0 ABY
There is a sharp, short knock on the door.
"Come in," Luke and Leia's father says, knowing fully who is on the other side without even having to sense it. He gets so few visitors - Ahsoka occasionally when Luke has to be elsewhere, Rex once, an awkward and emotionally fraught encounter to say the least. His daughter has not been to see him, though he does not begrudge her that, she is dealing with enough as it is. Of those few he does receive, only one would bother to knock, though just why he chooses to do so is a mystery.
In truth, his son is less of a visitor, and more like a permanent resident of the med bay. He spends his nights curled up in the armchair next to the door, and his days regaling his father with stories of his youth on Tatooine, ones which only reiterate how incompetent Luke's caretakers truly were. If that coward, Kenobi, ever chooses to show his face again, he will be getting an ear-full.
The door opens to reveal Luke, both arms laden with trays of food. "Hi!" He beams. "So, yesterday we learned that endwa was a no-go. Today," he draws the word out with a flourish, placing the tray across his father's lap. "I played it safe, I think - I hope."
The spread is far from lavish. A flanth steak sandwich, some roasted tarsh maxers, and a few slices of kuvara. Nothing overly seasoned or too sweet - save for the fruit, which he will likely end up giving to Luke, anyway. While he could technically eat within the safety of his hyperbolic chamber, he rarely indulged the luxury, and he finds that the time elapsed has changed his tastes, his body almost actively rejecting anything too rich in flavor. It may readjust in time, but he could not care less about that at this particular moment.
"This is perfectly acceptable. Thank you, Luke."
"Perfectly acceptable." Luke repeats, his head dancing from side-to-side in obvious amusement as he scoots his chair closer to the medical bed.
"Do not mock your father."
Luke's eyes fly wide and his mouth hangs agape in false shock. "I would never!"
"How is your sister?" Luke and Leia's father asks, running one mechanical thumb over the textured crust of the sandwich's bun. His left arm and both legs have been replaced, the new cybernetics matching the one on his right arm – better fitting, more agile, likely expensive as well. He wonders if the Rebel Alliance has access to his personal accounts. Actually, he's not even sure Imperial credits are valid forms of currency any longer.
It has been just over a week since Sidious was destroyed, and it would be a drastic understatement to say that life has changed in that time. No longer second in command of an Empire, he has found himself sequestered to a med bay aboard Home One, a prisoner in everything but official title. For obvious reasons, he has been left in the dark on both political and martial matters – really, on all matters but those regarding his own health, which is doing shockingly well in comparison to the last few years, though he supposes that miraculous Force healing via a dyad will help with that significantly.
"Leia?" Luke asks as if needing to clarify. It is as clear a sign of buying more time as the over-large bite he takes immediately after. "She's, ah, she and Han are still having a pretty rough time."
"Of course." That is completely understandable. Their son is gone, and they have no clear proof that he will still be born. He does not need to imagine what they must be feeling.
The sandwich is just bland enough to be palatable and the tarsh maxers are nice as well, familiar in a comforting way. The simple act of eating is actually quite enjoyable now that his throat is not irreparably scarred. There are little things like that, things that his body couldn't do before or that his suit wouldn't allow for, those are the greatest part of his freedom, he thinks. He can hold his breath, can hoard it in his lungs until they burn from the effort, until he passes out. He has no desire to do this, but that he can… it is heady.
He feels human again, alive, or, he is starting to.
"Try this," Luke instructs, leaning across the bed to point at the slices of fruit on his tray. "It's kuvara."
"Luke," His father deadpans. "I am forty-three years old. I have had kuvara before." Though, admittedly, it has been a long time.
The light orange flesh is tender, a stark contrast to the rough exterior, and the flavor is sweet with a bit of tartness at the very end - and a little overwhelming. One bite is enough, he decides, pushing the small plate of fruit to the side of his tray closest to his son.
There's a flurry of emotion on the other side of the door, a wave of apprehension and respect, and Luke and Leia's father looks up just in time to see it slide open with a crisp, audible whoosh. She has not yet been to see him, but he recognizes the auburn-haired woman in the threshold without need for formal introduction.
Luke gives one anyway. "Chancellor Mothma." He says, placing his own food tray on the foot of his father's bed and scrambling to stand.
"Luke," Mothma's voice is soft, but that in no way retracts from the authority she exudes. "And -" she looks to Luke and Leia's father and blinks, "Anakin Skywalker? Lord Vader? How would you prefer to be addressed?"
The truest answer to that question is likely not one that would be well received. Anakin Skywalker as he once was, as he was when Ahsoka and Rex knew him, as they wish he were now, is not a person that exists any longer. That person will probably never exist again. But the same can be said for Darth Vader. What, then, does that mean for the man who inhabited both personas, who now feels like both and neither at the same time? The future for whoever that man is remains unclear, but that is not what the Rebel Alliance wants to hear.
"Anakin is fine, Chancellor."
Mothma narrows her eyes curiously, her lips pursed into a thin line, and it is unclear just why until Luke coughs behind him and hisses, "Father! You're scowling." He then looks up at Mothma and smiles placatingly. "Sorry, he's not great at regulating facial expressions."
"Apologies," Luke and Leia's father forces out as he re-works his face into something that he hopes to be more neutral. "My relationship with the person I last called 'Chancellor' soured my opinion of the title considerably."
