with her the terrace and the buffer in his mind that he had depended on for months. Suddenly he was just Ben, and only Ben, his defenses the ones he could raise by himself.

Rather than being frightened, Ben grew angry: the clean, cold kind of anger that cut like a knife. “Where is she?”

“Ben Solo, forever hiding behind the weak shades of his ancestors,” Snoke sneered, stepping from shadows to loom over him. “Like a child hiding behind his mother’s skirts.”

“You’re the one always going on about my lineage,” Ben replied, voice dripping disdain. “For a long time you celebrated it.”

“That was when I thought you were worthy of it.” Snoke’s smile was slow and treacherous. “She won’t bother you again. That pitiful ghost isn’t the only one who can put up a shield.”

Ben threw himself at Snoke, his hands reaching for his former master’s throat. They closed around thin air as he stumbled where Snoke had formerly been, and he practically roared in frustration. “Get out of my head!”

“Always so emotional.” Snoke appeared from behind him, walking with a slow, measured stride. “So unbalanced. Watching you fall from grace was the greatest pleasure I’ve felt in years. Watching you try and scrabble back into the light…”

He trailed off, his expression mockingly sympathetic. “Poor boy. The blood on your hands never will scrub clean.” A sudden leer. “No wonder your scavenger enjoys being tainted by you. She’s merely vermin from the desert- she doesn’t know any better.”

“Never speak of her again,” Ben hissed, his hands clenched into fists so tight he could feel his nails bite into skin.

“Easily done. She’s not worth speaking of.” Snoke’s expression turned focused and grim. “Give me your location.”

Ben held fast against the probe he could feel in his mind, gritting his teeth. His palms grew slick with blood as the crescent wounds ran red. The probe turned violent, battering against his defenses until they seemed on the verge of cracking. The look of triumph Snoke wore sickened him.

Ben thought of everyone who would be endangered if he was bested, drawing on those flashes of memory to keep from shattering under the strain. His mother, his uncle, Chewie, the kriffing porgs. Poe, Finn… even, on some level, the Resistance members who watched him as if they expected to be cut down at any moment.

And Rey. Beautiful, fearless Rey, who trusted him and felt safe in his arms.

With fierce determination he went on the offensive, drawing on a well of unexpected, explosive energy and using it to crush Snoke’s mental barrage. Snoke crumpled inward, his face a mask of rage. “You fool.” Snoke spat on the ground, the fluid tinted red. “Come find me then, when you will,” he ground out. “I’ll be waiting.”

- - -

He woke to Rey’s hands gently caressing his face, her calloused thumb swiping under his nose. In the dim artificial light he could see her frowning at the unmistakable slick of blood on the digit. “Stay still,” she ordered, slipping from bed and disappearing into the ‘fresher. She returned with a damp washcloth and began wiping his skin clean.

“Nosebleed?” he asked in an unsteady murmur, aware that he was trembling slightly.

“Yes.” She paused, looking at him critically as if searching for any missed spots, and then reached for one of his hands. “And you broke the skin on your palms.”

“I thought so,” he replied, closing his eyes again with a sigh. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t have to see her to know that she thought that was a ridiculous question. “I’m fine. You’re injured.” She dabbed at his palm with the cloth, and then closed her own hand loosely over his. He felt the energy she directed toward wounded flesh, felt as his skin began to knit back together. “Snoke?”

“He tried to read my mind.” Ben could feel the tears forming as he searched for some spark of Padmé and came up empty. “He’s blocked my grandmother from me, somehow.”

She soothed him wordlessly along the bond, her sympathy no mockery. Carefully she placed his hand back on the covers and began to repeat the process on the other. “And you defeated him, all by yourself,” she said quietly. “You pushed him back. I’m so proud, Ben.”

As much comfort as he took in her pride he felt raw. Exposed. Even a little bit helpless. “Do you think he hurt her?”

“Can the living hurt the dead?” she asked, her tone of gentle practicality. “You’ll find her again, after Snoke’s dead. I know it.”

She tossed the washcloth onto the floor once she was through, and nudged at his shoulder until he rolled onto his side, facing away from her. “Go back to sleep,” she said as she curled up behind him, one leg slung over his waist. The arm around his chest held him firmly, her breath warm against the back of his neck. “No more dreams. I promise.”

There were only two people in the universe he believed when they made that kind of promise. She was one.

The other was maddeningly silent.

- - -

Ben was still bleary-eyed when he stood under the shower’s spray a few hours later, glaring half-heartedly down at his morning erection. He had woken to Rey still asleep, draped over his back, and the amount of willpower it had taken to slide out from beneath her had surprised even him.

(She had grumbled until he had tucked a pillow into her arms.)

He had already been in the shower for longer than he had intended when Rey joined him, her hair wild around her face. “Let me see,” she said without preamble, and after reaching up to hold his face between her hands she gave him a long look. “No more nosebleeds?”

“No.” His cock was viewing the situation with much more promise than he was; Ben himself still felt at a loss in general. “Did you get enough sleep?”

A part of him wondered if she had ever gotten enough sleep. He doubted that she had slept deeply on Jakku- or for more than a few hours at a time, even- when doing so would have left her vulnerable to attack.

“With you? Always.” An odd smile appeared on her face when he raised a brow at that statement. “Really,” she added softly. “You know it’s true.”

He pulled her into a hug, barely caring that proof of his desire was pressed intimately against her belly. “I sleep better with you, too,” he admitted in a whisper against her hair. “I thought of you, when I fought him off.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“I needed to do it by myself.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his lips caress the delicate crest of skin and cartilage. “I’m glad that I was able to do it by myself.”

When he pulled away to meet her gaze, she was giving him a look that he couldn’t quite define, but read as confidence and love and something altogether too heady for the average morning. “You are very brave,” she said, so sincere it almost hurt. “I hope you know that, Ben.”

“I wouldn’t call myself brave,” he replied, so quietly that his words were barely audible. “Just… surviving.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “We’re both skilled at survival.”

Simple words, but they made him pull her close again, his face pressed against her hair. He ignored the fact that the water was turning cold.

“Do you wake up like this every morning?” she asked curiously, a tinge of mischievousness in her voice. Her hand wrapped intimately around him. “I thought that was a lie from the holos.”

“Pretty much,” he confirmed, almost gasping the words as she stroked his cock. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to.” She angled her head, kissing the underside of his chin. She then pushed him back against the wall, her eyes devouring him hungrily. “I want to see this again. And I think you need a distraction."

Cold water or not, he felt only heat as she stroked him, her clever fingers working as he tilted his head back, his breathing irregular. When she began scattering kisses across his chest he could barely stay on his feet.

After- feeling muddled but determined- he shut off the water and pushed her back against the wall, dropping to his knees.

“What-”

She sucked in a breath when his tongue flicked experimentally against her clit. “Oh.”

Whatever she had to say after that was almost unintelligible, but judging by what he felt through the bond it was definitely happily enthusiastic.

- - -

Poe waylaid them near their door, halting their progress toward the hangar. “Finally,” he said with exaggerated impatience. “I- we,” he amended, tilting his head toward BB-8, “have been waiting for minutes.”

Ben exchanged a glance with Rey, unsure exactly what was going on. “And…?”

“And we are all going to eat in the mess hall, like civilized people.” Poe lifted a brow when Ben continued to stand still. “What?”

Rey’s hand slid into his. “Ben likes to cook,” she explained, as if that were the most normal thing in the galaxy. And from certain perspectives, it probably was.

Poe, though, was suddenly looking at him with a certain amused understanding. “Oh.” He broke into a grin. “That is adorable. How did you become right-hand Big Bad, again?” he asked rhetorically, turning and beginning to walk away as if he expected them to follow.

To his credit, they did. Mainly because- Ben insisted to himself- everyone was staring at them, and it was easier to comply than not.

“We are going to rehabilitate your image,” Poe said blithely, as if that were a thing that could actually be done. Ben rolled his eyes. “The hand-holding is good,” Poe noted with a nod, and while Ben was briefly tempted to snatch his hand away common sense- and a desire to not put a shadow in Rey’s eyes- won the day. He tangled his fingers with hers instead, feeling her contentment through the bond.

“You can’t make everyone love me,” Ben grumbled. “Unless you’re planning on adding drugs to the drinking water.”

“Tempting, but no.” Poe grinned as Finn rounded a corner. “Finn likes you, and you tried to kill him.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Ben countered, finding to his surprise that he was actually amused by this absurdity. “Right, Finn?”

“Right,” Finn replied blandly. “Hate the guy.”

“See?” Ben said, the word coming out in darkly teasing sibilance. “Enemies for life.”

“Don’t be a nerf-herder, Ben.” Rey’s words were dry, though it was clear that she was just as amused as he was. “Let Poe attempt this impossible task.”

His lips twitched into a reluctant grin even as Poe snickered, BB-8 beeping sarcastically beside them. “If you insist.”

If the other inhabitants of the base had been bemused the night before, they were downright disbelieving as their small group walked into the mess hall, Poe talking volubly about some mission. More than a few people looked at Ben and Rey’s clasped hands with expressions that ranged from perplexed to irritated to that of satisfied confirmation.

Ben let the others do most of the talking as they ate, keeping his gaze firmly on his plate as he mechanically consumed every bite of his food. It wasn’t until the end of the meal that his attention was pulled forcibly away from what was right in front of his face.

It was the drop in volume that clued him in first; the way that the eyes of everyone else shifted from him to the door. And then- after what was no more than a minute, all told, but certainly felt much longer than that- a hand dropped lightly onto his shoulder.

He turned slightly in his seat, and when he looked up he met Amilyn Holdo’s gaze.

“Ben.” She spoke quietly, but the room was almost silent and he had no doubt that nearly everyone heard. “Welcome back.” She glanced toward Rey. “Both of you.”

Her hand squeezed his shoulder, and then she was walking away, leaving a hum of whispers in her wake.

Poe slumped back into his seat, a wry smile on his lips. “She just stole my thunder,” he said, his tone that of amused complaint. “I had this whole redemption arc planned, and she shoved it out the airlock with a pat of her hand.”

“Do I want to know what you were planning for this redemption arc?” Ben asked absently, still watching the doorway that Holdo had just exited through.

“Oh, you know. Saving orphans from a burning tree, or something.”

Thank the Maker he had been spared that.

- - -

“This feels familiar,” Rey commented with a slight smile as she dropped her coat to the tarmac. Snow swirled around them, their environment too similar to Starkiller for his comfort. She had a look in her eyes that made him think that she, too, found it somewhat unnerving.

“Let’s avoid inflicting wounds on each other, this time,” he replied, the teasing tone he had been aiming for falling flat.

“Ben.”

He stepped closer with a sigh, brushing his lips against her forehead. “You can give me another scar, if you want,” he muttered into her hair.

“One is enough, I think.” She pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “Do you not want to spar?”

He took in a deep breath, trying to shake off the gloom that had fallen over him. “No, I do.”

“Good.” She watched him for a moment longer before stepping back and unclipping her lightsaber from her belt. She settled into an opening form, her blade blazing between them. “Come on, then,” she said, her expression one of invitation.

He settled into his own stance, feeling a wave of relief when the steady blade of silver appeared and not the flickering crimson of old. “I need you to make the first move.”

Rey nodded, not looking surprised. “Don’t stay on the defensive the entire time, all right?”

“I won’t.”

At the first meeting of their blades they locked eyes through the gap between, each holding firm against the other. It struck him, suddenly, how beautiful she looked in the silvered-blue glow, with the snow falling around her and her expression one of determination.

“She’s still watching,” Rey said unexpectedly, comfortingly, and he felt his lower lip tremble, just a touch.

“I know.” He adjusted his grip on his lightsaber, their blades humming as they maintained contact. “Let’s give her a show.”

Chapter Text

“You’re practically vibrating,” Rey commented from her position on the Falcon’s floor. Ben was sitting at the table, the speckled porg chattering into his ear and an unread holo in front of him. Rey- who was leaning against the side of his seat, the back of her head touching his thigh- continued to polish her scavenge from Crait as she waited for him to reply.

“I had hoped for time before we faced Snoke,” he admitted, tracing a scratch on the table’s surface. The porg- he should really name that porg- fluttered down to land next to his hand. “Now that she’s gone I just want this finished.”

Rey’s hands slowed on the piece of scrap. Patches of the metal gleamed in the artificial light.

“I miss her,” he said quietly, the words settling heavily in the room. It had been less than a day, but he missed her with a steadily increasing ache- and he was beginning to realize that he might actually be frightened to face Snoke in real life without her shield on his mind.

She placed the circlet and the polishing cloth on her lap, and then reached back to curve her hand over his knee. “I know.”

The porg squawked at him indignantly for reasons Ben could not determine.

Rey spoke again, her words soft. “Waiting is… difficult,” she said carefully. “It gets easier. I know that doesn’t help right now.”

He heard, barely, a scrap of her own thoughts.

(-the first four years are the hardest I’m sorry let me help-)

He thought of all those scratch marks along the wall, days upon days upon days, and felt almost ashamed. “I thought I could handle it,” he mumbled. “I was… I don’t know… settled this morning.”

“Numb,” she corrected. She drew her hand away and picked up the piece of scrap again, polishing with a vengeance. “I shouldn’t have done what I did,” she said quietly. “I thought it would help. I’m sorry.”

He blinked in confusion, comprehension taking several seconds to coalesce in his mind. “Are you apologizing for giving me an orgasm?”

“Yes?” She turned slightly, looking up at him for the first time. She, too, looked a bit confused, and a blush played along her cheekbones. “I did it for selfish reasons, too,” she said, her blush increasing. “But I did want to make you feel better. I just- I’ve just spent too much time by myself,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the piece of scrap on her lap. “I’m still learning what’s… appropriate.”

He stared down at the crown of her head, at a loss. Finally, he folded himself practically in half, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her chest. “It made me feel loved,” he murmured in her ear. “I didn’t feel like you were taking advantage. And after-”

He kissed the delicate patch of skin below her earlobe. “-after, I wanted to make you feel loved, too.”

“You will tell me, though, if I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice thick. She had been tamping down this worry, he realized, as a lingering sense of guilt rolled from her.

“Of course.” He was tempted to drag her into his lap, but didn’t think she was quite up for that at the moment. “I’m still learning this, too- so I need you to make the same promise, sweetheart.”

“I will,” she said on a soft sigh.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her hair. The tang of chemicals, mostly, but beloved because the scent clung to her.

(She should smell of green, he thought whimsically. Maybe one day.)

Her hand lay gently against the side of his face. “You aren’t alone, Ben.”

She was right. In so many ways he was not alone- and somewhere, his grandmother waited just as he did. “Neither are you.”

A slight weight landed on his back, and he pressed his face against the soft skin of her neck in response. “How are you coming with that?”

She lifted the circlet, her mood lightening as she focused on something she knew with certainty. “Your uncle was right- it’s just scrap. See?” She angled the metal so that he could see a sigil emblazoned on one polished stretch. “The emblem of a Kuat shipyard. This was part of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer.”

“And it ended up underwater on Crait.” He raised a brow. “Odd.”

“Maybe not. Junk scatters where you least expect it.” She resumed rubbing at a stubborn patch of rust. “Practically a law of the universe.”

She hummed under her breath as the rust gave way; a series of notes that sounded like satisfaction in binary. “I’m not complaining,” she said, moving on to the next patch, “but aren’t you uncomfortable, bent over like that?”

“Yes,” he answered, enjoying her shiver as his lips brushed her neck. “There’s a porg on my back.”

“There’s-”

She pulled away, coming to her knees to check the situation for herself. “These birds love you,” she said with a laugh, reaching forward to scoop the porg off the curve of his spine.

Once the porg was safely on the table he sat up, angling himself toward her as he stretched out his back. “I’m just tall.” The porg flew up onto his shoulder, crooning. “Right?” he asked it, aware even as he spoke that this might be the furthest from Kylo Ren he had ever been.

Rey sat back on her heels, her arms crossed on top of his knees. “And an easy target,” she added, a smile playing over her lips. “You spoil them.”

He hid his own smile. “They beg so nicely.”

“I think you mean screech.” She inched closer until her torso was pressed against his lower legs, his feet between her knees. “You-”

She paused, holding his gaze as if she were considering whether to finish.

“What?” he asked, bending toward her. His hair fell around his face, casting a shadow over her features.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” she said softly. “But you never wanted to be what everyone else wanted you to be, did you? Not a weapon, or a politician, or a smuggler, or a Jedi of the old school.”

He replied just as softly. “No. I didn’t know what I wanted, then.” One corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. “There was no room to wonder.”

“I think I know what you want now.” Her fingers wrapped tightly around her forearms. “But it’s for you to say. I don’t want to put another expectation in front of you.”

He brushed a kiss against her forehead, amazed anew at how well she understood him. “I want to do something to fix the damage I’ve done. And I want to find somewhere safe- somewhere with flowers and trees- and I want to raise children there, with you.”

“I know.” Her grip on herself relaxed, and she moved one hand to rest loosely on his thigh.

He slid his hand through her hair, curving his fingers around the back of her head. “What do you want?”

She looked arrested by that question. “I want-”

She visibly swallowed. “I want a home.”

Something in him relaxed. “You don’t want to travel the galaxy?”

“I do want to travel, but I don’t want to be rootless.” Her smile was almost self-deprecating. “I fought so hard to keep my little patch of land on Jakku. There was never a day that I didn’t wonder if I would wake up or come home to an invader- and both happened, more than once. I want a piece of earth that’s mine. Ours.”

“I want to give you that.”

She lay her cheek against her arms, blinking slowly as he gently massaged her scalp. “It’s still strange to be given things,” she commented. “But that’s part of this, isn’t it? You give freely, I give freely- and we balance.”

“Ideally.” The porg settled under his ear in a ball of fluff. “I hope you’re ready to add ‘porg sanctuary’ to your list of life goals.”

Her mouth curled into an amused smile. “There are worse fates.”

- - -

Ben couldn’t sleep.

Worse, he was afraid to sleep. He was exhausted, but terrified of what might happen if he allowed himself to succumb to the fatigue that dragged at his limbs. The odds of facing Snoke two nights in a row were low- Ben was certain he had injured him, in some way- but without Padmé’s safety net he couldn’t seem to forestall the dread that cycled through his mind.

Rey slept under his arm, her breathing quiet in the small room. She was all that felt solid in the dark; her hair tickling his nose, her bare legs warm against his. She was dreaming of Jakku again, though she didn’t seem distressed. As best he could tell, she was deep in the guts of a wrecked Star Destroyer, her bag laden with an array of promising parts. She was thinking about portions, he was fairly certain- heaps of portions, too many to carry.

Carefully he slipped out of bed, tucking the covers securely around Rey so that she wouldn’t miss his warmth. Snagging his clothes from earlier that day by feel, he crept into the hall and pulled them on there, alone in the flickering lights. He wasn’t quite sure where he intended to go, but he felt a need to move, as if he could outwalk his own anxieties.

He had been making a circuit of the base for nearly a half hour before Rey woke enough to send him a questioning mental nudge. She was still drowsing, he could tell, curled up under the blankets, and he sent back a soothing caress until she slipped back into sleep. He briefly considered rejoining her in their bed, but his restless feet kept moving until he was in the hangar, walking through the mass of ships. The majority were old and battered, many dating back to the stand against the Empire.

Money had been less of a problem for the Rebels, he mused idly as he walked past a starfighter that had probably been made before his mother’s birth. Alderaan, as well as a number of other wealthy worlds, had stealthily directed funds into rebellion coffers for as many years as they had been able. This war, though- the well-to-do had spent the duration waiting on the sidelines, looking for a clear victor to align themselves with.

Ben’s mouth firmed in a thin line as he halted by a familiar ship and carefully examined the wires that trailed from one loose side panel. BB-8- and how that droid had snuck up on him, he had no idea- rolled up to him with a shrill demand.

“I see that there’s a problem,” he told the droid dryly. “What did Dameron do, fly into a mountain?”

Ben’s grasp of binary was nowhere near fluent, but he knew when a droid was cursing at him. “You probably don’t talk to Rey like that,” Ben muttered, grabbing some nearby tools and settling in to rectify the damage. “Don’t you dare,” he said sharply, not even bothering to look toward the droid when he heard a threatening click from its direction. “I’m helping, not hurting.”

BB-8 rolled to his side, its sliding notes reminding him of Artoo at the droid’s most sarcastic.

“You really hold a grudge, don’t you?” He examined the panel and quickly spotted the problem. “He caught some heat. These circuits are basically char.”

He began to work, carefully narrating every step for the very attentive droid. It was out of caution, he justified to himself. The droid was clearly recording every move he made, which would be handy if anyone accused him of tampering with Dameron’s ship.

It was pleasant, though, to have something to talk to as he lost himself in work. As time went by BB-8’s tone mellowed, though the droid never quite reached that same level of cheer it exhibited around Poe or Rey or Finn. Ben didn’t mind; he would take whatever he could get.

He felt the approach of his uncle long before the man actually arrived at his side. The brush of his Force signature barely disturbed Ben; he kept close to the panel as he replaced another wire.

“Can’t sleep?” Luke asked mildly, patting BB-8 on the dome before taking a seat on a nearby crate.

“Afraid to.” Ben carefully soldered a small part of the panel. “I had a run-in with Snoke last night. I fought him off again,” he continued, then found himself stumbling over his next words. “But he made Padmé disappear.”

His uncle was silent for a long moment, but Ben sensed that the silence had far more to do with his uncle than him. “That you fought him off alone, without help- that’s a very good sign, Ben,” Luke said finally. There was a quiet pride in his voice that made Ben blink rapidly in shock. “Were you hurt?”

“A nosebleed.” Ben looked away from the panel for the first time, meeting his uncle’s eyes over BB-8’s dome. “I think I hurt him, too, but…”

“I know.” Luke nodded, leaning forward with his forearms propped against his knees. “He’s a formidable opponent.”

Ben turned his attention back to the panel. “He thought I would just crumble,” he mumbled, reaching for another wire. “He called me unbalanced.”

“You’re not.”

“He said my hands would never be clean.” Ben barely flinched when a spark lit on his thumb. “And- well.”

“I’ve never liked that metaphor.” From the corner of his eye Ben saw Luke shift on his seat, staring downward. “The school wasn’t the only reason I decided to disappear. I’ve spent decades dreaming of the first Death Star.” He hesitated. “I never got a solid answer on the number of people who died because of my one lucky shot. Thousands, at least. Stormtroopers, officers, prisoners, janitorial staff. The vast majority of them were normal people on the opposite side of a war, and I was applauded for cutting their lives short.”

BB-8 burbled a quiet, questioning trill.

“Don’t go sharing this around,” Luke told the droid sternly. “This is a private conversation.”

“Destroying the Death Star saved countless lives,” Ben ventured, fiddling with the tool in his hand.

“It did,” Luke agreed. “It makes me look good in the history holos. It doesn’t save me from being haunted by my own actions. My hands are no cleaner than yours, Ben.”

Ben briefly considered arguing (surely intent mattered in these ethical equations), but his uncle’s sincerity stayed his tongue.

Rey surfaced in his mind again, all soft lines and blurry, drowsy complaints that he wasn’t in bed with her. His mouth tipped upwards in a slight smile. “Rey’s grumbling about me not sleeping,” he explained without prompting, and his uncle smiled in return.

“I tried my hardest to chase her off when she arrived on Ahch-To.” Luke shook his head, looking as if he were amused at his own expense. “I didn’t know what to do with her. A girl from nowhere- her words,” he clarified, “with power to match yours. It seemed like the Force was playing a cruel joke.”

“I love her,” Ben said quietly.

“I figured that out when you arrived on my island.” His uncle stood, stretching. “I worried about it, then. But now…”

Luke leaned against the ship, staring off at some unknown point. “The old Jedi Order survived for many, many years,” he said slowly. “And their methods worked, most of the time. I used to agree with them, but now I think they applied their rules too strictly. If my father had felt free to be honest about the love he had for my mother… things might have turned out very differently.” He turned his head to meet Ben’s gaze. “I’m happy for you, and for her.”

“Thank you.” Ben put aside his tools and wiped the worst of the engine grease from his hands with a rag. The rest of the repair could wait until morning. “I-”

He almost fumbled the words, but got them out nonetheless. “I want you to be happy, Uncle.”

There was a flicker in his uncle’s expression at that, a look of soft, touched emotion. He took a step closer and clasped Ben’s shoulder. “I want you to be happy, too.”

They left the hangar together, and when it came time to part ways his uncle patted his back and left with a quiet smile. Ben continued along his path, slipping into a communal ‘fresher to scrub his hands clean before entering his own room.

Rey rolled toward him when the mattress dipped under his weight, so comfortable with his presence that she didn’t snap completely awake. “Sleep,” she ordered in a mutter against his chest, cinching one arm around his back. She nestled closer as he arranged his arms around her, sliding one of her legs between his. “Stop thinking.”

The fear had not completely subsided, but it had subsided enough- and when he dreamed, it was of the autumn forests of Naboo and the crunch of leaves beneath his feet.

- - -

“Rey, I have an idea.” Finn waved a hand at Ben casually. “You come, too.”

“I’m honored by your gracious invitation,” Ben said dryly. He passed by a clump of mechanics who barely did more than glance in his direction. Poe had been correct in his assessment of Holdo’s acceptance; Ben had been on the receiving end of barely a handful of wary looks in the time since. They had been replaced by stiff nods of acknowledgment, which were a distinct improvement.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Finn led them to a corner of the hangar, straight toward a ship that had seen better days.

Ben eyed it skeptically as they drew closer. Many better days. “Do you need us to break it down for scrap?” he asked, taking in how the entire structure seemed to rest at a slant.

Rey was considering it with more hope, but the look she gave Finn was apologetic. “I can fix it, but it might take more time than we have.”

“It doesn’t need to carry any living being safely,” Finn replied dismissively. “But I was thinking- it’s obvious who’ll be facing Snoke, at the end.” He gave the pair of them a quick glance before looking back toward the ship. “You need an entrance plan.”

Ben wasn’t shocked by Finn’s perceptiveness, and judging by Rey’s serious expression, neither was she. “You’re suggesting a decoy?” he asked, scrutinizing the ship with new understanding.

“If we fix up the outside and find a way for Rey to pilot it remotely, it might distract the First Order long enough for you to board with that shuttle of yours.” Finn shrugged. “If they think it carries someone important and use a tractor beam to capture it, that would give you even more time than if they use it for cannon fodder.”

Ben nodded. “He’s right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

Rey ignored their banter as she crawled under the struts, disappearing from view. “The cosmetic part is easy,” she said after a moment, her voice muffled. “The rest is harder, but doable.” She reappeared, a streak of grease on her cheek. “Ben, can you change the signal for your shuttle? It wasn’t the only upsilon-class in the fleet, was it?”

“No, there were at least a dozen- and yes, I can handle that.” She was still sitting on the floor, and he crouched next to her, reaching out to wipe the mark from her cheek with his thumb.

She gave him a patient look. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“I know.” He straightened to his full height, perfectly aware that at least one more largely sleepless night loomed ahead of him. “After I finish with the shuttle I’ll be back to help you with this.”

“Good.” She disappeared beneath the ship again. “Finn, get me a light and a Harris wrench.” A pause. “You remember what that looks like, right?”

Ben turned to walk away, hiding a smile at Finn’s indignant expression.

“I will never forget what that kriffing wrench looks like, Rey.”

Rey laughed, the sound distorted against the underside of the ship.

It sounded, Ben thought, strangely like hope.

Chapter Text

“Well, it looks less like bantha shit than it did yesterday.”

Ben turned away from the ship, catching the bittersweet amusement on his mother’s face. “It’s a good idea, using this hulk as a decoy,” she continued. “Maker knows that’s a better use of our resources than trying to make it habitable again.”

“It was Finn’s idea.” He put aside the paintbrush he held, and attempted to scrub his hands clean on his hopelessly paint-spattered trousers. There was a thunk from the interior, where Rey was bending the comm panel to her will. “Are you okay?”

She seemed to think about her answer as she reached out to straighten his mussed shirt, her gaze distant. “It took me a very long time to realize that the war started by Palpatine was never going to end. When you were born I thought ‘yes, it’s finally over’- but then there was crisis after crisis, and I kept leaving you to put out fires, and the next thing I knew I lost my son to the very enemy I was fighting.”

He could barely hear her in the busy room, even in their isolated corner. “Mom-”

“Ben, I know that I helped push you there.” She reached up and brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, truly focusing on him again. “I missed so much of your childhood- you were such a beautiful child.”

He rolled his eyes at that. “Skinny and gawky with big ears. Sure.”

“Ben, don’t argue with me about this.” She clasped his face between her hands. “A beautiful boy- and so handsome now. I hope- I hope that after this is over, that we’ll still have time.”

He bent down toward her, his paint-smeared hands hovering over her shoulders. “Are we out of time now?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. But soon.” She looked almost as if she were memorizing his face. “I do love you, Ben. I always have.”

“I know.”

Those simple words seemed to strike her in the heart, and ignoring the paint on his hands and clothes he folded her into his arms, pressing his cheek against her elaborately braided hair. She was wearing an Alderaanian mourning braid; she had since before his return. “You’ll be staying out of the firefight, I hope,” he said, averting his eyes from the curious gazes of other crew members. “No heroics from you, please.”

“Generals go where their soldiers need them.” She sounded gruff, but that wasn’t too unusual. “I’ve never been one to shirk duty.”

“No, you haven’t.”

Rey appeared in his periphery, looking hesitant. She took a step back, and then another, before his mother’s voice stopped her.

“Don’t go, Rey. I’m just embarrassing my son.”

Ben pulled back, frowning down at her. “You’re not embarrassing me.”

She raised a brow, a smirk appearing. “I’m about to, then.” She looked toward Rey. “You should come by my quarters, later. I want to show you his baby pictures.”

Ben was about to protest- out of instinct more than anything else- when he caught the look of wonder on Rey’s face. “Really?” she asked, sounding almost disbelieving.

“Really.” Leia was watching her with a soft expression, as if she understood something Ben had failed to grasp. “In fact, come now. You both need a break.”

Ben himself hadn’t seen the pictures in decades, long before he had left for his uncle’s academy. He had never felt a particular affinity for the infant and toddler portrayed, despite the fact that the images were clearly of him. He had to admit, though, that the pictures sparked something in him, now- or maybe it was just the look in Rey’s eyes when she stared at them.

“Do most people have these?” she asked as she examined one picture of a young Leia cradling a month-old Ben. “Baby pictures, I mean.”

“They’re common in the Core Worlds, though physical ones, like these, are considered old-fashioned.” His mother had her eyes on Rey, and only Rey. “Have you ever had your picture taken?”

“No.” Rey looked closely at another picture- toddler Ben- and then looked at Ben himself. She reached out and traced the curve of one ear with an index finger. “You grew into them.”

He knew that he was blushing. “Somewhat.”

She was grinning. “It’s amazing, seeing little you. Hard to believe you were once so small.”

“He wasn’t small for long,” Leia said fondly. “And he was a very big baby, when he was born. You should keep that in mind.”

“Mom,” Ben hissed, as embarrassed as she had promised he would be. Rey blushed, but otherwise looked untroubled.

“I wonder what I looked like,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Tiny, he thought. Fine-boned. A happy baby, unlike his incessant crying. He caught a flash of her thoughts- a remembrance of how she had only ever caught her own reflection in hazy durasteel panels and muddy water.

(The old mirror in the ‘fresher of the Falcon; Rey’s shocked face. Is that me?)

The last picture made his breath catch in his throat. He was two at best, curled up asleep on his father’s lap. Han was sitting in the pilot’s seat on the Falcon, giving the photographer a wicked grin, his relaxed sprawl offset by the arm wrapped securely around Ben’s back.

Ben couldn’t speak. His mother brushed a fingertip against the glossy image, her expression one of longing. “I think you should take this,” she said finally, holding the picture out to him. “I have holo copies.”

Ben took it with stiff fingers, the paper feeling unbearably flimsy in his hand. It took him several tries to speak, but he finally succeeded with a low “Thank you.”

“He would be proud of you, too.” His mother stood and moved to his side, pressing a kiss to his bent head. “Just like me.”

Rey’s shock when Leia did the same to her was tinted with shy pleasure, and the feel of it just increased the ache in his throat. His mother ruffled his hair gently. “I’ve been told by more than one of my spies that the pair of you worked the night through. Go sleep- you have enough time to rest, and still finish your work.”

“Artoo’s been gossiping again?” he asked, his voice veering toward unsteady.

“Artoo is more reliable than your average gossip,” she replied dryly. “If you prefer, I could place Threepio on Ben duty.”

His laugh was only one in name. “Please don’t.”

“Then go to bed like a good boy.”

He thought about protesting- he was almost thirty, after all, and here he was being sent to bed by his mother, right in front of the woman he loved- but instead he nodded. “We have our orders,” he told Rey in a low voice, aiming for joking but falling short. She took his hand, the shadows under her eyes testifying that his mother might have the right of it after all.

(And he didn’t want to go back to the hangar, not yet- not while the shock of his father’s grin was still fresh in his mind.)

He carried the slip of paper with him as if it were the most delicate of ephemera, likely to disintegrate in his hands.

- - -

The first thing Ben did in their quarters was carefully place the picture on the small table near their bed. The second thing he did was scrub his skin nearly raw in the bath, the ache in his throat still very present, and he only desisted when Rey forcefully pulled the rough washcloth from his hands.

“You’re not allowed to hurt yourself like that,” she told him firmly, worry in her eyes and an unexpected quiver along her lips. “You wouldn’t want me to.”

He looked away from her, toward the mirror slowly being overtaken by steam. The stability he had clung to for so long felt like the lie it had always been. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be over this. Any of this.”

“Of course not,” she said to his surprise. She laid a hand over his heart, staring up at him with those eyes that had arrested him from the first. “No one fighting this war will. You’ll always be the man who fought against the dark until you couldn’t, and you’ll always be the man whose family saved him. I’ll always be the scavenger who starved and bled in the deserted hulks of a battle that happened before I was born. That’s who we are.”

“You’re bigger than that,” he protested quietly, sliding his hands up to cup her shoulders.

“So are you.” Her hands curled around his wrists. “Please, Ben. Be kind to yourself.”

He hunched inward slightly, speaking in a mutter. “You don’t understand. It’s not that easy, Rey.”

Rey seemed almost to flinch, and he sensed that his words had dealt a blow that he had neither expected nor intended. “Do you think it’s easy for me to be kind to myself?” she asked, her expression oddly formal, as if they were anything other than naked in the same small space. “To learn how to let you be kind to me?”

“No,” he admitted with a rasp, the bruised ache at her end of the bond stinging far more than the hot water striking his scoured skin.

She released her hold on his wrists and stepped away, snagging one of the towels. “I’m aware that our scars are different, Ben,” she said, briskly drying herself off as she avoided meeting his eyes. “I’ve felt how hard it is for you to forgive yourself, and it hurts. I just-”

Rey trailed off, as if she had run out of words. She raised a hand in some abortive gesture- almost as if she were reaching for him- and then flushed red and hung the towel sloppily over the rack before hurrying from the room. He stared after her for a long moment before shutting off the water, following her as panic roiled in his gut.

Rey was digging through one of their few drawers when he entered the room, her back toward him and her shoulders hunched upward. What he felt from her was clearly guilt. The ridge of her spine was sharply defined against her skin, and the sight brought to mind forcefully every memory of hers he had seen that involved hunger gnawing at her belly.

(Too many.)

“You’re right,” he said before she could speak. “I would be furious if I caught you intentionally hurting yourself.”

Rey cast him a glance over her shoulder, looking uncertain. “Furious.”

“Not at you.” He stared down at the small puddle of water around his feet. He hadn’t thought to grab a towel. “At myself. For not being enough.”

All he felt from her was ashamed understanding, and he looked up in surprise. “That’s how you feel.”

She tugged a shirt over her head, her suspiciously teary expression momentarily hidden from him. “Selfish,” she said as the cloth passed over her face, her wet hair already creating damp patches on the fabric. She was blinking rapidly when he next saw her. “To be thinking about myself when you were still in shock.”

He released a breath, feeling the tentative beginnings of relief. “I was being a navel-gazing nerf herder,” he said bluntly. “What I was doing… that’s exactly what I would have done, before.” He moved toward her with more confidence than he perhaps deserved. “Punishing myself became a habit a long time ago.”

“I don’t like it.” There was a little bit of snarl in her tone, on her face. “I still don’t always feel like I deserve food, but I eat to make you happy.”

He drew her into his arms, further dampening the shirt she wore. “It does make me happy,” he said, relieved when she relaxed against him even as he acknowledged with a pang that he hadn’t noticed any moment when she had been reticent to eat.

She pressed closer, releasing a tired sigh. When she spoke, it was in a small, barely audible whisper. “Next time… come to me.”

Her head was tucked against his chest. He pulled back enough to slip his fingers underneath her chin, exerting just enough pressure to gently lift her gaze to meet his. “And you’ll come to me, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” A tear slipped from the corner of one eye and slid down her cheek. “I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Ben.”

He released his delicate grip on her chin. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around her. The shirt she wore clung instead of fell, at that point, and she shivered for the first time in the cool room. As soon as he could bear to let her go- in a minute, just a minute- he would strip her out of it and tuck her under the covers.

“I am, too.” She slid her arms around his waist, holding him firmly. “I know you love him, Ben. I know it’s hard.”

He could see, over her shoulder, the image of him and his father. It still hurt.

(But her pain when she had wrenched the cloth from his hands, her panic- it had struck him like his own pain, immediate and so very tangible.)

She was still shivering, and he realized belatedly that he was, too. “Under the covers,” he said, a quiet order, taking the hem of her shirt in his hands and pulling it up over her head. He tossed it over the back of a chair with half a thought before herding her toward the bed.

At first she was quiet after they situated themselves under the blankets, her shivers dying down slowly. When she spoke, it was in a faux-grumble. “You got me all wet.”

A wicked grin lit on his lips. Not the first time. “I’m keeping you warm, though.”

“You’re always warm.” She traced one finger delicately over the line of his scar. “My water.”

He tightened his arms around her, damp skin to damp skin. “My love.” Ben realized that he sounded like someone from a romance-holo, but couldn’t bring himself to care. The words were true: she was his love.

She squirmed in his grasp, just enough to meet his eyes. He hadn’t bothered to turn off the lights, and was glad of it when he saw the look of wide-eyed want on her face. “Is this a bad time?” she asked, one hand curling around his shoulder. “Because we could just sleep.”

Losing himself in her- and even better, hearing and feeling her lose herself in him- struck him as an excellent idea. “How’s your back?”

She smiled tremulously, but before he could do more than worry she spoke. “Nearly normal.” She tugged at him until he was crouched over her, a few droplets of water slipping from his hair to splash onto her face. “Gently. Please.”

What came across the bond was love and desire, heightened by an almost desperate need for connection. He slipped his fingers between her legs and found her slick and hot, but when he tried to duck under the covers to test the same spot with his mouth she held him fast.

“Inside me,” she said, her breathing fast. “Please.”

“I liked kissing you there,” he insisted. “Loved,” he amended, realizing it was a better and more truthful word. Rey slumped against the wall, boneless and speechless, held up only by the strength of his arms- he’d never felt so powerful or needed before.

“And I loved it.” She looked almost shy, an expression he wasn’t used to seeing on her. “But that’s not what I want right now.”

He brushed a kiss across her lips. “Okay.”

She was just as tight as she had been their first time, but there was very little discomfort on her face this time around; instead, she sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms around him, her nails digging into her back. “Good,” she said in a low tone, the sound making his skin prickle. “So good, Ben.”

He had loved her riding him, and he loved being on top of her: her breasts pressed against his chest, her legs hooked firmly over his hips. He had the oddest feeling that he had always been meant to find his way here, to the cradle of her hips and the heat of her damp skin, and the way their bond practically sang with each slow, dragging thrust more than affirmed the speculation.

She panted against his neck with a keen when she came, and he was unable to stop himself from toppling over the edge with her. In the hazy minutes after he thought, lazily, that he should probably roll off of her- she was so small, but so kriffing lovely to lay on top of- and when he finally did move, he compromised: he pulled her on top of him.

“This is only going to get better, isn’t it?” she asked, sounding as if she were still a bit dazed.

He huffed out a laugh. “Probably.”

She made a choked kind of whine, and a distinct feeling of being overwhelmed- the best kind of overwhelmed- came through the bond. “Force.”

Ben chuckled as he stared up at the flickering light that lit their small room, his breathing still as irregular as hers. “Just wait until I improve my endurance, sweetheart.”

She smacked one hand lightly against his chest, the move half-hearted. “Just wait until I figure out a few more tricks.”

