Fondest Dream
Leia Organa waited on the landing pad among the battered x-wings, her excitement barely contained. Her eyes scanned the gray sky above D'Qar, searching for any hint of the familiar lines of the Falcon, knowing that he would be aboard. She had felt it—a vibration, a murmur in the Force that had once been as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.
The ship broke through the blanket of clouds catching the golden light from the sun in a thin band low on the horizon. Leia's eyes followed it in its descent, ignoring the light drizzle that made whisps of her hair stick to the edges of her face.
Finally, the Falcon came to rest in one of the many large open spaces between groups of the relatively few remaining fighters. This conflict with the First Order had taken its toll on the Resistance, so many soldiers and pilots had fallen. But at this moment, Leia felt a little guilty because getting back something so precious to her personally was worth the cost. She rushed toward the descending ramp.
First to exit was the ex-stormtrooper and the girl from Jakku. Both of them looked dirty and tired, but they were smiling as they talked. They were shadowed by the large, hairy form of Chewbacca. Finn paused and waved at Leia before heading into the base, but she paid them no attention; her eyes were fixed on the ramp.
Han stepped out next, followed closely by a tall figure in tattered black robes with wary eyes set into a too pale face. He looked so different, but his presence in the Force was unmistakable.
"Ben!" Leia couldn't stop herself from shouting. She ran to him, slamming into him with a hug before he could dodge or protest.
"Mother, I—" He began the explanation with a sheepish expression; he never could hide his emotions well.
"Shh," she interrupted. "You're home. That's what matters."
Leia felt him relax then and wrap trembling arms around her. He smelled of ash and burned plastic, but she didn't care. She looked up at him and smiled through the shine of unshed tears.
"I didn't think you could possibly grow any more, but you got so big."
Surprise flashed across his features, then he smiled in return. Of all the things that had happened over the years that was what she chose to talk about? Han shifted and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Without releasing her grip on Ben, Leia reached out to Han, drawing him into the hug. She wasn't ever going to let either of them go again.
.
.
Leia opened her eyes as she lay in bed, her heart sinking as she remembered. Rey had left to retrieve Luke, Finn was in the med bay with a lightsaber slash across his spine, Ben hadn't returned and Han—
She choked, trying to maintain the stony composure that being a general of the Resistance required. Her eyes wandered to the empty space in the bed next to her where Han should have been. Here in her private quarters, she didn't have to be a princess or a general. Here she could be a grieving widow and mother. She brought her fist to her mouth and let her tears fall freely, flinging her pain wide for anyone sensitive enough to feel it.
.
.
Kylo Ren jerked awake. Grunting from the pain radiating from the bandaged wound in his side, he sat up and tried to think through the drug-induced haze blanketing his brain. It wasn't another nightmare that woke him, nor was it the distant ache of his injuries. A feeling of such terrible grief, such deep sadness had lanced through him. He knew the source—a vibration, a murmur in the Force that had once been as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. He understood that bottomless suffering; it mirrored his own. Now, in the hushed, umbral hours after the fall of Starkiller, he knew he could never go back. A monster, that girl had called him. A monster he would become.
He snarled wordlessly and clenched his fists in the folds of the thin blanket spread over his legs, wrapping himself in his anger to let it rise as a shield against the tears he desperately wanted to let fall as he cursed his own weakness. Unbidden, a memory that he'd thought long buried rose to the surface of his mind—the words of an Alderaanian lullaby, sung by a voice still loving, but he imagined it cracking with sorrow.