This is how he kills her:
A blaster shot, searing across a space of a hundred paces, holding her upright by the very friction of pain. It explodes through one temple, through both, in the time it takes for his heart to beat twice.
Her face is no longer enough of a face, after.
He had his elbow tucked tight against his ribs, steady, as his father taught him.
And it is his father's blaster in FN-2187's hand, maybe, that burns through his throat a moment later.
He deserves it.
This is how he kills her:
Far, far away.
His thumb hovers over a trigger primed by his own vengeance a thousand times.
She commands his father's ship, and what remains of his father's memory.
If he weeps, when the moment comes, she never knows.
He thinks that that is what they call mercy.
He would take it back in a second—
Just like always.
The Falcon drops, spins, and ends in a rush of light and nothing.
This, then, is how he kills her:
Blade whining against blade, down-down-down until her peaked shoulder blades strike ground. He drops to one knee so that he can see her up close. He does not break focus, but he breaks something else.
(Maybe he presses bleeding lips to hers just before his cross-guard rakes through sternum bone and every chamber of her heart.)
(Maybe he waits to do it until she kisses him back.)
This is how he kills her:
He doesn't.