He snorted, feeling ridiculously light-hearted compared to his state of mind even an hour before, and spoke without really considering his words. “We’re going to be the death of each other.”

She stiffened. “No.”

He stroked one hand down the length of her spine. “No,” he agreed gently. “We’re just going to fuck each other starblind. Often.”

Rey felt amused at that. “Better.”

(Even love-dazed he knew their path wouldn’t be so easy; he pushed the thought aside with the single-mindedness inherent in the Skywalker line.)

- - -

After sleep, after washing the proof of their love from their skin, after hours more work on the decoy ship, Holdo came for them.

There was that spark of his Aunt Amilyn again, lingering under her delicate features, but her words were purely that of command. “We’re nearly ready to move,” she told them crisply after sequestering them in a spare meeting room. She held out a small data chip to Ben, who accepted it and tucked it into the pocket closest to his heart. “The Supremacy is near Chandrila,” she informed them, meeting Ben’s gaze as his heart skipped a beat. “I need you to wait nearby until you get our signal. We’ve found a hiding place for you, behind a cluster of moons,” she said, nodding her head slightly toward where Ben had tucked away the data chip. “My best estimate is you’ll have four hours to wait, maybe five, after you arrive at your destination.”

Ben was already thinking of logistics, and judging by the whir of Rey’s mind through the bond she was, as well. “We’re ready to move,” he said, planning ahead to what he would need to grab from their quarters before they left. “What-”

Holdo held up a hand, a conflicted expression on her face. “You know that you’re the only ones for this assignment, right?” she asked, her gaze encompassing them both.

“Yes.” After a moment of hesitation he gently captured one of Holdo’s hands. She had liked wildflowers, if he recalled correctly. Or she had liked wildflowers from the little boy he had been, at least. “It was a better reception than I had expected.”

The conflict slipped away, leaving behind a look of pragmatic resignation. “I suppose so.” Her hand squeezed his briefly before letting go. “Go and say your farewells,” she said, not unkindly. “I expect to see both of you after this is all over, preferably with every limb intact.”

Force willing, they would be able to do just that.

Chapter Text

Rey preceded him into their quarters, moving unerringly toward the small dresser. She stripped off her grease and paint-stained clothing with speedy efficiency, pulling on clean as he began to do the same. After clipping her lightsaber to her belt, she momentarily hesitated before adding the circlet as well. “Might need to repair something,” she said with a shrug, as much to herself as him.

Ben reclaimed his own saber from the table, and found himself staring hard at the picture. It was a delicate, fragile thing- not something he should be taking into a battle zone. But then, it was likely that he would never return to this particular room again. If they won the day, he would be free to go anywhere-

(Or be confined to a jail cell, a dark part of his mind reminded him.)

-and if they didn’t… well, he wouldn’t be in any kind of shape to return, in that case.

Rey, who had been tucking emergency rations into her pockets, snatched up the photograph from the table. “Will it fit in your pocket?” she asked, understanding in her eyes.

It was a small thing, relatively speaking- smaller than his hand. “Yes.” He tucked it away with the data chip, his future and his past rustling together in one space.

She took a quick look around the room, a small spark of what might have been loss in her eyes. He knew that accustomed as she might be to never truly laying claim to any place- the AT-AT had always been embattled ground, day after day, year after year- a part of her wanted the emotional luxury of mourning any lost home. He could almost see the moment when Rey steeled herself, turning to leave the room as if it had been nothing. He didn’t bother with concealment, and left knowing all too well that it had been more: the place they had first shared a bed, albeit chastely, and the place she had first called him her water.

Her fingers twined with his as he thought. “There will be other rooms, other beds,” she whispered with a hint of a sad sigh. “You’re the important part.”

There were flecks of paint in her hair, and somehow her words and the sight made the tension in his jaw melt away. “You’re right,” he agreed, then switched to their bond to deliver the rest. Beds, and walls, and maybe a few tables-

She blushed red, but her lips tipped upward in a smile. “Ben.”

And at least one meadow. He looked straight ahead, keeping his expression bland. “I insist on the last one, actually.” He fed his imagining along their bond, the pink along his cheekbones nothing to Rey’s blush. Her naked on a blanket in the middle of tall grass, him still mostly dressed as he thrust into her trembling body.

“Stop,” she hissed, her pupils dilated and her expression flustered. He cut off the fantasy, a slight smirk on his face. “We are going to war,” she muttered grumpily. “Stop making me so… so thirsty.”

“You Jedi, always above the tawdry matters we mortals fill our time with.” Poe met their hasty steps, his flight helmet in hand. His eyes were bright with eagerness; apparently the news of the forthcoming battle had spread. He aimed a look of mocking scold at them. “I thought celibacy was a Jedi thing,” he teased. BB-8 caught up with him, chirping wildly.

“That’s the old order,” Ben said dismissively as he placed his hand on Rey’s back, feeling not at all ashamed.

“Well, I want to be invited to the wedding.” Poe leveled a grin on them, though Ben was somewhat distracted by the odd note he sensed along the bond. “I’m a great party guest.”

“I’m sure.” Rey felt almost subdued, a feeling he rarely associated with her.

Poe stepped in front of them, forcing their small group to halt. “Don’t die,” he said suddenly, sternly. “Neither of you are allowed to die.”

“We’re not planning on it,” Rey said quietly, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “Poe, we need to go.”

“I know.” His gaze moved to Ben. “Good luck.”

Poe sprinted off ahead of them toward the hangar, BB-8 following at a fast clip.

“Rey?” Ben moved closer as they walked, unsure what, exactly, her morass of tangled emotion meant.

She marched on. “Hmm?”

He studied the crease between her brows, the slight tilt to her head. “What is it?”

She seemed to shiver at the deep timbre of his voice, but then Finn ambushed them from a side corridor and the moment was lost. Ben watched as Finn pulled Rey into a hard hug, his instinctual possessiveness lacking for once.

“They’re sending me with Chewie.” Finn stepped back and held Rey at arm’s length, a frown on his face. “I offered to go with you, but everyone shot me down; told me I was needed as a gunner.”

“Thank you.” Rey’s tense expression eased, and she offered Finn a bright smile. “We’ll be fine, Finn.”

His frown did not abate. “You’ll be facing down Snoke, the Praetorian Guard, and nearly everyone else on the Supremacy. But sure, you’ll be fine.”

“You worry too much.” Rey poked him in the chest with one finger. “Be careful.”

“Rey, I’m on Porg Patrol.” Finn looked genuinely disgruntled.

Strangely, Ben felt a little stung by his dismissive attitude. “Do you really think Chewie will be hanging back from the action?” he asked pointedly. “You’ll be in the thick of it.”

Rey cast him a knowing look. “He’s right,” she told Finn, diplomatically refraining from saying anything about Ben and his attachment to the porgs. She began walking again, forcing them to follow her. “And be nice to the porgs, Finn. They’re sweet.”

“Animals are odd,” Finn muttered in response. Ben puzzled over those words, and then understood: stormtroopers were raised in such sterile environments that they were probably only academically exposed to fauna. For Finn, animals had always been presented as factors in combat, not creatures he would automatically treat with affection.

(He had pets, Ben suddenly realized. He had somehow adopted pets.)

“Be nice to the porgs,” Ben said stiffly, echoing Rey. “I like them.”

Finn’s expression, bone-dry as it was, almost bordered on fond. “If you insist.”

In the short span of time he and Rey had spent in their quarters, the Resistance had jumped from active waiting to full on preparations for launch. Though their group moved at a fast clip (relatively so for Ben, but Rey’s shorter steps had to be accounted for), around them people moved at everything from a brisk walk to a sprint. By the time they reached the hangar the room was boiling over with activity.

The corner that held their shuttle and the decoy ship was a small spot of peace, in comparison. Only three sentient beings waited there: his mother, his uncle, and Chewie. His own family unit, made complete by Rey at his side.

Chewie grabbed him into a hug before Ben could do more than consider who to speak to first. Ensconced in his godfather’s arms, Ben felt- as he so rarely did- small, and protected.

“Take these for luck,” Chewie rumbled after releasing him, and let a small stream of gold fall from his hand to Ben’s. His father’s sabacc dice glinted up at Ben from his palm, the metal still warm from Chewie’s grip.

Ben took in a deep breath, shaken but somehow comforted by the slight weight. “I’ll bring them back,” he promised, closing his fingers around the dice. “Thank you.”

Chewie’s slap on the back nearly staggered him, but the gesture was both familiar and loving. Hadn’t Ben seen Chewie do the same to his father, time after time? And Han had always come home, until he no longer could.

(And even then, that had been of his father’s own choosing. The flexible outline of the photograph lay over his heart, every movement a reminder of what was there.)

His mother had Rey pulled to the side, bent close to deliver some last bit of wisdom. That left his uncle, who was regarding him with a faintly guilty expression.

“It never does end,” Luke said quietly. “May the Force be with you, Ben.”

Perhaps it was the last dying burst of naivety in him, but Ben found himself answering, “Sometimes it does end.” He glanced over at Rey, whose hands were clasped gently in his mother’s. It had to end, or he would never feel safe raising a family of his own. New threats could- and would- rise, but Snoke’s dominion had to be extinguished.

Luke’s expression shifted to fond, and if he had any thoughts about the dangers of optimism he kept them to himself. “You have it in you to succeed, Ben,” he said instead. “And so does Rey. It’s a hard thing, to be the hope of a generation- but you carry it well. So does she.”

“Better than me,” Ben said softly, watching the way a loose strand of hair slipped to curve along Rey’s face.

A gentle touch to his shoulder. He looked back to his uncle, who was regarding him with familial pride. “That love will carry you through, Ben,” he said. “Hold onto it.”

His mother- usually filled with so many words, all of them well-chosen and pointed- simply stared up into his face and cupped her hand around his scarred cheek. “My baby,” she said, a sadness in her eyes.

He couldn’t think of anything other to say than, “I love you.”

“I know,” she replied, a faintly amused twist to her lips. “After- after, meet me on Chandrila.”

“I will.” He thought of the lush green landscape of his birth planet, a place he hadn’t been in well over a decade. “Stay safe.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, a wry smile on her face. “I’ll try.”

“It feels like we’re just leaving for a supply run,” Rey said in a murmur after the hatch had closed. She sat in the co-pilot’s seat, hunched over the holopad in her hands that gave her control over their decoy.

She was right. Their leave-taking was almost anticlimactic; they had been just one more cog in the machine that was the Resistance preparing for battle. “Better this way,” he replied in a quiet voice. He plugged in the data chip and pulled up their coordinates as Rey fed the information into her holopad. If all went well- and knowing Rey’s prowess with machines, Ben had no doubt it would- the little ship would tail them at a short but precise distance until they reached the Bormea sector.

“You’re right.” He saw, in his periphery, the way she bit her lip as she studied the small screen. “Fully transmitted,” she said after a moment more. “We’re ready.”

He took the shuttle up with ease, compensating almost automatically for the lack of a co-pilot as Rey kept a careful eye on the decoy.

She gave a sigh of relief once both ships were in open space, and relaxed back into her seat. “That was the hard part,” she said, letting the holopad rest on her lap. “If it can keep up with us breaking through atmo, it can follow us the rest of the way.”

“You weren’t sure?” he asked, looking away from the stars ahead to glance at her.

“Never done it before,” she replied with a shrug. “But,” she added, a satisfied smile appearing on her face, “I’m very good at this.”

“Yes,” he agreed, her smile warming him. “You are.”

Ben tried to concentrate on the controls before him, to let himself drift in the peace that was hyperspace, but his mind whirred ever on. He thought back to that small moment in the hall, and the part of him that still excelled in self-destruction struggled to the fore, words spilling from his lips. “Do you not want to get married?”

She gave him a startled look. “I don’t… I don’t know.” Flustered, she looked away. Bits of memory sifted through the bond to him, just snatches of old holos. “I don’t even really know what marriage is. It’s just words, isn’t it? Paperwork and ritual?”

He found himself hesitating, for all that he craved the paperwork and ritual she was tossing aside so lightly. In a sense, she was right: marriage would just be a formality on top of what they shared, because she clearly had no intention of running. He knew with bone-deep certainty that she was his and he was hers, and only the most catastrophic of actions would change that.

But he wanted it, that formality: wanted the rings and the certificate and the kriffing tax exemptions. Wanted to give her his name, if she were willing to take it.

(Too much like ownership, came a whisper in his mind. A girl who had been sold wouldn’t want another chain.)

He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, sweetheart.”

- - -

At Ben’s insistence- though it hadn’t taken much insisting- Rey took a nap while he flew the first stretch. Little bits of her dreams trickled through the bond in the quiet of space: hiking a sand dune, rough fingertips catching on delicate fabric, the taste of cheap portions. It was the last that stayed with him, the dusty, sour tang lingering in his mouth as the stars blurred into white streaks.

When she reappeared, her hair freshly washed and free of paint, he gave her his seat with little prodding. He was almost too wired to sleep, but when he slid under rumpled covers that still smelled like Rey he slipped almost immediately into a dreamless drowse.

They had arrived by the time he woke up, the only noise the quiet hum of the ship around him. He could sense, in the distance, the looming mass that was the Supremacy and the dark that was Snoke, but for the moment his shields were solid. There was no indication that their small convoy had been noticed by anyone or anything.

Rey was eating when he entered the main living area, her expression stoic as she worked her way through a handful of protein cubes. “You’ve spoiled me,” she admitted. “There was a time when I would have actually enjoyed these, but now they’re just fuel.”

“You deserve to be spoiled, at least a bit.” More than a bit. He poured himself a cup of caf, trying to keep his mind quiet. “I had a thought about what we could wear.”

“We do look conspicuous,” she agreed, and took a sip of her water. “I don’t think Thera’s knight gear will fit me, though.”

His lips thinned in distaste at the idea. “No, it wouldn’t.”

One wall of the room held a portable armory and storage unit, and from within he pulled out an instantly identifiable white helmet. She frowned, but held out her hand in resignation. “Aren’t I a little short for a stormtrooper?”

“No.” He watched as she pulled the helmet on, hiding a grin at her noise of disgust and the comic picture she made. “But you are a little short for a knight. Believe me, we would attract all kinds of attention if people saw a short Knight of Ren followed by a towering stormtrooper.” That was assuming there was a set of armor in that closet big enough to fit him, which he doubted.

“I can barely see a kriffing thing.” She pulled off the helmet, wisps of her hair wild around her face. “But you’re right.”

She fit into the black layer worn under the armor well enough- distractingly well, actually; the fabric was almost skin-tight- and he watched as she tested her mobility with a series of experimental twists and kicks.

“Any problems?”

She shook her head. “No, but I won’t be able to carry anything.”

“I’ll hide your weapon under my cloak.” A thorough inspection of the various gear on the ship had supplied him with an outfit that would pass muster, provided no one looked too closely at the way the quilted black gambeson strained across the width of his shoulders.

Rey stepped up to him with a considering look, her hands landing lightly on his chest. “It’s odd, seeing you dressed like this again in real life.”

Ben tugged at his collar, wishing he could get away with unbuttoning even one button. “I’m not enjoying it, either.”

He caught a flash of her thoughts, just the briefest tantalizing image of his gloved hands sliding over her bare thighs.

“That I would enjoy,” he murmured as her cheeks blazed red. “Not with these gloves, though. Force only knows what Domin’s used them for.”

“It was just a random thought,” she muttered, ducking her head, radiating the kind of self-conscious arousal that he wished they had time to explore.

“A very interesting one.” He clasped his hands around her waist, bending close enough to nuzzle his nose against her hairline. “I’m willing to play that game with you, someday.”

Her expression, when she finally lifted her face to his, was a blend of shamefaced amusement. “Is this going to be another fantasy where I wear no clothing and you wear a lot of it?”

“Probably,” he admitted easily. “We still have a lot of experimenting to do.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a tiny grin, but just as quickly fell. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, tucking her head under his chin. “Don’t leave me, Ben.”

“I won’t.” He let his eyes drift closed as he mapped the slight expanse of her back with one hand, his other arm wrapped around her. “I have no intention of leaving you.”

“I know.” She released an unsteady sigh against his chest, her body tense under his hands. “Could we just sit together, for a while?”

They spent their last bit of time sitting together in the pilot’s seat, Rey’s black-clad form curled up on his lap, and it did him more good than any meditation ever had.

- - -

Everything went suspiciously smoothly. The decoy was launched and subsequently caught, and in the ensuing hubbub their shuttle slipped into the landing bay, attracting little more than a handful of cursory glances. One masked knight and one stormtrooper strode across the cavernous room, past the milling soldiers and various decorated military officials who were eager to see what, exactly, they had caught in their net.

They had almost reached the elevator when Ben felt a tingle on the back of his neck, the barest brush of a Force signature that was neither Rey’s nor Snoke’s. One of the knights, most likely, searching but not yet arrowed in on them.

Do you feel that? Rey asked, her signature as muted as his, at least to anyone else who might notice.

They’re reacting to possibility, not definitive knowledge. A droid appeared to be paying far too much attention to them. Just stay calm.

The words were as much a reminder to himself as her. The droid began trundling after them, but was cut off by a man in a lieutenant’s garb, who proceeded to smoothly step into their path.

Mitaka stared up at him, the familiar look of slight nervousness in his eyes. “I have the reports you requested,” he said with the deference due any knight. The droid stopped in its tracks, still shimmying uncertainly. “If you’ll follow me?”

They had little choice. Ben followed Mitaka into the elevator, Rey close behind. The look Mitaka gave them as the doors closed was a clear plea to keep their mouths shut.

A friend? Rey asked.

A former subordinate. Ben studied Mitaka through his mask, unsure what, exactly, was going on. Mitaka wasn’t the type to turn traitor, for all that he wasn’t the true believer than Hux was. He took his job seriously and did it well, and if he had any moral qualms he kept them to himself.

Ben extended the barest tendril of a prod at the man’s mind, wary of expending too much energy and attracting the wrong kind of attention. All he felt from Mitaka was unadulterated honesty, though after the debacle that had been Hux’s interrogation Ben wasn’t entirely sure that such honesty was trustworthy. This could be another case of implanted memory- but then, not even Snoke had the power or time to plant false memories in every member of the damned fleet.

Do you trust him? Rey asked.

Ben clenched one fist tightly, frustration coursing through him at the reminder that he couldn’t even rely on this aspect of his own powers. I don’t know.

They ended up in a glorified janitorial closet, one free of cameras. Ben didn’t hesitate to pull off his mask. “Lieutenant.”

“Lord Ren-”

“I no longer answer to that title.”

Mitaka nodded, glancing at Rey as she pulled her own helmet off. “Let me help you.”

Ben stared Mitaka down until the other man took a step back, inwardly searching for any sign that this meeting wasn’t contrived. “Why?”

There was a noticeable tic under Mitaka’s right eye, an indication of extreme stress that not even Kylo Ren had been able to elicit. “Sir-”

He broke off, grimacing. “You laid hands on me once,” he said with unexpected bluntness, and gave Rey a pointed look. “Over her. But with very rare exceptions, you saved your wrath for things. Comm panels. Furniture.”

What Ben felt from Rey was an utter lack of surprise, though he himself was slightly taken aback. Was this the kind of ploy Snoke would use? “So you’re offering aid because I usually restricted myself to property damage?”

“You never strung a technician up by her ankles and slit her wrists for a perceived slight.” Again, that unforeseen frankness. “Or disemboweled a stormtrooper for moving out of your way a few seconds too late.”

A chill crept down Ben’s spine. “Thera.” That kind of cruelty was her hallmark, though it had been curbed when he had been her master.

“Losing a hand has just inflamed her rage.” Mitaka stood before him, unbending. He had always respected the man for that, Ben remembered belatedly. The ability to stand before him, no matter the circumstances. “And the-”

He paused, clearly collecting himself. “And certain persons indulge her,” he continued carefully, as if saying Snoke’s name would attract his attention. “The other knights follow in her footsteps.”

Ben.

It could still be an implanted memory, Ben thought warily, though he could envision Thera doing just what Mitaka had described.

“What kind of help are you offering?” Rey asked, her voice both wary and kind.

Mitaka gave her a grateful look. “A path,” he said in a rush. “Look.”

He drew a small handheld comp unit from his pocket, and displayed before them a holo of the Supremacy’s layout.

“I know the plans,” Ben said automatically, feeling the itch to move in his limbs.

“Do you know the tech routes?” Mitaka asked, zooming in on their location. Two exits sprouted from their small room, and- to Ben’s mild annoyance- he only knew of the obvious one. “The mechanics use them.”

Rey bent closer, examining the image. “Would this go all the way to Snoke?”

Mitaka looked shocked that she would even mention the name, but nodded. “This branch leads to the throne room.”

He felt tentative trust from Rey. The plans make sense, she offered. The ships I used to scavenge from had similar layouts.

And if it’s a trap?

Would it be any safer to take a main route? She looked up at him, seeming to ignore Mitaka’s uneasiness at their unspoken communication. There’s at least one knight hunting for us; we both feel it. And the longer we spend in the public eye, the more likely someone will become suspicious.

Ben turned his gaze back on Mitaka. “You do realize that if this is a plot I will personally hunt you down,” he stated quietly, not bothering to mask the note of deadly intent in his voice.

“I am very well aware of that,” Mitaka replied, unflinching.

Ben considered for a moment longer, and then undid the clasps of his cloak. As the fabric fluttered to the ground he began partially undoing the fastenings of the gambeson, just enough to give himself added range of movement. Rey understood his intentions immediately and began stripping off the shell of armor she wore.

“And what will you be doing, while we creep through these tunnels?” Ben asked Mitaka as he handed Rey her lightsaber and the ring of metal.

“Evacuating the ship,” Rey said before he could respond. She raised a brow at the looks they gave her. “Not immediately. As soon as the alarm is sounded.”

Mitaka looked vaguely stunned. “But you’re with the Resistance.”

“So?” She shrugged, though there was a distant look in her eyes. He caught a glimpse of Finn’s face through their bond, and began to understand- then truly understood, when he remembered his uncle’s words about the first Death Star. “You’re not all automatically evil.”

“She’s right.” Ben touched the patch of bare skin at the nape of her neck with his fingertips, the barest whisper of a caress. “Save your people, Mitaka. After- if you’re captured by the Resistance- we’ll speak for you, if we’re able.”

Mitaka nodded, his relief genuine. “Thank you.”

He’s honest. Rey noted as they entered the cramped tunnel.

As far as he knows.

She shook her head slightly. It doesn’t matter. If Snoke planted false memories in his head- well, that’s hardly his fault, is it?

The entrance to the tunnel sealed behind them, leaving them standing in red light and shadow.

He cupped the side of her face, sliding his thumb gently over the curve of her cheek. It was just the pair of them, now, and all he carried was a lightsaber, an old photograph, and a relic of his father’s past. I love you.

Rey leaned into his hand, her smile undimmed by their surroundings. I know, my water.

And onward they went, into the belly of the beast.

Chapter Text

The service tunnels were cramped, hot, and blessedly empty. Rey had shouldered her way past him to take point, her mindset that of someone walking familiar territory. These cables run directly to the heart of the ship, she said, gesturing upward. The plans you showed me have the throne room above the nerve center.

He might know the main halls, but he had never studied the hidden intricacies of the flagships. So we follow the cables, then?

They reached a fork in the path, and Rey immediately continued to the left, following the river of cables. Exactly.

The initial blare of the alarm was muffled, but it was loud enough that they both froze in their steps. Not the evacuation alarm, Ben thought, sending out his senses in a limited sweep of the area. This was the alarm for intruders, sure to send every stormtrooper aboard on a thorough search of the premises- which would, sooner or later, include the service tunnels.

Rey turned to look at him, taking her lightsaber from her makeshift belt as she did so. Ben? Do we wait?

No. He took his own weapon in hand, feeling the flow of beings beyond the wall to their right. We have too much ground to cover.

With a nod she pressed on at a faster pace, the sound of their footsteps covered by the alarm and the booted footfalls of the stormtroopers. After a few minutes a second alarm overlaid the first, and the sense of confusion from everyone within reach was almost palpable.

Evacuation? Rey shot him a grin over her shoulder. Mitaka came through.

One alarm had created purpose. Two competing alarms created pandemonium: arguments, shouted orders from section leaders, panicked scurrying in the opposite direction of their destination. The sheer heightened emotion of everyone aboard was confusing even his senses; anyone searching for them through the Force would have to fight through a thick miasma of anxious uncertainty. The bond alone remained sharp and bright.

It must have been the muddle of emotions surrounding them, but one moment it was just Ben and Rey, and the next Thera’s Force signature appeared on the other side of the wall. There was a burst of sheer surprise, and then she was so close and so knowing that Ben instinctively rushed forward, pushing Rey ahead as carefully as he could in the small space as he continued to barrel on. Behind him, the whine of a lightsaber blade crackled through the wall, metal popping and pipes rending with a groan.

“Ren!”

Thera’s voice echoed down the corridor, mixing with the audible hiss of gas escaping from the broken pipes. Ben blinked, realizing with horror that his vision was beginning to blur. “Rey,” he said urgently, preparing to stop in his flight and hold off Thera as best he could. “Run.”

“No,” she said stubbornly, reaching back to grab his arm, but he felt the panic in her mind as her heart rate began to speed up. “Not without you.”

Behind them Thera hacked indiscriminately at the tunnel walls, her steps quick and regular even as he felt his own feet begin to stumble. Rey swayed in front of him, briefly slumping against the wall.

Ben. Her mental voice, woozy and threadbare.

Force healing was not something meant to be done on the fly- not something to be done with a hazy mind- but with one last desperate surge of energy Ben pushed his intent toward Rey, sending out a plea for clarity to the Force. As he turned to face Thera, nearly staggering to his knees, he caught a glimpse of Rey straightening abruptly.

RUN, he ordered, pressing one hand to the wall to keep himself upright. He couldn’t seem to find the switch for his lightsaber; his thumb slipped weakly over the place where the switch should be but somehow was not.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance, Ren,” Thera said, her voice flattened by the mask she wore. Her red blade was just one more piece of scarlet light in the tunnel, blending with the glow from above in his increasingly unfocused vision. “I’ll take your hands before you die. Hers, too.”

There was a shriek of metal and an aborted scream as Thera’s dark figure crumpled under a large piece of grating. Rey’s hand grabbed the back of his collar, pulling with more strength than he had. Off-balance, he stumbled against her, slamming them both into a wall.

He felt, vaguely, a flare of pain from her and a curse that was more thought than defined. She continued tugging at his collar, and he managed to follow her for several feet before her own strength waned and she dropped to her knees, dragging him down with her. Even then she attempted to crawl ahead, the movement ineffective solely because she was still stubbornly tethered to him.

Don’t-

And then the dark, deep and impenetrable.

- - -

Sand.

Ben blinked at the dunes around him. Sand, and sun, and heat from above and below and all around him.

There was a child crying, he realized, and dragged himself to his feet to follow the sound. In no particular hurry he walked-

(Shouldn’t he be hurrying?)

-following the voices because they were the only thing to follow. Burning sand slid under his bare feet, the hem of his loose, undyed garb almost blending with the yellow-orange grit. At the crest of the dune he looked down, spotting the small group below. They paid him no mind as he traversed the slope, arriving just as two humanoid beings in worn, tattered layers hurried away, fists clenched around small glinting objects.

(Money.)

“Come back!” the child wailed, straining against the hold of the crolute beside her. She was too small- utterly unsuited for the harsh landscape she stood in- and the first glimmer of actual feeling broke through the numbness in his mind. “Come back!”

“Hush!” the crolute snapped, pulling at the thin arm he held with enough force to almost lift the girl off her feet. “Quiet, girl.”

Ben reached out to grab the crolute’s wrist, but his hand swept through with no more than a ripple- and then the creature was gone, and it was just Ben and the sniffling child, who had taken notice of him for the first time. She rubbed her grimy hands against her eyes, sobbed hiccups shaking her slight frame.

“What’s your name?” he asked the child gently.

She peered up at him, her tear-stained face and hastily bundled hair oddly familiar.

(Very little was familiar. He knew his name was Ben. He knew that he stood in a desert. Nearly everything else slipped from his grasp.)

“Rey.” Her woeful expression made him feel almost guilty for looming over her, but when he knelt in the sand she took a wary step back.

“What are you doing here, Rey?”

A hot wind surged across the dunes, tugging at their clothing and hair. “I don’t know,” she said when the air stilled again. “I was good.”

“What?”

“Mama said to be good or they would leave me with the junk. I was good,” she explained, her lower lip trembling.

“I’m sure you were.” He patted his pockets, searching for any bit of food, but came up empty.

She was still young enough to be curious despite her confusion and upset. Cautiously she drew closer, reaching out one small hand toward his hair. He wasn’t entirely sure she would actually be able to touch him, after his failed attempt at grabbing the crolute, but she made contact, tugging lightly on the slim braid that fell over his shoulder.

“Pretty,” she offered shyly.

“Thank you.” He offered no resistance as she examined the braid (why did he have that?), his mind utterly blank as to what to do. Where should he take her? Why was he even there? What planet were they actually on?

There was a glint in his periphery as the sun shifted overhead, and she immediately dropped his braid and darted toward the source. “Did you lose this?” she asked, the light so bright that he automatically covered his eyes, squinting through the gaps between his fingers.

A slight weight settled on his head, and with it a shadow fell over them.

“Just like the story,” she said, her expression far too serious for someone her age. “The lost prince.”

He pulled the object from his head, examining the metal ring he held in his hands. First, incomprehension- and then understanding, sudden and whole. “Kuat,” he murmured, breaking into a grin. “Rey-”

But she was gone, as were the dunes.

- - -

“Hey, kid.”

His father sat beside him on that fateful catwalk, their legs dangling over the abyss below. Ben- clad once more in black, his old lightsaber clipped to his belt- met his gaze, somehow unsurprised. “Am I dead?”

Han shrugged. “Maybe a little bit. Kind of hard to tell.”

Ben’s voice, when he spoke again, was closer to a rasp. “Rey?”

“I don’t know.” Han’s brow furrowed further. “I just see you.”

Ben looked down at his hands, feeling as if he had been running a race that had come to a sudden and unexpected end. How appropriate to find himself here, bound to this memory of metal and blood. “I’m sorry,” he said heavily, lifting his gaze. “Your sacrifice never should have ended like this. I’ve failed you.”

“Ben, I didn’t die so that you could kill Snoke,” his father said bluntly, his sincerity clear. He looked a little self-conscious, as he often had in emotional situations. “I died to save you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Ben’s eyes, but he couldn’t- wouldn’t- look away. “You did. I know you did.”

“I would have done it to give you even one more hour.” Han lifted his hand, cupping Ben’s cheek as he had done months before, the touch as vibrant and real as it had been in real life. Without hesitation he leaned into his father’s hand, his breath catching painfully in his throat. “And I would do it again.”

Ben closed his eyes as the first tears trailed down his face, hot and stinging. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, kid,” Han said, all gruff tenderness. “And we’ve got a lot of catching up to do- but not today.”

Ben let out a rough breath, vaguely aware that he was beginning to feel off. He opened his eyes. “Sending me back to finish things?”

“You’re sending yourself back.” Han moved his hand to grasp Ben’s shoulder. “Take care of your mother. Not that she’ll let you,” he added, a long-suffering look on his face. “But, you know. Pester her.”

“She doesn’t react well to pestering,” Ben replied, his throat thick with yet unshed tears.

“Do it anyway.” A sly smile appeared on his father’s face. “Take care of Rey, too. She’s a good kid.”

A definite ache pulsed in Ben’s chest, but he didn’t crumple, didn’t choke. “Too good for me.”

Han laughed, but there was a trace of worry in his eyes as he examined Ben’s face. “I wouldn’t tell her that.”

Their surroundings grew hazy. “Will I see you again?” Ben asked, his voice quiet and unsure. He couldn’t stay in this place between, but whatever lay beyond would be harsh and unforgiving.

“Yeah.” Han clapped him on the back, the feeling only half there, like an echo. “A long time from now, hopefully.”

The catwalk blurred until everything was veiled in red and black, nothing beneath him but weightless space- and then came his father’s final words, love in his voice. “Name the best-looking one after me.”

- - -

When he opened his eyes to find himself sprawled over a gleaming black floor, pain radiating throughout his body, Ben knew that the time for dreams was over. Rey lay nearby, her end of the bond the quiet of sleep, not death. He knew without checking that he was unarmed.

“You’re awake.”

He had forgotten how much more sinuous Snoke’s voice could be in real life. There was weight there, a press against his mind. Ben pulled himself to his knees, his muscles slow to respond. Nine figures in the room: himself, Rey, Snoke, the six Praetorian Guards. Horrifically high stakes, given his and Rey’s current conditions.

“I never thought you would stoop to such a level,” Snoke mused, his gaze sharp when Ben lifted his head. “The grandson of Darth Vader, crawling like a swamp rat in the gap behind the walls. Her natural habitat, I suppose.” A humorless, thin-lipped smile spread across his face. “What a weak, soft thing you have become for the sake of love.”

Both lightsabers lay on the arm of Snoke’s throne, his former master’s thin hand draped over the pair. “She’s just as powerful as me,” Ben said in a low voice, keeping to his knees as he took stock of his own internal resources. “You underestimate her.”

“She’s nothing,” Snoke replied dismissively. “Underfed vermin from nowhere. Her power- her anger- may be tempting, but she’s worthless.” He waved the hand not draped over the lightsabers, and Ben’s jaw clenched when Rey’s limp body rolled over gracelessly in response. “Legacies matter. The Force didn’t father Anakin Skywalker for nothing, boy.”

Ben twitched his fingers, willing the arm trapped under Rey’s body to slide free, but an invisible hand caught his own throat before the action was halfway completed. “Compassion,” Snoke sneered. “It killed your father, it killed your grandfather. Do you really want it to kill you?”

The glare Ben leveled on him even as he strained for breath seemed to answer the question well enough, because the grip abruptly disappeared. There was a shift in his mind, almost imperceptible, but it didn’t come from him- it came from Rey. Rey, struggling toward wakefulness.

“Would that you were more like your mother.” Snoke appeared entirely intent on him, and Ben brutally tamped his own sense of relief down at that. “If she had been turned, what a vessel she would have been for the dark. All that uncompromising dedication, wasted.”

The odds were against them no matter what tactic Ben took. He could threaten, he could rant, he could try to snatch a weapon from one of the guards, but he knew that none of those actions would gain him anything other than pain or outright death. Subterfuge, then, he thought as he drew on a veil of sullen anger. “No,” he said with a growl. He thought of regret, of the primal need to conquer, of his previous scattered efforts to grasp at the dark, and wove it all into a visceral web that almost resembled Kylo Ren. “She’s too weak.”

The look Snoke gave him was almost pitying, in its own way: a bitterly cold knowing that sank to the core of Ben’s bones. “Don’t playact, child,” he hissed. “Love has split your spirit to the bone.” Rey, still limp but almost awake, slid across the floor, one arm still caught at an awkward angle beneath her.

“Leave her alone,” Ben snapped, genuine anger coursing through him. He stiffened, fingers taut against the floor, as the barest whisper drifted through the bond.

Time. Distract.

Snoke seemed not to notice. “And what would you do, to spare her a lingering death?” he asked, taking too much joy in the question. “Would you submit yourself to me, Ben Solo? Would you crawl to kiss my feet?”

Ben glowered, but answered through clenched teeth. “Yes.”

A glint in Snoke’s eyes. “Then do so.”

Ben’s body protested as he made the first move forward on his hands and knees, his joints screaming louder than his own brain. This was not the first time he had crawled for Snoke, but it would be the last- and Rey had asked for time. He would do anything to give her that time.

“Your pride was always a mask,” Snoke commented slyly as Ben continued his slow pace across the floor. “But underneath you’re a fragile, grasping thing. You would debase yourself to anyone who gave you a moment of attention. Like her.” His voice dropped to a whisper that lodged in Ben’s mind like a blade. “Was the body of a scrawny scavenger enough to make you forget a lifetime of abandonment?”

Ben reached the foot of the dais, dispelling his anger by splitting his attention in so many directions that he felt almost divorced from his own body. Snoke, Rey, the guards at the perimeter. Distantly he registered the chaos outside the throne room, the way sparks of life consistently moved away from the Supremacy. Force willing, Mitaka was on one of the currently evacuating vessels.

An external force struck the ship, shaking the floor beneath him. The guards made no sound, but he saw those in his line of sight tense.

“Your compatriots don’t seem to care that you’re aboard.” Snoke stared down at him. “Are you surprised that they value your life so lightly?”

Ben barely registered the movement himself, but one second they were stuck in a frozen tableau, and the next there was the distinctive sound of a guard in full armor falling to the ground. His instinct was to look toward the sound, but instead he pulled with the Force, willing any weapon to fly into his hand, whether it be a lightsaber or a hells-damned length of pipe.

A lightsaber answered his call, landing firmly in the curve of his palm.

His grandfather’s lightsaber.

It seemed, for a moment, as if an almost weightless hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. Then the touch dissipated, and Ben struck. A glancing blow, no more than a wound as Snoke twisted to the side, away from the weapon that still rested on the arm of the throne. It took the barest thought to send the lightsaber winging Rey’s way, accompanied by a wordless warning. He didn’t dare risk a glance back, but the distinctive sound of a lightsaber igniting was hard to miss.

For the second time an invisible hand gripped his throat even as immovable weight pinned his limbs.

“Feckless child,” Snoke spat, voice low, as the new gap in his gold raiment shifted to reveal cauterized flesh. Ben tried with desperation to shift even a finger, but he was frozen as Rey battled behind him, her pain and focus coming through the bond with utter clarity. “I offered you power, and you squander yourself on something fleeting.”

“What makes you think it’s fleeting?” Ben asked fiercely, the live end of his weapon twitching toward his own chest in his still-frozen hand. “What love have you experienced?”

There was no regret, no bitterness in those alien eyes: just cold pleasure. “What need have I to experience that trap?” Snoke asked, his voice deceptively soft. “Any true student of history would avoid that particular danger.”

Two things happened at once: a burst of pain from Rey, and the crimson-streaked gleam of whirring metal that passed Ben’s head at close range and found its final resting place in Snoke’s throat. Not deep enough to sever, but deep enough to disable, to distract.

Whether the sight galvanized Ben or Snoke simply lost his grip he would never be quite sure, but either way he leapt to his feet, his blade carving with fatal precision through Snoke’s midsection. Without hesitation he turned, disregarding his aching limbs to sprint to Rey’s side. One guard lay crumpled across the room- the first target of her impromptu but no less deadly weapon- and another lay near her feet. Four others ringed her, though they were so intent on their target that Ben easily cut down one of their number.

Brilliant, he told her as he moved to stand at her back, the first traces of confidence warming him.

He felt her satisfaction even as he felt the throbbing flesh wound on her right bicep. I repaired something, she quipped, and the rest was the blur of the battlefield.

It was no less a blur when the last guard dropped. Heedless of the quiver of the floor beneath his feet, Ben disarmed his weapon and pulled Rey tight against his chest, lifting his free hand to press his fingers against the pulse point on her neck. The steady thrum beneath his fingertips- and her hot breath against his own neck- centered him, pulling his mind to the moment at hand.

There was a weight gone, he thought absently, though his arms were full. All that was in his mind were his own thoughts and the bond. Whatever part of himself that had harbored Snoke was empty, in a way that made him feel lighter than he actually was.

“We need to run,” he murmured into Rey’s hair, almost musingly.

“I know,” she replied, steady against him. There was a burgeoning excitement in her- he saw glimpses of green grass, of a full table, of a small child crawling across a brightly-colored carpet- but she waited for him to move like the fount of patience she was.

And then they ran, sprinting through nearly empty halls despite the outcry of their muscles and lungs. Ben could feel Rey’s pain just as well as his own, and it wasn’t until he attempted to shield her from the worst of his that he felt her weary amusement and realized she was doing the same thing.

What few people remained barely spared them a glance. Between the evacuation alarms and whatever had happened outside of the Supremacy, it was clear that the transport’s remaining structural integrity was limited to hours, if not minutes. No one cared if two disheveled warriors fled past them; survival was the order of the day.

The hangar was nearly empty when they arrived, panting, at the shuttle. Blaster burns on the control panel revealed that at least one person had attempted to hack their way into the ship, but the locks had held firm against them. To Ben’s relief the panel still worked- they didn’t have time to break in, or to detour back to the escape pod behind Snoke’s throne room.

(He had the thought that maybe, perhaps, they should have just taken the pod to begin with, and it was only after the door closed safely behind them that he dismissed it.)

“We did it,” Rey said as the shuttle shot out of the hangar, her voice wondering.

He thought back to the moment when he had been a prisoner in invisible chains, his lungs straining for air, only to be delivered by the scrap metal that Rey had dredged from the bottom of the lake. “You did it,” he said, his lips curving into a smile. “You saved me.”

She turned wide eyes on him, looking uncertain. “Ben, it wasn’t just me.”

He opened his mouth to respond, and then stopped himself. For all her love of stories and legends, she didn’t want to be some two-dimensional figurehead of a hero. “You’re right,” he answered instead. “But I couldn’t have done it without you. I needed you at my back.”

She relaxed into her seat, the firm set of her mouth softening. “I needed you, too.”

And she did. The bond was a symphony of those words, ephemeral notes that rang truer than any language he had ever learned.

Her hands hovered near the co-pilot’s controls. “Where are we going?” she asked, clearly willing to join another fight if need be, though beneath he felt a burning desire to search his skin for wounds, to press her own fingers to his pulse.

The Supremacy shattered behind them. There were other ships- Resistance and First Order both- but the shabbier of the two were clearly dominating. “Chandrila,” he said, aiming their shuttle toward the blue and green planet below them. “We’re going to Chandrila.”

A touch to his mind, but a familiar one: one that presented itself in saffron gauze and tumbling curls. Well done, my Ben.

Well done.

Chapter Text

Their bond was abnormally quiet as they landed the ship on a remote plain in one of Chandrila’s sparsely habitated regions. Just the ache of his body, the ache of her body, the rasp of their breath through irritated throats.

They could be worse off, he knew. The exposure to the poisonous gases that fueled the Supremacy would have done the job well enough, but somehow they had escaped with relatively light damage, and he wondered- and hated wondering- if some med-droid had mitigated the worst while they had been unconscious. And if so, why. To make their deaths more painful? Or had Snoke hoped to draw him back to the dark side a second time, with Rey’s well-being as bait?

It didn’t really matter, he supposed. Snoke was dead- a fact he still couldn’t quite believe- and they were very alive.

“We both need a full checkup,” he said as he drew his hands away from the controls, feeling his brow furrow as he thought. “Just in case.”

He felt the mental equivalent of a a pained sob from her, and then she was straddling his lap, her knees bracketing his hips and her kiss firm. There was no tenderness, no seduction, just clear need as her lips pressed against his fervently, the pressure almost painful against his teeth. He did his best to send an approximation of a soothing mental caress, but one of his hands was already clutching her ass and Force, he was suddenly just as desperate. Their hands kept clashing as they reached for each other, either because they were both trying to tear away the same bit of clothing or because their purposes were at odds: when she tried to lave her tongue against the curve of his neck, her hands tight on his shoulders, he was trying to hold her back enough to examine the burn over her ribs.

Finally she managed to drag her leggings and boots off, with his help. They both stilled when she sank onto him, their eyes meeting for the first time since their flight.

“I had such strange dreams,” she admitted, her expression so very vulnerable. “I was scared, Ben.”

“Me, too,” he replied, curving his hands over her hips. “Take me, sweetheart. I’m yours.”

And she did, her movements rough and needy and so sweet in their sincerity that he barely managed to last until after she came, even with the discomfort of sneaking his hand between them to rub her clit at an awkward angle.

She huddled against him after, pain causing a tension in her body that refused to give, despite her orgasm. Her question, when she spoke, was quiet and uncertain. “Are we free?”

Stories ended cleanly. The enemy was defeated, the prince claimed the princess, the kingdom celebrated the marriage for a year and a day. “No,” he admitted, the sting of admitting that truth almost worse than the ache in his muscles. “Time for something worse.”

She pressed her face against his neck, her breathing almost staccato. “What?”

“Bureaucracy.”

Rey pulled herself away, standing half-dressed in front of him. “Sometimes,” she said with a sigh, her expression weary, “I’m sorry to learn about all these words.”

They didn’t speak again, not for a while: not while they scrubbed clean in the ‘fresher, not while they patched up each other’s wounds as best they could, not even when they crawled gratefully under the covers of their bed.

As they both lay drowsing, he felt her surge of determination, and then her poke to his chest. “Water,” she muttered, wrapping an arm tightly around him.

“Yours,” he agreed with a yawn, understanding her shorthand. This was a claiming that he would acquiesce to with his whole heart. He patted her hip lazily with one hand. “Mine.”

A happy, tired hum: a pleasing arrangement of notes that wouldn’t sound out of place coming from any droid. “Your desert girl,” she agreed, mumbling the words into her pillow, a note of amusement in her voice.

Peace. Hard won, and, he feared, likely fleeting.

- - -

“There you are.” Padmé beamed on seeing him, looking as young and fresh as she had the first time he had seen her. The threads of white were gone from her curls, and even the saffron of her dress seemed more vibrant than usual. “I’m so proud of you, Ben, and Rey. Together you toppled an empire.”

“Just a part of it,” he replied, knowing that he was blushing. Still, he smiled- because he couldn’t do anything other than smile at the sight of her face again. “I missed you,” he admitted, and then decided that words weren’t quite enough. He pulled her into a fierce hug, grinning when she laughed at the way he lifted her into the air. “This is an odd thing we share,” he said after she was safely on her feet, “but being without it rocked me.”

“I missed you, too.” She patted his cheek in a motherly- grandmotherly, he supposed- fashion. “And this family has always been odd. I intend to keep being your loving and occasionally irritating grandmother until you’re on my side of the veil, and after. Unless you want me to leave,” she added, in a way that suggested she would gracefully step aside if he did, but was confident he would never ask her to do so.

“I don’t,” he said firmly. “Hopefully… hopefully I’ll have happy things to share with you.”

She nodded, her smile quieter but still very present. “I hope so too, Ben.”

“I knew before I left the First Order that I might have to stand trial, one day.” He sat in the grass of their meadow, surrounded on all sides by a fresh crop of flowers. Blossoms of every season bloomed at once, a joyous chaos that he wished he could enjoy more. “I think I allowed myself to forget about it, at least a little. I never actually talked about it with Rey.”

“You were hopeful,” she agreed, settling near him. “And a bit fatalistic, I think. You never really expected to survive Snoke.”

He nodded. “No, not entirely. That was part of the reason… that was why I was scared to bring Rey.”

She began plucking flowers, piling them in her lap. “You compliment each other.”

The choked, graceless snort-laugh he made would have embarrassed him at any other time, but her words were so true that all he could do was acknowledge them. “There I was, frozen at Snoke’s feet, and she disables him with scrap metal.”

She raised a brow. “Ben, she wouldn’t have had the opportunity if you hadn’t made a show of debasing yourself.” She laughed suddenly. “Though it reminded me… once, shortly before I married your grandfather, we were about to be executed on Geonosis-”

He straightened, staring at her intently. “What?”

“In an arena, dear.” She began plaiting her flowers into a crown, the tiniest of smiles quirking the corners of her lips. “There we were, chained to posts and about to be eaten by beasts-”

“Kriff.”

“-and your grandfather and namesake were arguing about Jedi things, like they always were. So I picked the locks on my cuffs with a hairpin.” She smirked. “They weren’t expecting that.”

There was a laugh from behind them, and even before Ben looked over his shoulder he knew who would be standing there: Rey. Rey, who blushed and took a step back, a contrite expression crossing her face as soon as she realized that she had trampled on a delicate blue flower.

There was no other word for it: Padmé glowed. “Rey! Sit down.” She held out her hands, the half-finished crown in her lap. “I’m so happy to meet you.”

Rey gave him a glance, looking as if she weren’t quite sure why she was there, and in response he too held out a hand. “The second time we’ve dreamed together.”

“Yes.” She sat between them, looking uncomfortable. Ben immediately moved closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry to... I’m not supposed to be here.”

“I think you are,” Padmé said warmly, beginning to twist the stems again. Summer bloom, then spring blossom, then the shyest of winter flowers. “You wouldn’t be here, otherwise.”

Rey still felt tense under his arm.

“I’d like to talk alone at some point.” Padmé paused in her work, giving Rey an earnest look. “Woman to woman, hmm? Nothing against you, Ben,” she continued with an amused cast to her face. “I just want to get to know the newest member of my family.”

Rey actually relaxed on hearing those words, but he could see the renewed blush on her cheeks. He nuzzled his nose against her hair, barely noticing his grandmother’s satisfied expression. All her life Rey had wanted a family, and now she had one- albeit the most dysfunctional one in the galaxy.

Still. “She’s relatively harmless,” he murmured sotto voce against Rey’s hair, and hid his grin when Rey shook with laughter. Padmé chuckled, briefly, her hands still plaiting with practiced movements.

Rey curved her hand over his knee, leaning against his side. “By all accounts she’s very dangerous,” she replied dryly. “We probably should talk,” Rey said to Padmé, and through the bond Ben felt shy pleasure. “Exchange tips.”

“I would like that.” With a flourish, Padmé held up the finished crown in her hands, a blending of every season Naboo could offer- and Chandrila, he realized. And-

He took in a breath as Padmé placed the crown on Rey’s head, the spicy notes of gingerbells one clear, complimentary note in the perfume that wreathed them both. Rey looked a little starry-eyed, her hands lifting halfway up as if to remove the crown to inspect it before settling back into her lap, her fingers twitching with longing.

“That’s a little bit of Alderaan,” he told her softly, brushing his index finger against the orange petals that caressed her forehead. His desert girl, who had nurtured spiny blooms in an arid wasteland- she deserved flowers, no matter what happened to him. “And I think… I think this is from Corellia.”

“And that’s from Jakku.” Padmé pointed toward the small, almost inconspicuous bloom over Rey’s right ear. “Tatooine wasn’t much for flora, I’m afraid.” She took one of Rey’s hands gently. “I’m so happy to have you here.”

Rey lifted a wide-eyed gaze first to her, then to him, the tiniest of smiles on her face. “Thank you.” She licked her lips, a hint of nerves that underscored her burgeoning hope. “Ben loves you so much. I wanted to meet you, somehow.”

“Now that we’ve met once, I think we’ll meet again. The first time is always the hardest.” Padmé plucked a gingerbell, twirling it by the stem as she leaned back on her free hand. “The first person I ever met in dreams was actually Ben’s namesake. I’m not sure who was more surprised, him or me.”

Ben raised a brow. “I thought you said family members were easier.”

“Oh, they are,” Padmé admitted. “But Ben and I were friends, and after Anakin turned he was the only person left that I could rely on. He was family, in his own way.” She inspected the gingerbell closely, a hint of remembered pain on her face. “For the first few years we both did a lot of crying in the desert. But,” she continued with a shake of her head, “there are better stories.”

Rey leaned her head against his shoulder. “Will you tell us one?” she asked, almost tentatively.

“Gladly.” Padmé appeared to consider her options, and then a slow grin crossed her face. “Did you ever hear about Anakin’s padawan?”

“Grandfather had a padawan?” Ben could hardly believe it. “Before turning?”

Padmé nodded. “Let me tell you about Ahsoka.”

- - -

Ben padded barefoot out of the shuttle the next morning, drawn to Rey’s location. “I like waking up to you in the bed,” he teased, biting back a groan as he settled into the grass next to her. It was early enough that the air was pleasantly crisp and cool against his skin. Rey was lying on her back, one arm tucked under her head.

“I wanted to watch the sunrise.” Her smile was mischievous. “It took me a few minutes to escape. You cuddle with all your strength.”

“Even asleep, I know what I want.” He rolled onto his side so that he could face her, propped up on one elbow. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She ran her fingertips lightly over the curve of his jaw, and he caught her amusement at the way his stubble tickled. “That was a good dream.”

“It was.” He scrutinized her face. “Better than most.”

A crease formed between her brows as she nodded slightly. “On the Supremacy, after we blacked out- I think I dreamed of the Jedi Temple.” The look she gave him was soft and questioning. “You never told me that you tried to tell the other students.”

He slumped onto his back with a sigh. “It didn’t seem to matter. I still did what I did.”

“They attacked you first.” Now she was the one to prop herself up on one elbow, appearing in his field of vision. “You tried to call your mother.”

“I ended the transmission before it connected.” He could still remember exactly how he had felt in that one panicked moment; the way dread had coiled around his heart as doubt had assailed him. She’ll never believe me over Luke, he had thought. “I don’t remember everything about that night. You might know more than I do, at this point.” He frowned. “I dreamed about you. About when your parents left you on Jakku.”

She didn’t look surprised. “They sold me, didn’t they?”

“Yes. You- the dream version of you- talked to me.”

She lay back down. “Sometimes I wonder if it happened at the same time. The night at the temple, my parents leaving me on Jakku. Some strange Force-created coincidence.”

“The timing would be right.” It made a terrible kind of sense that they both might have been betrayed on the same day, in the same hour, possibly at the same minute. Their paths had been arrowing toward each other ever since- and now, they might diverge. “Rey, I’m probably going to be arrested.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time now.” She sighed, the sound strained. “Do you want to run?” she asked quietly. “To the Outer Rim. Beyond.” Her hand slipped over his. “I’ll run with you, Ben.”

“I know.” He moved closer, curling around her and resting his head next to hers on the grass. “But I can’t.” He inhaled the scent of her hair, the ghost of gingerbells haunting him. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life dragging you across the galaxy. You deserve better than that.”

“Ben-”

“You want a home. One way or another, I’m going to give you one.”

“I want you,” she insisted stubbornly. “You’re all the home I need.”

“I want to give you a family, too. More than just me and the ghost of my grandmother.” He slid his hand under her shirt, spreading his fingers to cover the warm skin of her stomach. “My mother loves you. So does my uncle. Poe, Finn, Chewie… the porgs,” he added with a slight smile. “You deserve all of them.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You… you would know better than me,” she said, speaking carefully. “What will they do?”

He considered the question, idly caressing the dip of her navel with his thumb. “They’ll arrest everyone involved with the First Order,” he said finally. “The lower level staff- janitors, clerks, stormtroopers- they’ll likely be given some decree of clemency, maybe even pardons. High ranking officers and administrators will be tried publicly.”

Her lips thinned into a tense line. “And executed publicly.”

“Probably.” He took in a breath. “Even with all I’ve done for the Resistance, I’m still a likely target. For both.”

She jerked up, radiating rage. “No.”

“You have to be calm,” he said hurriedly. “When- if- they come for me, stay calm. Having you arrested for threatening the new regime is the last thing I want.”

She stood and began to pace, her hands clenched into fists. “You defected.”

“Angry people won’t care about that.” He sat up, drawing his knees toward his chest. “There are a lot of widows and orphans in the galaxy thanks to the First Order. Now that Snoke’s dead, Kylo Ren is the most obvious person to blame.”

She shot him a glare that was akin to the Rey he had first met. “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”

He rested his head against his knees and admitted the truth. “That’s a promise I shouldn’t have made.”

The spike of hurt fury from her- albeit fury that was clearly directed as much toward herself as him- rocketed down the bond and hit its mark. He flinched.

“I know,” she said, the words unexpected but gritted through her teeth. “I knew that the first time you promised. I don’t know why I allowed myself to forget.”

He thought back to his conversation with his grandmother. “Hope.”

“A terrible thing, hope.” She stopped pacing, facing away from him. “You’re sure you don’t want to run?”

Mostly. A part of him did want to disappear. “Yes.”

“Of course.” Her hands unclenched; the set of her shoulders relaxed. “Kylo would have run,” she said, her voice tired but accepting. “Ben Solo- he stays.” Rey turned, her expression bordering on apologetic. “I love that you stay.”

He loosened his grip on his knees and held a hand out to her. She knelt between his legs, another tear trailing down her cheek. “We’re waiting, then,” she said, tangling her fingers with his. She rested her other hand on his neck, sweeping her thumb over the faint scar there. Her gaze sharpened. “But if they try to execute you, I will steal you,” she said firmly. “I will break into wherever they are holding you, and I will drag you into hiding whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like the idea of you breaking into prisons,” he replied seriously, though he was touched by her words. “Too dangerous.”

“I don’t care.” Her hand slid to the back of his neck in a possessive grip. “You’re mine.”

“I am.” He searched her face, barely reading anything from her. Eventually he settled on words that were easy, and that would soothe him as well as her. “Let me feed you, sweetheart.”

There was no pleasure on her face. “All right.”

She was so locked down, so contained that he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her back and pressing his legs tightly against her sides. “When was the last time you really cried?” he asked her softly. “More than this?”

Rey looked startled by the question. Her lower lip trembled. “Years,” she admitted stiffly, dashing away the wetness on one cheek with the back of her hand. “It’s dangerous to cry,” she continued in a mutter. “Distracting. And a clear weakness, if someone sees.” Her glare was half-hearted at best. “Not today, Ben.”

“That’s fine.” He had felt the same during his time with the First Order, but he had the feeling that he had wept more over the last decade than she might have in her entire life. “I do want to feed you.”

“I know.” She frowned when her stomach growled, as if on cue. “You’d better get to it, then.”

They walked back onto the shuttle hand in hand, and locked the entrance behind them.

- - -

When they- the amorphous, unknown authority- didn’t come that day, or the next, Ben began to sense when the ax would fall. His mother simply confirmed it, and confirmed it in words, not in the tone of her voice or expression. She was waiting for him in Hanna City. So were the newly formed government and the hurried court created to address the issue of war crimes.

What his mother’s tone and expression did reveal through the holo-comm was a loving, if silent, offer to let him run.

He didn’t run.

Instead, he strode off the shuttle at the appointed landing pad, carrying nothing more than the now-crumpled picture and his father’s dice, both tucked carefully in the chest pocket of his shirt. His jailers might confiscate them, but when he had tried to leave them with Rey she had simply handed them back. She did carry his lightsaber, the weapon clipped beside her own on her belt.

She was tempted to use her saber. He lived the fantasy even as she imagined it: bringing the blade to blazing light, stepping in front of him and refusing to move. She would, if he gave even one indication of willingness. But he didn’t, and she didn’t, and the cuffs that he could break through so easily immobilized his wrists in a more or less symbolic show of submission.

“Take care of her,” he had whispered to Rey before leaving the ship, pushing an image of his mother into her mind.

“Take care of her,” he whispered to his mother as he passed, glancing conspicuously back at Rey.

Eventually they would figure it out, but they both needed each other- and he would take his amusement where he could get it.

Chapter Text

The worst part of imprisonment was not his tiny quarters, or the lack of privacy, or the restraints he wore. It was his neighbor, in the cell just to the right of his.

“Not the reward you expected, I’m guessing,” Hux said with a smirk through the bars. He gave the cuffs around Ben’s wrists a meaningful look. “Though the one you deserve. How did it happen? Did the scavenger double-cross you?”

Ben ignored him, holding still as one of the guards unlocked the cuffs. Two others watched him with blasters ready.

“I hope she was worth it,” Hux said snidely as the cell door closed with finality.

One cot (too short for him), a sink, a toilet. “She is,” he murmured, pressing a hand lightly against his chest pocket. The guards had only given him the most cursory of searches and had left his two small mementos be, which made him wonder if his mother had discretely bribed them.

Not that Leia Organa Solo was known for handing out bribes, though Ben supposed that there was a first time for everything. He drew out the picture, fixing his gaze unflinchingly on his father’s face. “We really need to stop making imprisonment a family tradition,” he said in a mutter.

- - -

He waited. He waited for days- long, empty days with only the occasional visits from his defense attorneys, and the daily, if brief, appearance of his mother, who was the only other person allowed to see him. Rey was almost always at the back of his mind, her moods fluctuating but never quite reaching cheerful. She seemed sad, mainly, her studied optimism gradually wearing away.

He dreamed. He dreamed of his grandmother, who told him stories calculated to amuse. He dreamed of his childhood. He dreamed of empty Jakku sands.

Finally, he dreamed of Rey, and Varykino.

It was a relief- almost a homecoming, in an odd way- to find himself in that same tower bedroom that registered as ‘his’. The room was at its best, at that moment: gleaming furniture, clean linens, the silken brush of an intricately patterned rug under his bare feet. A fire burned on the grate, and beyond the windows snow fell.

“What am I wearing?”

He turned at Rey’s genuinely befuddled voice, delighted to see her again, and found himself at a loss for words. His mouth dry, he dragged his gaze up, taking in her bare limbs and the minimal froth of lace and ribbons she wore. Red. Red lace and creamy skin and he loved his imagination for coming up with this.

Rey looked around, a flush on her cheeks. “Your grandmother isn’t here, is she?”

Just the mention of Padmé was enough to make him start breathing somewhat normally again. “No,” he said hurriedly, taking several steps closer to her. “You look…”

She glanced down at herself, a dubious expression on her face. “Odd.”

“Beautiful.” He brushed his fingertips up her sides, gently pushing exactly how he felt along the bond. She gave him a surprised look, her gaze dipping down to the visual evidence of his desire outlined by the thin pants he wore. Her lips curved into a tiny smile.

“I miss you,” she whispered, edging closer. “I get cold at night without you.” Her hands landed lightly on his bare chest, and she turned her left to slide the backs of her fingers down his scar. Her smile disappeared. “Ben.”

He lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed. “We have this,” he murmured against her hair as he sat, keeping her in his lap. “That’s more than nothing.”

“It’s not a life,” she said against his skin, her worry like a bruise against bone. “It’s… it’s so small, compared to what we should have. I thought this would be quick.” She pulled back to meet his gaze, catching her bottom lip between her teeth briefly before releasing. “I thought it would be over in less than a week.” She shrugged, looking away as if embarrassed. “I still forget things work differently away from Jakku,” she admitted quietly. “We would have been done by now, at the Niima Outpost.”

He slid his thumbs against the skin of her waist in a gentle caress. “I’m sorry. I made assumptions.” He should have explained it better, but her demeanor when acknowledging his probable arrest- even before he had brought up the idea of an execution- had made him think that she understood, at least in part.

“I knew it would be difficult,” she replied, understanding what he wasn’t saying. “It was the sheer amount of time I didn’t understand- and their angle.” Her expression took on an angry cast. “This is about Kylo Ren, not Ben Solo.”

That was the crux of the matter. From what little Ben had garnered, it was clear that the tribunal didn’t want a redemption tale. They wanted the villain brought low: an easy, clean story to spin as the remnants of the New Republic picked up the pieces and consolidated power.

Kylo Ren was the dark against their light. Ben Solo introduced far too much gray into their moral landscape.

“I made you a promise, Ben,” Rey said in a low voice, as if they might be overheard in the dream. “I need you to tell me about the prison. Is it underground? How far?”

He felt more than a spark of alarm at the idea of Rey risking her life to follow him into exile, bounty hunters at their heels every step of the way, but he had learned his lesson. Once Rey had a plan of action, she couldn’t be deterred. “Two floors down,” he answered. “I was taken through four different checkpoints, all heavily guarded. They set their blasters to kill,” he warned. “The corridors are patrolled, and all under visual surveillance.”

She had a distant look in her eyes. “We’ll need a different ship,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Not the shuttle, not the Falcon. Something unknown.”

“This is just speculation,” he cautioned, though he could feel his hopes for their life together- a home, children, peace- slipping away. Would she hate him, after years living one step ahead of the law? He hoped not. “And until then, we have this.”

“Maybe.” She slid her arms around his neck. “We’ve only dreamed together a few times. It could be weeks before this happens again.”

She smelled like flowers, and he wondered if that was his imagination or his mother’s kindness to the woman who was all but her daughter-in-law. “We should make the most of it, then.” He ran a hand down her side, loving her smooth skin and scars in equal measure. “You need to eat,” he said quietly, her ribs feeling slightly more pronounced under the pads of his fingers. “Surely my mother isn’t starving you.”

“She has things to do.” Her breath was warm against his neck, the pattern almost regular, but with a slight hitch. “She’s rebuilding a government. But she sits with me, in the evening. We drink tea.” She sounded almost wistful. “It’s nice.”

“As soon as you wake up, you eat,” he said firmly, aware that he probably sounded controlling but too worried to temper his words. “Is it because-”

He paused, thinking of his Rey and her relationship with food. “Do you not feel you’ve done enough?”

“Not much to do.” She shrugged, her hair spilling over one shoulder to tickle his chest. “We worked so hard, and now… so much waiting.” She pressed chapped lips against his pulse. “Sometimes,” she admitted in a whisper, “I get caught up in whatever I find to distract myself, and I just… I don’t stop.”

He had done that before: punishing himself and all the while pretending he wasn’t. “How are you going to break me out of prison if you don’t eat?” he asked, speaking the words in a cajoling tone against her hair. “You need your strength, sweetheart.”

She laughed faintly. “I know.” She leaned to the side, pulling the both of them down onto the mattress. “Where are we?”

“Naboo. Padmé used to spend her summers here.” He propped himself up on one elbow beside her, sinking slightly into the mattress as he smoothed his hand over her abdomen.

“A home just for one season?” Rey asked, quirking a brow skeptically. She craned a glance at a nearby window. “And you dreamed of winter.”

He blushed, knowing exactly why he had dreamed of winter. “It’s romantic,” he muttered. “The snow outside, a fire inside. A cozy bed.”

She was swayed by his longing alone, judging by the tempted flutter along the bond. “Where did you learn all this romance from?” she asked curiously, curling her body toward him. “You don’t just talk about it- you feel it, I think.”

“Books. Some from my parents. When they were happy, they were very happy.” He slid a finger under the band of lace covering one hip, studying with probably too much fascination the juxtaposition of his hand, her body, and the lingerie. “I, uh, might have stolen this from a holo.”

“You like it,” she said with certainty, though he suspected she didn’t quite understand why. “Would you want this all the time?” The question wasn’t quite doubtful: it was as if she were trying to slot a puzzle piece into place and wasn’t quite sure where to put it.

“No. Never again, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think so.” She wriggled her hips slightly, a blush appearing on her cheeks. “Will you do that thing again?” she asked, eager and shy at the same time. “With your mouth?”

He freed his hand from the lace and moved it slightly to the left, cupping her between her legs. “Here, sweetheart?”

Her breathing quickened. “Yes.”

“Yes.” He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “I love how it makes you shake,” he murmured as he brushed his lips against the curve of her breast, and continued as he moved his mouth to the well of her navel. “How my fierce desert girl melts for me.” He grinned when he saw the thin, damp lace at the apex of her thighs. “In more ways than one.”

“All this talk,” she said breathily, but it was clear she didn’t mind.

He licked the lace first, smirking at the noise of vague displeasure she made. Some other time- he hoped- he would have the chance to tease her like that, but there was no guarantee that this dream would last for very long. So he pulled back, easing the tempting confection down her legs and tossing it behind him. He then moved back into place, her thighs over his shoulders.

“Ben, don’t tease,” Rey said with a trace of desperation.

“Not today, sweetheart,” he replied truthfully, amused by her momentary reaction of what? before a swipe of his tongue drove the thought from her head.

Perfect. Beautiful, he thought along the bond, feeling a surge of victory as her hand tangled in his hair. He pinned down her squirming hips with one arm, grinding his own hips against the bed when she moaned. You deserve this; you deserve so much pleasure, every day.

“Ben.”

He lifted his head, a smile curving his lips as she whimpered. “Yes, sweetheart?”

She glared at him, flushed. “Don’t stop.”

“Of course not.”

It was not quite the same, in dreams. Whether it was her mouth against his, his tongue against her heated flesh, or his cock thrusting into her, every move seemed slightly dulled, as if at a remove.

“It’s better awake,” she said drowsily afterward, her head pillowed on his arm. She looked well-loved, in a way that made him want to curl tightly around her and do it all over again the next morning. “I like you getting me all messy in real life.”

“I like that, too.” He eyed the tattered, ripped lace that barely clung to her upper body. “I also liked doing that.”

“Terrible waste of resources,” she said with a hint of a smile. “I might let you do it again.”

He didn’t want to let her leave, but she looked so very tired- and that was, in a sense, his fault. “Go to sleep,” he said coaxingly, pulling her closer. “One way or another, we’ll be together soon.”

“Hmm.” Her fingers trailed lazily across his chest. “I’ll eat,” she said with a yawn, snuggling into him. “I promise.”

He pressed his lips against the crown of her head, blinking away a tear at the knowledge she would soon be slipping away. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my water.” The flutter of her eyelashes against his neck was sweet in its fleetingness. “I’m so thirsty without you.”

“Tease,” he muttered jokingly against her hair.

Her laugh bolstered his smile.

- - -

After two weeks of staring at his cell walls, he was offered a slight reprieve. The reprieve was a conference room where he was cuffed to a table, which itself was bolted to the floor, but he was at least surrounded by people who actually liked him.

“I doubt this would actually hold you,” Finn noted on first seeing the arrangement, and in response Ben shrugged.

“I’m a model prisoner.”

Finn looked somewhat discomforted. “It’s easier to pretend that I hate you when you’re not in chains.”

Ben hid his smile, though his mother didn’t bother. “Better save up some insults, then.”

Rey entered at that moment, moving without hesitation to the empty seat to his right. She looked troubled, but the kiss she gave him was soft with longing. You look so different when you don’t shave, she told him, brushing a thumb over the hair on his chin.

They don’t trust me with a razor. If the others minded that they were obviously holding a silent conversation, they were kind enough not to broadcast it. You don’t like it?

She shook her head slightly. I don’t mind it. It’s just… different.

“This is a travesty.”

The words- which should have been dramatic but somehow were not- had obviously come from Poe, who stood just inside the door. Ben had the feeling that he actually, legitimately, believed what he was saying. “Ben Solo, hero of the Resistance, shackled to a kriffing table.”

Ben just stared at him, as did everyone else in the room. Some- including his uncle- looked more amused than others. “And yet,” Ben replied dryly. “Where’s your better half?”

“BB-8?” Poe gave him a quick grin as he snared the last remaining seat. “Wanted to come shock you, but the guards wouldn’t let my buddy in.”

“Now that we’re all here,” Leia said, semi-patiently, “we need to go over the latest news.” She wasn’t pleased. Ben had known that from the first moment he had seen her, but had allowed repartee with Finn and Rey’s presence to dull the edge. “The tribunal will be acting as both judge and jury.” Her smile was sharp. “A finer bunch of cowards I’ve never seen.”

Holdo’s expression was serene, though Ben could see the hint of anger in the set of her jawline. “Half have been hiding in bunkers since the war began, and half have been frittering away their time on Canto Bight and profiting from arms trade through a series of shell companies.” She scanned the small group around her, and Ben wondered if she were thinking what he was thinking: that his supporters were few, if loud. “Leia and I have convinced them to decide your case soon,” Holdo informed Ben. “Though it’s clear that they would prefer to make the proceedings a well-publicized show.”

“Several standard months from now,” his mother interjected grimly.

Rey said nothing, though he felt her emotions all too well: the weary misery of someone whose long-held patience was beginning to fray. He wished that he could put an arm around her or take her hand. Sweetheart.

I’ll wait for you. Her hand curved over his thigh, the move hidden by the table. No matter how long.

She’d waited for so long already that he almost hated to hear the words from her.

Finn spoke, his arms crossing as he sat back in his seat. “Will his be the first?” he asked, his voice grave.

“Might as well start things off with a bang,” Ben replied, the words low and regretted as soon as they left his mouth. He stifled the urge to apologize, and instead kept his gaze on Finn. “Are you…?”

“Pardoned.” Finn’s jaw clenched in a way that made Ben wonder just how the other man felt about that. “The prosecution wants me to give testimony.”

Ben didn’t have to ask exactly what kind of testimony they wanted. “Was the pardon conditional?” he asked carefully, his temper rising at the idea of Finn being backed into a corner.

“No,” Holdo said firmly. “I made sure of that.”

“They want me to testify, too.” Poe slumped back in his chair in a way that almost reminded Ben of his father, defiant grin and all. “I’m planning on chatting up your mechanical skills.”

There would be cross-examinations, at least. Ben looked down at Rey, whose gaze was averted. “You, too?” he asked, his voice gentle. It’s not your fault. If they’ve summoned you-

“Yes,” she said in a restrained tone, her end of the bond a frazzle of embarrassment and frustration. He bent as close as his cuffs would allow, resting his forehead against her hair. Disordered thoughts sifted through to him, but the unifying theme was clear: their romantic relationship would be used against them both. Rey was a weak spot for his defense and a fulcrum for the prosecution, simply because she spread her legs for him. I should leave, she thought. I’m not helping you.

“They’re pinning Starkiller on you,” his mother said, the words falling heavy among them. “The Hosnian system, on you. Just you.”

He froze, the scent of Rey’s hair the only thing grounding him. “Even then I was vocally against that measure,” he said, the words a weak defense. “Hux was the one…”

“General Hux is the one making the accusation.” The disdainful curl of Holdo’s mouth told him exactly what she thought of that. “He’s made a deal. No death penalty; minimum security.”

Amid all of Ben’s swirling, frenetic thoughts, the one that bothered him the most was that he had broken his promise to Naboo.

We’re trusting the Resistance to deal with him, after. We’re trusting you.

“He always did slither out of everything,” Finn muttered.

Ben pulled away from Rey with reluctance. “He’s talented like that.”

“But Ben killed Snoke,” Poe protested. “Surely that’s worth something.”

Ben spoke before anyone else could, knowing exactly the argument that would be used against him. “It’s traditional for Sith apprentices to kill their masters.” He stared down at the table, his hair spilling over his face. “That’s their narrative, isn’t it- that I wanted to be Supreme Leader.”

“Yes.” His uncle, speaking kindly. “I’m afraid so.”

“But he left with me,” Rey said, her voice quiet yet fierce. She wasn’t surprised- he thought that maybe, maybe, his mother had warned her- but she also wasn’t accepting of the situation. “He could have flown to another flagship. He didn’t. And he turned himself in.”

We should have run, was the thought in the back of her mind. I should have begged him. She was already thinking of using Jedi mind tricks against the guards, of escape routes.

“My attorneys haven’t told me any of this,” Ben said with deceptive calmness, though he knew why: they didn’t trust him any more than the rest of the galaxy did. They appreciated the prestige and the challenge of representing him, but they didn’t believe him.

Holdo met his eyes with an expression that was entirely his Aunt Amilyn. “This is the story that’s been circulating since the day after the Supremacy was destroyed. As far as public opinion goes, you might as well have fled.” She raised a brow, though her censure was not aimed at him. “They should have told you.”

His attorneys would be regretting that lapse, most likely, and not because of anything he might say.

It was no use bemoaning his situation. “So, what do we do?” he asked instead.

“We tell them the truth,” his uncle said, utterly serious. “It’s time I confessed, Ben.”

Ben looked uneasily from his uncle to his mother. “The truth?” he repeated, uncertain. “They’ll think it’s a bunch of Jedi mysticism.”

“Because it is, really,” his mother replied with dry humor. “But they’ll have to deal with it.”

I don’t think this is going to work, he wanted to say, and the sense of it must have drifted along the bond to Rey, because she leaned against his side. “Thank you,” he said instead, the words almost cumbersome.

Thank you, because they were casting their reputations to the wind for his sake. Thank you, because they loved him enough to do so.

But in his cell, later: a whisper to the crumpled picture, the dice a comforting weight in his hand. “Maybe we’ll see each other sooner than you thought.”

Chapter Text

Chewie says we should go to Kashyyyk. Rey’s voice rolled gently into his mind, like water lapping at a lake shore. The lights in his cell were off- they were extinguished at the beginning of each night cycle automatically, regardless of whatever Ben might be doing- and what shadows there were came from the dim lights in the corridor. He had been half-asleep by the time she settled into her own bunk.

I’m not well-liked on Kashyyyk, either, he replied, closing his eyes so that he could pretend they were in the same place. We could go back to Ahch-To.

A mental chuckle from her. Good idea. We would be safe there. For awhile.

A caress along the bond, one that felt like a hand running down his spine. Humming with pleasure, he curled more tightly around the pillow he held in his arms. I could learn how to fish.

I liked the rain. She sounded wistful. I liked the way it sounded on the roof of my hut.

He thought of returning to the island, living quietly amidst the rocky peaks and misty green. By day they would fish, train, maybe plant a garden. They could even explore the other landmasses. At night they would return to their small hut and cuddle in front of a fire. It would be nice.

It would be very nice.

How long will your implant last? he asked sleepily.

He had the sense that she was scrunching her nose in that very endearing way of hers. Five standard years.

And where would they be, in five years? Still on Ahch-To? Maybe they could find a med-droid on their way there; Rey would have no trouble keeping one in repair.

He let loose a long, quiet sigh. Any news of Mitaka?

He’s not on the list of prisoners. I told your mother and Holdo about him. She paused. They helped me write an account, in case I’m not available if he’s ever caught.

No one had dared say anything aloud, but he suspected that all of his allies had guessed their intended plans. If they had to run, the hardest part might be convincing the others not to help.

One of the porgs is nesting. She sent him the image of a porg- his porg- brooding over what looked like a clutch of eggs. Chewie set up a little roost in one of the cabinets on the Falcon.

What would you call them… porglets? He smiled into the shadows. She’ll be a fierce mother.

She misses you. She tries to perch on my shoulder, sometimes, but I’m just not tall enough. Another image, more like a memory: the porg grumbling discontentedly in Rey’s ear, fluttering its wings in complaint.

Maybe you should start standing on the table.

Maybe I should start levitating porgs for practice, she thought dryly. Her mood abruptly dimmed. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he echoed. I’ll get to shave, he thought, trying to tease her back into good humor. Mother promised to bring me clothes that will make me look positively respectable.

That did amuse her, at least. I’m not sure how she’ll manage that.

Me, either. Maybe Uncle will lend me some of his robes.

A bit short for you, I think. Another caress, like her hand sifting through his hair. You need your rest. Her end of the bond was a gentle, soft thing, the mental equivalent of her spooning him from behind. I’ll stay with you until you sleep.

He gave himself over to the embrace, the only source of comfort in his cell. Do you have a ship for us?

I do. The barest nuzzle to the back of his neck. Hopefully we won’t need it.

Hope. He would hold onto that until the last possible moment.

- - -

He had expected to dream, the night before his trial. He had expected Padmé, or if the Force was kind, Rey.

He had not expected to find himself on Varykino’s terrace, facing the man he had spent the better part of his life trying to reach.

Anakin offered a smile, but there was a tentativeness to his expression, as if he sensed he might not be welcome. “Hi.”

Such a simple word to break years of silence- but then, Ben thought it likely that he had never really heard Anakin’s voice at all. “Hello.”

They considered each other for a long moment. “Nice scar,” his grandfather finally said, tapping a finger against his own. “Your Rey turned your own tricks against you.”

“She did,” Ben agreed warily. “What are you doing here? Padmé said…”

“You’re not as guarded as you once were.” Anakin leaned back against the balustrade, looking almost self-conscious. “And I wasn’t sure you really wanted to talk to me, after everything… but I wanted to apologize.” He spread his hands in a close, restrictive movement, keeping them nearly at waist level. “I won’t come back, unless you ask.”

There was a part of Ben that wanted to respond with rage. He had been down this path before; he had chased this same vision for nearly fifteen years. That this Anakin Skywalker was a stranger meant almost nothing: he was still, in a symbolic sense, all that had tied Ben to Snoke and the dark.

He throttled back the urge to scream. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted after a moment more of tumultuous thought. He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet his grandfather’s eyes, because beyond the initial shock and anger was the thought I built a shrine to his kriffing helmet. The number of nights he had meditated in front of that thing, absolutely desperate for any word of encouragement… it was suddenly embarrassing.

“It’s not the legacy I intended to leave.” Anakin swept his gaze around the terrace wistfully. “My last thought when I died was ‘finally, I made everything right’.” He shrugged, his shoulders and head hunching inward in a pose that was all too familiar to Ben. “And I was wrong, because I put a target on your back.”

“There will always be Snokes,” Ben said quietly, reluctantly. “You didn’t create him.”

Anakin studied his hands. “No, I didn’t do that,” he agreed. “He didn’t come to my attention until after I was dead, when you were in the womb. I tried to block him, and for a while I thought that I was successful.” His smile was sad, though his expression verged on self-loathing. “But that was a trap, too.”

Ben had only the vaguest memories from his earliest years, but he did remember kindness amidst the dark. “He waited until I trusted you,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “And then he cut you off completely and carried on in your stead.”

Pawn. A new descriptor for his grandfather, and one that struck too close to home.

“Exactly. Padmé barely spoke to me for months, after that.”

“She never told me.”

Anakin shook his head, looking as if he didn’t quite understand, either. “Her sense of mercy has always been greater than mine.”

“And she plays a long game even better than my mother,” Ben replied in a mutter.

“She does.”

Ben stared off toward the horizon, where the sun was setting in blazing glory. He didn’t know what to do, and so he fell back on his mother’s oldest lesson: be polite. “Do you have any advice, then? About tomorrow?”

“No.” Anakin was looking at him, and only him, and when Ben chanced a glance he was met with familiar intensity. His mother had been watching him with that same intensity for as long as he could remember. “But I wanted to say- you did finish what I started, Ben.”

Ben jerked back, his heart pounding, wishing that he had screamed. “No.” He took one step back, and then another, and another. He would run from this tainted Varykino, and maybe then he would wake up somewhere marginally safer.

“Yes, you did.” Anakin was regarding him with surprising patience. “You saved the people you love.”

At that Ben hesitated, uncertain. “What?”

“That was what I started. When I first turned, all I wanted to do was to save my loved ones.” Anakin ran his hand through his hair, his gaze turning distant. “My mother, Padmé, my children. I failed.” His smile was very like his son’s, at that moment. “But you, Ben- you accomplished what I never could.”

Ben looked away, toward the entrance to the house. Warm light spilled from the interior, beckoning him toward the promise of something. He didn’t know what to say. Finally: “They might execute me.”

His grandfather’s reaction was unexpected: amusement, pure and simple. “As if Rey of Jakku would let anyone kill you.” Laughter made Anakin look young and light-hearted. “Ben, the only being in the galaxy who could possibly kill you at this point is her, and she obviously has other plans for you.”

There was a lot of truth to that. Ben considered, weighed his options, practically dithered as the sun continued to set and the shadows grew long. “You have to bring Padmé,” Ben said decisively. She might not appreciate being used as a buffer- though he suspected she would understand- but he refused to take this risk again without a trusted third party present.

“I will.” Anakin picked up a fallen leaf from the balustrade, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. “I’ll come- but only when you ask.”

There was no guarantee that he would keep that promise, but Ben felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, nonetheless. Padmé and Rey were welcome to show up without warning, but they were the only ones. Now that his mind was his, Ben intended to keep it that way. “Thank you.”

In the space of a second he was the only living being on the terrace. Ben looked around at the fading sunlight, the growing shadows, and finally turned to walk toward the door. He liked the look of that interior light.

It looked like home.

- - -

Blue, as it turned out, was a good color on him. It made him look respectable. It even made him look somewhat approachable, which was a kind of miracle. “Your eye for fashion is impeccable,” he told his mother with dry humor as he twitched his robe into place. The lines of the robe hinted at Jedi austerity, while the shirt and trousers beneath were of classic Alderaanian cut. There wasn’t a hint of Kylo Ren to be seen.

“I know. Hold still,” his mother said firmly, despite the fact that he had barely moved. “I’m almost done.”

He waited patiently as his mother’s nimble fingers completed the small braid that started at his right temple and finished just behind his ear. “I doubt anyone will be able to read it,” he noted, though not as a deterrent.

“I will.” She stepped down from her stool, giving him a thorough scrutinizing. “This is for me, and for you.”

He glanced into the mirror, identifying the pattern for ‘hope’ even when it was reversed. And-

He raised a brow, hiding his amusement when he met his mother’s gaze. “Why,” he asked in a low, deliberate tone, “does my hair say that I am married?”

She raised a brow in turn, not bothering to hide her smile. “Vows or no vows, I have a daughter-in-law. I’m no fool, Ben.”

He ducked his head, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “I like it,” he said after a moment, aiming for a light, careless tone. Depth crept in instead, making his feelings plain.

“Even when you were a child, you loved passionately,” his mother said as she adjusted his collar, still smiling. “I hoped then that one day you would find someone deserving of all that love- and you did. You couldn’t have found a better match.”

He reached up and brushed his fingertips carefully over the segment that denoted married. “Rey doesn’t want to get married,” he admitted, almost in a whisper.

Leia barely blinked at that pronouncement. “Again, vows or no vows, she’s not leaving.” She patted his arm, her expression sympathetic. “Do you need proof?”

“No,” he replied quickly, almost shocked. “I know she’s not leaving.”

“Then give her some time. She might change her mind. She might not. Either way, she’ll be there.” She touched his face lightly. “You like your symbols, your old-fashioned things.” It was a statement- a fond one- not a reprimand. “I think she likes that about you.”

“Maybe she’s just tolerant,” he replied, more for the sake of teasing his own mother than anything else.

She rolled her eyes. “Rey has been practical all her life. The way she looks at you is not practical. Believe me, she enjoys your romantic notions.”

Ben tucked those words away, saving them for when the stress of the day would grow too great.

On the short walk to his trial- unshackled, which was surely due to his mother’s and Amilyn’s influence- they met Rey lingering in the hall.

Coincidentally, or so he would swear if asked.

Surrounded by guards as they were, he didn’t pull her in for a kiss. Instead he took her hand and pressed his lips to her calloused fingertips, raking his gaze over her avidly as she blushed.

“Ben,” she said in a whisper as his mother tactfully stepped away, all the while glaring at the guards until they shuffled back to give him a little bit of space. “What secret code did your mother weave into my hair?”

His gaze moved automatically to the braid she wore, and immediately he smiled. Smugly, though he knew he shouldn’t. “What makes you think it’s a code?” he asked in a murmur, brushing his thumb over the segment denoting her marital status.

“She was far too pleased about it.” Rey frowned, a crease forming between her brows. “And so are you.”

“Coded braids were traditional on Alderaan.” He tapped the upper segment of his own braid. “Hope.” Moving his finger slightly, he hesitated for scarcely a second, wishing his mother hadn’t put him in this position. “Married.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that what’s in my hair?”

“Almost.” The guards were growing restive, but he moved his hand back to her head, brushing his index finger against the weave closest to her temple. “Here: beautiful. And here: warrior.” He stroked the final segment. “Married.”

Rey leaned to the side, peering around him to give his mother a look that he couldn’t quite read. After a moment, she pulled back. “I’m supposed to wait out here.”

“That’s fine.” Silently, he added, You don’t have to keep the braid.

Another unreadable look, though she didn’t feel angry or uncomfortable. “I’ll see you inside.”

Quickly he leaned down, pressing a brief kiss against her lips. I love you.

My rain, he heard as the guards ushered him on, his mother’s hand slipping around his elbow.

- - -

He had hoped that his trial would be restricted access.

Instead, he was nearly center stage in a space that rivaled the New Republic Senate on Coruscant. Around and above him stretched viewing boxes filled by Force only knew how many beings, from all different corners of the galaxy. His mother tugged gently on his arm, pulling him down until she was able to kiss his cheek. “I love you, my boy,” she murmured in his ear, and then it was just him and his lawyers and his guards. The sound cascaded down like a wave as he took his place, whispers in more languages than he could name blending into a sibilant onslaught.

The tribunal entered: eight beings, mostly humanoid. He recognized a few from his childhood, and was not encouraged. Of the ones he knew, only one had been friendly with his mother; the other two had disparaged her progressive politics.

He had no problems hearing their words, but as the session opened the droning voices flowed over him like water- dark water, muffling him from all other noise. Just his name, and his crimes, read in brilliant clarity. The Jedi Temple, the Hosnian system, other raids and massacres under his command-

“-and the murder of his father, Han Solo.”

He suspected that they had intentionally saved that for last. For effect, perhaps. It still struck him like a physical blow, though he held still as the reverberations passed through him. He felt… numb.

He sat when he was bidden to sit. He kept his gaze straight ahead. He tried to look meek, though he was far too big to look meek. He inhabited his own small space, the eyes of all drilling into his back.

And they started- as he had suspected they would start- with his uncle.

The sheer sense of adulation as Luke Skywalker entered the chamber was evident, and Ben almost smiled- almost, until he realized that doing so would further paint him as untrustworthy. It wouldn’t matter how cheerful his grin; any expression he made would damn him.

Including, he supposed, his current lack of expression- but he would be consistent, at least. He focused on keeping his expression straight through the vow, through the initial questions.

“And what was your nephew like as a padawan?”

“Eager to please. Quiet. Gentle with the younglings.”

The disbelieving hum from the gallery was its own force.

“But you had reason to doubt him,” the prosecution said in a grave tone.

“Though I did not realize it then,” Luke said, his tone equally grave, “he was under attack by Snoke. The darkness I sometimes sensed in him- Snoke’s influence.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

The Mon Calamari acting as prosecution seemed doubtful. “And Snoke drove him to murder the other students of your temple?”

A glint in his uncle’s eyes. “No,” he replied, and for a brief moment the prosecution appeared triumphant. “I did that.”

Cacophony, cut off quickly when the shields surrounding the viewing boxes were muted. The absence of sound did nothing for the emotions Ben felt: shock, betrayal, giddy pleasure at unexpected gossip.

“I felt darkness- darkness that I now know belonged to Snoke. But it tempted me to the dark.” His uncle met Ben’s gaze across the short space, regret in his eyes. “In my moment of weakness I ignited my lightsaber over my sleeping nephew… and Ben woke up.” Luke took in a breath. “And as I realized my mistake, I felt- I saw- his terror, his sense of betrayal. He drew his own weapon in self-defense.”

There was pity in the emotions that wreathed the room, but above all Ben felt the bitter joy in the toppling of a pillar. Vindication, for some. Rage for others. The Skywalker name had just taken another heavy blow, and his uncle sat calmly amidst it all.

A small part of Ben thought- inadvertently broadcasted, really: of course he’s calm; he’ll just run away again. Ben lashed out at the stray thought, guilt muddling his mind.

But I did run. His uncle’s voice, gentle and unobtrusive. I could have stayed; helped Leia mitigate the damage. I didn’t. I won’t run this time.

The boxes were still muted, but the press of emotions made it clear that the observers were in an uproar. In the back of his mind Ben registered a friendly, known presence entering the chamber, but he was so overwhelmed that he didn’t bother expending the energy to determine who had triggered that recognition.

“I was very fortunate: I grew up anonymous,” Luke said unprompted, clearly startling the prosecution. His uncle was speaking directly to the tribunal, in a manner that was almost confiding, as if he weren’t the center of attention of a very well attended trial. “My nephew has been under attack his entire life. I think I would have crumpled under the pressure far younger than he did.” He wasn’t being theatrical for the tribunal’s sake, and the knowledge of his uncle’s belief was both a relief and a weight for Ben. “But he pulled himself away from the dark,” Luke said, his voice admiring and fond. “He was crucial to ending the war.”

“But he didn’t kill Snoke on his own,” the prosecution inserted quickly, aiming for a perceived weak spot and lingering over the key verb.

“Would we be here if Snoke were still alive?” Luke asked in a voice that was deceptively calm. Again, the pulse of emotion from above: the observers were very aware that Snoke’s death had led to this very moment. “And he was aided by another Jedi.”

Another. With that simple word his uncle claimed him further, drawing Ben into the legendary fold.

“A Jedi he is in a relationship with,” the prosecution stated, managing to imply a great deal more than he had said.

Luke smiled slightly in reply, in a way that was gently reproving. “It wouldn’t be the first time that a war was won because of love,” he said.

And though his words were, perhaps, exaggerating the role Ben and Rey had played in ending a galaxy-wide struggle- and were definitely more poetic than Ben really deserved- the emotional impact in the gallery crashed into Ben like a tidal wave. He managed to keep still, but under the cover of the table his hands clenched around his thighs with bruising force.

Ben? Rey, worried. Outside the bounds of the chamber and she was still in tune with his emotions, even if she wasn’t entirely sure why he was overwhelmed.

I’m fine. Not quite a lie, even if his fingers were still pressing bruises into his skin. Some of the emotions surrounding him were positive, though they were just as difficult to parse as the negative ones. I miss the smell of your hair.

She seemed somewhat perplexed by that, but in an understanding kind of way. After this is over, one way or another, you won’t have to do without. A mental image: him curled around her on a small bunk, kissing the crown of her head. I like the way your hair smells, too.

And as words flowed around him- from the prosecution, his uncle, his own defense- he smiled. Slightly.

Chapter Text

Rabid cur.

Snoke had called Hux that once, and though Ben hated to agree with Snoke in anything, he had to admit that the term was appropriate. He could see that rabid cur in Hux’s eyes, but his outward appearance was clean-cut and proper; deferent in a pleasingly militant fashion. He looked almost trustworthy as he related the destruction of the Hosnian system, his expression startlingly believable as he told a heavily fictionalized account of the events that had led up to the cataclysm.

“That’s not how it happened,” Ben muttered to his attorneys, and not for the first time.

“He’s always been Snoke’s creature,” Hux said, sitting with back straight and head high. “Though Snoke, at least, would take the time to consider his actions. The number of times Ren-”

He broke off, making a show of grimacing. “My apologies. The number of times Ben Solo destroyed expensive equipment in a fit of petulant rage… I can’t even guess at the number.”

And that wasn’t even a lie. Within the First Order Ben had been notorious for taking out comm panels, tables, whatever the hells might have been near him during times of overwhelming stress. He knew that stormtroopers and officers alike had made an abrupt turn as soon as they had realized that he was in the midst of a frustrated fit. He had been- was?- a walking disaster.

And how do you think I learned how to fight? Rey asked, her voice quiet. I practiced with my staff- and sometimes ‘practice’ just meant whacking at something while I screamed. You aren’t the only one who has felt rage.

But I did hurt people.

Yes. And it haunts you, Ben. It will haunt you for the rest of your life. Hux? He’s only haunted by the fact that he got caught.

He would have kissed the crown of her head, maybe nuzzled his nose against her hair if she had been physically present. You’re too good to me, sweetheart.

No such thing. You’re good to me, Ben. Hux was saying something with a sneer, but all Ben could focus on was Rey. No one’s ever been gentle with me, before, she continued, feeling almost shy. And it turns out… sometimes I like being treated gently. Sometimes.

Good. He released a ragged breath, trying to maintain his composure. Stay with me?

Her presence all but curled around him, as if she were pressed against his back and whispering into his ear. Always.

- - -

They- the tribunal, or whoever managed the hall- never did unmute the boxes. It made sense, Ben supposed, because judging by the emotions surrounding him the crowd was neither quiet or tame. He never once looked back, though he could easily imagine what kind of furor would meet his eyes if he did.

I never knew a building could be so crowded, Rey murmured as Poe entered the room. Or hold so many different beings… or be so tall.

You should see Coruscant. The street level never even sees the sun, the buildings are so high.

“… at Tuanul?”

Ben had missed nearly all of the prosecution’s question, but he really didn’t need more than that one name. Tuanul. Yet another stain on his conscious, and one he had no excuse for. He had been under immense pressure from Snoke, yes- because every time Ben thought that he had proven himself, Snoke had thoroughly disabused him of the notion in a way that was invariably painful. Ben had been desperate, and Lor San Tekka had not given him the answers he had thought he needed.

But he could have just left. He could have left with Poe as his captive, leaving the rest of the village alive and relatively unharmed. And he hadn’t.

Poe told the truth, neither exaggerating nor diminishing the series of events. This Poe was not the charmer he so often played, but the serious soldier worthy of the heap of medals the new government would likely award him.

“But he defected,” Poe said after his story was done. Irritation had been growing in his voice with each question, as his every attempt to include some bit of information of when Ben had done good was swiftly brushed aside. “He didn’t have to do that; he could have stayed on what looked like the winning side. He’s a kriffing hero of the Resistance.”

Rey was the hero, but no one wanted Ben’s opinion on that.

“He tortured you,” the prosecution- Bodruln Virbak- said, almost dismissively.

“And we’ve never used forceful measures when questioning an enemy combatant?” Poe crossed his arms defensively over his chest, looking offended by the hypocrisy of the galaxy in general. “That’s just the way war is. No one’s proud of it, but we can’t just sit here and pretend our hands are clean. Kriff, when we captured Hux everyone expected Ben to use his interrogation skills for the Resistance. No one brought up any moral qualms then.”

“Tools are meant to be used,” a sour-faced member of the tribunal muttered. Ben wasn’t entirely sure how many beings had heard that little comment- he himself had more sensed than heard the words- but the man looked unashamed when other members of the tribunal cast glances toward him.

“I have no further questions for the witness,” Virbak said, walking away.

The cross-examination delved further into the topic, but in a way that clearly frustrated Poe.

He’s seen too many legal holos, Ben commented to Rey as his defense continued their line of questioning.

I’ve never seen any.

He’s on the verge of making some kind of speech. Ben carefully read the mood of the tribunal as a whole, and wasn’t encouraged by what he found. Hungry people don’t take too well to impassioned speeches that delay their midday meal.

Poe left dissatisfied, his hands clenched at his sides.

Food put the tribunal in a better mood, if a somewhat sleepier one. Finn’s turn as a witness covered expected ground: his interactions with Ben within the framework of the First Order (minimal, though Finn admitted begrudgingly to hearing rumors of Ben’s behavior), the events of Tuanul, Starkiller.

Ben was tempted to touch the outline of the dice in his pocket, but kept his hands on his lap. He felt unexpected dread coil in his stomach as he awaited the inevitable question.

“And you saw Ben Solo kill his father?”

Finn rubbed a hand over his hair. “I was standing very far away,” he replied truthfully.

“But what did you see?”

Finn rapidly glanced to and from Ben, a mere flick of his eyes. “I saw the blade of his lightsaber ignite, and then Han Solo fell from the catwalk.”

“And then?”

“And then he followed us into the woods.”

“And what happened in the woods?”

Finn’s jaw clenched. “We fought.”

“And isn’t it true that he not only threw your companion against a tree, but dealt you a blow that put you in a coma for an extended amount of time?”

“If war was resolved with only words, we’d still be politely negotiating, wouldn’t we?” Finn said in return, a frown on his face. “I’ve forgiven him for it.”

It was a kind thing to say- and a truthful one, as far as Ben could tell.

“This proceeding is about a bit more than forgiveness,” the Twi’lek on the tribunal said clearly, her lekku tips twitching. “Please stay on topic.”

“Ben is the topic,” Finn shot back. “Every angle is important.”

“He’s correct.” Mirax Terrik, former smuggler and the respected leader of a large shipping company, leaned casually back in her seat. To Ben’s knowledge the only smuggling she had been involved with during the war had been on behalf of the Resistance, though how well known that was he had no clue. “That this young man is willing to forgive Ben Solo for his actions tells me a great deal. Or have you forgotten that mercy is also part of our purview?”

And that word alone- mercy- made Ben blink and sit back, his breath catching in his throat.

- - -

He was still ranting at dinner. I’ve never seen Finn so angry, Rey told him that night as he waited for sleep. Not even when you first showed up at the base.

He smirked into the shadows, the rough weave of his sheets pressing against his cheek. I’ve won him over with my legendary charm.

Clear amusement from her end, and longing. I wish you were here to use some of that charm on me.

You get a completely different kind of charm than Finn, sweetheart. He hesitated. There were guards and cameras on and near his cell, but maybe…

Are you alone in your bunk?

She seemed both startled and excited by that question. Yes.

What would you want me to do, if I were there?

There was a kind of flutter along the bond, as if her heart rate had increased, but her answer wasn’t what he had expected. I would want you to hold me. Sadness that was both new and very, very old lingered in her thoughts. I miss hearing you breathe.

He settled deeper into his thin covers, instantly abandoning any idea of murmuring into her figurative ear as she pleasured herself. I miss holding you.

I don’t want to testify. They won’t understand.

Just tell the truth. A nudge along the bond, one intended to be comforting. You’ll be fine.

I’m not worried about me.

Just tell the truth, he repeated, wishing he were there to whisper the words against her throat. I love you. Just tell the truth.

I will. The way she longed cut into him, as sharp and as deep as any killing blow. I’ll tell the truth.

- - -

Day two. Another set of his mother’s well-chosen clothing, another identical braid- albeit at his explicit request. His mother had been right; it did make him feel better.

Amilyn spoke, calm and composed before the crowd. His mother spoke, the braids in her hair no longer that of mourning, but of defiance. He had been worried how the crowd would react to her, but even muted their reaction was clear: pride, and love. Luke Skywalker had always been a figure of legend, but Leia Organa Solo? She was known. Leia Organa Solo had been a heroine of the fight against the Empire, and then she had never left. Princess, Senator, General- she was all those things, and more.

They loved her, and she loved him, and even if the tribunal as a whole wasn’t convinced, Ben could tell that the majority of the crowd was. She was more than a little miraculous, his mother.

And then- after a recess for the noon meal- it was Rey’s turn.

Crowds made Rey wary. Ben had felt it before, and could feel it now as she walked to take her place before the tribunal. Niima Outpost might have been crowded, in Rey’s experience, but it had been filled with people largely concerned with their own survival, day after day after day. Having this kind of attention focused on her was new and different and jarring, and those emotions jangled along the bond like a shock from a live wire.

My brave desert girl.

Her steps didn’t hesitate, but he did feel a kind of relief from her- and as she passed, the light glinted over her hair, highlighting a fresh braid identical to the one from the day before.

You look very dignified, he told her, feeling almost breathless. Why she had allowed the braid a second time, he had no clue, but that was the crux: she had allowed it. His mother might have resorted to subterfuge the first time, but she wouldn’t have bullied a reluctant Rey into accepting the braid a second.

Hush, she ordered, but her tone was fond. She sat, her poise borne of endurance and not social graces; the warrior her braid proclaimed her to be.

“Your name?”

“Rey.” Her name came out strong and even, though he felt the startled twinge that trembled through her at the sound of her own voice broadcast so loudly.

“Just Rey?” Virbak could- should- have called on any number of polite addresses, including several Jedi-specific honorifics, but it was clear he was operating on the offensive. That Rey had been with Ben in the throne room was no secret, but Virbak’s tone was that of someone addressing a random and suspicious stranger fresh off the street.

“Just Rey.”

One member of the tribunal- the sour-faced one- raised a brow, and Ben bit down on the inside of his cheek in response. An entire galaxy of customs and social mores, and this moron sneered because Rey lacked a family name. The rage that inspired in Ben- still low, still quiet- was familiar.

“You were a scavenger on Jakku before you joined the Resistance, is that correct?”

Rey barely blinked at the question. “I was.”

“And you left Jakku when you stole a ship with the aid of the former stormtrooper, Finn?”

There was the faintest trace of amusement along the bond, as if Rey were remembering the event as a fond memory. “Yes.”

“Was stealing a common activity for you?”

Ben’s hands clenched into fists under the table, and she flicked a brief glance toward him. “Occasionally,” she replied carefully. She didn’t bother explaining, and Ben’s mind automatically filled in everything she hadn’t said: when she had been desperate, and when the other person was cruel and careless enough that she could partially justify the offense.

Mirax tapped her fingers on the table in front of her. “Is the witness on trial?” she asked, her tone almost bored, though the look in her eyes belied that. The other members of the tribunal shifted uncomfortably, and Ben wondered- for perhaps the fifth time that day- how Mirax had ended up as a judge to begin with.

“Can we fully trust in the testimony of an admitted thief?” Virbak asked in reply, and immediately a weight slammed down on Ben’s shoulders, pinning him to his seat. Rey didn’t look at him, but he understood her order clearly: stay still. Stay quiet.

“Yes,” Mirax replied firmly, and held up a hand when her sour-faced colleague looked ready to interrupt. “Especially one who comes so highly recommended by ground crew and top brass alike, and who- along with the defendant- took down our former enemy.”

“You’re biased,” the Twi’lek said- a statement, and not a hostile one.

“For stating the facts?” Mirax curled a hand loosely around the cup in front of her. “The facts aren’t under dispute.”

I like her, Ben thought, and felt a flash of begrudging amusement from Rey.

She’s more sensible than the rest, I’ll give her that.

Virbak seemed annoyed to have his line of questioning dismissed, but rallied quickly. “What is your current relationship with Ben Solo?”

“He’s… he’s mine,” Rey answered, the set of her jaw softening slightly. They don’t get to know what I call you, she finished silently, stubborn. They don’t get those words.

Lover, Ben suggested, half-teasing, the weight easing up on his shoulders. Beloved. Besotted swain.

My handsome bother.

“Your relationship is sexual?” Virbak pressed.

Rey frowned slightly. “Romantic,” she replied, the word clipped in a way that suggested it was rarely spoken.

“With a man who once threw you into a tree?” Virbak asked, his audible disbelief calculated. “Who- if reports are to be believed- took you as a prisoner of war and interrogated you?”

Rey- unbelievably- shrugged, and Ben caught the slightest twitch of Mirax’s lips. “I did give him the scar on his face in return, so blows were dealt on both sides.”

For all Rey’s outward composure, her growing discomfort with the situation trickled down the bond toward him. Her posture tensed as the questioning continued, as if she were subconsciously preparing herself to flee.

I’m not helping you. She flicked a glance toward him as Virbak consulted his notes. I’ve never talked like this- about myself, in front of a… a mob.

You’re doing fine. And they can’t hurt you, sweetheart. You’re a verified hero of the Resistance.

So are you, she grumbled in reply. I’m… I’m angry, Ben.

I know.

“And you were present when the defendant murdered his father?”

Rey looked back to Virbak. “No,” she said, a martial light in her eyes, and continued before anyone could speak. “I was present when Han Solo killed himself to save his son.”

For the first time since his uncle’s testimony a true wave of surprise rushed from the crowd, and Ben watched as Rey rode it with equanimity, barely a flutter of her eyelashes to indicate the impact.

“According to your colleague you were too far away to see clearly,” Virbak shot back, dropping his holopad to the table beside him at this unexpected assertion. “Or is your eyesight above average?”

The latter was subtly mocking, but Rey didn’t care. She looked defiant in the face of disbelief.

“No, and I was fooled that day, too. But I’ve seen Ben’s memories of that moment, and I believe them.” She crossed her arms, her chin tilting upward slightly as she spoke. Every word came out crisply and cleanly, leaving no room for doubt. “Han Solo took his son’s lightsaber and sacrificed himself.”

“Memories, likely false memories, are not valid testimony,” stressed the woman sitting farthest from Rey.

“That’s not true- there are long-standing precedents for Jedi,” the Bith sitting to the right of Mirax replied. “It wasn’t even questioned before the rise of the Empire.”

“Is she even a true Jedi?” the woman snapped back, and the cup that had been in front of her shot away, pulled straight into Rey’s waiting hand.

Silence fell. Rey moved her hand away from the cup, leaving it floating in midair. “Jedi enough, I think,” she said. In that moment she had the same bearing Ben had so often witnessed in his mother and grandmother: royal dignity, unalloyed.

Mirax leaned forward, an interested expression on her face. “How did you collect these memories, Jedi Rey?” she asked, her tone deferent.

“I took them, with permission.” Rey flushed slightly. “I wasn’t kind; I didn’t like him very much at that point.”

“So you collected them after Ben Solo defected?”

“I did.” She waved a hand, sending the cup to land with a slight wobble on the tribunal’s long table. “And they were truthful. They weren’t fake.”

“You can’t know that,” another member of the tribunal protested. Virbak was quiet, watching Rey in a way that indicated he was looking for any bit of weakness.

“How do you know that the sun will rise?” Rey responded, obviously annoyed. “How do you know how to breathe? Some things are so clear, so basic that you don’t even question them.” She looked straight at Ben. “I just knew.”

Virbak saw his moment and spoke quickly. “You just knew?” he echoed. “You knew in the same way that Armitage Hux knew that the First Order had a base on Crait? Or do you deny that those memories proved to be false?”

The feeling from Rey was almost that of a trap springing closed. “Those memories were false,” she agreed with an almost unnoticeable upturn to her lips. “I wonder how many other false memories he’s testified to during this trial.”

And as the impact of those words rippled through the room, Ben had the strangest feeling that Mirax wanted to laugh.

- - -

“You shouldn’t testify.”

Both of his attorneys had said that the first day he had met them, and they hadn’t stopped saying it since.

“You shouldn’t testify.” Aayla crossed her arms, her expression stubborn. He liked her the best out of his team of two, partially because she was the only one to actually meet his eyes. His other attorney had the tendency to skulk. “No one expects you to, and quite frankly there are members of the tribunal that might faint if you actually spoke.” Her intricately tattooed lekku twitched as she smiled, the expression a rather frightening kind of amusement. “Jultarl might scream.”

“Is he the one who always looks like he’s bitten into something sour?” Ben asked, slumping back into his seat.

“Yes, and he hates you.” Aayla glared at her colleague, who was- true to form- hunched over a holopad in the corner. “In my opinion, testifying would undo the considerable work your friends and family have done on your behalf.” She shook her head slightly, an admiring expression on her face. “Jedi Rey alone introduced the kind of doubt I would love to have on my side in any other trial. I wouldn’t want to have her as an enemy.”

He tapped his scarred cheek. “You really don’t.”

She smiled briefly before leaning across the table. “Listen,” she began, her tone genuinely kind, “we just need the majority to rule on your behalf. I think we have it. I’m not sure we’ll have it if you accidentally terrify anyone who is wavering.”

Ben looked away, unsure. He was fairly certain that she was right, and he was so on edge that he wasn’t entirely sure of his ability to speak persuasively on his own behalf. One wrong word- one stutter, one negative facial expression- and he risked spending the rest of his life on the run.

And really, he had no idea how to effectively express just how overwhelming Snoke had been, both in real life and in his own mind. It was one thing to pass memories on to Rey, or his uncle, or his mother, but in words alone? He had no idea where to start. He wasn’t even sure those words existed, in any language.

Rey sent him a silent, unformulated question. His response was the mental equivalent of resting his head on her shoulder.

“Fine.” He swallowed, his mouth dry. “You’re probably right.”

Aayla searched his face, and finally nodded. “I think this is the right choice, Ben.”

And maybe it was. He still felt like a coward, albeit a relieved one.

- - -

After the end of testimony, after closing statements, the tribunal adjourned.

For two days.

I made the wrong decision, Ben agonized over the bond to Rey. I should have said something, even if Virbak spent the entire time haranguing me.

Rey- who had initially been perplexed at the idea of Ben not speaking, and whose scrambled first response had been a blend of memories from what had passed for trials on Jakku- sent a gentle caress in response. All he knew was that she had spoken with his mother and Amilyn, and whatever they had said had convinced Rey that he had made a reasonable choice. You need to sleep.

Rey-

You need to sleep. Something about her seemed frayed, and he immediately focused in response. We both need to sleep, she continued, her mental voice a whisper.

He took in a deep breath, and then another, forcing himself closer to a calm, meditative state. Then sleep with me, hmm? What he wouldn’t give to curl up behind her, his arm around her waist. He couldn’t help but wonder if part of the fray he felt was hunger. Maybe you’ll dream of Padmé.

You need her.

For once, he disagreed. He had the feeling that Rey felt more alone that night than she was willing to reveal. Sleep.

As the bond grew quiet, he sent an unobtrusive kind of query, hoping his grandmother was listening.

And in response: warmth, and a promise to try.

- - -

It was midday when the tribunal finally re-adjourned. Mirax rose to her feet, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, her expression giving away nothing.

“The tribunal is deadlocked.”

Aayla cursed under her breath beside Ben, and what he felt from her- besides frustration- was an unspoken apology.

“Pursuant to Galactic Statute 378.2.5,” Mirax continued, utterly serious, “there is an alternative to a retrial.”

A retrial would mean more time in his cell, away from Rey. A retrial would mean new judges, and everyone he loved in a holding pattern as they waited to give testimony for a second time. A retrial would-

A hand dropped onto his shoulder, and he looked up in confusion, aghast that he had allowed anyone to sneak up on him. Ruwee raised a brow, but was otherwise straight-faced as she looked away, toward the tribunal. “Pursuant to Galactic Statute 378.2.5,” she said, her tone formal, “I am authorized by Queen Eirtae of Naboo to extend this offer in full faith.” Her hand squeezed his shoulder, the gesture barely registering as he stared up at her in shock.

Ruwee met his gaze again and held it, a quiet smile quirking the corners of her mouth. The word she spoke was unmistakable and intended for the room as a whole, but she said it- promised it- directly to him. “Sanctuary.”

Chapter Text

Sanctuary. Ben hadn’t even dared hope that any planet would offer such a gift; it had seemed beyond the bounds of possibility. He distantly registered that more than a few members of the tribunal had raised their voices in argument, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ruwee.

“Really?” he asked in a whisper.

“Would I be that cruel, to dangle the promise of a free life in front of your nose and snatch it away?” She was still smiling, her expression triumphant. “The new Queen agreed that you did a great service for Naboo and should be rewarded accordingly. It helped that one of your warnings saved her father’s life, and hers.” She squeezed his shoulder again, looking amused by his continued shock. “Naboo claims you as one of its own, cousin.” She raised a brow in playful question. “Unless you would prefer prison?”

“No,” he managed. “I’m honored. Truly.”

“We’ll see how honored you feel when the Naberrie clan descends on you with full force.” She grinned. “Prepare yourself to acquire a large and opinionated extended family.”

“Your family should prepare themselves for my mother.” Ben was beginning to recover some of his equilibrium, and he quickly took in the scene at the front of the room. Aayla was toe to toe with Virbak, both arguing strenuously, and Mirax stood amidst the cluster of judges, a slight smirk on her face. “I’m not sure your offer went over well.”

“They don’t have a choice. That particular statute has no loophole; if Naboo wants you, they get you. You won’t be able to leave, of course,” she added. “Sorry about that.”

He did feel a sense of loss at that bit of knowledge, but the feeling was only a dull ache. He would rather be grounded on one planet than spend the rest of his life on the run in the Outer Rim, and Naboo… he loved Naboo, both for itself and because his grandmother loved it.

Though Rey… she deserved better than one sky for the rest of her life.

“Naboo is beautiful,” he said in reply, and if there was loss there was also peace to be found in those words. “And I’ve seen so little of it.”

“You’ll have time to see the rest.” She released his shoulder and took in a breath, as if steeling herself. “We’ll have to leave soon, but first I’m going to wade into this mess and try to accomplish my second goal.”

“So you didn’t just come to save me?” he asked teasingly. “I’m hurt.”

“No.” She squared her shoulders, her expression taking on her best formal court mask. “I also came for Hux.” Her mouth tightened slightly. “We’ll honor the Republic’s promise to take the death sentence off the table, but that’s as far as we’re willing to go. We can’t allow the murder of a reigning monarch to be so casually dismissed.”

“Good.” He sat back in his chair, wishing he could leave to track down his family but knowing that going anywhere without Ruwee would be a bad idea. “I’d wish you luck, but I think they’re the ones who’ll need it.”

She allowed a quick grin to slip through the facade, and then she was marching into the fray, head held high.

Mirax left the group, her stride relaxed as she walked toward him. “Congratulations,” she said once she was close enough to speak privately. “I was hoping something like that would happen.”

Ben regarded her seriously, feeling as if he had missed something important. “Who are you?” he asked finally.

“An old buddy of your father’s.” She gave him a meaningful look. “When we both operated on the shadier side of the law, you understand.”

“Ah.” Ben wasn’t sure what to say in reply to that.

“I was inclined to rule in your favor by the end of the first day, and Jedi Rey’s testimony made up my mind. Han sacrificing himself like that…” She hesitated, her expression that of someone lost in memory. “Well,” she said, “that sounded just like him.”

There was an ache in Ben’s throat. “Yes.”

“I hope you have a happy, peaceful life, Ben Solo.” Her smile was genuine, if a little bittersweet. “May the Force be with you.” She looked past him and nodded respectfully. “Leia.”

“Mirax.”

Ben was on his feet in an instant, turning to pull his mother into his arms. She chuckled, squeezing him tightly. “I’ve always liked Naboo,” she informed him with a radiant smile, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “That’s quite the cushy exile you’ve landed.”

“So you’ll visit, then?” he asked, the words coming out with more feeling than he had expected.

Her smile softened. “Until you’re sick of seeing me.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” he admitted. “I-”

He broke off, looking up at the first hint of Rey’s approach. She had just stepped into the room, her expression and the bond radiating love. His mother patted his arm and moved away, a satisfied look on her face. “Go on,” she said, the encouragement unnecessary.

Ben met Rey at the midway point, reaching out to take her hands when he saw how the excitement of the crowd was turning her self-conscious. “We have an audience,” she whispered even as she caressed the palm of one hand with her thumb. He didn’t have to look up to know that she was right: nearly every being in the viewing gallery was watching them, not the argument at the front of the room. He wouldn’t be surprised if the news networks had their recording devices trained on them, as well.

He pushed that knowledge to the side, content for the moment to simply look at her. “I like your hair,” he told her quietly, tilting his head down to smile just for her. “Braids look good on you.”

She wrinkled her nose, amused. “I’ve become rather fond of this particular style, though I’m not sure how I’ll manage it without your mother around.”

“I’m a little out of practice, but I’m willing to try.” He lifted their joined hands, tugging her gently toward him. “I can think of a few other patterns you might like.”

“Really?” She looked as if she were forgetting, just a little, the crowd watching them. “Like what?”

“Brings joy, for one.” He lifted one hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “Beloved would also work very well, I think.”

She released a sigh, pulling her hands away from his. “Kriff,” she said, almost to herself, and then lifted to her toes and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him fervently in front of thousands.

Yes, they were definitely going to end up on the news.

- - -

Ruwee, Ben soon learned, had come with a diplomatic entourage and a ship to match. When it became clear that wresting Hux from the hands of the Republic would take longer than a few hours, she personally escorted Ben and Rey aboard. “You’re under house arrest until we reach Naboo, I’m afraid,” she told him apologetically. “At that point you’re a free man, but until then…”

“I understand.” The common area of the ship was spacious and well-appointed, and for the moment, empty. “Do you want me to stay in my bunk?” he asked, unsure how freely he could range aboard the ship itself.

“No. Relax here, help yourself to the galley, hole up in your bunk- whatever you like. You’re safe here.” Ruwee looked to Rey. “You are free to come and go as you please, and if anyone else wants to visit they have my permission. I assume you’ll be traveling with us?”

“Yes,” Rey said immediately. “I’ll need to get our things,” she added after a moment, glancing toward him.

He wasn’t sure exactly what of his she needed to retrieve, beside his lightsaber- the dice and the picture were still secure in his pocket- but he could let her out of his sight for that long, at least. “I won’t disappear,” he told her, reaching out to take her hand. “Do you want to do that now?”

She hesitated, but then nodded. “I’ll be back soon.” She squeezed his hand before releasing him, looking back over her shoulder twice on her way out the door.

“The family is going to like her, too,” Ruwee mused after Rey was gone. “We are, if you hadn’t already guessed, known for our strong and opinionated women.”

“I had a feeling,” he replied dryly, and then sobered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, studying him. “I came prepared to make the same offer, regardless of the outcome,” she told him. “Even if they had ruled in your favor.”

“I didn’t expect that much kindness,” he admitted. “From anyone.”

“If you weren’t family, the work you did for Naboo would still have ensured the invitation. I need to speak further with the other two who snatched Hux from Theed- the Queen hopes they’ll visit so that she can extend her thanks in person.” She flashed a grin. “You should warn Rey that she’s expected at court.”

He would love to see Rey in the silks and velvets the royal court of Naboo favored. “When was the Queen elected?”

“Nearly three weeks ago.” Ruwee looked weary, all of a sudden. “It’s been a busy time,” she explained. “There’s a great deal of work to be done.”

“Maybe I could help?” he offered, his voice quiet. “I’m currently between jobs, if you hadn’t noticed.”

She laughed. “Yes, you can help. I have some ideas, but that can all wait until we get home.”

He considered that word- home- and nodded slowly. “I guess it can.”

He followed her down a short corridor, falling in beside her without prompting. “The galley is up ahead,” she said, gesturing. “The ‘fresher to the right, and this,” she added- pointing toward a door, “is your bunk.” She smirked. “And I would recommend keeping your reunion quiet, unless you want me to tease you mercilessly afterward.”

He huffed a laugh, knowing that he was likely blushing. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And now I have to go talk very sternly to a number of irritated people.” Ruwee straightened her jacket, watching him with a look that was kind, and understanding. “I left a holopad in your bunk,” she said. “There are some books on there you might like.”

He wasn’t sure that he would be able to concentrate, but he appreciated the thought. “Thank you.”

And then she left him alone in the hall, trusting him to stay within his new boundaries. He appreciated that trust more than he could express.

- - -

Rey was gone no more than a standard hour, but to Ben the passing time felt unending as he paced the length of the common area. He had tried to read- and really, several of the books Ruwee had supplied him with did look interesting- but after scanning the same page five times and realizing he still had no idea what was going on, he had given up.

Rey returned with one bag slung over her shoulder and two lightsabers dangling from her belt, and behind her came Chewie, who carried a large trunk in his arms.

“Your mother was very generous,” Rey explained when Ben gave them a questioning look. He was slightly disappointed not to have Rey to himself, truth be told- he really had been hoping to tempt her into joining him for a private celebration, preferably while no one was around to overhear. “There’s more clothing for you in there, and for me,” she continued, shaking her head with a fond smile. “I’ve never had this much clothing in my life.”

And knowing his mother, every bit of it was immaculately stitched and styled. That kindness helped Ben push aside his admittedly selfish desires for the time being, leaving him content and ready to enjoy the company of everyone else he loved.

“I’m pleased for you.” Chewie put the trunk down and moved toward Ben, pulling him into a firm hug. “Han would be happy.”

Ben only had this life- this unexpectedly happy life- because of the decision his father had made in that one moment on Starkiller. “I want to make him proud,” he said against Chewie’s shoulder. “I’m trying.”

Chewie pulled away, and Ben had the feeling that Chewie knew something he hadn’t even guessed at- or perhaps just knew Ben better than he knew himself. “The Falcon-”

“Is yours,” Ben interrupted. He shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. “She deserves to be out in space,” he said in explanation. “She needs to be in the sky.” After a momentary hesitation he hooked the chain of the dice with one finger. “These-”

Chewie growled an untranslatable scold at him. “Those belong to you,” Chewie continued in a calmer tone. “Han would say the same.”

Ben nodded, grateful. “Thank you.”

Chewie bent a distinctly amused look on him. “When you settle, send me a message.” He chuckled. “I’ll bring your birds.”

Ben blinked. “The porgs?”

He had the sense that Rey was repressing a giggle. “They can’t exactly be restricted to just one ship, can they?” she said instead, her expression teasing. “They need space.”

“They might destroy the ecosystem,” he replied, knowing that he was weak in the face of Rey’s desire but strangely panicked by the idea. “Naboo is the only planet that wants me.”

The levity instantly disappeared from both Rey and Chewie. “We could… check?” Rey offered, glancing toward Chewie. “How would we do that?”

He relaxed slightly. “We would need to find a zoologist… though not in Theed,” he muttered, remembering the rubble of the university. “There would be others.”

“Then we will.” Rey moved closer, slipping an arm around his waist. “Or Chewie takes them back to Ahch-To. That’s where they come from; that might be best.”

Ben didn’t want to admit it, but he missed the little beasts. “Probably,” he said instead, his relief at having the promise of a life offset by the potential of having that promise rescinded over an ecological disaster.

“Then we get permission.” Chewie patted him on the back. “I’ll take care of the birds until we know.”

“Thank you.” He bent to press a kiss against Rey’s forehead. “You’ll… you’ll still come visit?”

“Of course.” Chewie ruffled his hair. “Often.”

“Where are we going to live?” Rey asked practically, leaning into him. Before the words were even out she was clearly planning, resourceful in a way he had never needed to be.

He paused, thought, and came up with nothing. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Snoke never let me have money of my own.”

Funds for defense, yes. Funds for the Knights of Ren, yes. But those accounts had been scrutinized, and not a cent of unauthorized funds had passed into Ben’s hands… almost as if he had been a child denied an allowance. He considered being angry, but at the moment the idea of anger was almost petty.

“I’ve never had any money,” Rey said, as if she had only just considered the concept. “Just portions.”

He gave a brief laugh, surprising even himself. “We’re broke,” he said, testing the words, and pulled away to sit on one of the couches in the common room.

Rey giggled, her face flushed as she pressed a hand against her mouth. “I’m… I’m very good at being poor,” she offered, more amused than anything.

“Thank the Force for that,” he replied bluntly, abruptly remembering that there had been no point of his life when he had been anything other than sheltered and well-fed.

She giggled again, thumping down beside him. “Will the Force tell you which plants are safe and which are poisonous?”

“Yes.” He leaned his head against her shoulder, relieved that he could at least give her that assurance. “We won’t starve, though we might live in a shack.”

He doubted that- he had the feeling that Ruwee had planned for just this eventuality- but he had no idea what he could promise Rey. “We should raid their food stores while we still have a chance,” he muttered against the fabric of her jacket, which had clearly been provided by his mother.

She snickered, still viewing the situation with more levity that he was- though that wasn’t surprising, really. “I am hungry,” she said in a peaceable fashion. “Will you cook for me?”

And despite the stress of the day, despite his turmoil, he found he could indeed do that- and further, that he was happy to do so.

- - -

The impromptu meal became an event. First Poe and Finn turned up, and then his mother and uncle and Amilyn, and finally Ruwee and a clutch of cheerful Naboo dignitaries completed the party.

“He’s mine,” Ruwee said with fierce triumph, sitting in one of the armchairs with her feet up on a small table. She held a glass of wine in one hand, the vintage- as Ben had discovered for himself- rich and heady. “Armitage Hux will spend the rest of his miserable life in a cell on Naboo.”

“One with a terrible view,” one of the dignitaries said tipsily, raising her glass in a toast. “To Armitage Hux,” she said with glee, “may he be so kriffing bored.”

Rey laughed quietly, leaning her head against his shoulder. She had kicked off her shoes and was curled up beside him, a nearly untouched glass of wine in one hand. His own glass was still half-full. “Are you tired?” he asked her in a murmur as Poe began bantering with the tipsy dignitary.

“A little.” She leaned away long enough to put down her glass, then reassumed her position against him. “I don’t think either of us have been sleeping well.”

“No.” The others were laughing, conversing loudly enough that Ben and Rey’s murmurs went unnoticed. “Did Padmé visit you?”

“She did.” Rey took his free hand, twining her fingers with his. “We didn’t talk much, but it was nice to just rest in a safe place.” She chuckled. “She braided my hair, too, though I don’t think she included any hidden meanings.”

Ben smiled as he studied her face. She did look tired- and a bit pale, really. “Maybe you should see a medic.”

“It’s just the stress.” She shifted, snuggling closer. “Everything will be better now.”

Ben hummed in acknowledgment, glancing toward the others to see if anyone was paying attention. Only his uncle met his gaze, but Luke turned away with a genial wink. “You don’t-”

He paused, unsure how to say what he wanted to say, and continued silently. I hope Naboo feels like home to you, and soon. But you need to know… I won’t ground you, Rey. She lifted her head, her eyes wide. If you ever want to see the rest of the galaxy, I want you to go.

He had spent years angry over his parents’ inability to stay in the same place as one another, and yet here he was, offering to be left while Rey roamed.

He didn’t want her to leave. He just loved her too much to deny her the option of going.

She frowned, looking reluctant. I don’t want to abandon you.

You wouldn’t be abandoning me. He kissed the fingers tangled with his. And if you go, I’ll wait for you. At home.

She rested her head on his shoulder again. I don’t want to consider it right now. A pause. But thank you. For offering.

Rey fell asleep before too much longer, her hand still loosely clasped in his. While the party continued, it grew less raucous: the dignitaries moved to another part of the room to talk with his uncle and mother; Ruwee continued sipping wine with a satisfied air, discussing Kashyyyk with Chewie and Amilyn; Poe and Finn slumped against each other in the kind of relaxed state that only friendship and alcohol could inspire. They had drawn Ben into a quiet conversation after the group had splintered, relating their plans in a somewhat haphazard way.

“There are six different creches. Six. And the academy.” Finn sighed gustily, making a gesture with his free hand and inadvertently smacking Poe in the shoulder. “Sorry. It’s just, you know, that’s a lot of kids. And we’re only finding the parents of maybe one out of every five, and some of them don’t even want their own kid back.”

“I thought there were only four creches,” Ben replied with a slight shake of his head. He was still nursing the same glass of wine, aware that he would need to carry Rey to bed. “What will you do with all of them?”

Poe and Finn gave him almost identical looks of hells if I know.

“Families are signing up to adopt the babies, but the older kids? People are afraid to look at them.” Poe rolled his eyes. “I’m talking four, five years old. They’re accustomed to a pretty regimented life, but they’re still kids. And the ones older than that- it’s like people think they’re already stormtroopers, just in miniature.”

“Have you considered repurposing the existing buildings?” Ben asked, frowning. “I know they’re probably stark, but…”

“Like kriffing mauso- mausoleums,” Finn muttered, stumbling over the word. “At least the one I grew up in was.”

“That’s probably what we’ll do. Cheaper, and the structures are solid. Maybe we’ll slap some paint on the walls,” Poe added. “Happy yellow, or something.”

“Or something.” Finn shook his head, hiccuping. “Glad Rey’s going with you. She spent a few days helping and it just made her really sad.”

All those stolen or abandoned children… no wonder. Rey sighed in her sleep as if remembering. “I should tuck her in,” Ben murmured, partially to himself, before looking back to Finn and Poe. “You’ll come to Naboo eventually, I hope,” he said quietly.

“Soon.” Poe tossed back the last of his wine. “And often. Ruwee made us promise. Never thought I’d be meeting a Queen.”

“Life is weird,” Finn agreed with drunken gravity.

“You bet, buddy.” Poe- whose tolerance for alcohol was considerably higher than Finn’s- winked at Ben. “See you around, Solo.”

As Poe led Finn away, the latter swaying slightly, Ben turned his attention back to Rey. Easing away from her, he stood and carefully lifted her into his arms, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally startle her awake.

“Ben.” Just a whisper from his mother, who had moved to his side. “Let me help.”

She walked ahead of him, opening the door to the bunk and pulling back the covers on the bed. When Rey immediately rolled onto her stomach after Ben put her down, his mother simply smiled and kissed him on the cheek before leaving, closing the door behind her.

He eased Rey out of her clothes, nearly getting hit in the face with her knee when she rolled over again halfway through the process. She only roused when he slid into bed next to her, the room shrouded in darkness.

“Ben?” She was only partially awake, at best, his name blurred in her mouth.

“I’m here.” He pressed a kiss against the curve of her ear, curling around her from behind. “Go back to sleep.”

“Good.” She sighed, snuggling back into him. “Good.”

Chapter Text

Ben woke in the middle of the night cycle when Rey crawled over him, one of her hands landing lightly on his shoulder as she felt her way along in the dark.

“Do you need some light, sweetheart?” he asked sleepily, sliding his hand along the wall where he thought he remembered some kind of light switch. When he found it after a moment of groping, it activated a small reading light, bathing the bed in a dim golden glow. Rey blinked in the sudden illumination, her leggings in one hand.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” She looked deliciously rumpled as she pulled the leggings on, her hair spilling out of the loosened braid and a crease mark on one cheek. “You can go back to sleep.”

He merely rolled onto his side, watching her with calm satisfaction. His Rey standing close- in real life, instead of a dream- and they had time. “I’ll wait.” She was looking at him as if she were considering the same thought. “I want to hold my desert girl.”

She slipped out of the bunk, a blush on her cheeks. He half-heartedly considered checking the chrono, but only for a moment. They had nowhere to go, and if they overslept- well, Ruwee would tease, but that would be the worst of it.

Though Ruwee would probably tease anyway, so there was something to be said for taking advantage of their very comfortable bed for as long as possible. This mid-cycle hour was the first time that Ben had been alone with Rey in weeks, and he was inclined to take advantage of it, even if that only meant a quiet conversation.

Though he wouldn’t mind a kiss. The one they had shared after the trial had been wonderful, but he would welcome the chance to kiss her without having to worry about where he put his hands, or what strangers (or, Maker forbid, his mother) would have to say after the fact.

Rey reappeared after a few more minutes, padding almost silently across the metal floor on bare feet. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she murmured after closing the door. Without pulling off her leggings she crawled over him to her former spot, curling up with a yawn in the mussed sheets she had left behind. “I probably missed most of the party.”

“You needed the rest.” He moved closer, curving an arm around her. “You’ll be seeing all of them again.”

She smiled, lifting a hand to rest it against his cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” Her thumb caressed his lower lip, then the upper. “I’ve missed this mouth.”

He grinned slowly. “Because of what I can do with it?”

“No- well,” she amended with a blush, “yes. But I also like looking at it. I love looking at you.”

He licked the pad of her thumb, making her giggle. “You like what you see, huh?”

“I love what I see.” Her hand glided down his neck to his chest, her still damp thumb brushing over one nipple. “Maybe I’d like to see a little more.”

“Only if I get to see a little more.” He hooked his fingers in her leggings, tugging them down her hips. He pulled his hands away when the material was bunched around her knees, closing the slight gap between them. “I think you’re beautiful,” he murmured, the tip of his nose brushing against hers. “I love what I see, too.”

She curved a hand over his shoulder, her tongue darting out to moisten her lower lip. “If I had been looking for a partner on Jakku, and you had been there, I would have chosen you,” she admitted in a whisper. “Force or no Force.”

That confession inspired him to kiss the tip of her nose. “Because you like the way I look?”

She was blushing, the color creeping across her face and the top of her chest. “That, and… you would never betray me, but you’re so tall and strong that you would intimidate anyone who wanted to steal our haul.”

“We would run that desert,” he said with a sly grin, slipping his hand under the hem of her camisole. “Would you let me fuck you in our converted AT-AT at the end of a long day?” he asked in a low murmur, enjoying the way she trembled at the sound of his voice, at the way his fingertips grazed her skin. “Keep you warm at night?”

“Yes.” She licked her lips again, her breath short. “You could do that now, too.”

He grasped the material bunched at her knees and pushed it further down, turning his attention to her camisole as she finished the job, kicking the leggings down to the foot of the bed.

She gasped when he nuzzled her bare breasts, and shivered when his tongue flicked against a nipple. “I really love that mouth,” she said, the words coming slow and halting as she tangled one hand in his hair.

He loved having his mouth on her- any part of her- but he never had gotten that kiss. Her grumble when he abandoned her breasts was short-lived, replaced by her moan of approval when his lips slanted over hers.

We have to be quiet, he teased, gentling his touch on one breast when she flinched slightly, a sense of oversensitivity creeping over the bond. We have neighbors.

Rey didn’t respond, seeming too distracted with kissing him to bother with concerns about neighbors. She kissed like she was savoring him; as if she had been starving for this one moment for the entirety of their separation. She did push her approval along the bond when he slipped his hand inside her underwear, spreading her legs to ease his path.

Rey whimpered when he slid a finger inside of her, and glared when he broke the kiss. “Don’t stop.”

“You don’t want my mouth anywhere else?” he asked, his tone light but his question serious.

“I want you to kiss me.” She shifted her hips against his hand, but pointed at her mouth. “Here.”

He obliged her with slow, deep kisses even as he slipped a second finger inside, stroking her clit lightly with his thumb. She whined in the back of her throat when he crooked his fingers forward, one hand grasping his back almost desperately as her other remained tangled in his hair.

Come for me, sweetheart. He nipped her bottom lip, loving the way she squirmed. Quietly.

When she shook apart after several more minutes of his thorough attentions, she muffled her moan against his throat, right over a nascent bruise.

“Can you take a little bit more?” he asked quietly as he curled around her, stroking a hand down her side. She was panting and loose-limbed against the sheets, her eyes half-closed.

“I wouldn’t call it little at all,” she replied with a grin, her voice thick and lazy. “I want a large bit more.”

He ducked his head, almost shaking with laughter. She was amazing. “You relax, then,” he murmured, rolling her onto her stomach.

She pillowed her head on her arms, unworried as he pulled down her damp underwear and tossed it behind him. “Will this work?” she asked curiously, not putting up any resistance when he spread her thighs.

“Books say yes,” he said after a moment, somewhat distracted by the view of her from behind. “You’ll tell me if it’s uncomfortable?”

“Uh-huh.” She snuggled further into the covers, spreading her legs wider. “Go on.”

The noise she made when he first eased in initially made him worry- part of his weight was pinning her down, despite his best efforts otherwise, and maybe he was just too heavy, or maybe it was the angle- but then a burst of surprised pleasure appeared on her end of the bond, and she wriggled her hips back against him.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured as he established a rhythm, almost gasping the words. She moved one hand to fist it in the sheets, and he grinned wolfishly at the sight. “My Rey.” He had to contort himself slightly to nip at her earlobe, but her whimper was worth it. “Is this good?”

Her whine as she tried to roll her hips under his weight- and the growing need on her end of the bond- told him what he needed to know. Slipping a hand under her, he searched until he found her clit. At the first brush of his fingertips, he heard a distinctive my Ben my Ben my Ben from her mind, a chant that spoke clearly of love and longing and utter faith that he would give her exactly what she needed.

“I’ll always give you what you need,” he promised as he continued to thrust, his tone almost a low growl. He brushed a kiss against her temple as he stroked lightly at her clit, her hips grinding down on his hand. “All you have to do is ask.”

And probably not ask, because he would likely spend a good portion of his life looking for ways to make her life better, easier, happier. For the moment all he could focus on was her pleasure, and his, and when she finally moaned his name into the sheets, her hand clenched white-knuckled into the weave, his careful rhythm devolved into sheer, desperate enthusiasm as he chased his own finish.

She didn’t seem to mind that he slumped half over her after his orgasm. Shifting himself even that much had been all he could immediately manage; he had just wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t accidentally suffocate her.

“What other ways did the books teach you?” she asked sleepily, her voice soft.

He blinked, slow on the uptake. All he could see from his angle was her tangled hair and the curve of one ear. “Positions?” he asked, unsure.

“Uh-huh.” They were still joined, and he sensed- somewhat hazily- that she loved the weight of him in her, on her.

He drew a blank, though he knew that was simply because pleasure had temporarily obliterated his cognitive function. “I’ll find them,” he promised instead. “All of them.”

She giggled, her clenched hand relaxing and stretching forward. “Good.” She giggled again, her body relaxed beneath his. “I wasn’t surprised,” she murmured, and yawned lightly. “About what the braid meant. I knew I was… hmm… being claimed.”

She was sleepy again in her post-orgasmic haze, and that satisfied him on a deep level. “Claimed?” he asked, rather enjoying the word.

“As family.” She yawned again. “As yours.” She nudged her foot against his calf. “And you had the same symbol.”

“I did.” He was slightly more alert, if only because this felt like an important conversation. “Claiming me as yours.”

She felt pleased by that. “That’s what marriage is for you, isn’t it?” she asked softly, and while she was definitely sleepy he sensed that she was paying attention. “A claiming?”

He brushed a kiss against the loosened braid in her hair. “And a promise. To love you. To care for you. Both of us, equal.”

He might have come up with a better, more convincing explanation at any other time, but at the current moment all he could grasp were those basic words.

Rey hummed against the sheets, a snatch of binary that he recognized but couldn’t quite translate. When he slipped out of her she almost growled, giving him a half-hearted glare when he rearranged them so that he was on his back and she was tucked against his side.

After a moment her annoyance drained away. “We’ll have time by ourselves?” she asked quietly, her eyelids drifting closed. “More than just a day?”

“Yes.” He would steal the time, if need be. He smoothed a strand of hair back from her face, feeling indescribably tender toward her. “As long as you want, sweetheart.”

She snuggled closer, one of her arms curving over his chest. “My Ben,” she murmured, and was asleep more quickly than he had expected.

He stared at her for a long moment, memorizing the sight of her face, soft with sleep.

And then he turned off the light, lest he wake her back up.

- - -

They did oversleep- by conventional reckoning- but only by a little. Ben woke first, pleased to find Rey curled up under his arm, drooling slightly onto her pillow. The last remnants of her braid were still tangled in her hair- beautiful, warrior, married, the same three- and he wondered if she really would let him try to replicate the pattern at some point.

She stirred, turning onto her stomach and pushing the pillow directly into his face, still very asleep. Repressing his laughter, he propped the pillow against the wall behind him. He might actually have decades of this ahead of him: Rey sleeping directly beside him, thrusting pillows and arms into his face at any given moment.

He couldn’t think of anything better.

Ben waited for a while longer, trailing his fingertips along the line of Rey’s back as she continued to dream- something about green fields- before finally deciding that he might as well wash and dress. He had no idea when they were scheduled to leave, but it was very possible that his mother and uncle would show up at some point for a farewell.

They did, when he was halfway through his first cup of caf, his hair still damp.

“I’ve talked to Ruwee,” his mother said without preamble, smacking a kiss on his cheek. “You’ll be fine.”

Ben raised a brow, having absolutely no idea when his mother might have pulled that off. “Really.”

“You went to bed early,” she replied with a shrug.

His uncle snorted, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Early,” he muttered, amused. “Almost the next standard day, Leia.”

“Ruwee was still awake,” she said airily, looking suspiciously smug.

“You didn’t badger her into anything ridiculous, did you?” Ben asked, almost wishing he had been present to witness the first real conversation between Ruwee Naberrie and Leia Organa Solo. The fact that they had both been under the influence of alcohol had probably made things… interesting.

“I didn’t badger her into anything. I simply asked her plans, and she told me.” She poured herself a cup of caf. “You’ll be pleased, I think.”

His mother’s standards- when she wasn’t at war- were rather high. His were less so after years of living in stark First Order accommodations. “So you’ll have a built-in guest room, I’m guessing?” he asked dryly. “Is there also a formal dining room?”

She merely smirked over her cup of caf, which gave him an awful premonition. “No.”

“Don’t be so surprised.” She raised a brow, Luke hiding a smile. “Why wouldn’t I want my son installed in my mother’s home?”

If his mother said that was Ruwee’s plan, he had no reason to doubt her. In matters like this she was truthful to a fault. “It’s in poor condition,” he said slowly, remembering the state of Varykino. “And technically- if we’re talking about lines of inheritance- it would belong to the two of you.”

Not that he didn’t want Varykino. Once the idea had been floated, he found that he wanted that sprawling house almost unreasonably. If it had been in good shape, it would have been a wonderful place to settle, both for the raising of children and the theoretical care of porgs. It just didn’t seem fair to Rey to drag her out to a crumbling estate with no funds for repair; their own efforts would only go so far.

“Listen to Ruwee before you refuse,” Leia said firmly. “Promise me, Ben.”

He would at least get to see Varykino again, Ben thought longingly. “I’ll let her explain,” he agreed after a moment, wistfully considering the fantasy of relaxing on the restored terrace, Rey on his lap. “But it should be yours. Both of yours.”

“It gets murky,” Luke explained. “Our father basically took the land by force, and he’s still considered a war criminal.” He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Which he was. And as Ruwee explained it, the Queen has legal precedents which allow her to gift the land to someone else.”

“You are in the line of inheritance, and Luke and I have officially ceded our claim.” Leia raised a hand before he could protest. “We don’t need it, Ben. You need a home. You deserve a home, and so does Rey.”

He peered down into his caf, hands curled tightly around the mug. More than anything, he wanted to give Rey a home. “You’ve never even seen it,” he said, a final- if weak- protest.

“We will.” His mother said the words with love, and when he peered up at her through the loose strands of his hair he found that she looked a bit teary. “Even if we end up sleeping on military issue cots, we’re both going to visit, as guests. With your permission, and Rey’s.”

“Guests?”

Rey stood in the doorway, speaking the word as if it were somewhat foreign. There was, however, a smile on her face. “I’d like that.”

She had tugged her leggings back on and layered an oversized sweater over her camisole- one of his, he guessed- but her hair was still mussed and her feet still bare. He thought that she looked adorable. “They want to give us Padmé’s home,” he explained as she settled onto the bench beside him. “Varykino.”

A faint blush crossed her cheeks. That place we dreamed of, once?

Yes.

She looked down, seeming both pleased and slightly embarrassed. “That sounds nice.”

We could have that room, she thought, sounding almost dreamy. With the fireplace.

And with that, Ben’s priorities suddenly shifted, with little actual considered input from him. He would have Rey sleeping in that room within a standard year, if at all possible, and that was that. “We’ll listen to what Ruwee has to say,” he said again, pouring a cup of caf and passing it to Rey, along with a plate of delicate pastries.

His mother had a gentle smile on her face as she regarded Rey, and Ben wondered- for maybe the first time, which made him think that he had always been rather selfish- if she had wanted more than one child. Maybe she had hoped for a daughter, too, and for whatever reason had resigned herself to only having the one son.

She flicked a glance at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, and he sat back, ducking his head. Not everything was his fault, he reminded himself. Whatever had happened when he was a toddler, or a young child- he had been a child, and she had made her own choices. So had his father.

“Do you want me to do your hair?” she asked Rey.

Rey hesitated. “Ben said he would,” she said after a moment, looking uncomfortable until it became clear that his mother loved that answer.

“Good.” Leia patted her hand, smiling. “He needs the practice.”

As Rey nibbled at one of the pastries- an unusual instance of restraint from her- Ben considered his mother and uncle. “You’re both staying on Chandrila for a while, then?”

“Yes.” Leia picked up one of the pastries and tore off one corner, looking a bit irritated. “Until things settle down I need to stay with what remains of the government. The number of senators I could count on to keep calm during negotiations have shrunk over the last few years; it seems mainly the hot-heads survived this mess.”

Ben carefully kept his expression neutral, which became a struggle when his uncle winked conspiratorially at him. “That sounds difficult.”

“It makes everything take twice as long as it should.” She was watching Rey covertly, and only the hint of motherly affection that crossed her face made Ben notice it at all. “I brought some tea for you,” she said, her tone gentling, placing a box on the table and pushing it toward Rey. “Until you figure out what kind of tea you like from Naboo. I seem to recall being very fond of their blends.”

Rey grinned, pink with pleasure. She held her half-eaten pastry in one hand, in a way that only whispered of her usual defensiveness over her food. “Thank you. I’ll miss drinking it with you.”

“We’ll have more evenings like that, and you can introduce me to your favorites.”

They really did love each other, his mother and Rey- and not solely because of him. That was clear as the two women beamed at each other, his mother reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Rey’s ear.

Ben looked toward his uncle, speaking quietly as Rey and his mother continued to converse. “Will you start another school?”

Luke shook his head in a definitive negation, but his expression was kind. “No. I failed too many, including you- and Rey, in a way. For now I’ll stay with Leia and help her in any way I can.” He shrugged, his grin self-deprecating. “For as much as that’s worth.”

“You will come to Naboo?” Ben asked. “I want… I do want us to be close, Uncle Luke. I don’t want you to stay away.”

“I’ll come.” To Ben’s surprise, his uncle brushed a hand over one eye, dashing away a tear. “I want that, too.”

“Good.” Ben looked down at his caf, rather overcome. Slipping a hand over Rey’s knee, he looked up, giving his uncle a quiet smile. “We’ll always have room for you.”

- - -

Ben watched out the window as the ship rose into the air and pulled away from Chandrila. One last glimpse of Hanna City, one last glimpse of his birth planet. Soon- in a matter of days- he would have his last glimpse of space. He would have holos, but holos were never the same as the real thing.

There- the patchwork of city, land and water.

The break of atmo, that burst of light and dark that had always invigorated him.

The clean cold of space, Chandrila gleaming below.

“I’m sorry,” Rey said quietly, sitting on a chair opposite him. “I know you’ll miss this.”

“I will.” He stared out at the glimmer of stars, feeling loss- not the loss of a friend or family, but of something less tangible. “My time with the First Order was not… not enjoyable.” The word was a mere shadow of what he was searching for. “But I always had this- the lure of space. I never admitted it then, but the reason it comforted me so much was because… because I learned to love it from my father.”

She was watching him gravely, and at that she slipped from her chair to the floor, curling up at his feet. She propped her chin on his knee, her arms curved loosely over his thighs. “Will it be enough?” she asked, tension in her features. “Naboo, and- and me?”

He blinked several times in quick succession, unaware that he had led her so far astray. “Just you,” he assured her, bending down to brush his lips against her forehead, stroking his fingertips over the somewhat clumsy braid he had managed to fashion at her right temple. “Even if it were just us on some rickety satellite. You and me on Hoth, or Jakku, or any other planet- you would make it enough.”

She smiled, rising to her knees. “You’re enough for me, Ben,” she whispered, and pulled him into a kiss, soft and gentle.

After a few seconds she pulled back, idly caressing the outside of his thigh. “It helps, doesn’t it?” she asked. “That we always know when we’re telling the truth?”

“It does. Snoke never allowed me to feel certain of anything.” He stroked his thumb over the curve of her cheek, smiling slightly. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I like it.” She wrinkled her nose, her eyes shining up at him. “I’ve rarely felt certain myself- not even of the worth of my haul. Just the sting of sand and the need for water.”

She was brighter than the sun, than the stars, than every promise of power he had ever been given. “You know you’re my water, right?” he asked softly. “My Rey.”

She blushed, but everything he read from her- expression, bond, the look in her eyes- said that she knew.

“My water.” She almost hummed the words, turning her head so that her cheek was pressed against one knee. “My Ben.”

They lingered in their positions, Ben bent over her, his hands curved protectively over her head. “Thank you for staying with me,” he whispered, his breath stirring her hair.

One of her hands slipped up to curve over his wrist. “We stay with each other.” Contentment, there, and more: a sense of safety and love. “I’m not sacrificing anything, Ben. This is what I want.”

On impulse he grabbed her under the arms, dragging her up into his lap as she laughed. “Watch the stars with me, then.” Ignoring his own words, he turned his face into her neck, brushing his lips against her pulse point. “You and me.”

And they did, sitting in pleasant silence for an indeterminate amount of time- maybe an hour, maybe less- until Ruwee appeared.

“I put you both on rotation,” she said, as if that were a completely normal thing to say to someone who was essentially a temporary prisoner. “Do you want to pilot?”

Ben- shocked, and filled with more longing than was really comfortable- found that he couldn’t speak. Rey spoke for them both.

“Yes.” She stood, pulling herself from his arms, and turned to hold out her hand. “Come on,” she said, her voice tugging him to his feet. She grinned, her hand clasping his tightly. “Let’s fly.”

Chapter Text

It had been autumn during their last visit to Naboo. When they returned- Ben’s thoughts still bittersweet from his last sight of space, his last experience guiding a ship through atmo- it was to the first winter snow.

From above Theed still showed signs of recent occupation by the First Order, but once on the ground Ben could see the promise of the beautiful city it had been and would be again. Even the hangars at the palace were marvels of graceful architecture, surrounded by gardens waiting quietly for spring.

“I didn’t have an opportunity to really look last time I was here,” Rey admitted to him as they waited for Ruwee to join them on the tarmac. He wasn’t sure what fascinated Rey more: the gleaming ships that surrounded them, or the sprawl of Theed that lay below, buildings and parks alike softened by the gradual fall of white. “It really is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. “I didn’t pay much attention, either… though that mask never lent itself to enjoyment of any kind.”

She moved forward to lean against the low wall, not seeming to mind the snowflakes that landed on her hair and coat. She was quietly content in a way that made him want to keep close, both for the joy of knowing she was happy and in the hope that her contentment might bleed through to him, soothing his raw edges.

Ben couldn’t help but feel guilty that he still felt a kind of ache over his own exile. It was a small grief, really: a very minor personal mourning, one that was steeped in that particular kind of starlight that could only be found in the dark of space. Eventually the grief would fade, he knew, and there would come a time when he only mourned the stars in odd bursts, in quiet pangs after waking from particularly vivid dreams.

And Rey would be there. Rey, and familiar halls, and maybe- he hoped- children to love.

And that, he supposed as he moved to her side, was perhaps why the loss of the stars was a mere ache, instead of a gaping wound.

Ruwee installed them in a palace suite, one so lush that Ben could tell Rey was itching to explore and run her hands over every bit of fabric in the place.

“This isn’t the guest wing,” he noted, trying to hide his smile as Rey unobtrusively trailed her fingertips over a velvet cushion.

“Technically it’s the family wing.” Ruwee said the words in such a matter of fact way that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “But as you might recall, the usual guest wing is still being rebuilt.”

Ben allowed himself one small, teasing smirk. “It’s much nicer than my last set of rooms.”

“Well, we like you better now,” Ruwee replied airily.

Rey peeked into the adjoining room, and he received a brief image of a large bed with an abundance of pillows, covered by a heavily embroidered counterpane. I’ve never seen such a big bed, she thought, fascination in her mind. I’ve never seen anything like this.

Ruwee pulled a datapad from her bag. “I know I made you wait, but I wanted privacy. Hard to really have that on a ship.”

Rey moved to sit beside him. “Is this about Varykino?”

“In part.” Ruwee tapped at the screen, pulling up a document. “It has to do with Padmé’s trust.”

Ben heard the words; saw the confused look on Rey’s face. “What trust?” he asked slowly, wondering just how many other secrets his grandmother had up her sleeve.

Ruwee raised a brow. “She died a relatively wealthy woman, and her will stated that her money should be tied up in a family trust if she died without issue.” Her lips quirked up in a slight grin. “And as far as anyone knew, she did.”

“They signed it away,” Ben said numbly, remembering his conversation with his mother and uncle. Rey was simply watching them both with quiet interest, waiting for the point of the story.

“Stop jumping ahead.” Ruwee gave him a look that managed to be both scolding and sympathetic. “One of Padmé’s aunts was the first trustee. She specialized in financial management and made several sound investments. Family history says that she had an uncanny gift for that kind of thing.”

“Force sensitivity,” Ben murmured without really thinking about it, and Ruwee shrugged.

“Family lore is more romantic than that, but basically. The current trustee is one of my cousins, who is equally skilled in that field.” Ruwee passed him the datapad. “Now, we have used some of the money,” she continued as he stared in disbelief at the number in front of his eyes. “Emergencies, mainly. But the trust has continued to grow, nonetheless.”

Ben passed Rey the datapad, having no idea what to say. Rey looked at the number, then back up at him. “That looks like a large number,” she said quietly, and he sensed an undercurrent of uncertainty in her words. “Is it… is it as large as it looks?”

“On a planet like Naboo, this kind of money will keep your children’s children well-fed and comfortable, even if you never work a day in your lives,” Ruwee replied, her voice equally quiet. “And yes, Ben- your mother and uncle signed it away.”

Surprisingly, it was Rey who stood and walked away, disappearing into the bedroom. Ben sat frozen on the couch, wanting to follow but knowing he couldn’t simply leave Ruwee without a word.

“It’s a lot, I know.” Ruwee could clearly tell just how shocked he was and refrained from teasing him, for which he was grateful. “Rey’s taking it worse than you.”

It had been Ruwee’s words, Ben was certain: the promise that their children and grandchildren would never suffer hunger. “She’s overwhelmed.”

“It’s an overwhelming amount of money.”

Ben picked up the abandoned datapad and took another hard look at the number. “It feels like we’re stealing your family’s safety net.”

“You aren’t,” she replied with a shake of her head. “We have plenty of resources, financial and otherwise.”

“And everyone in your family is fine with me laying claim to this?”

She hesitated. “No,” she admitted after a moment. “Just like any other family, we disagree. That being said, even the angriest- and they are in the minority- begrudgingly admit that legally, the trust belongs to you.”

“Better than I expected, really,” he muttered, placing the datapad carefully on the table between them. “And the trustee? How do they feel?”

“He’s currently neutral on you,” Ruwee said, her tone almost encouraging. “Prove to him that you won’t be squandering funds on every self-indulgent frivolity that crosses your path and he’ll like you just fine. And you could take his place, if you want- it’s within your rights.”

Ben smiled slightly. “Not right now. Maybe never.” He glanced toward the bedroom door, feeling the tumultuous uncertainty of Rey’s thoughts. “We don’t have to see the Queen today, do we?”

“She’s on the other side of the planet, holding diplomatic talks with the Gungans. She won’t be back for a while.” Ruwee slid the datapad back into her bag, standing. “I transferred all of the documents to your datapad while we were landing. They’ll put you to sleep, at least.”

He stood. “Thank you.” Politeness dictated that he remain with Ruwee until she left, but still he shifted his weight, edging slightly toward the bedroom door.

“Ben,” she said, the empathy in her voice fixing him in place. “You both need to settle. Emotionally, and physically.” Her smile was bittersweet: the smile of someone who had lived to see the end of a war, and still keenly felt the loss that had accompanied it. “Take Rey to Varykino. It needs work, but it’s ready to be a home again.”

“I promised to help,” he said quietly, and she nodded.

“And you will, but not until you’re ready.”

He looked down at his hands, caught by the idea. “I can’t remember the last time I had more than a few hours to myself,” he admitted in a low voice.

“Even I got a furlough occasionally.” She took a step closer, her hand landing lightly on his shoulder. “We’ll still need you in the spring,” she promised. “Rey, too, if she wants the work. Take a season to rest. And really,” she added, “Varykino will keep you busy for a while. Winter is setting in. Unless you like sleeping in drafty rooms with ceilings that leak- and Naboo winters do get very cold, in the lake country- you’ll need to pay professionals to fix the worst of the damage, and soon.”

Ben nodded, slowly. “I know. I need to talk to Rey, but- but maybe you could recommend a few people?”

“I’ll send you a list.” She patted his arm, her smile gentling. “Welcome home, Ben.”

He did like that word. Home. “Thank you, Ruwee.”

Ben slipped into the bedroom before the door had completely closed behind her, and he found Rey perched on the side of the bed, looking contemplative. “I can’t even comprehend that much money,” she said before he could speak. “I don’t even know what things cost.”

“I barely know what anything costs on Naboo,” he replied, sitting beside her. “We’ll both learn.”

“What if I accidentally waste it?” she asked in a whisper, and he was startled to see the glint of tears in her eyes. “What if… what if our grandchildren starve because I overpay everyone?”

“They won’t.” The thought of Rey worrying over every cent for the rest of their lives made him want to panic. He could easily see her mending her own clothing until it was threadbare, even as she made sure everyone else was warmly dressed. “No one is going to starve, Rey.”

She looked around the room, her earlier delight replaced by something close to wariness. “It’s ridiculous,” she muttered. “When I was a child I used to play a game with a few of the other children- what we would do if we found an amazing haul and suddenly became rich… Jakku rich,” she amended with a quiet laugh. “But we all knew it was a game; that most of us would starve first.” She paused. “The closest I ever came to that haul was when Plutt offered to buy BB-8.”

He skimmed his fingertips over her hair, the curve of her cheek. “I’m honored to be your mythical haul,” he said, trying for a joke, and to his relief she actually laughed.

“I was expecting it to be sharper, more angular- more like an intact hyperdrive engine.” She tapped his bottom lip with her index finger. “Not so tall and handsome.” She considered him carefully. “You’re worried.”

“I’m worried that you won’t use the money for your own comfort.” He didn’t shy away from her gaze. “It’s not a crime to use money to be comfortable. I would hate to see you stint yourself on food, or warm clothing, or firewood because you were worried about two generations down the road.” He gave her a small smile. “Or holos, good tools, and the occasional frivolous item. I’d like to spoil you, at least a little.”

She seemed unsure how to take that. “I’m not even sure what a little bit of spoiling would be.”

“Maybe, for a while, we set a price limit. If either of us wants to spend above that limit, we have to discuss it.” She still looked doubtful. “And we’ll find a teacher, for both of us.” He curved his hand over her knee, idly stroking the soft material of her trousers. “I’ve never had to deal with anything like this, either. And you- Rey, you’re incredibly smart.” He shook his head when she looked ready to argue. “You’re an amazing, gifted mechanic,” he said. “You’ve taught yourself more languages than my mother and I know combined. You’re entirely capable of learning about the care and keeping of money.”

She drew in a slow breath, closing her eyes. She felt conflicted, as if he were tempting her with something desired but too good to be true. There was a flash of imagery along the bond: Rey sitting cross-legged on the dream bed from Varykino, plump fruit in her hand and a plush blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He had a sense that it was the most decadent thing she could think of. “I want to learn.”

“Then we’ll find a teacher.” He brushed a kiss against her cheek, then a second at the corner of her mouth. “For both of us.”

She nodded, the movement slight. “It won’t be easy for me,” she warned, and he knew that she was making a concession out of love- a hard one, given her upbringing.

“I know.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, nuzzling his nose in her hair. “We’ll take it slow. We will, however, need to spend money on Varykino. Our children won’t thank us if the ceilings crumble into their soup.”

She half-laughed, half-sighed. “It will cost a lot of money, won’t it?”

“Probably. Try not to think about it.” She still seemed off- guilty, almost. “What’s wrong?”

Rey pulled one of the decorative pillows onto her lap, pointing at a patch of embroidery with several puckered threads. “I was stroking the fabric and the thread caught on my callouses.”

He threw the pillow onto the floor after a moment of thought. “Not the first.” He folded his hand around one of hers, caressing those same callouses with his thumb. “Or the last.”

“I’m worried I might accidentally break something.”

“You won’t.” He stood, moving in front of her to pull off her boots. “But if you’re really worried, you could just stay on this very large bed. It looks safe enough, if we clear off all the embroidery.”

“And you’ll stay with me?” she asked, a slight smile curling her lips. “What a kind, thoughtful haul I managed to find.”

“I’m really enjoying being scavenged,” he replied, pulling off his own boots. She began to toss decorative pillows to the floor, holding each carefully by the corner, and then together they folded away the embroidered counterpane.

Rey lay back amidst the plainer pillows and sheets as he crawled up her body, waiting until he was hovering over her to speak. “Could we… do we have to stay here long?”

“Just the night.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Tomorrow… we could go home.” He met her eyes, a silent question in his.

“I’d like to go home,” she replied, her voice soft. She lifted one hand and ran it over his hair, her fingertips briefly lingering on the back of his neck.

And then she surged up, using surprise and her weight to flip him onto his back. Rey straddled his hips, her hands on his shoulders. “For tonight, could we just be Rey and Ben?” she asked. “No more talk of money. Just us.”

He reached up to caress her face, content to rest peacefully beneath her. “Of course.”

She nodded, looking relieved. “I’m not afraid,” she murmured. “I’m just… for so long it was just me, and I had nothing. And now I’m part of something so much bigger- something that I’ll help make. Something I’ll help shape, and preserve. Scavengers don’t leave legacies… not good ones, anyway.”

“You’re going to leave a good one. And there might come a day when your Force ghost talks some sense into one of your descendants.” He idly ran the back of his hand across her stomach, curving his other around her hip. “You could tag-team with Padmé.”

“Not with you?” She gave him a curious look. “You don’t think someone might want to learn some gentle wisdom from their ancestor Ben?”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Gentle.”

“You are,” she protested. “Gentle with me. Gentle with your mother. With your uncle, with Chewie. Snoke never could turn you, not completely- you don’t have the heart for the dark, Ben.”

“Come here.” She let him draw her down until she was sprawled over his body, her head resting on his shoulder. “I will haunt the kriff out of anyone you tell me to haunt,” he promised solemnly, and she burst out laughing.

“You will, huh?” she said as soon as her laughter allowed, the words tumbling out even as her body still quivered.

“Yes.” He brushed his fingertips over the braid on her right temple- still clumsy, but better than his first try, or his second. “Be thinking on that.”

A snatch of hummed binary, but a pleased one. “I just want to lie here for a while,” she whispered against his neck. “But Ben?”

He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying her weight on top of him. “Hmm?”

“I’m going to be on top tonight.”

Ben grinned, and turned his head to brush his lips against her hair. “Good.”

- - -

At first he was alone in the meadow, where he lay on his back, staring up at a dawn-streaked sky. He wasn’t worried about being alone- Padmé was around somewhere; he was just early, if that was even a thing in dreams.

“Welcome home,” she said when she did appear, sitting beside him on the grass in her accustomed billow of saffron skirts.

“Where have you been?” he asked in reply, his tone more teasing than anything else. He was curious about her extended absence, but it hadn’t felt like a betrayal.

“You had other things to do in the middle of the night,” she replied, clearly repressing a smile. “Do you ever let poor Rey sleep?”

He threw a flower at her, not caring that he was blushing. “Someone once told me that I’m a passionate man who just needed a healthier outlet than doom and gloom. I’m simply following up on good advice.”

She laughed, delighted. “How diligent of you.” The flower had landed in the folds of her skirt, and she began twirling it between her fingers. “I’m so happy to have you safe, Ben. And home- well, my home. I hope it does become your home, someday.”

“I think it will.” He was still on his back, one arm under his head, content to lie under a pink-gilded sky in the still of a cool morning. “Was this your plan, from the beginning?”

“No,” she admitted easily. “My only goal was your safety and happiness, and at first I wasn’t even sure I could get you that. I didn’t allow myself to hope for all this.” She grinned as she tossed the flower up into the air, watching as it fell back to her skirt. “I’ll admit, Rey is my favorite part.”

“Mine, too.” He glanced around them, noticing for the first time that they were surrounded by gingerbells. “Thank you for visiting her.”

“I like talking with her. She has a very interesting outlook on things, one that will do our family good. And-”

She paused, her smile turning almost sad. “It’s nice to mother her a little,” she confessed. “She doesn’t seem to mind.”

“She probably likes it.” The longer Ben knew Rey, the more she seemed to open herself up to being loved, and not just by him. “Rey will tell you if she minds.”

“You’re right about that,” she replied, amused, then shot him a questioning glance. “And do you mind? About Anakin?”

He frowned slightly at the subject change, but shook his head. “No. I’ve just emulated a twisted version of him for so long that I have no idea how to treat him, now. I’m almost afraid to speak with him, really- afraid he’ll become the false version again, and I’ll backslide.”

“I think you know your own mind well enough at this point to keep that from happening.”

“I hope so.” He glanced at her. “Will you come with him? If I wanted to talk?”

“Yes. And I don’t mind, Ben.” She smiled. “I’ve brokered more than a few peace treaties in my day. Acting as intermediary between you and Anakin would be a pleasure, not a duty.”

Ben sat up, wrapping his arms loosely around his knees. “Am I really like him?” he asked curiously. “For years- since I was a child- people compared me to my grandfather.” Snoke. His parents. Luke. “Am I like Anakin?”

She leaned back on her hands, her posture less than perfect as she thought. “Yes and no,” she said after a moment. “Your passionate nature- your need to act immediately and decisively, and perhaps a bit rashly- that’s very Anakin. But your quiet, introspective side- no.” She smiled slightly, shaking her head. “Anakin always chafed at staying still, at the softer arts. Maybe that was his upbringing, maybe not.”

“Would that have been from you?”

“Some, maybe. More from your father, because Han Solo had a gentle heart hidden under all that bluster. And some of it is just you.” She tilted her head to the side, watching as he absorbed her words. The pain Ben felt at the mention of his father was duller than it had been: loss had settled into something closer to loving remembrance. “There is something to the idea of family traits,” she said, the look on her face indicating that she wanted him to listen. “But you’re so much more than your family tree, Ben. Whatever you might have taken from all of us, so much more of yourself is just you.”

“Good and bad,” he mused, plucking a flower. “I’ve never… I’ve never thought beyond the family.”

“With a family like ours, and with someone like Snoke in your head, I can understand why.” She was still leaning casually back on her hands, but her expression was grave. “Some legacies are heavier than they need to be.”

He studied the flower, but his mind was elsewhere. “Does it need to be?” he asked, the question coming out slowly as he thought of his own potential children. “Does it have to be?”

“I think you’re going to find out.” When he looked to her he found she was watching him fondly. “You understand, on a very personal level, just how devastating a legacy can be. Rey never had to worry about family legacies, but the lack is its own weight, for her.” She sat up, leaning toward him. “There are no perfect parents,” she told him, “but I think you’ll both be loving and thoughtful ones.”

He smiled at the bloom- a tiny, quiet smile, just for himself. “I hope so.”

“Go and nest, Ben.” Her grin, when he looked back up, was knowing in that very Padmé kind of way. “Restore Varykino. Talk to an ornithologist about your birds. Figure out what you want to do with yourself.”

“You’re the second person to ever bring that up,” he noted with mild amusement. “The radical notion that I might plot my own future.”

“Rey’s very perceptive- but then, her own future was once rote and proscribed. She’s still figuring out her path, too. Though,” Padmé added, “she’s definitely figured out part of it. A very important part.”

“My favorite part.” Ben lay back in the grass, turning his attention again to the sky. Still gold and pink, with just a hint of burgeoning blue. “I’m happy- I’m very happy- to be here.”

“Good.” She plucked a handful of flowers and began plaiting the stems, clearly satisfied. “Good.”

- - -

Borrowing a landspeeder from Ruwee had been easy. Too easy, really, as had been acquiring supplies for what would essentially be an extended camp-out.

“You planned for this,” he said, mildly accusing.

“I suspected you wouldn’t want to hang around the palace indefinitely,” Ruwee replied dryly. “Unless you’re harboring hopes of becoming a courtier, in which case you’ll need a different wardrobe.”

“No,” Rey muttered under her breath as she packed another bag into the rear compartment.

Ruwee was right, but Ben was willing to tease. “I’d like to see you in some of those court dresses,” he told Rey, leaning against the speeder. Or just the jewelry.

She shot him a look that was both somewhat annoyed and, perhaps, intrigued in a confused way. What good would that do?

A pity that his promise to be careful with their funds would keep him from giving her a demonstration. “We’ll be back eventually,” he told Ruwee, his eyes still on Rey.

“I know,” Ruwee replied, quirking a smile. “Have a safe trip.”

It was early enough in winter than only a light layer of snow lay on the ground. “I’m looking forward to seeing how seasons change,” Rey said from the passenger seat, her nose almost pressed to the window on her side. “Jakku never changed. The idea of the landscape changing… I almost can’t imagine it.”

“I haven’t lived in a place with seasons- or natural atmosphere- in years. Not since the academy.” He glanced quickly in her direction. “You’ll like it,” he said quietly, imagining her in spring. “Naboo’s seasons are supposed to be picturesque.”

“I like winter,” she replied, turning to look at him. “I can feel it through the Force: the way the land sleeps peacefully, waiting to bloom again in the spring. It seems like-”

She paused, her gaze seeming to turn inward. “It feels right, that we would come to Varykino now,” she said eventually. “To rest with the land.”

“And bloom in the spring?” he finished, liking her analogy. “You’re right.”

He had to wake her from a doze when they arrived, and for a moment her sleepy eyes merely stared at the edifice in front of them. “That’s Varykino?” she asked, and what he felt from the bond was a kind of wonder, almost as if she thought she might still be dreaming.

“Yes.” He had barely spared the building a glance; the look on her face was far more fascinating. “Do you want to see the inside?”

She took a moment to respond. “Yes.” Rey met his gaze, looking faintly stunned. “This is Varykino?”

“I thought you saw my memories of my visit.” He exited the speeder, meeting her in front. “What did you see?”

“I saw this, but smaller. But you were panicked. Your perspective must have been skewed.” She wrinkled her nose, the facial cue for once not paired with a smile. “What do we do with this much room?”

“Have a large family,” he said as casually as possible, grinning when her elbow dug into his side. “Refurbish a number of guest rooms. Breed porgs, if we get permission. Would you like a workshop? I think you can have a very large workshop.”

“I’ve never seen a building this large meant for just one family.” She shook her head, taking slow steps forward. “I’ve scavenged from smaller Star Destroyers.”

He shortened his steps for her, lingering with each foot-fall. “Now you can scavenge this. Make the best of every part.”

She paused in front of the door, brushing her fingertips over the wall beside. “I’ve never seen stone like this,” she whispered. “So smooth… you can’t even see chisel marks.” Rey lifted her gaze to his again, her eyes wide. “This is really ours?”

“Yes.” The door, unlocked for years, opened easily under his hand. Before she could move he swept her up- like he had on Takodana, like he had on Crait- thinking only that brides deserved to be carried over the threshold of their new home. That she wasn’t technically his bride meant little; she still wore a braid with the ‘married’ symbol, and she knew exactly what it meant.

She made no protest; merely slid an arm around his neck and settled peaceably into his arms. “Show me,” she said, pressing a kiss against his jaw.

Brides had likely been carried into worse sights, over the course of history, but Ben was hard-pressed to come up with a precedent as he took in the long abandoned hall in front of them, floor creaking underfoot and burn marks carved into the walls.

Rey, though- Rey stared at their surroundings, undeniable interest flaring in her mind. “Ben,” she murmured, her arm tightening around his neck as she leaned in to brush her lips against his pulse point. “Put me down.”

He did so, and followed as she traversed the corridors, poking her head in various rooms until they finally ended up on the terrace. She stopped near the balustrade, her eyes on the landscape beyond.

When she finally turned to face him, it was with a smile that nearly stole the breath from his lungs. “We’re going to bloom here,” she said with certainty.

“Are we?” he asked, relaxing. He moved toward her- his desert girl, her hair dusted with snow. “Ah yes,” he murmured, intentionally dipping his voice low as he wrapped his arms around her, a sly smile curving his lips at her reaction. “We are.”

Chapter Text

“I want to have you in every room of this house.”

Rey- who had been peering curiously at the carved mantel around the dining room fireplace- turned with a grin. “That’s a lot of rooms,” she commented, leaning back against the wall. “Could we save the terrace for next summer? Do we need to make a list and check them off, one by one?”

He couldn’t help but smile at that as he moved closer, placing his hands on the wall to either side of her head. “If we accidentally check off a few rooms twice, that’s fine with me.”

“How thorough,” she teased, hooking her fingers in the collar of his tunic. “Are you going to teach me to swim in that lake, next summer?”

“Yes.” She was enjoying being crowded, at the moment- he could feel it along the bond just as he could see it on her face- and she simply continued smiling as he bent closer, pressing his forehead against hers. “And then I’m going to make love to you on the lake shore.”

“I’m going to hold you to that promise. But for now…”

Her lips were cool and chapped against his- it was cold in the house, a situation they needed to remedy- but eager. “We need to figure out where we’re sleeping,” she murmured against his mouth. “And I want to be fed.”

He laughed quietly before kissing her again, lingeringly. “Come on, then,” he said after stepping back, taking her hand to tug her after him. “I have an idea.”

There was a small parlor on the first floor, one that- to Ben’s eyes- looked like an informal family room. Little furniture remained, but heavy, dusty curtains kept out the worst of the drafts and there was a fireplace. “It’s safe,” he said with relief as he examined it, using the Force to search the length of the flue and chimney. “Clear- no nests, no blockages.”

“What a domestic use for the Force.” She moved beside him, laying a hand against the wall as she attempted the same. “You’re right. What a bit of luck.”

“We’ll stay warm, at least. I think I saw firewood in the kitchen last time I was here- hopefully it’s still dry.”

It was, and soon they had a fire burning on the hearth, lending warmth and a cheery glow to the room as the shadows grew outside. As Rey pushed what furniture there was up against the wall, Ben swept years worth of dust from the floor out into the hall.

“We can clean,” Rey mused as she set up their bed. “We can paint. I’ve repaired plumbing in the past, and wiring- in ships, at least. I have no idea what to do with wood or stone.”

“Me neither.” Ben looked up from the camp stove he knelt beside, glancing around the room. “Or glass, for that matter.”

“I’ll admit, until I actually saw the place I thought that maybe we could do everything by ourselves.” She shot him a dryly amused look, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve reconsidered.”

“We need experts,” he agreed, and considered his next words. “I know you’re worried about spending too much money,” he said after a moment. “When I was a kid, my father always wanted to personally fix every problem that popped up wherever we might be living. He wasn’t that good at it,” he added with a fond smile. “At least not at the kind of things that weren’t similar to what he might do on the Falcon. It drove Mom crazy, to have half-finished projects around the house. At one point- after calling a plumber to fix a leak he managed to make worse- she sat me down and said that she was going to give me a piece of very valuable marital advice.”

Rey muffled a laugh behind her hand, and he caught from her an imagined vision of his mother, exasperated and frazzled. “That was basically how she looked,” he admitted. “She told me that I should never let my pride keep me from hiring a professional, because plumbers needed to be able to buy food and pay rent just as much as anyone else.”

“I understand the lesson.” Rey sat on the bed, her chin in her hand, looking as if she were working through a problem in her mind. “Jakku was similar, on a smaller scale… but with more bartering.” She didn’t seem offended by his words at all, which was a relief. “I do want to be someone who can pay others fairly,” she said after a moment of further thought. “And now that I think on it… I’m a little ashamed that my first instinct was ‘what if I pay someone too much’.” She smiled self-consciously. “Now I worry about paying too little.”

“Neither of us would do that intentionally,” he assured her, leaving the camp stove behind to move to her side. “We have Ruwee. If we ask her, she’ll make sure we’re paying people fairly.”

“I think I was more comfortable being poor,” she muttered as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I understand poverty.”

He looked down at her, tracing the line of her braid with his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately, picking her head up to meet his gaze. “Of course, Ben.”

“We need to spend the money,” he said frankly. “This place has been neglected for too long. A few more years and it might not be safe to live here, let alone raise a family. Eventually we’ll learn the skills we need to do most of the repairs by ourselves, but the major work? We’re not equipped to do that.”

“I know.” She glanced up toward the ceiling. “I trust you, Ben,” she continued, her voice soft. “And I trust Ruwee. You’re right- she wouldn’t lead us astray.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her gently as the shadows in the room grew. “I know it’s new and strange,” he murmured against her hair. “But let me take care of you… at least a little bit.”

“A little bit,” she agreed, leaning against him. “Apparently I like that.” Rey spoke the words as if she still found the concept faintly surprising.

“You take care of me,” he said in gentle retort, tickling her side lightly.

“Do I?” she asked, wrinkling her brow. “I’m not sure.”

“You saved my life. You keep me grounded. You love me, even when I’m being a nerf-herder.” He nuzzled his nose against her hair, happier in that shabby room with her than he would be in any number of palaces alone. “And you’re going to keep me from spending a fortune on the jewelry you deserve to wear. Which is a pity, really.”

“I don’t need jewelry. I’d worry about losing it, anyway.” A pause. “Will you teach me to braid your hair? The special patterns?”

He wrapped himself around her, grinning as she laughed at his sudden attack of affection. “Every pattern I can remember. Even the insulting ones.”

She slid her arms around his waist, tucking herself closer. “You can insult people with a braid?”

“You can declare war with a braid. I’ll teach you, as long as you promise never to wear those to court.” He slid one hand under her shirt, smirking at the hitch in her breath. “Not that anyone would understand. But just in case.”

With a laugh she slithered out of his grasp. “Feed me,” she said with a grin as she evaded his hands. “Feed me and we check off this room.”

And she made good on her promise, by pinning his unresisting body down to their makeshift bed and riding him in front of the flickering fire.

“I love you,” he grunted as he planted his feet on the blankets and thrust up, his hands secure on her hips. “Let me dress you in silk.”

“No,” she said firmly, though her voice verged on unsteady, her fingers plucking at his nipples. “Definitely not.”

“Rey.”

“No jewelry,” she added, swiveling her hips. “But… a roof,” she said with a gasp. “A roof, and… and…”

“Mosaics?”

“What?” She blinked down at him, her pupils blown and her color high.

“Part of the house,” he replied with a roguish grin, and she nodded.

“Right.”

“New sheets,” he continued, rubbing his thumb around her clit, never actually touching it. “Soft blankets. Fluffy towels.”

She glared, the expression lacking any true heat. “Nerf-herder.”

“You know worse insults,” he shot back affectionately, rolling her under him in one swift movement. He nipped at her neck as he continued to thrust, gasping at the roll of her hips. “My lovely Rey.”

They didn’t speak again- at least not in complete sentences- until after they were both replete and panting.

“Sheets and things are in the budget?” she asked, trailing one hand lazily up and down his back.

“Yes.” He pressed a gentle kiss against her hair. “I promise.”

“Okay.” For the space of a minute she simply breathed softly under him, radiating contentment. And then: “What’s a mosaic?”

Ben rolled to his side, pulling her with him. “There’s one upstairs,” he murmured. “I’ll show you tomorrow.”

And he did.

- - -

Rey bent her attentions to the furnace, which she successfully fixed, and the kitchen stove, which flummoxed her.

“This should not be so complicated,” she complained to Ben roughly a week after they had moved in, the sound of construction muffled above them. “It’s just a machine.”

“A very antiquated one,” he offered. “Honestly, Rey, it might be cheaper to replace it than fix it.”

She considered the stove in front of her. “I suppose,” she said after a moment of thought. “But I could pick it apart for scrap.”

“We already agreed that most of the basement is yours,” he replied. The basement- only half underground, which had previously been used both for general storage and the parking of a variety of vehicles- was large enough to house any number of antiquated stoves. “Anything you want to scavenge is yours to scavenge.”

Rey nodded. “I don’t need all of it,” she admitted. “But there are a couple of parts that are useful.”

He settled onto the floor next to her, brushing futilely at the dust on his clothes. “I asked the carpenters to build shelves and worktables for you.” He met her gaze, shrugging self-consciously. “For storage. They’re supposed to talk with you about specifics before they start.”

To his relief she leaned in to kiss him. “I need shelves,” she replied with a smile, looking as if he had given her a gift. “Thank you.”

- - -

Varykino slowly took shape around them. By the time the first major storm of the season hit, heavy swirling snow obliterating the view beyond draft-free windows, the no longer leaking roof was capable of bearing up under the weight of the thickly laying precipitation. Chimneys had been swept, wiring repaired, and the majority of the plumbing had been fixed. There were still issues, and they had little to no furniture in most of the house, but they did have warm rooms and hot running water.

“It’s nice to have the place to ourselves for a few days,” Rey murmured as they watched the fall of snow. Until the weather cleared it would be just them, and Ben hoped that he could convince her to take the time to rest. They had both been working hard over the past weeks, pitching in on repairs as well as scrubbing away accumulated grime and painting freshly de-cobwebbed walls, and Ben was ready for a break.

It was satisfying, Ben admitted to himself as he cuddled her closer on the comfortable if shabby couch. It had been and was deeply satisfying to see Varykino return to a kind of glory, inch by inch and room by room. They would never live in the same high style his grandmother might have known during her days beside the lake, but neither of them wanted that level of formality. Warm and welcoming was what they wanted, and more and more he thought they would actually achieve that goal.

But for now: a few days of rest, just the two of them. “We can check a few more rooms off our list,” he teased, adjusting the blanket that lay over their legs. “I’ve been fantasizing about bending you over that old desk in the library…”

Rey chuckled, poking him gently in the chest with her index finger. “I know. I think you dreamed about it a few nights ago.”

“Spying on my dreams, were you?” He stroked his fingertips down the length of her neck, smiling as she almost purred. “You should have joined me.”

“It just leaked through,” she replied, peering up at him through her lashes. “I think I’m going to let you.”

He hummed against her hair, pleased. “We’ll make time in our busy schedule, then.”

Rey yawned and stretched, then curled back against his side. “I think we should spend some time exploring the attics,” she told him, languidly stroking one of his hands, her fingertips tickling gently against his palm. “We might find some usable furniture up there.”

That actually sounded rather fun, almost like treasure hunting. “Probably a lot of spiders up there,” he replied with a sly grin. “Promise me you’ll stay close.”

She shifted until she was laying down, her head pillowed on the spill of the blanket over his lap. “My hero.” At the first stroke of his hand over her hair she sighed happily, her eyes drifting closed. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agreed, sifting his fingers through her hair. “If you want a nap, we could go upstairs,” he suggested, though he was happy to let her fall asleep on him. He had a datapad within reach, and the idea of a block of concentrated reading time was a pleasant one.

She snorted, her eyes still closed. “I know your version of a nap, Ben Solo,” she said with a small grin. “It involves no clothing and very little sleep.”

“I can be good,” he protested teasingly, beginning to plait the symbols for trickery and desire into her hair. “I can be very good.”

“Later.” She was soft under his hands, all sleepy limbs and slowing breaths. Her hair was glossier, he noted absently as he continued to braid. Fuller, and longer. Beautiful fanned over their pillows or tumbling over her shoulders.

She fell asleep as he braided, a dead visual language passing through his hands until trickery and desire and hope and love gleamed up at him. With nothing to secure the braid on hand he released his light grip on the strands, watching untroubled as it immediately loosened and began to lose its shape.

Years of braids, he thought with satisfaction as he reached for the datapad. Decades of them.

- - -

“Like layers,” Rey said the next day as they worked their way through the attics. “The farther back we go, the more the furniture changes.” She ran her hands over a headboard, raising a cloud of dust. “The shapes, the carving.”

“Each generation must have redecorated.” He pulled a rag from his pocket- one already streaked with dust, but better than nothing- and unveiled more of the carving on the headboard. Flowers, and trees. “What do you think?”

She traced the outline of tree roots, of a stylized river, and a smile appeared on her face. “I think we should haul it downstairs.”

“Float it,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s too heavy for me to lift.”

That was a stretch- and by the wrinkle of her nose she knew it- but she didn’t argue.

They had reclaimed the same bedroom from their dream as soon as it had been repaired. There were other rooms, larger ones, but they both preferred its cozy dimensions and beautiful views. With fresh paint on the walls and refinished floors, it had quickly become one of Ben’s favorite rooms in the house. He slept well there, as did Rey, even if they did so on a mattress on the floor.

(“Not up to our enthusiasm,” Ben had said with dry humor after their one use of the original bed-frame had nearly ended in a disastrous collapse.)

“I wonder if I could learn how to do this,” Ben mused as he rubbed polish into the footboard. He ran his thumb over a delicate trail of ivy, admiring the skilled carving.

“I think so.” Rey looked up from her work on one of the rails, unabashed contentment on her face. “It’s an art like your calligraphy, isn’t it? You should try. You’ve certainly turned out to have a knack for carpentry.”

“Lana’s a good teacher.” The head carpenter was a serious woman who treated wood like it was a living thing and, when she was in the mood, told some of the dirtiest jokes Ben had ever heard. She treated Ben more like an apprentice than her employer, which to his surprise suited him just fine.

Rey nodded in agreement, rubbing polish into the wood in small, concentric circles. “I’ve been thinking,” she said after a moment, her voice calm, “about marriage.”

Ben fumbled his polishing cloth, almost dropping it. “You have?”

“I didn’t have a framework for it, before.” She continued working even as he could only stare, hope stirring inside him. “But I’ve been thinking about us, about what we have… and I’ve been thinking about you.” Rey met his gaze, her hands still moving. “About how much you love words- the way you tell me how much you love me, in bed and out, even when we’re just passing in the hallway. And how much you love symbols, like this,” she said, tapping a finger against her dust-streaked braid. “And I realized… I want to give you those words, too. Those symbols. I want to share them with you.” She carefully laid aside her polishing cloth and rested her hands on her lap. “Will you marry me?” she asked with a smile, each word clear and true.

He banged his knee crawling over the footboard to reach her, covering her smiling mouth with his own as he cupped her beloved face in his hands. “Yes,” he said between kisses.

“Yes,” he said as they each reached to remove or push aside dusty clothing, hands intent yet gentle.

“Yes,” he gasped for the dozenth time as he rocked into her, her arms wrapped securely around him.

“Yes,” he said again after, murmuring the word into her hair.

“Good,” she said with a chuckle, nuzzling her nose against his neck. “I wasn’t sure,” she added teasingly.

“Oh, I’ve been well and truly scavenged, love.” He rolled onto his back on the bare floor, pulling her with him so that she sprawled over his body. “Marry me tomorrow.”

“In the spring,” she replied with a shake of her head. “When our family can come. By then they won’t have to sleep on the floor.” She brushed her fingertips along the line of the scar she had given him, smiling. “I don’t want to sleep on the floor anymore, either. Help me finish this.”

It took the rest of the afternoon, but by the time night fell the bed- solid and gleaming softly- needed only them to complete it.

“Will you let me buy you a ring?” he asked her in a murmur as they curled up under the blankets for the first time, her face illuminated only by the low firelight. He rubbed a strand of her damp hair between his finger and thumb. “Would you wear one?”

“Would you?” she asked in reply, lying on her side facing toward him, one arm tucked up under her pillow.

“Yes.”

“Then I will, too.” She tapped the tip of his nose gently with one finger. “Nothing too extravagant, mind,” she added sternly, though amusement laced her words. “Though perhaps you would like a ring the average ship-dweller can see from space.”

“I’ll wear whatever you give me,” he promised, slipping his arm around her waist. “No matter how gaudy.”

“Sounds like a challenge.” She closed her eyes, clearly ready for sleep. “You smell good.”

He moved a little closer, stroking his hand up and down her back. She had put on needed weight, her ribs no longer as defined under his hand. “So do you.”

“I’m glad we found the bed,” she said with a yawn, her eyes still closed. “It feels right, doesn’t it? It feels meant.”

He understood the exact feeling. “Like it’s been waiting for us in that attic for generations,” he murmured into her hair. “I know.” Ben curled around her, her breath warm against his skin. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”

- - -

At first he thought, on waking, that the odd- if good- note he felt was from the simple joy of sleeping in an actual bed. Or maybe it was the light streaming in and around the gaps in the curtains, too clear and bright for snow to still be falling. Or maybe he was just happy and content to wake up beside his future wife on a winter morning.

All of those things, he thought, his brow wrinkling. But more, too.

Rolling to his side, he peered at Rey as she began to stir.

“Good morning,” she said sleepily, smiling up at him. “You look serious.”

He had a niggling idea of what he might be sensing, and the possibility awed and thrilled him in equal measure. “Do you feel that?” he asked her in a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might chase the notion away.

Rey blinked, frowning as she reached out with her own senses. “What-”

She stopped speaking abruptly, shock replacing her former confusion. “Oh. Oh.”

Gently he spread his hand out on her stomach, feeling a tear slip down his scarred cheek at the faint pulse of indisputable life. “Rey.”

She placed her hand over his, shocked static on her end of the bond.

“I don’t understand how,” she said after a moment, looking befuddled, and glanced toward him when he snickered. “You know what I mean, Ben,” she said as he continued to laugh, her mouth curling into a tiny smile as static cleared into something ebullient. “I have a kriffing implant.”

“Oh, I remember that bit of drama, believe me.” He pressed his face into her hair, pulling himself together as his body and mind threatened to shake apart at the seams with flustered love. Only when he could finally manage a reasonably straight-faced expression did he lift his head with the words, “Obviously, I’m just astoundingly virile.”

He could have easily avoided the pillow she swatted him with, but instead he just collapsed back onto the bed, laughing at her look of amused indignation. Rey pounced on him, tickling the sensitive skin of his stomach mercilessly. “Virile, huh?” she repeated, a giggle slipping in. “Maybe I need a demonstration.”

“Oh, you’re going to get one,” he promised with a laugh, futilely trying to twist away from her hands. “Have mercy, Rey.”

She stopped tickling him, turning thoughtful. He stilled and kept silent, giving her the time she needed to think. “Is it okay that I’m both happy and a little bit scared?” she eventually asked, lying down on top of him and propping her chin on folded hands.

“That’s how I feel, too,” he admitted, stroking her hair. “Very happy. A little bit scared.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Good crying,” she said before he could ask, wiping the backs of her hands across her eyes. “No wonder I’ve been so tired,” she added with a weak laugh. “Oh, Ben.”

“You need to eat,” he murmured, sifting her hair through his fingers. “Let me feed you, sweetheart.” Feed them, Force.

“Soon,” she promised, smiling through her tears as she rolled off of him. She stretched languidly, and while he could still feel shock in her- hells, he was still shocked, in the best way- there was joy there, too. “I want my demonstration first.”

“Right,” he agreed promptly, pulling her into his arms and pressing kisses all over her face as she laughed. “I can’t wait until you’re showing.” He nibbled at her neck, wanting his hands on her everywhere at once. “I’ll have you in bed every chance I get.”

“And that’s different from now how, exactly?” she asked with an arched brow, and he pulled back to give her a wicked grin.

“Wait and see.”

Chapter Text

“I’d rather stay here.” Rey- dressed only in socks and one of his tunics, the hem hitting distractingly at mid-thigh- nibbled at her toast. “We still have another day or two on our own.”

“We’d just be traveling to the nearest city. It’s only an hour.” Ben pushed aside his empty plate and leaned across the kitchen table. Joy was still very present, but it had been joined by concern. Unnecessary concern, according to Rey.

“I’m fine,” she replied with a shrug, and he flicked a doubting glance at her barely touched breakfast. “My stomach’s just off. That’s normal- even I know that.”

“You should still see a medic. You at least need to get that useless implant out.” He stood and moved around the table so that he could kneel beside her chair. “And they could tell us when we might expect to meet this little bloom,” he added, his hand coming to rest over her belly.

She blinked down at him, one corner of her mouth twitching up. “That’s not fair.”

“What?”

“Using that pleading expression against me.” She huffed, but the half-smile remained. “Like I hold everything you want in the palm of my hand.”

“You are everything I want, and you’re carrying something else I want, so you’re not too far off the mark.” He brushed a kiss against her bare knee, beside a fading bruise. “If we leave this morning we’ll be back by mid-afternoon. You can nap in the speeder. We can buy tea for your stomach at the market.”

A considering look appeared on her face, followed by disbelief. “Your mother.”

“We’ll comm her later,” he replied, scooting forward on his knees to press his face against her belly.

“Ben, she knows.” He heard what sounded like toast falling onto a plate, and then a snort of laughter from Rey. “I started feeling sick after you were arrested. She spent most of your imprisonment brewing me anti-nausea tea. I thought it was kriffing stress.”

He stayed where he was, drawn by that tiny little life nestled inside Rey as he took in her words- and laughed. There was nothing to do but laugh. “Is that what she gave you before we left?”

“Yes.” She threaded her fingers through his hair, and he sensed that she felt faintly stunned. “Force.”

Ben slipped his hands under the hem of the tunic she wore, his intentions (for once, he admitted dryly to himself) not to seduce, but just to feel her bare skin under his hands. “Rey,” he breathed, simply for the joy of saying her name. He nuzzled his nose against the fabric covering her stomach, not caring that his knees pressed uncomfortably against the tile. “Rey.”

She was silent for a moment, one hand still in his hair. Finally, fondly: “I’ll go to the medic.”

He couldn’t seem to stop touching her as they made their way upstairs. In the ‘fresher he stroked soapy hands over her skin with reverent care, and he didn’t miss the way her expression softened even as she was largely quiet, her end of the bond a thoughtful murmur.

He braided beloved and cherished and expecting into her hair, and when he was done she caught one of his hands and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I’ve never held a baby,” she admitted, her eyes serious. “What if I’m bad at it? At all of it?”

“You won’t be. We’ll figure it out together.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, brushed his thumb lightly over her earlobe. “We have time to plan.”

She nodded and pressed herself close, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “Do you think they intentionally gave me a faulty implant?” she asked curiously as he returned the embrace.

“Doubtful.” On waking he had been too overjoyed to do more than laugh at the mention of her implant. Several hours removed he grimaced at the memory of her pain, instinctively brushing his hand gently over her arm. “They wouldn’t have wanted me reproducing,” he added in a mutter.

Rey looked up, meeting his gaze. “They did a shoddy job, then,” she replied. “Give me a kiss before you drag me out into the snow.”

Later, he knew, he would be capable of kissing her deeply, lustfully, wildly, but at that moment he could only be gentle. He slanted his mouth over hers, lips clinging softly, loosening his grip on her to something more tender.

“I still expect you to bend me over that desk,” she informed him in a whisper after, her eyes bright, and laughed when he immediately began bundling her into her coat with an air of self-denial.

- - -

“When did you last menstruate?” Preta- the medic on duty- asked briskly, eyes on her datapad. “Bleed,” she clarified after a moment, her tone non-judgmental.

She knew who he was. Ben felt somewhat on edge about that- less because of what she might say to him, and more on the off-chance that she might be unkind to Rey because of the association- but if Preta had a problem with him, she hid it well.

“I’m not sure,” Rey admitted, her brow wrinkling. Bits of memories leaking through to him implied that she had kept tabs on Jakku, but without her ready tally of days she had lost track. “But it’s never been…”

Preta looked up, her expression softening minutely. “Regular? Sometimes that happens- illness, stress, malnutrition. Did anyone ever explain your cycle to you?”

“Yes,” Rey said, almost cagily, and Ben caught a glance of another memory: a careworn human woman of an indeterminate age with a canny smile, offering Rey what looked like a piece of fruit. “Sort of.”

“We could go over it in more detail later.” Preta flicked a glance at him, clearly wondering if Rey would want him in the room for that conversation. “Do you remember how old you were, when you started?”

“Fifteen?” Rey guessed.

Preta nodded, unsurprised, and looked back to the datapad as a soft ding signaled the results of Rey’s blood test. “Congratulations,” she said after a quick scan, and gave them a genuine smile. “You are definitely pregnant- almost three months along, judging by your hormone levels.”

Despite the fact that he could feel the proof of Rey’s state through the Force, Ben still felt a wave of almost giddy relief at the words. A similar rush bubbled along the bond from Rey’s end as she reached out for his hand.

“A summer baby,” Rey said quietly, tilting her head up to look at him with a smile. She was thinking of green grass, of lush flowers, of sunny days.

“You’ll be due sometime around the Festival of Light.” Preta began gathering a small tray of supplies. “Let me remove that implant, and then you’ll be done for the day. I’ll send you home with information on the local birthing centers and midwives; you’ll need to find someone you like soon, so that they can monitor your progress.”

Rey offered her arm without a qualm, her other hand still clasped around his. She didn’t flinch at the prick of the needle, and even watched with interest as Preta removed the small sliver.

Ben also watched, without curiosity.

You’re watching her like a predator watches prey. Rey let her weight rest against him, perfectly calm as Preta began to bandage the small incision.

I wasn’t able to stop the last medic who hurt you. With his chin propped on the top of her head, he had an excellent view of Preta’s admittedly faultless doctoring. I won’t make that mistake again.

Her answer was non-verbal: a quiet flow of warmth and comfort.

“Huh,” Preta murmured when she inspected the implant. She held the sliver up to the light with small tweezers. “This thing is fried,” she said decisively after a moment. She turned her gaze on Rey, brow furrowed. “Have you been electrocuted recently?”

Ben froze, barely breathing, even as Rey repressed a choked laugh. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice odd. “Yes, I was.”

Preta just stared at her- at both of them- for a moment. “Well,” she said, dropping the sliver back onto the tray, “try to avoid that from now on.”

- - -

Rey waited to laugh until they were back in the landspeeder, but when she did it was a wild, loud peal.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Ben said aloud as her laughter died, not expecting any kind of answer and not tempted to laugh himself. “I didn’t even think-”

“Because I was naked,” Rey interrupted, grinning. “You forgot everything because I was naked.”

“You aren’t wrong,” he admitted after a moment of thought, his memory of that particular shower very clear.

“All that trouble to get it, and it wasn’t even working the first time we had sex.” Rey shook her head, her expression closer to mild astonishment than anything else. “I might as well have thrown myself on that bed and begged you for a baby.”

His breath caught in his throat at her words, making him cough. When he could breathe normally again, he asked, undeniably intrigued by the idea, “Could you do that anyway?”

She snorted, ducking her head. “You’d just be disappointed,” she said dryly. “I don’t know how to pretend like that.”

“When have I ever been disappointed in you?” he asked, the question earnest, and leaned closer to her. “How could I?”

She bridged the gap, pulling him into a kiss that ended with a nip to his lower lip. “Will you take me home?” They were almost nose to nose, and she looked soft and serious. “I’m ready to go home.”

He pressed his forehead briefly against hers, overcome. “Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Of course.”

- - -

“What are you thinking about?” Rey asked drowsily late that evening, petting his hair in lazy motions. He was lying half on top of her, his head pillowed on her breasts, and would have been entirely content if it hadn’t been for one niggling thought.

“You wanted to wait,” he murmured against her skin. “When I brought up children, you told me to ask you after the war was over.”

“The war is over.” She yawned, looping her free arm loosely over the back of his neck. “And it’s not like you hit me with Force lightning.”

He blinked several times as he considered that, and she hummed happily at the sweep of his eyelashes against her skin. “I like that,” she said, her voice thick with fatigue. “Can we pull up the blankets?”

Ben shifted off of her, tugging up the blankets to tuck them around her shoulders. “I wanted to wait for when you were ready,” he admitted quietly, curling around her. “I didn’t want to rush you.”

She was watching him from between half-closed eyelids, a tiny smile on her lips. “I don’t feel that rushed,” she replied, her skin warm and soft under his hands. “Surprised is different than rushed. And it felt right, when I first felt that spark.” She patted her hand lightly against his chest. “Us, in this house, in this bed… I told you we were going to bloom, here.”

He ran his fingertips over the wisps of hair framing her face, the sweep of her brows, the curve of her lips. “Now who’s the romantic?” he asked in a murmur as she closed her eyes completely, settling her head on her pillow.

“I told you I wanted to share your love of words, too,” she mumbled, cuddling closer. “You’re rubbing off on me.” He caught a glimpse of a mischievous grin. “In many different ways.”

“Minx.” He murmured the word into her hair, feeling almost too overjoyed to sleep, even in his post-orgasm haze. They would need a cradle- would there be one in the attic? There might be more than one, there might even be one that had once held his grandmother. Or he could build one. Surely if he could build the sturdy tables for Rey’s workshop- under Lana’s watchful eye- he could at least attempt a cradle.

“Your mind is buzzing; all woodwork,” Rey said with a content sigh. “All angles and planes.”

He tamped down his end of the bond, doing his best to mute his own thoughts. “Go to sleep,” he encouraged softly.

I never expected to have you, he thought as Rey breathed slowly and steadily in his arms. Not Rey, not a home, not peace, and definitely not a child. Years of being a weapon, and now he would be a husband, and a father.

He breathed in the scent of Rey’s hair, a gentle blend of herbs and flowers from a market shop. His desert girl, so fierce and ready to protect him, even when they were only uneasy allies. And that little bloom cozy inside of her, with months yet to grow and develop before he or she would finally make their appearance into the world.

A protector. He kissed Rey’s hair as she snuffled quietly against his collarbone. A husband, a father, and a protector.

- - -

“Tell me,” Padmé said before he could speak.

Ben shot her a dryly amused look. “You already know everything,” he teased. “You don’t need me to tell you.”

She straightened from her casual lean against the terrace balustrade, more entertained by his side-step than anything. “Pretend I don’t, grandson.”

“I haven’t even told my own mother yet,” he replied with a raise of his brow. “Is that a new dress?”

It was a gauzy, rainbow-hued affair with absolutely no back and only the pretense of sleeves. Padmé reached out and poked him in the shoulder. “Tell me.”

He smiled down at his hands, shifting his left ring finger slightly. Bare now, but not for long. “Rey asked me to marry her.” That alone still made him want to rejoice, and the buzz would have carried him for days even without the realization of the next morning. He spoke the next words with a widening grin. “And she’s going to have a baby.”

“Ben.” He looked up and found her beaming, radiating absolute joy. “I’m so happy for you. So happy.”

“I’m just… I’m scattered,” he admitted, shaking his head with a laugh. “One moment I’m thinking about cradles, then a nursery, then food for Rey, then the wedding, and Rey is so- she’s so steady. I thought maybe, in a few years, she’d be ready to have a baby… I wasn’t even sure marriage would be a possibility, after our conversation.”

“Her early life never gave her a chance to think about it,” Padmé pointed out. “I dreamed of weddings when I was a girl, but I had more of a childhood than Rey ever had, and I certainly knew more married couples. And you did bring up the topic en route to battling Snoke. She had other things on her mind.”

“My timing was terrible.” He traced a circle on the flawless white stone of the railing, realizing as he did so that he definitely had rings on his mind. “A baby.” He lifted his head, remembering certain things she had said during their last dream. “You told me to nest.”

She grinned in a way that was distinctly victorious. “Being dead has a few advantages.”

“Like snooping.” His glower- which, admittedly, he was too happy to really enforce- barely made her blink.

“Like snooping,” she agreed cheerily. “Though to be fair, Ben, some things I just know.”

Looking at her, it was clear that was the truth. “You know who Rey’s carrying,” he said with certainty, and shook his head before she could answer. “Don’t tell me; I want to be surprised.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling you anything,” she replied, a slight smirk on her face. “That wouldn’t be any fun at all.”

He rolled his eyes and moved the conversation on. “What did you eat? When you were pregnant,” he clarified quickly, though she looked as if she had understood from the start. “Rey’s still so thin, and I don’t think she’s eating enough.”

“Don’t tell her that,” she said immediately, and he nodded his agreement without hesitation. Even admitting his worry had felt like assigning some measure of blame, which wasn’t his intent. “Crackers and tea, or water, until my stomach settled. She’s going to be fine,” Padmé said firmly. “In a few weeks she’ll likely be past this stage and be waking you in the middle of the night needing some strange combination of sweet and savory, and wanting a lot of it.”

“Force, I hope so.”

“Ben.” Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Believe me- everything’s going to be fine.”

“Thank you.” He took in a breath, forcing himself to settle. Those words weren’t an empty promise, but a little peek into whatever glimpse she had been given of the future. “I really, really needed to hear that.”

“I know.” She lifted to her toes and kissed his cheek, barely tall enough to do even that. “And one word of advice, from someone who has been pregnant?” she added after her heels touched the ground again. “For the love of the Maker, don’t treat Rey like she’s delicate, and don’t tell her she isn’t allowed to do something.” Padmé looked mildly disgruntled, as if remembering an annoying memory. “Just don’t.”

His first instinct was to protest that he would never try to limit Rey’s autonomy.

Then realization set in.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, all too aware that his desire to protect was almost guaranteed to get him into trouble at some point. “I just… Force, I really would keep her in a nest of blankets for the next six months, if she’d let me.”

“She’d eviscerate you first,” Padmé said dryly. “That you want to take care of her to that extent is noble and very sweet, but you need to resign yourself to helping her in ways that aren’t smothering.”

“I know.”

“She’s doing the majority of the work, so give her the respect she’s due.” Padmé smiled encouragingly. “And I’ll be here. You can vent to me, and then I’ll gently beat some sense into you.”

“You are very good at that,” he admitted with a small smile.

“It’s a burden, being right all the time,” she replied teasingly. “What a smart man you are to listen.”

- - -

Ben woke to an empty bed, but the contentment on the other end of their bond kept him from immediately tracking Rey down like he wanted. No smothering, he told himself sternly as he washed and dressed. Give her space, he thought as he made his way to the kitchen, only to detour at the last minute into the basement to make his way to her anyway.

Rey was bent over the pieces of a droid that had probably been manufactured before his grandmother’s birth, humming happily as she delicately rewired a panel. “Good dreams?” she asked as he approached, straightening to grace him with a smile.

“A very good dream.” Pulling her close, he kissed her heatedly, satisfied when she made a pleased, almost helpless noise in the back of her throat. “Padmé sends her congratulations,” he murmured against her lips when he finally bothered to pull away even that much.

Rey sighed in a way that was rather breathless. “Kind of her.” She fisted a hand in the back of his shirt, keeping herself pressed tightly against him. “Maybe I should have stayed in bed.” She brushed her lips against his, a mere ghost of a kiss. “You seem to have energy to burn.”

He pushed an image of him fucking her into the mattress along the bond, each thrust firm and teasingly slow, and her breath caught on a gasp, eyes wide. “We’ve got a wall,” he murmured, keeping a hold on her with one arm as he pushed her leggings down with his other hand. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” she replied quickly, doing her best to shimmy out of the leggings with his help. “We should do that.”

He backed her up against the wall once her lower half was bare, pressing her against the cool stone as his mouth dropped to her neck. She whimpered as his fingers slipped between her legs, widening her stance as he stroked. As he established an irregular rhythm with his fingers he nipped at the place where neck met shoulder, laving the skin with his tongue.

“Ben.” She made a choked kind of whine, pressing her hips into his hand after a twist of his wrist and a flick of his thumb. “Good, you’re so good to me.”

“You’re good to me.” He dragged the flat of his tongue over her pulse point as she shivered. “And good for me. You’re being so good, sweetheart.”

She came with an unexpected rush on those words, clenching around his fingers.

“You like being praised, hmm?” he said with a grin as she sighed, her eyelashes fluttering. “I’m always learning something new about you.”

“I like being praised by you,” she replied, her voice peaceful. She slipped a hand between them, palming him through his trousers. “You should finish what you started,” she continued, her expression almost a dare.

“Oh, I’m going to.”

“Why haven’t we done this before?” she asked on a gasp as he pressed into her, her legs tight around his waist. “So many kriffing walls we’ve- oh- missed out on.”

She was right. This was a new kind of satisfying, beyond the obvious pleasure of being inside her: with just his body and the wall holding her up, control rested entirely in his hands. “Won’t make that mistake again,” he promised as he readjusted his hold, cradling the back of her head in his palm. “My desert girl.”

He loved the way she clung to him, he loved the way she keened, and he loved the way she felt as he thrust into her. The bond was entirely open, sharing between them a dizzying cycle of somatic sensory feedback. He could feel the ghost of her perception of his every thrust refracting back at him, and knew that she was experiencing a whisper of what it felt like for him to slide into her.

She came first, to his relief, and he followed shortly after, spilling into her with a grunt. For a long, drawn-out minute he rested against her, sheer will alone keeping him on his feet.

“Do you think you could eat?” he asked, making sure she had her footing before loosening his grasp. He didn’t let her go completely- didn’t want to, not when he could keep a gentle hold on the small of her back and stroke his other hand over her mussed hair.

She blinked up at him, looking satiated if rather dazed. “I could eat,” she said finally. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good,” he replied, and- ignoring her leggings and shoes on the floor- picked her up in his arms and carried her upstairs.

- - -

Ben toyed with the ends of Rey’s hair as she activated the comm, brushing his fingertips over the braid he had formed after his second- and shared- shower of the day. “I wonder if she’ll even pretend to act surprised,” he mused aloud as she initiated the call, caressing her earlobe with his thumb.

“Do you think Luke knows?” Rey asked as they waited for any sign of connection.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe not.”

Leia, when she answered, regarded them both with an expression of barely concealed excitement- which, Ben realized belatedly, was similar to the expression she had given them at the start of every other call they’d made over the past month. “Well?”

“No greetings?” Ben asked, repressing a grin as Rey made a sound that was half-laugh, half-cough. “No ‘I’m so happy to see you, my beloved children’?”

“I am happy to see you,” she replied dryly, a corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Don’t be obtuse, Ben.”

Ben slipped his arms around Rey, hiding a brief smile in her hair. “Rey asked me to marry her,” he informed his mother after lifting his head. “And not being a complete nerf-herder, I accepted.”

That had clearly not been the news his mother had expected, but she was delighted nonetheless. “Good. I’m… I was hoping,” she admitted, her smile turning a tad self-deprecating. “As you might have noticed.”

“The braids were a hint,” Rey replied with a grin. “Will you be able to come, in the spring? We haven’t picked a day yet.”

“I will be there on any day you choose,” Leia replied immediately. “Tomorrow, even. Do you want-”

She stopped, shaking her head. “I was about to start planning the entire kriffing thing,” she said, chuckling. “Down to the placemats. If I start again, don’t feel bad about telling me to behave.”

Rey glanced up at him. “I don’t know anything about weddings,” she said after a moment, looking back to Leia’s holo. “Not even what I’m supposed to do at a wedding, besides the obvious.”

“Whatever you want,” Ben replied, brushing a kiss against her cheek. “Not that I’m very conversant about weddings, either.”

“Let me make a few guesses,” Leia said, visibly relaxing. “Family and close friends only, with as little pompous ceremony as possible.”

“On the terrace,” Ben added, and Rey immediately nodded. “That’s where Padmé married,” he explained, watching as his mother’s expression softened. “And her grandparents.”

“That’s the right place, then,” Leia replied gently, and lifted a hand to brush away a tear. “I’m happy to help- help, and not dictate.” She laughed, clearly caught by another rush of sudden joy. “Oh, this will be fun.”

I trust her, Rey thought contentedly. I do want her help, if you don’t mind.

I want her help, too. “Good, because we need you,” he told his mother, at ease. “I’ve been practicing my braids,” he continued, keeping a straight face as his mother raised a brow at the sudden change of topic.

“Have you?” she asked, a tinge of suspicion in her voice.

Rey flashed him a quick smile. “He’s added a few new ones,” she said, angling the braided portion of her hair toward the camera. Betrothed, beloved, expecting. “What do you think?”

His mother stared for a moment, then grinned broadly and burst out laughing. “Finally,” she said with a clap of her hands. “Luke, you owe me ten credits,” she called, turning her head to the side. “I told you.”

“I should never have bet against you,” Ben heard his uncle say dryly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Excuse me,” Ben interrupted, not bothering to hide his own smile. “We’re still here.”

“I’m sorry.” His mother laughed again, moving to the side as his uncle appeared. “I’ve been waiting for the two of you to figure that out for a while.”

“Congratulations,” Luke told them sincerely, then smiled wryly. “Leia only told me her suspicions because she got tired of being the only one who knew.”

“And you knew from the beginning, didn’t you?” Rey asked, looking amused by the entire exchange.

“I guessed,” Leia confessed. “I thought about suggesting you see a medic, but I didn’t want to give you anything else to worry about. I hoped you’d both be in a better place by the time it was obvious- and you are.”

Ben briefly considered the what-if in those words, and almost immediately pushed aside the idea of still being in prison, locked away from Rey during her pregnancy. He might have that nightmare, eventually, but it would never be his reality. “Your room is almost ready,” he said instead. “Rooms for both of you.”

“You should come back in the summer,” Rey added. “Around the Festival of Light- that’s when I’m due.”

“Appropriate.” His mother looked on the verge of tears- good ones, her smile wide. “We’ll be there.”

Chapter Text

“Beautiful birds,” the man on the holo enthused. “And so friendly- but that’s not the result of your work with them?”

Ben shook his head, then pushed a strand of hair away from his face when it fell over his eyes. “They were trying to perch on me from day one, basically. Curiosity seems to be a natural part of the breed.” Rey passed by the open door of the study, flashing him a bright smile as their eyes briefly met. Ben smiled in return without even thinking about it, his eyes still on the doorway after she had passed from sight.

The ornithologist- a Dr. Olek Brehan- grinned at something or someone off camera. “They remind me of one particular species that lives in Gungan territory- not in looks as much as behavior. Friendly, curious to a fault. Beings that live near their nesting grounds often find them in their locked homes without any sign of how they got inside in the first place.”

“That sounds about right,” Ben said dryly, shifting his gaze back to the holo. “Our porgs snuck on board the Falcon; we didn’t find them till six hours out.”

“Watching them readjust to Ahch-To has been fascinating. Some species, when they’re away from their natural habitat, simply can’t be re-introduced. These birds?” Dr. Brehan shook his head, looking a little bit like someone in love. “They settled right back in. The other porgs welcomed them home. It’s amazing. Except,” he added, “the female porg- the one with the speckles. She refuses to leave her nest on the ship. Tried to tear a strip off me when I thought about relocating it.”

“Maybe after the porglets are hatched.” It would be best, Ben knew, if Astra- and when he’d started thinking of the porg as Astra, he wasn’t quite sure- resettled on Ahch-To.

He missed her, but it would be best.

“Maybe.” Dr. Brehan looked doubtful. “Maybe not. She’s stubborn. A few of the other porgs visit her on an almost daily basis. I have the feeling that when I’m done here Speckles and several others will insist on remaining on board.”

“They can’t live on the Falcon forever,” Ben said with a sigh. “Especially if they keep breeding.”

“I’m not ready to pass final judgment yet,” Dr. Brehan said slowly, “but I’m inclined to believe that they would do well on Naboo. I’ve spoken with a few colleagues, and they’re interested in a trial phase, so to speak.”

“I won’t have them harmed,” Ben said immediately. “If the trial doesn’t work out, they would need to be returned to Ahch-To unharmed.”

“I agree, which is why I’m suggesting microchipping or tagging the flock.” Dr. Brehan suddenly grinned. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”

Ben hid a smile. “We’re very thankful for your help.”

“Much rather be here than waiting for the university to be rebuilt. Field research was always my favorite, anyway.” He extended a hand off camera. “Curious?” he asked, his gaze shifting to the side, and after a moment pulled back his hand to reveal a porg perched on his fist.

Astra considered the holo in front of her, and then squawked decisively, almost as if in a scold.

“I think she recognizes you,” Dr. Brehan said with a smile. “Very smart birds, these porgs.”

“Be good,” Ben told Astra gruffly, not entirely sure what to say to a bird over a holo in front of a mere acquaintance.

Astra chattered in a way that was definitely a scold.

“Yeah,” Ben said with a sigh, and allowed himself one small smile. “She recognizes me.”

- - -

The work on Varykino ended roughly two months after it had begun, on a brilliantly cold day with barely a cloud in the sky.

“This place is a gem,” Lana said with quiet satisfaction. “Take care of it and it will shelter your family for generations to come.” She patted a wall almost fondly, then placed her hands on her hips, regarding him with a serious expression. There was no subterfuge to Lana; she was exactly how she presented herself, without compromise. “What are your plans?” she asked Ben after a moment of contemplation. “Other than being a papa.”

After years of uncertainty, Ben appreciated an honest, straightforward question. “I don’t know,” he answered, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I want to work- to help.” He considered the wall in front of him, which had once born the scars of his grandfather’s rage. In his own way he had left scars of his own on Naboo, and as time passed they weighed more heavily on him. “My cousin said that she had a few ideas, but she wanted to wait until we were settled.”

“You look pretty settled to me.” She tilted her chin in a nod toward a small table that Ben had rescued from the attic and repaired. “You have a real eye for this kind of work,” she told him. “And a love for it, I think. That’s what I like in an apprentice.”

He considered her cautiously, but with a kind of dawning hope. “Are you offering me a job?”

“If you want one.” Lana crossed her arms, meeting his eyes solidly. “You have a lot to learn, but I think you’re capable. My crews work on grand old places like this, but these days we’re also doing our share rebuilding what the First Order destroyed- homes, shops, schools.” She gave him a small smile. “I won’t work you to death, either. I take family seriously- mine and my people’s.”

It called to him. It called to him in a way that nothing much ever had, except for Rey. He had never been meant for the ascetic life of a Jedi, nor the life of statecraft. Carpentry, though: hands on labor and an art all its own, and a way for him to put right, at least in some small part, what he had destroyed.

“I want to,” he answered honestly. “Let me discuss it with Rey, first.”

“Good. You know how to contact me.” She left with a nod and one last pat to the gleaming wooden door at the entrance, and for a moment Ben stood in the entry hall, considering the idea as he brushed his fingertips over the small table.

And then he turned away, making his way unerringly toward Rey in her workshop.

She was polishing the casing of a rebuilt and as yet unpowered droid when he arrived, her air almost that of someone in a meditative state.

“It looks nearly done,” he commented as he embraced her from behind, kissing her where neck met shoulder- a favorite spot of his- then lingering there for a second and third kiss. “What’s this one for?”

It was the third she had fixed in the past month, the first two of which were already trundling around the upper stories, keeping floors and walls clean.

“Cleaning the first floor.” She paused in her polishing, twisting around just enough in his arms to kiss him softly. “It’s not allowed to go in the kitchen,” she assured him quietly, resting against him. “I promise.”

Ben hid his face against her hair, holding her tightly. He hadn’t been thrilled by the idea of having any droids in their home, or around their child (some half-formed memory haunted him, something he hadn’t yet broached with his mother), but Rey had been right: keeping the place clean was essentially a full-time job. “Thank you,” he murmured, slipping one hand down to cup her slightly-rounded stomach. She didn’t look pregnant to the casual eye, not yet, but Ben’s gaze was anything but casual. “That’s my territory,” he added in a more normal tone of voice.

No cooking droids, no caf droids, no laundry droids. Rey’s droids carried nothing more dangerous than polishing compound and buffing pads, and that was the way he preferred it.

“Oh, I know.” She turned in his arms, placing her hands on his shoulders. “You look like you have news.”

“Lana offered me a job.” He chuckled at her immediate grin. “You knew.”

“I had a hunch,” Rey replied with a shrug. “She’s been sizing you up. You want to accept, right?”

“Yes.” Ben brushed a kiss against her forehead as he ran a hand down her back, tugging her closer. “I’m not sure what Ruwee had in mind, but I’m not interested in politics. I considered offering my services as a mechanic, but…”

“But it would hurt too much, to repair ships and not fly them?” Rey asked when his voice drifted off, and he nodded.

“I don’t want to put myself in a position to mourn something so small,” he replied. “Not when I have so much more here, with you.”

“Then take the job.” Rey cupped his cheek, lifting to her toes. “You love it. I can feel how satisfied and peaceful you are after a day of work.” Her smile turned impish. “And I like it when you smell like sawdust.”

He laughed quietly, brushing the tip of her nose with his own. “How could I resist that kind of logic?”

“You can’t; I’m brilliant.” Rey kissed his neck, the sensation tempting him to carry her off for an afternoon nap. “I’m also hungry.”

“That I can do something about,” he replied, drawing her easily away from her own work.

“I love you,” he said when they were halfway up the stairs, words he said often but with no less emotion or sincerity as time went on.

She looked up at him, her eyes the only stars he needed. “I know.”

- - -

“Ben.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think my breasts have changed that much, yet.” Rey’s voice was dry, but he could tell that she was amused, nonetheless.

“As their greatest devotee- at present,” he amended, stroking the underside of her right breast, “I’m very dedicated to keeping an eye on them.” He looked up at her with a sly grin. “Among other things,” he added, before sucking one nipple lightly into his mouth.

She released a breathy sigh, sinking back into the pillows even as she wove her fingers into his hair. “Ben.”

Beautiful. His desert girl lounging on rumpled sheets, healthy and happy. “Do you want to practice your braids?” he asked in a murmur as he kissed his way down her body, pausing to linger over her stomach. “I’ll hold still for you,” he continued, nuzzling his nose over her belly button.

Rey gently untangled her hand from his hair, sifting the strands through her fingers. “She can feel you,” she said softly. “She can feel both of us.”

He froze, his lips almost brushing her skin. “She?” he asked in a whisper.

“I think so. I have dreams, sometimes, but they’re like… like those watercolors you found framed in the attic.” She glanced toward one such painting hanging on the wall, depicting the lake around their home. “You, carrying a little girl.” She stroked his hair again, her eyes shining. “You always look so happy.”

A tear trickled down his cheek to splash onto her skin, but he was grinning. “A girl.”

“I think so.”

Though speaking in possibilities, Rey sounded certain. He kissed her stomach softly, brushing his fingertips along her skin. “I’m already very happy.” Another kiss, another caress. “So happy.”

- - -

Rey bloomed as winter waned.

There was no other word for her gentle transformation- one that might have been overlooked by some, but fascinated him. For as long as he had known her, Rey had been healthy in an almost defiant way, as if the desert, having whittled her down to muscle and sinew, had been met by sheer determination and found itself unable to go further. She still had the muscle, but peace, pregnancy, and regular meals had slightly softened her figure as her belly began to noticeably round.

“You are obsessed,” Rey said with a laugh one evening when, almost immediately after returning from a day of work, he had knelt to examine the size of her stomach by slipping his bare hands under her tunic. “I’m surprised you haven’t pulled out a measuring tape.”

“I prefer my own intimate methods of measuring,” he replied with a grin, tugging up her tunic for a visual check. “Is she moving yet?”

“Not yet.” She ran her fingers over the braids she had made in his hair that morning, dislodging a few wisps of hair. He had taught her a basic vocabulary’s worth of twists and braids over the winter. Her nimble fingers could do them all, but without fail every morning she plaited beloved. Beloved, over and over and over, a declaration he could touch during the day and which kept his hair out of his eyes.

Rey slid her fingers under his chin, exerting the slightest of pressure. “What did you do today?”

“Refinished some floors.” He came to his feet, pulling her into his arms. “What about you?”

“Worked on that laundry droid for Ruwee’s friend.” She wrinkled her nose, evident consternation on her face. “People shouldn’t be allowed to have droids if they aren’t going to maintain them properly.”

“How lucky there’s a mechanical genius in the neighborhood to rescue them.” Without a word he picked her up, carrying her with him to the kitchen. “One willing to work for a fair and reasonable wage.”

“And your mother sent us a message. She wants to know about colors for the wedding, and what I’m going to wear.” Rey looked amused as he settled her into a chair at the table. “I hadn’t even thought about it.”

He knelt at her feet, not quite ready to move out of touching range. “We could go to Theed to find a dress,” he offered, trailing his fingers along the outside of her thighs. “Or you could leave the decision in her hands.”

“I’m tempted,” Rey admitted. “I looked up wedding dresses on my datapad… I can’t even imagine myself in one of those dresses; they’re as wide as I’m tall.”

“You would look beautiful in anything.” He kissed the palm of her hand- the same hand that would soon be graced with a ring. “You are beautiful in anything.”

“Flatterer.” She nudged the side of his leg with her foot, smiling. “Welcome home.”

- - -

Their first official visitor was Ruwee, who arrived as the snow began to melt into seemingly endless stretches of mud, making their droids work overtime to scrub away the inevitable dirt tracked inside.

She was already standing beside her speeder by the time Ben and Rey came outside, her awestruck gaze lifted to take in the house before her. “I’ve seen holos,” she said before they could speak. “From Padmé’s time. But never…”

Her voice trailed off. After a moment longer she switched her gaze to them, her smile almost overcome. “Good job,” she said, and threw her arms around Ben. “You’ve both done such a good job.” She released him to do the same to Rey, but in a gentler fashion. “How are you feeling?” she asked Rey in a sisterly way. “Has he been treating you right?”

Rey laughed, a snippet of her immediate thoughts- instinctual and tumbling word over word- traveling along the bond to him. He loves me he takes care of me I love him blended with memories of full plates and his hands gentle against her skin. “He hovers,” she replied instead, shooting him a teasing look as he fought to maintain his composure. “Come in.”

Ruwee trailed her fingertips along the walls once inside, her gaze flitting to every corner. “I snuck in once, as a teenager,” she admitted. “It was like… well, it was walking into a haunted house, basically. Like every wall was drenched in sorrow.” Her lips quirked up. “Not anymore, though.”

Whether it was the rehab, simply inhabiting the place, or some weird twist of the Force, she was right: whatever ghost had haunted these halls had left. Varykino felt like a home, as far as Ben was concerned, and the way Rey carried herself within its walls made him think that she likely felt the same.

Ruwee hefted the bag she carried over one shoulder, crooking a finger toward Rey. “I need some time with you,” she said with a look of satisfaction. “I’ve been talking with Leia- a lovely woman, your mother,” she told Ben, her grin mischievous, “and she drafted me to help with a few things.”

“Wedding things?” Rey took a step closer, eyeing the bag Ruwee held. “What is it?”

“That is not for Ben to know,” Ruwee replied with what seemed like undue solemnity. “Hurry along to the kitchen, cousin. Once I’m finished with your bride we’ll both be hungry.”

Ben lingered in the hall as Rey led Ruwee up the stairs, listening to them laugh as they walked away. The cleaning droid beeped quizzically at him as it passed, its circuitry pinpointing the mud under his feet.

“You have no sense of timing,” he said with a sigh, but grinned as he made his way to the kitchen. His bride. And his cousin, hatching plots with his mother.

For a man who had spent years trying to escape his family, Ben felt incredibly lucky to have an opportunity to settle right back into the middle of it.

- - -

“Are you going to tell me?” Ben asked Rey in a rumble later that night, once they were settled in their bed. “Keeping secrets from me, desert girl?”

Rey smiled, scrunching her nose as she did so. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Hmm. Maybe I want to know now.”

“I could give you a hint.” She hooked her finger in the waistband of his sleep pants, a bold smirk on her face. “If you convince me.”

He moved closer, sliding his fingers into her loose hair and bending to nuzzle her neck. She smelled just as she ought: that scent that was entirely Rey, and which always made him want to settle beside her for an extended stay. Rey giggled, pushing along the bond the feel of his scruff against the skin of her neck, the way it tickled and simultaneously inspired a need for friction elsewhere.

“Why I never shave before bed,” he murmured against her skin, moving his mouth slowly down the column of her neck. “You like this too much.”

“I like all of you too much.” She pushed him away, one brow raised in a way that was almost mockingly stern. “It’s distracting.” Just as she had pushed him away, she pulled him closer, one hand curved around the back of his neck, and he acquiesced with a grin. Her expression softened, and for a moment he saw himself through her eyes: leaning toward her in a fashion both protective and lustful, an easy smile on his face. “I love it.”

“Good.” He cupped her face in his hands, holding her gaze for a long moment as he returned the favor. “Look at you,” he murmured, stroking his thumbs over the soft skin of her cheeks, her attention not quite on him as she processed the flow of images he sent her. Tumbling hair, flushed cheeks and rosy lips, the fading love bite at the crook of her shoulder. The bare curve of her belly with the beginnings of stretch marks, the image blended with the love and gratitude he felt every time he looked at her.

“It’s always odd,” she admitted as her gaze refocused on him, her blush brighter. “Passing a mirror and realizing I look cared for. Looking in a mirror is odd all by itself, really.”

“It’s always odd for me when I pass a mirror and see myself smiling.” He finished undoing the loosened braid in her hair, an act as intimate and satisfying as its creation. “Maybe one day I’ll have laugh lines after all.”

“I hope so.” She placed one finger gently against the curve of his bottom lip. “I hope she has a mouth just like this.”

“As long as she doesn’t get my ears, everything will be fine.” Ben slid his hands under her camisole, tugging the fabric up. “Raise your arms, sweetheart.”

“I like your ears,” Rey protested as the fabric passed over her face, and a second later he threw it to the side, watching with satisfaction as her rumpled hair fell around her shoulders, brushing the tops of her breasts. “Almost as much as you like my chest,” she added, her lips quirking into a smile.

“I doubt that, but I’m not going to argue.” He moved nearly into her lap, mindful of her burgeoning belly, and began to nuzzle his face against her breasts. “Kriff, you’re so pretty,” he mumbled against her skin, smirking when she laughed. “You are.”

“I’m-”

She stopped abruptly, but it was the quiet shock radiating from her that made him lift his head, on alert for danger. Nothing: just them in this room, with no one lingering outside their door or climbing toward the window. “Rey?”

“She moved,” Rey said, so quietly he barely heard her. “Like a little eddy of wind,” she continued almost absently, her focus clearly inward. “The way the wind sometimes was on Jakku at dawn, when everything was still cool.”

He couldn’t feel anything where his hands curved over her belly, but after a moment she seemed to take pity on him. “Like this,” she murmured, sharing the sensation over the bond. It was a delicate, fragile thing, like the night-blooming flowers he had once seen unfurl right in front of his eyes on Endor.

“She’s going to be amazing,” he whispered, his focus still on that gifted sensation. “Just like you.”

“And you.” Rey ran a hand through his hair, calling his attention back to her. “I want to name her after Padmé.”

He smiled, barely noticing the rumble of thunder outside. “Me, too.”

Rey did notice, and her gaze turned toward the window near their bed as light streaked across the sky. Thunder and lightning, almost non-existent on Jakku, still fascinated her. “Another storm.”

She let him rearrange their positions as she watched, leaning back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, their hands overlapping on her belly. Outside the storm picked up, rain beating against the windows, but for Ben the sound was muted, unable to counter the feel of Rey in his arms and their daughter resting under his hands.

Rey hooked her little finger over his thumb, thoroughly relaxed against him. “I love you.”

He pressed a kiss against her hair, content. “I know.”

Chapter Text

It was a wet spring- most were, if the holonet was to be believed- but whether through luck or intercession of the Force, the week of their wedding dawned sunny and dry and stayed that way.

Rey, Ben sensed, would take it in stride if they were forced to move their vows to an interior room, or to take hands in the open air while drenched with rain, but- rather selfishly- he wanted a light-filled ceremony on the terrace with the lake stretching out beyond. He also didn’t want Rey standing out in the rain for minutes on end, even if she did love that very activity to an almost mind-boggling degree.

He understood her passionate love for water. It made sense, given her upbringing, and Force knew he loved it when she cuddled close and called him her water. He just didn’t particularly like the idea of his almost wife- his six months pregnant almost wife- standing out in the cold spring rain.

Not that he would ever tell her that. Ben Solo was no idiot, and he had high hopes of enjoying his honeymoon.

It was on the first of those sunny days, two days before their wedding, that Ben sensed the imminent arrival of his mother and uncle. They were minutes away, at most, and a quick mental check told him that Rey was still tucked in their bed for her increasingly common afternoon nap. She was sleeping deeply- would be for another hour, if she followed pattern- and Ben immediately decided not to wake her. She had just gotten to the point where sleep was becoming increasingly elusive, at least comfortable sleep, and he had no intention of depriving her of even a minute.

In any case, none of their guests, family or otherwise, would dare complain.

The sight of the landspeeder carrying his family made him a little short of breath, which puzzled him until he realized why: it was short one person.

You knew it would be, he reminded himself, and thrust his hands into his pockets, the fingers of his right finding the sabacc dice. Ben didn’t always carry them- he left them with the picture of himself and his father most days, safe from accidental loss- but on waking that morning he had made a split-second decision to keep them close.

It was a bittersweet, heady thing to realize that some small part of him was still capable of being surprised anew at his father’s absence, as if the coming wedding might have twisted time and circumstance to produce a kind of miracle.

Maybe, he thought as he moved toward his living family, his father would turn up again in his dreams. Someday.

His uncle’s expression on exiting the landspeeder was difficult to interpret, but his mother had her gaze lifted to the towers and domes, a soft smile on her face. “No wonder you look so happy,” she said before Ben could greet them. “This is where you were always meant to be, you and Rey.”

He had waited years to receive that kind of open-hearted acceptance from his mother, and it was still new enough to make his throat feel tight and constricted. “I think so, too,” he managed to reply, and pulled her into a hug before she could say anything that might actually make him cry.

Luke met his eyes when he pulled away, a small smile appearing on his uncle’s face. “It’s like I can almost see them,” Luke admitted quietly as Leia moved ahead. “Like their ghosts are just out of sight, walking the grounds.”

Ben no longer felt the presence of ghosts at Varykino while awake, only while asleep. He didn’t doubt that his uncle did feel something, even if just echoes of the past through the Force. “I think they were happy here,” he replied. “I know Padmé was.”

Behind them Chewie, Ruwee and Amilyn were exiting the speeder, but they deftly veered around their quietly conversing pair, heading toward Leia.

“I spoke with her.”

Ben raised a brow in pleased surprise. “Really?”

“I’ve been forced to realize that walling myself off to such a great extent was a terrible idea.” Luke shook his head, his smile verging on self-deprecating. “Tearing down those walls took more time and effort than I expected, but one night- there she was.”

Whatever conversation had passed between them was clearly something Luke was not quite ready to share, but Ben didn’t expect chapter and verse. “I’m happy for you,” he said instead, the words honest. “I know she’s been wanting to speak with you.”

“I think she’s spoken with Leia, too, but I’m not sure.” Luke’s smile became easier, lighter. “I never expected to know my mother. Thank you, Ben.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Ben replied dismissively.

“Of course you did. You brought yourself back, and in doing so you brought all of us back.” Luke shrugged, glancing toward his sister. “Except Leia, maybe. She kept marching forward despite everything.”

“She’s indomitable.” Ben’s mouth quirked into a wry smile. “Come inside.”

By the time he could feel Rey stirring toward wakefulness, the first of their guests had been shown their rooms and were gathered in the sitting room off the terrace, laughing over food and tea.

They’re here? she asked sleepily. You should have woken me.

No, I shouldn’t have. He sensed her stretching under the blankets, pushing away the lingering fatigue. Come downstairs whenever you’re ready.

She appeared almost twenty minutes later, wearing one of the long, empire-waist dresses that she had taken a liking to as her belly grew. For a moment she appeared almost shy as she looked around the room, but then his mother was on her feet and Rey grinned.

“You are glowing,” Leia said in approval, wrapping Rey in a hug. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Rey moved on to accept hugs from everyone else, laughing as she practically disappeared into Chewie’s fur. “I’m sorry I wasn’t awake when you all arrived,” she said when she finally had a chance to sit down, right next to Ben. He handed her a cup of tea, ready to supply her with whatever else might strike her fancy.

“I spent most of my pregnancy trying to stay awake,” Leia replied dryly with a wave of her hand. “Get your sleep while you can, and never apologize for it.”

“Leia once fell asleep mid-Senate meeting,” Amilyn added, sliding a glance Leia’s way. “I barely noticed in time to prevent a crisis.”

“Of embarrassment.” Leia fiddled with one of her rings, arching a brow. “I count myself lucky it was only the one time.”

“Never seen Han fuss so much.” Chewie’s tone was as close to gentle teasing as his voice came. “He nested more than Leia.”

Just like you, Rey told him, taking his hand. “Ben’s taking very good care of me,” she said aloud, leaning into his side. “Every time I sit down he’s surrounding me with pillows.”

“Just like Han,” Leia said, her smile nostalgic. “Good job, Ben.”

The comparison didn’t hurt. There wasn’t even a twinge of pain.

He would be proud of you.

Not Rey- his mother, her eyes knowing.

He would be very, very proud of you.

- - -

“The kriff is this?” Finn asked as he stepped out of the speeder the next day, looking rather dumbstruck. “Rey, you said a house.”

“It is a house,” Rey replied, an amused smile on her lips. “This is where we live.”

“And to think we worried about you in exile,” Poe teased, taking Finn by the shoulders from behind and steering him closer to the building. “All those terrible nightmares I had about poor Ben forever ducking his head to live in a humble cottage with low ceilings.”

“It is pleasant to be able to stand up straight,” Ben agreed dryly, placing a hand against Rey’s lower back. “I hadn’t realized we’d given you such an incorrect impression of our circumstances.”

Poe released Finn and slapped Ben on the back, grinning. “No, we just hadn’t dared dream so large.”

Rey and Finn walked ahead, heads bent close as they talked.

“Thank you for coming,” Ben told Poe quietly. “It means a lot… to both of us.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Poe’s bravado softened as they both stopped walking, lingering on the footpath. “You look happy, Ben. A far cry from the haunted man who defected to the Resistance.”

“I love it here,” Ben admitted honestly. “I love being… being just Ben,” he said with a shrug. “I am very aware of how lucky I am.”

“It’s obvious,” Poe replied. “For Rey, too. You bring out the best in each other, and peace has been good to the pair of you.” He laughed suddenly as he watched Rey and Finn disappear through the front door. “And I can’t wait to see you running after a toddler. Kriff, it’s going to be hysterical.”

“You’ve been doing a lot of that yourself,” Ben said as they started to move forward again.

“Yeah. It’s been difficult at times, but we’ve got a bunch of good kids. Giving them the space to figure out how to be kids is one of the hardest parts.” Poe shook his head, looking momentarily weary. “It’s not an issue with the youngest children, but by the time they hit five or so all that discipline seems to be permanently drilled into them.”

“Do you have enough help?” Ben asked, concerned.

“So far. Good help, too. We have a pair of sisters working with us at our creche- Rose and Paige. They’ve been invaluable.”

When they entered the front hall Ben’s eyes immediately went to Rey, who was grinning, her hands curved over her stomach. Finn was bent at the waist, clearly talking to her bump.

“-just run him ragged,” he was instructing Rey’s belly, expression serious. “Don’t give that man one moment of rest.”

“Stop trying to turn my own daughter against me,” Ben growled, hiding a smile. “Traitor.”

“Be quiet, Solo, I’m making a deal, here.” Finn lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “I will give you as much candy as you want.”

“Finn, Ben here is clearly already head over heels for his ladies; don’t give him too much trouble.” Poe bent slightly, directing his next words to Rey’s stomach. “Just remember I’m the awesome uncle, kid.”

“You’re both going to be terrible influences,” Ben said with a low sigh, placing his arm around Rey’s shoulders. “We could still kick them out,” he told her with a straight face.

“No,” she replied cheerfully. “We need them to help decorate; your mother said so.”

“True enough.” Ben pressed a kiss against her hair, smiling quickly as he did so. “I guess they can stay, provided they fetch and carry as they ought.”

“It’s what I do best,” Poe agreed. “Point me toward the General, Ben.”

Ben inclined his head down the hall. “Third door on the right; you can’t miss her.”

“A hard woman to miss, your mother,” Poe said, grabbing Finn by the arm and dragging him along. “Come on, Finn, we have work to do.”

“And what are we going to do?” Rey asked him after they were gone, staring up at him with a gaze that was distinctly lascivious.

Very tempting, that gaze. But- “Not that,” he replied reluctantly. “I’ve been ordered to help Amilyn with the terrace.”

She actually looked somewhat disgruntled, which wasn’t a surprise, given how pregnancy had only increased her desire for him in and out of bed. “I suppose you want me to take a nap, then,” she said after a moment, disgruntlement turning to reluctant amusement.

“Or sit on a chair on the terrace. You can give us instructions.”

She beamed, moving toward the terrace door. On their way he grabbed a throw blanket off the back of a couch, which he draped over her lap once she was settled on a cushioned chair, her feet on a small stool.

“Good, you can keep us in line,” Amilyn said with a welcoming smile, standing over a pile of delicate fabric and ribbons. “Ben, help me with this.”

Rey was grinning when he looked down at her. “Go on,” she said, her hands settled protectively over her belly. “Help her.”

And- after brushing a strand of hair away from Rey’s face- he did.

- - -

The one sour point to his day came in the evening, when his mother pulled him aside after dinner.

“You know the Alderaanian tradition,” she said with a raised brow, and he felt an immediate wave of disappointment.

“She’s pregnant,” he protested. “Sleeping apart is a lost cause at this point, don’t you think?”

“Alderaanian brides and grooms were never expected to arrive at the marriage bed virginal,” she replied dryly. “The clear proof of your combined fertility would have been seen as a good omen in certain circles, as well you know.”

He did his best to keep a straight face. “Thank you. I think.”

“You’re not supposed to see her until the ceremony,” she continued. “I made up a bed for you in a guest room.”

Ben glanced toward Rey, who met his eyes with the look of someone who had come up against his mother and lost. “Did you badger Rey?”

“No more than usual,” Leia said with a shrug. “Indulge me, Ben.”

I know nothing about traditions, Rey was thinking. I’m willing to honor them.

Ben considered her, then his mother, and finally sighed. “Fine.”

- - -

“Ah, the groom.” Padmé was seated at a small table on the terrace, a smile on her face. “Sit down; it hurts my neck to look up at you.”

Ben sat, slouching without quite realizing it.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, raising a brow. “Mere mention of the wedding usually makes you jubilant.”

“I’m exiled,” Ben admitted glumly. “It’s traditional on Alderaan for the couple not to lay eyes on each other until the ceremony.”

Padmé- who began examining her nails in a way that seemed very intentional- slid him a sly look. “Ruwee didn’t tell you the tradition on Naboo?”

He gave her a cautious look. “No. Is this a real tradition or one you’re making up?”

She laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. “A very real one, Ben. I’m just giving you another option.”

He felt the set of his shoulders relax. “Tell me, then.”

“There was once a lady of high breeding,” Padmé began, leaning an elbow on the table, “whose father was engaged in a pointless war with his neighbor.”

“Is this myth or history?”

“History. I’m telling you the bare, factual bones of the tale. There are hundreds of very fanciful adaptations. So,” she continued, “the lady- who was her father’s only heir- decided that she was tired of watching people suffer over half-imagined insults. Nothing she said had any impact on her father’s mindset, so one night she crept across battle lines and bribed a servant to smuggle her into the bedroom of the neighbor’s heir.”

Ben raised a brow. “Really,” he replied doubtfully. “That sounds…”

“Like the set-up for a holoporn, I know,” she said with a wave of her hand. “You can find those variations by the dozens. And maybe that happened, or maybe not, but the end result was that the lady found the heir to be like-minded, and their marriage- after a lot of yelling by both fathers- brought peace to those demesnes.”

She wasn’t lying, he could tell that much, though perhaps exaggerating. “So I’m supposed to sneak into Rey’s room to honor their memory?”

“Technically she’s supposed to sneak into your room,” Padmé replied with a shrug. “But the opposite works, too.”

He considered her for a long moment. “Are you trying to get me into trouble?”

“I’m giving you an option,” she said with dignity. “In particular, the option to take Rey the pickled snekfruit she’s craving.”

Ben blinked, sending out the mental equivalent of a tendril to check Rey’s dreams. Rey, straining to reach a jar that continually moved out of her reach, full of… pickled snekfruit. “I love you.”

“I know.” She smiled sunnily at him. “Good luck.”

- - -

Really, sneaking into the kitchen and then back into his actual room shouldn’t be a difficult task. Ben knew the house like the back of his hand. He had the Force, for kriff’s sake. This was an entirely doable.

Sensing Ruwee in his kitchen- mid-night cycle, what the kriff was she doing- made him falter, but after a moment he continued on anyway.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked, her hands cupped around a mug that might contain tea, or might contain liquor, or some combination of both.

He slid a glance in her direction as he opened one of the cupboards. It was filled to the brim with a number of odd items, some of which were still gathering dust on the back of the shelves. Rey’s working knowledge of different foods was still a work in progress; as a result, when her cravings had started finding exactly what she wanted had been… difficult. The bond had helped- growing up as the child of a politician and a smuggler meant that Ben had eaten the culinary specialties of more than his fair share of planets- though experiencing Rey’s cravings personally had occasionally made him nauseated.

Hetha milk custard and baked pliffle fish would never, in any just galaxy, be an acceptable combination, but by the Force he had made it, and he had kriffing smiled in relief when Rey had scarfed it down.

The nausea couldn’t be helped. All Ben could do to help himself was to keep an incredibly eclectic selection of food in the cupboards, on the off chance that Rey might want one of them at any hour of the day.

And the fact that Rey had clearly been willing to soldier through any craving- hadn’t even told him until the first craving was so great that it fairly pinged along the bond, because Maker knew Rey was still relatively new to the idea of being choosy about her food- just made him all the more determined to attend to every single one.

Hence, pickled snekfruit.

“Rey’s hungry,” he answered.

Ruwee smirked over her mug. “Someone told you the story.”

“About the lady who ended a war?” Ben said absently as he opened a jar. “Yeah, someone.” He dumped a generous portion into a bowl, then turned to pin her with a look. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And go against your mother?” Ruwee replied, raising her brow. “What a terrifying idea.”

His mother did tend to have that effect on people. Ben dropped a spoon into the bowl. “Don’t tell on me.”

“Get out before dawn and your secret’s safe. I won’t tell.” She lifted her mug in an informal salute. “Go on, then.”

The halls were dark and empty, to his relief. Ben slipped into his bedroom almost soundlessly, the low light of the fire illuminating his surroundings. Rey was sleeping restlessly in their bed, sheets and blankets twisted around her in a telling way.

He didn’t like knowing that she slept poorly without him. It resonated with him, because he couldn’t sleep worth a kriffing damn without her either, but he didn’t like it.

His presence was enough to draw her out of sleep, and as he stepped closer she sighed and turned toward him.

“Ben?” A quiet, sleepy murmur, one full of pleasure.

“Yeah.” He kept his voice pitched low as he spoke, sitting on the bed next to her. “Hungry, sweetheart?”

“I am.” In the dim light he saw her blink several times before trying to sit up, and he quickly extended an arm to help her. “Breaking the rules?” she asked as she settled against the pillows, her hands outstretched to accept the bowl he held.

“I’m complying with Naboo rules.” He moved closer, keeping his arm curved around her shoulders. “I’ll leave before dawn.”

“The bed’s too big without you.” She ate a piece of the fruit with an appreciative moan. “How did you know?”

“Dreams.”

Rey nodded, not needing anymore information. She ate another heaping spoonful. “Weird sleeping alone,” she mumbled around the spoon. “Lonely.”

“Just a little longer.” He leaned his cheek against her hair as she continued to eat, truly relaxed for the first time in hours. “You’re not alone,” he murmured, his reluctance to leave growing.

“I know.” She dragged the spoon through contents of the bowl, shifting her weight to lean against him. “Neither are you, Ben.”

They shared a quiet, meaningful look, Rey’s expression soft- and then she laughed. “I’m definitely not alone.” She took his hand and pressed it against her stomach, right over a faint tattoo of repetitive kicks. “Little Padmé is awake, too.”

He chuckled, shifting so that he could recline by her side, speaking directly to her belly. “Pickled snekfruit?” he said teasingly. “Why would you put your mother through that?”

“It’s food,” Rey interjected, shrugging, gathering another spoonful.

With a grin Ben kissed her belly, not surprised when his daughter kicked him straight in the mouth. “What good aim you have,” he praised in a low croon, the next kick landing in the vicinity of his chin. “Just like both your parents. Your mother once hit me with a lightsaber, you know.”

Rey ruffled his hair, likely rolling her eyes. “Your father once knocked me out and interrogated me, you know.”

He looked up at her, one hand spread protectively over her stomach. “We should probably get our story straight,” he said, trying not to smile. It was a nervous smile, truth be told: he knew very well that one day his daughter would learn the truth of his past, and he was not looking forward to that reckoning.

Rey regarded him for a long moment, then placed the half-empty bowl onto the bed next to her. “I’m not… I really know nothing about how to raise a child.” Her mouth quirked into a sad smile. “But I think we should be honest.” She brushed her fingertips against the scar on his cheek, her gaze somewhat haunted. “We’ll tell her that her father was scared and made a lot of mistakes, but still made the right choices in the end. We’ll tell her the same about me. And we’ll add more details when she’s ready.”

“You weren’t scared, and you didn’t make mistakes,” he protested quietly, his gaze unflinching. “You’ve always been braver than me, Rey.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been scared for so long that it feels like bravery,” she admitted baldly. “I’m not scared anymore.” Rey glanced down at her stomach, frowning slightly. “Well, not about life or death situations, at least.”

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” Ben sat up, leaning in close. “You have so much compassion, Rey. Even on Jakku- even starving- you were willing to be kind to a lost droid with a bent antenna.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re here of your own free-will, even after what happened on Starkiller.”

“I am.” She picked up the bowl again, tears beginning to drip down her cheeks. “I love you so much I’m kriffing crying about it.”

Watching Rey cry- even when it was hormone related, and thus inevitable- was not and never would be a comfortable situation. Without a word he pulled a handkerchief from the bedside table and handed it to her. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked as she blew her nose, the bowl balanced precariously on her belly.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice muffled. “Please.”

“Then I’m staying.” He slid his legs under the covers, putting out a hand to keep the bowl from toppling into her lap. “Finish your snack, sweetheart. We both need to sleep.”

“You’ll get in trouble with your mother.” Rey threw the crumpled handkerchief over the opposite side of the bed, her tone uncertain. Still, she loaded another spoonful and popped it into her mouth, the sight inappropriately arousing.

“I don’t care.” And he didn’t. Let his mother scold- he wouldn’t leave Rey while she was upset, not if he had any choice in the matter. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

She ate every bite, even dragging her spoon along the bottom of the bowl to catch the last of the juice.

“Do you need more?” he asked when she handed him the bowl, and she shook her head.

“No.” Her mouth dipped in a frown, but an almost amused one. “I’ll be right back,” she said with a sigh, leaving the bed and heading for the ‘fresher attached to their room.

When she returned and settled on her side, a pillow between her knees, he wrapped himself around her from behind. “Are you comfortable?” he asked in a murmur, rubbing his hand in a way that he hoped was soothing against her belly.

She sighed, wriggling back against him. “As comfortable as I’m going to get.”

There was another faint thump under his hand. Go to sleep, little one, he thought, not sure if the baby would- or could- listen to and comprehend the sentiment. Your mother needs her rest.

Another thump, and another, almost defiant.

And despite himself, he grinned.

Chapter Text

Ben sensed his mother even before she entered the room, when he was only barely awake, his limbs still mired in sleep. The part of his mind always alert for trouble briefly considered getting up, maybe even hiding out on the balcony, but he dismissed the idea after only a few seconds. Rey was sleeping under his arm, warm and soft, and leaving before he absolutely had to was out of the question.

The door opened and light footsteps crossed the carpet, hesitating only momentarily. “What are you doing here?” Leia asked sternly from beside the bed, poking his shoulder with her index finger.

His clothed shoulder. Thank the Force both he and Rey were still in their sleep clothes.

“The baby needed me,” he muttered into Rey’s hair, his eyes still closed.

“Well,” his mother said dryly after a moment, “that’s one I haven’t heard before. You still need to leave.”

Ben tightened his grip on Rey, who made a quiet, sleepy sound of discontent. “No.”

“Yes. I have breakfast for Rey, and then she needs to dress. Assuming you still intend on getting married today?”

“Food?” Rey- sounding almost fully awake all of a sudden- squirmed under his arm. “I’m starving.”

With a grimace he rolled onto his back, opening his eyes to glare up at his mother. “How dare you sway my bride with breakfast.”

“Out,” Leia said firmly, though she looked as if she were tempted to smile. “You can have her back in a few hours.”

Rey propped herself up on one elbow, staring over him at the tray of food on the table near the fireplace. “Ben,” she told him, her voice utterly serious, “I need you to leave so that I can eat that.”

“Beset on all sides,” Ben said with a sigh as his mother smirked and turned away, moving toward the dresser. He slid out from under the covers, snatching up his robe in an attempt to preserve his own dignity. He was always eager for Rey when he woke, and that morning was no different.

“He brought you a midnight snack?” he heard his mother ask Rey as he shut the door, and whatever she said next was muffled and inaudible.

“I told you to leave before dawn,” Ruwee said with a tsk, passing him in the hall as he walked back to his temporary quarters. Despite their late night meeting she looked completely awake and- on seeing him- undeniably smug.

“Worth it,” he asserted, not missing a single step.

- - -

“You’re preening like one of the birds,” Chewie teased. “Fluffing your feathers for a mate.”

Ben smirked as he examined his hair in the mirror. “Rey seems to like the end result.”

Chewie laughed, the sounding echoing genially in the room. “The way she watches you says yes. A canny, bright-eyed bird herself.”

Ben stepped back, considering his reflection. His clothing was unrelieved black, though cut along more formal lines and far more comfortable than his First Order gear. “Princely,” his mother had called it with an fond smile. “And you won’t clash with Rey.”

His mother had the right of it, he thought, at least about the former. He had been half-afraid he would see Kylo Ren staring back at him in the mirror, but all he saw was Ben, stance relaxed and expression quietly eager. Now all he had to do was wait.

“I’m going for a walk,” he told Chewie after a moment, resisting the urge to scrub his palms against his trousers. Ben might have spent years waiting- on his parents, on his grandfather, on anything- but he had never achieved the same kind of comfort Rey had with the concept. “Just along the lake shore.”

Chewie caught him gently by the shoulder on his way out. “You’re a good mate, Ben. And a good man.”

“Thank you.” Ben considered his godfather, who figured prominently in some of his earliest memories. He still remembered, faintly, the feel of being held against that furry chest. “I’m glad that my daughter will have you in her life.”

Chewie grinned. “And I’m glad that I aimed to maim, and not kill.”

Without really thinking about it, Ben pressed a hand to the scar on his side. “A reminder I’ll always carry with me,” he replied with a wry smile, and left the room.

It was a warm day, for spring. Patches of wildflowers bloomed near the lake shore, all of which Ben carefully avoided, keeping to the grass as he whiled away the time he had left to himself. For a moment he felt as if someone walked beside him, but whether it was Padmé, Anakin, or some other ghost he couldn’t tell. It could have been his own imagination, but if the last year had taught him anything it was the staying power of the dead.

He might one day walk this land as a specter, he mused, not terribly disturbed by the idea. Rey might walk here, as well. Perhaps their descendants would see them on summer evenings, walking hand in hand along the lake shore, just one more pair of ghosts from a family that seemed determined to clutter the galaxy with spirits.

Ben walked on, his hands tucked idly in his pockets, until he reached the small bay near their home. It was a quiet place, bordered by a tidy beach and filled with calm, clear water. The first time he had seen it, during a winter hike, he had immediately thought of Rey’s swimming lessons come summer.

Probably the summer of next year, he realized as he stared out across the gently lapping water. Or maybe not, depending on Rey- if her recovery went well, if she had her heart set on the lessons… which she likely would.

And she would be fine, he reminded himself firmly, feeling uneasy as he considered once more exactly what Rey would be going through in only a few months. The more Ben read about childbirth- which was a great deal, because at heart he was as much of a scholar as he had been a warrior- the more he worried. There was no getting around the reality that he was large and Rey’s hips were small, and he had never been more aware of that fact than when he had first studied holos depicting human childbirth. Rey had watched the same holos with equanimity, but Ben knew himself to be a little terrified.

Hurting Rey again- even indirectly- felt rather like a betrayal of everything he had promised her.

“BEN SOLO.”

Ben froze, instantly transported back in memory by a voice he hadn’t heard in over a decade. “Maz?” he said, almost in disbelief, and turned away from the water.

“Worrying, just like your father,” the diminutive woman said with a sigh. “Solos.”

The last time Ben had actually talked to Maz, it had been during a brief (and mildly drunken) furlough from the academy courtesy of Lando and Chewie. “You look well,” he said finally, unsure exactly what to say to this friend of his father’s, whose business he had destroyed.

“I am well,” she replied, amused, staring at him through those thick goggles of hers. “And you finally grew into those ears of yours, I see. I’m sure Rey finds good use for all that muscle.”

His lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “She doesn’t complain.”

“She wouldn’t. The moment she walked into my castle, I could tell that girl needed a sturdy cuddler.” Maz walked closer, gesturing. “Let me get a better look at you.”

Bemused, he knelt in the sand, glad that it was dry. She peered at him through her goggles, nodding with what looked like satisfaction. “Padmé,” she said finally, her voice pleased.

Ben narrowed his eyes, though not in threat. “Padmé?”

“I met her once,” Maz informed him, almost casually. “Right after she became Senator. Then later, when everything happened- well, it was easy to put most of the pieces together.”

Ben merely stared. “Really,” he said after a long beat of silence, entirely unsure what else there was to say.

“The first time I met you- no taller than me- I saw Padmé again.” She tapped his forehead, one brow lifted. “Remember when you were a boy and I told you I could see the same eyes in different people? She’s all over you, almost as if you just spoke with her yesterday.”

He sat back on his heels, his brow knitted together. “Are you sure you aren’t a Jedi?” he asked after a moment.

“Live as long as I have, boy, and you don’t need the Force.” She waved a hand at him in an unmistakable order to rise, and he did so without argument. “And before you ask, the Wookiee invited me.”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, hiding a grin. “Still chasing after Chewie?” he asked as they began the walk back to the house.

“Bold of you to assume he isn’t chasing after me,” Maz shot back. “I know things.”

“Please don’t tell me the things,” he said immediately, his tone utterly serious.

“Your father said the same,” she replied, amused. Somehow she kept pace with him. “You Solos are a strangely prudish bunch.” He caught, out of the corner of his eye, a sly glance in his direction. “Your mother, though-”

“Please don’t,” he interjected, but she continued as if he had never spoken at all.

“-Leia has always been interested in trading tips.”

He stopped in his tracks, tilting his head up to stare at the sky through the new spring leaves. “This is my punishment for destroying your castle, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You weren’t the first, and you probably won’t be the last,” she said in reply, her voice even. “And you did send me all that lovely First Order money. I only need a little revenge.”

Ben looked down, away from the calming blue and green, and met her eyes. “Please tell me it’s over.”

“It is.” She began walking again, leaving him behind. “Dust off your knees, Solo. You’re covered in sand.”

- - -

The ceremony started late.

“You can stop pacing now,” Finn said dryly, leaning against the wall of the front hall as he watched Ben tread the same path over and over across the floor. “It’s not like she’s left.”

“I know.” Ben resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair. “Poe, stop laughing.”

“I will not,” Poe replied, his shoulders still shaking. BB-8 whirred at his feet, freshly polished and beeping in a way that probably signaled droidly amusement. “You know there’s a party afterward, right? You won’t be able to just pick her up and leave.”

“I won’t need to,” Ben said with dignity, stopping in the middle of the floor. What he could feel along the bond was muted, but Rey was definitely upstairs and happy.

He just really- really- needed to see her, to touch her. It was as if the ground were shifting under his feet, though not because he doubted Rey. Ben doubted his own good fortune.

Braids, Rey said suddenly, soothingly. I’ve never had so many braids in my hair.

And- strangely- he relaxed, relief suffusing his body. He knew the braids for a bride: braids for fertility, for prosperity, for connubial bliss. Braids for health and wisdom and good luck. Knowing his mother, Rey’s hair had probably been twisted into an intricate coiffure of good wishes.

She lost track of time? he asked, ignoring the way Poe and Finn rolled their eyes as he stared into the middle distance.

She had a last minute debate with Ruwee about how best to balance braids and flowers. Your mother won.

Of course. Ben grinned, moving to lean against the wall. He refocused his gaze on the other men and one belligerent droid. “You should probably move to the terrace.”

Poe eyed him and nodded. “Right. Come on, Finn.”

Ben waited alone for only a few minutes before his mother appeared, Ruwee at her side. “She’s right behind us,” Leia informed him, looking pleased by his appearance. “You look very handsome.”

“We should have gotten him some jewelry,” Ruwee said, contemplative instead of teasing. “Pierced his ears, at least.”

“You can do that when you introduce him at court,” his mother replied with an earnest nod. She wrapped an arm around Ruwee’s shoulders, guiding her toward the terrace. “Silver, I think.”

“Or-”

The door to the terrace shut behind them, and Ben released a breath. Only a little longer. Only-

He felt her draw near before she even slipped into his range of vision. First her presence, then the swish of fabric against the stairs and quiet footfalls, and then- Rey. Rey, in familiar rainbow silk that draped decadently over her curved belly.

“You recognize it,” she said softly, pausing halfway down the stairs.

“You look perfect.” Automatically he moved to the bottom of the stairs, his right hand outstretched. “Somewhere, Padmé is overjoyed.”

She blushed, taking another step, then another, the silk gliding over her body in a way that made his mouth dry. “I was worried about tripping over the hem, but thankfully her namesake is helping me with that,” she said with a grin, placing her hand in his. The silk settled around her feet, a few inches shorter in the front than in the back. “You look very handsome.”

He couldn’t imagine himself anything other than handsome when she leveled that direct, appreciative gaze on him, color dusting her cheekbones. “Perfect,” he said again, taking in every inch of her he could see.

She laughed when he lifted their joined hands, encouraging her to make a slow twirl. “You might be the only living being to ever see my back before today,” she admitted as she turned. “Kriff, I’ve barely seen my back.”

The dress covered the old scar on her side, but revealed others: the reminders of her time scavenging through downed Imperial ships, as well as the faint lines left by Thera’s attack on Crait. Rey had grown up without medical care or access to bacta, and the proof was mapped across her skin. It was a map Ben was intimately familiar with, and loved dearly.

“I think you look beautiful,” he told her honestly as she finished her turn, tugging her gently toward him. “How do you feel?”

She was still smiling, no shadows in her eyes. “Beautiful.” Rey took another step closer, leaving barely any space between them. “What do the braids mean?” she asked curiously, lifting her free hand to curl over his shoulder. “Your mother said you would explain.”

Her hair was swept into just as complex a hairstyle as he had predicted, several sprigs of delicately perfumed flowers tucked into her coiffure. He examined the patterns, his ears growing hot when he spotted one particular braid. “Could I,” he began, his voice strained, “explain it tonight?”

Rey’s eyes widened as she considered him. “Yes.” She lifted onto her toes, her expression concerned. “It’s not… bad?” she asked, sounding doubtful.

“No.” He pressed a flurry of kisses against her forehead, calming minutely. “Just very, um, personal.”

She caught a mental glimpse of everything he wasn’t saying and immediately grinned. “Really?” she asked in a whisper, darting a gaze toward the closed door.

“Good wishes for you,” he replied with an embarrassed smile, his face hot. “I told you there were braids for everything.”

Rey’s laughter echoed off the marble walls, and after a moment his own joined hers. “I want an explanation for every one,” she told him softly once she could speak again, leaning against his chest. With a smirk he rested his cheek against her hair, brushing a finger over the braid at the nape of her neck.

Not a braid his mother had taught him personally. Ben had found that one on his own- along with a few others- in a compendium of Alderaanian braids that had not-so-mysteriously appeared on his datapad when he was a teenager.

“Every one,” Ben promised, trailing his fingers down her bare back. He could feel his mother growing impatient beyond the door. “Are you ready?” he asked in a murmur, not willing to move until Rey said yes.

She lifted her hands to his hair, not quite touching him. “Can I… before we go in?”

Immediately he knelt at her feet, waiting patiently as she created a small braid at his right temple. “I don’t have a way to fasten it,” she said with a quick bite to her lower lip.

“We both know its there,” he replied, looking up at her with his hands curved gently around her hips.

After a moment she nodded, releasing the end of the braid. “You know you’re my beloved,” she said softly, running her thumb over his brow. “My water.”

He could feel the tears pricking the inside of his eyelids, the ache in his throat. “I do.” Reverently he pressed a kiss against the swell of her stomach, then rose to his feet. “I really do.”

“Good.” Her smile was soft as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I’m ready, then.”

It was a short walk to the terrace; just a few steps to the door, which he opened with a flick of his fingers.

Showing off? Rey asked as the way opened before them, revealing blue skies and their expectant family and friends.

I didn’t want to let you go, he answered honestly, folding his free hand over hers. He had only taken the briefest glimpse of the view ahead, moving his gaze back on Rey almost immediately. The way her eyes had widened at the familiar sight of their own terrace, her slight intake of breath, the rush of excitement along the bond- every bit of it made him want to draw her closer. He resisted the urge, unwilling to even accidentally throw off her shifting center of balance. I love you.

I know, she replied as they passed through their small gathering, stopping before the holy woman Ruwee had vouched for. I love you very, very much.

The officiant said something, but Ben kept his gaze on Rey, distracted by her mental tone. Rey?

She lifted her face to meet his eyes, tears dripping down her cheeks. My water. My Ben.

Abruptly she wound her arms around his back, pressing herself as close as her stomach would allow. The holy woman’s words stuttered to a stop as he returned the embrace, wrapping Rey securely in his arms.

After a moment Rey turned her head to face their officiant. “I’m happily consenting,” she said clearly. “The baby is making me cry.”

Everyone on the terrace laughed in response, and the look of concern on the officiant’s face was replaced with an understanding smile. “Babies will do that,” she said with a chuckle. “If you’ll join your right hands, please.”

Rey smiled up at him as he loosened his grasp, both stepping back to clasp hands as directed.

“And do you consent to this marriage?” the officiant asked him, a long silver ribbon dangling from her hands.

That was a slight bending of tradition, one of several built into the ceremony. Gold was traditional on Naboo- had been on Alderaan, as well- but gold still reminded Ben too powerfully of Snoke. To his profound relief, no one had argued with him when he requested silver, instead, and Rey had backed him up with a definitive nod.

“I do,” he answered earnestly, caressing the back of Rey’s right hand with his thumb. The occasional tear slipped down her cheeks, but her smile was radiant with joy.

“Then we’ll begin.” The holy woman slipped one hand under theirs, her other laying gently on top. “Rejoice,” she said, speaking the word lovingly, taking obvious satisfaction in the work ahead of her, “for these hands will always lift your sorrows.” She began twining the ribbon around their clasped hands, each movement careful and deliberate. “Rejoice, for never again will you be without a light in the dark.”

She continued to speak, practiced hands arranging the ribbon in an intricate pattern until she reached the end of the litany, perfectly timed to the completion of the final bow. “Rejoice, for your beloved walks by your side, and you will never again walk alone.”

She lifted her hands away, leaving them bound. “The rings, please.”

His mother stepped forward, the rings resting in her cupped palms, a warm smile on her face. Ben took Rey’s ring from her hands, pressing an impromptu kiss against his mother’s cheek.

The officiant’s words had been the traditional words spoken on Naboo, but for the rings they had decided- without informing his mother- to use vows from Alderaan.

“You are the star of each night,” Ben said as Rey extended her left hand to him, and he heard the audible hitch of his mother’s breath. “You are the brightness of every morning. I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine, and no evil will befall you.”

Carefully- his hand trembling slightly- he slid a band of mythra onto her finger. No gems, nothing ostentatious: just delicately engraved flowers in softly gleaming metal.

Rey’s eyes widened when she saw it for the first time, surprise and a sense of rightness flaring along the bond. Smiling tremulously, she reached for the second ring, looking away from him long enough to kiss Leia’s other cheek before his mother could step away.

“You are the bread that satisfies my hunger, and the water that I thirst for.” The fingertips of her right hand brushed lightly and deliberately against the skin of his inner wrist. “I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine, and no evil will befall you.”

The feel of the ring slipping onto his finger- another band of mythra, this one engraved with leaves- made his heart skip a beat, and the tears that had been gathering in his own eyes began to slip down his cheeks.

“As you have vowed, may you live,” the officiant said, undoing the bow of the ribbon and, by slipping her finger under one particular strand, drawing the entirety away from their clasped hands. “In this life and the next.”

Rey lifted her left hand before he could move, pressing it against his cheek. My Ben, came her mental voice, giddy and triumphant. “Do I get to kiss him now?” she asked the officiant, who grinned as she folded the ribbon.

“As often as you want.”

Distantly, Ben realized that everyone else on the terrace was laughing and clapping, but at that moment everything was Rey: the feel of her hand cupping his cheek, their right hands still clasped, and- finally- her mouth against his in a lingering kiss.

I think I like this wedding business, she informed him as his arms wrapped firmly around her. We even get to have cake.

Still overwhelmed, he kissed her forehead before laying his cheek against her hair. My wife.

Her hands fisted in the over-robe he wore. “Say that again,” she whispered, pulling back enough to meet his gaze.

Ben grinned, ignoring the way their loved ones were suddenly pretending to ignore them. “My wife,” he murmured in her ear. “Rey Solo.”

“That’s a good name.” She bit her lower lip briefly, looking rather starry-eyed. “You should kiss me again,” she said quietly. “And then… I really do want cake.”

Laughing, he bent to kiss his wife- and what a wonderful word that was- a second time.

- - -

“Honestly, I can hardly believe you are still here.”

Ben- who had only been half-listening, being more interested in watching Rey as she spoke with Maz and his mother across the room- looked over at Poe. “What?”

“I expected the two of you to disappear an hour ago.” Poe swirled the half-filled glass of Corellian brandy he held, grinning. “Why the delay?”

“The last time I tried my mother intercepted me,” Ben admitted dryly. “Of course that was, at best, a half-hour into the reception.”

You should try again, Rey said teasingly, catching the drift of his conversation through the bond. She appeared to be listening intently to Maz, but she sparked inwardly with expectant excitement.

Ben smiled, slowly. “Never mind; I’m being summoned,” he informed Poe, setting down his own glass. “Stay out of trouble.”

His mother saw him coming, the corner of her mouth quirking into a slight smile, but she said nothing.

Not that he would have listened if she had.

“Have a lovely evening,” he told the group as a whole politely as he swept Rey into his arms. “Without us.”

Rey wrapped an arm around his neck, her body shaking with quiet laughter. “I lost a shoe,” she informed him as he carried her away.

“You won’t need it, trust me,” he replied, tightening his grip on her before attempting the stairs. “Everything you’re wearing is about to become unnecessary.”

“Same goes for you, I hope.”

“Definitely.”

“Wait,” she said after he had put her on the bed, his mouth already trailing down her neck. “Ben, wait a minute.” She was flushed when he pulled away, a smile on her face. “I need to use the ‘fresher,” she admitted with a laugh. “I’m sorry; she’s kicking me in the bladder.”

He helped Rey to her feet, laughing himself as he shook off his single-minded drive to get her immediately into bed. “Don’t apologize; it’s fine.”

Grinning, he shrugged out of his over-robe and tossed it onto a chair, then pulled off his shoes. As he loosened the collar of his shirt, he walked over to the small vanity that technically belonged to Rey, even if she rarely used it.

“Sit down,” he said when she came back, patting the back of the chair in front of him. “I promised to explain the braids.”

“Are they scandalous?” she asked with a smile, wrinkling her nose.

“You would have found more scandalous braids in an Alderaanian brothel,” he replied as he carefully removed the flowers from her hair, “but even bride-wishes can be a bit explicit.”

“Educate me, then,” she said cheekily. “I need a teacher.”

He met her gaze in the mirror, noting the heated look in her eyes. “Of course, wife.”

She blushed, and with a smile he ran his fingertips over her hair. “Fertility,” he said, pointing at the pattern along her right temple. “Here’s health- in general, and in childbirth. Happiness, twined together with plentiful harvests. And here-”

He paused, and after a moment of thought shared exactly what he saw along the bond. “Can you see?” he asked, caressing the nape of her neck with his thumb.

“This little braid here?” she asked, reaching back to trace it with her fingertips to the point where it was swept up with the rest of her hair, the mass of wishes mingling together.

“That one.” He tried not to blush. “Technically, it originally symbolized sweetness- as a virtue, really- but at some point the meaning shifted. Now it denotes pleasure. For the bride.”

Rey turned in her chair to look up at him. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble living up to that. I certainly have no complaints.”

Ben stopped worrying about whether or not he was blushing. He stopped worrying about anything. “I’m going to take your hair down,” he told her softly, gently. “And then I’m going to take you to bed… and I promise, Rey- I’ll be sweet to you.”

Her pupils widened as he watched. “I’d like that,” she replied in a whisper.

He undid every braid with careful attentiveness, his own patience bolstered by the way she watched him in the mirror. Patience kept his fingers steady as he undid the clasp of the dress at the back of her neck, and patience allowed him to help her out of a family heirloom instead of tearing it at the seams.

Finally, patience rewarded him when Rey was perched naked on the side of the bed, pillows behind her back, and he could finally nuzzle his face between her legs and taste just how sweet she was, and hear just how sweetly she could call his name.

And when she helplessly chanted, “Ben, Ben, husband,” her hand tangled in his hair, his own delight was even sweeter.

- - -

“Husband.” Rey giggled sleepily, curled up against his chest. “It’s a good word.”

“I certainly like hearing it, wife.” He ran a hand lazily over her hair, then curved his arm around her shoulders. “Say it again?”

“Husband.” She lingered over the word in almost the same way she had lingered over each forkful of cake. “Say my name.”

“Rey Solo.” Ben gathered her closer, cupping her face in his free hand. “My wife, Rey Solo.”

“My husband, Ben Solo.” She nipped at his chin, startling a grin from him. “Mine.”

“Yours, my desert girl.”

Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to ward off a yawn, and he got the distinct impression that she was stubbornly fighting off sleep. “I’ll still be here in the morning,” he said softly, tugging the blanket up around her shoulders. “I have no intention of going anywhere.”

Rey nodded slightly, brushing her thumb along his clavicle. “Me either.” She blinked several times, still trying to keep her eyes open even as her mouth curved into a sly grin. “Will you be sweet again tomorrow?”

“Sweeter,” he promised in a low, teasing voice, nuzzling his nose against her hair. “I might even feed you cake in bed.”

Rey hummed appreciatively. “I love you, my water,” she murmured, her eyes finally closing.

He pressed a kiss against her hair, content. “I know.”

- - -

His footsteps were almost soundless on the stone of the upper balcony as he walked, not entirely sure when he had slipped into a dream and not quite caring. He was still at Varykino, that much was certain, the house an odd overlap of how it had been during his grandmother’s time and how it was now: a gauzy set of curtains here, a rescued and rehabilitated chair from the attics there.

Ben walked alone under a darkening sky, enjoying the cool breeze off the water as the stars came out above. This night held no terror, no threat, no mysterious voices. There was only the calm of home, everyone he loved resting safely under a sound roof.

A flicker of saffron caught his eye as he passed above the main terrace, and he paused, looking over the railing to watch the pair below. His grandparents stood together near the balustrade, Padmé tucked securely in Anakin’s arms. After a moment she glanced up, meeting his gaze across the space between.

There would be other nights for conversation. Ben knew this instinctively, could sense untold dreams stretched ahead of him as he raised a hand in acknowledgment and smiled, receiving the same in return. Other nights in the meadow, or on the terrace. Even other nights to trade careful words with his grandfather until they found comfortable common ground. This, though, was a night for quiet, and so he continued on, leaving them to their privacy.

He could feel Rey- the real Rey, and no shadow- ahead, could almost see her curled up on a cushioned chair and staring up at the stars. Join me? she asked.

And Ben- with a smile on his face, and his heart light- followed the path that led to his wife.

Chapter Text

Rey wriggled her toes in the sand under her feet, grinning down at the water that lapped against her knees. She still wasn’t used to water like this: clear and blue-green, cool to the touch. She was grateful for the water, for the sun that fell gently against her skin without immediately scorching. She was grateful for the child kicking in her womb, only a month or so from birth.

And the arms that wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her steady against a warm, solid body- yes, she was very grateful for Ben.

“Hungry?” he murmured in her ear, lips brushing tantalizingly against her earlobe.

Rey just smiled and leaned back against him. “Not yet.”

She was a little bit hungry, but not hungry enough to move back to the shore, where a basket and a blanket waited. Not hungry enough to leave the water or Ben’s embrace. Food, Rey was still occasionally bemused to realize, was something always within her reach. Food was something she didn’t have to worry about, beyond what kind of food she wanted. The feel of a belly empty too long, of limbs weak with hunger, was something Rey would likely never feel again.

The baby squirmed inside of her, causing the skin of her abdomen to distort as tiny feet seemed to skate along the inside. Never hunger for you, Rey thought, running her hands lightly over the bulge of her belly, the thought both loving and fierce. You’ll grow up tall and strong, just like your father.

Little Padmé’s thoughts weren’t what Rey would call coherent, but she could grasp the gist of what her daughter felt: safe. Calm. Love.

“She’s happy, isn’t she?” Ben said softly, laying a hand on her belly. “You take such good care of her.”

Rey laughed, catching his hand with one of hers. “My body knows what to do, not me.”

“And your body does it very well.” His tone turned teasing. “Does a lot of things very well. I’m very partial to the way you move your hips just before you come. It’s kind of a… a swirl.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Rey admitted with a grin, rubbing her thumb against his wedding band. Her own still felt a little foreign on her hand, but there was something about seeing Ben wear his ring that inspired feelings she couldn’t name. Pride, maybe. Lust, definitely. An entire galaxy of emotions that made Rey want to straddle him on their bed and demonstrate the swirl he was apparently so fond of. “I want to go deeper.”

“We could do that.” Ben released her from his arms, moving around her until they faced each other. “Promise to hold on?” he asked, taking her hands with that one particular smile he only ever offered to her. He always seemed to be smiling like that at her- morning, afternoon, and night- and yet the sight never failed to make Rey feel richer than the absurd amount of credits in their bank account ever had.

Rey curled her toes into the sand, happier than she could express. “Always.”

They walked further into the water, Ben’s eyes on hers as he moved carefully backwards. He stopped once the water crested the top of her belly, and she knew from feel of the bond (and the stubborn set of his mouth) that she wouldn’t be going any farther.

Rey didn’t argue. At any other time, she might have pushed at that boundary- only a little, more to tease than anything- but just as there had been territory on Jakku too dangerous to enter, at that particular moment there was also water too deep to tread.

And given her complete inability to swim, that was pretty much any amount of water.

“I like this look of yours.”

She loved that tone of his, all quiet and deep and private, every word meant for her ears alone. “I thought you might,” she admitted candidly. “And no one’s around to see, so…”

Ben skimmed his hands down her sides with a heated look, past the layers of her breast band and over bare skin until he reached the slim covering of her underwear over her hips. “Are you trying to seduce me, Rey Solo?”

“I don’t need to try,” she replied with a confident grin, then pressed closer. “I want to float.”

He visibly softened, bending slightly to press his forehead against hers. “Are you hurting?” he asked quietly, with real concern.

Pain was a negligible concept to Rey. She had starved, torn her skin on jagged metal, endured bone deep bruises, and been beaten more than once. Pregnancy, in comparison, was trivial, though trying to convince Ben of that was a loving battle.

“I’m fine,” she answered honestly. “Help me?”

And he did, of course: keeping his hands under her as she leaned carefully backwards, making sure she stayed safely on the surface of the water. Feeling almost weightless Rey closed her eyes, trusting Ben to keep her afloat.

After a moment he spoke again, his tone easier. “It almost looks like she’s swimming.”

Rey didn’t need see his perspective to understand what he was seeing: her belly shifting as small limbs wriggled and stretched in an increasingly cramped space, the occasional hand or foot outlined in her skin. “She’s going to swim,” Rey said softly, taking comfort in the notion. Rey might have panicked when the waters of Crait had closed over her head, but her daughter would swim just as well as Ben, who cut through the water like a proverbial fish. “You’ll teach her.”

“You’re going to help,” her husband replied, not a single doubt in his voice. Rey peeked up at him, noting his earnest expression. “By the time she’s old enough to learn, you’ll be an expert.”

Rey grinned, the desert child she was still thrilled by the idea of moving through Naboo’s seemingly endless water under her own power. “I’m going to swim.”

Her eyes still barely open, Rey lifted a hand and circled one of his nipples lightly with her index finger, hiding a smile at the way he tensed.

“Rey.”

“I love them,” she replied, entirely unrepentant. “You certainly spend enough time playing with mine.” For good measure she slipped her hand under the water, trailing her fingertips across his abdominal muscles.

Abruptly he plucked her from the water, sending Rey’s eyes flying open completely. “Do you want to float or do you want to tease?” he asked as he cradled her against his chest, her feet barely touching the surface of the lake. He suddenly looked rather teasing himself, much to Rey’s satisfaction.

“Both.” She brushed her thumb across his other nipple, grinning when he bit his lower lip. Movement on the shore caught her eye. “Or we could go save our lunch from the porgs. I think they’ve almost figured out the latch.”

Ben glanced toward the shore with a sigh, but began to make his way to the beach without bothering to put her down. “They’re very clever. It seems like I wake up to Astra sitting on our bed at least once a week.”

He waited until they were on solid ground to settle Rey on her feet, and then moved forward to wave away the porgs. “We should eat while we have the chance,” he said, spreading the blanket out on the sand. “If we go in the water again they’ll steal every crumb.”

“Help me sit, then.”

Fresh fruit, Rey felt strongly, was one of the great unsung wonders of the galaxy, and she savored every bite as juice dripped through her fingers to splash onto her belly. When she tossed the bare pit behind her Ben grabbed her wrist, guiding her hand to his mouth. “You have your own fruit,” she said with a laugh as he began to lick her hand clean. “Ben.”

“Tastes better on you,” he replied unapologetically, and sucked one of her fingers into his mouth. He was grinning, she could tell, his tongue laving her skin in a way that made her squirm. “Eat your sandwich,” he added when his mouth was again free, then moved on to the next finger.

“In a minute.” Rey couldn’t look away from his dark head bent over her hand, attending diligently to every digit until the last drop of juice had been licked away. When he moved to do the same to her belly she giggled breathlessly at the tickle of his tongue and the sweep of his hair against sensitive skin.

Happy, little Padmé seemed to be feeling, and Rey had to agree, though ‘happy’ was a mere shadow of what she felt. Love buzzed in her mind and along every nerve ending, warm and radiant as sunlight.

“What are you thinking?” Ben asked when he was finished, that smile on his face and his hands curving over her stomach.

“That I love you,” she answered promptly, the words falling easily and naturally from her mouth. She ran her fingers through the unbraided portion of his hair, thinking beloved, beloved, beloved as their daughter kicked. “My water.”

“Sweetheart.” He was so soft, her tall, muscled husband, and the sight never ceased to amaze her. Ben leaned in to kiss her gently, in a way that she hadn’t dared dream of on Jakku: familiar and wonderful and full of promises for later. “I love you, too,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the upturned corner of her mouth.

And Rey- with the water ahead and green trees at her back- wrapped her arms around her husband, hugging her small family close.