Mothma's face relaxes visibly. "I understand. I cannot claim to be a fan of his either."
"To what do we owe the honor, Chancellor?" Luke asks, returning to his seat.
"I see no use in wasting time on pleasantries." Something Luke and Leia' is glad for. He's never had much patience for such things. "Anakin," she turns her attention fully to him. "I have spent the last few days with the Alliance High Council, discussing what is to be done with you, and, I'll be frank, we are at a loss."
This does not come as much of a surprise, but Luke and Leia's father raises his brows anyway. "Oh?"
"There has been quite a bit of back-and-forth, though none of us are keen to forget your crimes…"
"Crimes I have not been tried for." Luke and Leia's father interjects, much to Mothma's displeasure.
"Father," Luke chastises.
"No, Luke, Anakin is right. A trial would be required before any sort of sentence could be delivered."
"I must ask, Chancellor, under what laws will I be tried?" Mothma's face hardens, surely understanding the direction he is headed. "Though I am loath to point it out," he lies, "I have committed no crimes under Imperial law. That would have been impossible, given my position and ranking in the Empire. Republic law would be another matter entirely, of course, but as there is no Republic, that seems a moot point. I do hope that, when the time comes, I will be tried under a valid and functioning galactic government. I believe rights like that for all galactic citizens are something your cause believes very strongly in?"
"The process of forming a New Republic has already begun, and though a few systems already joined to our cause, such things take time." Mothma says, her voice slightly colder than before.
"And what shall I do in that time?" Luke and Leia's father asks, sitting a bit straighter. It is difficult to command authority from the confines of a medical bed, but he tries. "Wait here?" He gestures around the small room with both hands.
"Lord," Mothma stops, closes her eyes, rubs the bridge of her nose, and exhales a long-suffering sigh. "Anakin, you may not believe this, but I am trying to help you."
That is difficult to believe. "Why?"
"Thanks to the testimony of your children and Ahsoka Tano, I know the part you played in the death of Emperor Palpatine, and what we owe you. I am not as willing as a few of my fellow council members to simply sweep that under the rug. It would paint a pretty picture, certainly, a former Jedi padawan and her two young apprentices, ridding the galaxy of the greatest evil it has ever known, but that would be a lie, and lies are not what I want the New Republic to be built upon." Mothma squares her shoulders and clasps both hands in front of her. "We must strive to be better than what came before, both the Empire and the Republic, even if that means looking truths we would rather not face in the eye and meeting them head on."
"So you have not come here to arrest me."
"No," Mothma agrees, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards. "There may still be a trial, of course, but that is not why I am here."
"And why are you here?"
"I was sent to gauge your interest in aiding the Rebel Alliance and, eventually, the New Republic, once reformation efforts have completed."
"Gauge my interest?" Anakin says slowly, allowing the words to roll around in his mouth lazily.
Quashing rebellions is all he has known for the past two decades, all he has known all his life if the Seperatist movement could be considered a rebellion even with as fabricated as it was. Somehow, he does not find the idea of joining one as abhorrent as he possibly should.
"Given your previous position, your knowledge of the Empire and its current resources, as well as whatever contingency plans they might have regarding the death of the Emperor, will prove invaluable."
He hums in understanding and does his best to retain the stony mask of neutrality that he has formed on his face. It is difficult to remember that others can see it now. Ahsoka does not appreciate how often he rolls his eyes. Luke mostly seems to find it humorous.
"I am not sure I can be of much use when it comes to 'contingencies'. I am not sure that Sidious ever intended to die, and if he had plans in case the worst did happen, he did not tell them to me."
Sidious' plans were not his concern when it came to that matter. His plan had been to take over the role of Emperor, though that is clearly no longer an option. He is not sure he particularly minds as much as he once might have.
"There will be other information," Mothma presses on, undeterred. "Base locations, weapons caches, weaknesses. The others have already informed the Council of the plans to create a second DS battle station, but I suspect that is not all the Empire has under its belt."
"And if I agree to assist you," Luke and Leia's father knows that he is treading on very thin ice, but that has never stopped him from stomping around for fear of falling in before. "What can I expect?"
"Not your freedom," Mothma says seriously. "Not a pardon. Perhaps a more lenient sentence, though the terms of that will still need to be discussed further by the Council. There has been talk of banishment to the Outer Rim, Wild Space, the Unknown Regions –" her fingers flit through the air with each possibility.
Freedoms and pardons are not things he had been expecting, so he is not particularly put out to see them tossed off of the metaphorical table. He has no illusions about endearing himself to the Rebel Alliance through any amount of information or assistance. He is also not so foolish as to believe that just because Mothma has not mentioned capital punishment as an outcome of his eventual trial that it is not an option.
His life, however, is the least of his concerns. He had not expected to survive his battle with Sidious and feels as though he has been living on borrowed time since his duel with Kenobi on Mustafar, but his children's lives are also a factor here. He does not think that the Alliance will kill them, but their reputations could be ruined by association with him alone. Playing nice with the side with which he currently finds himself associated may spare them the worst of that.
"I think that I could find myself amenable to such an arrangement."
"Really?" Luke asks with genuine surprise.
When Luke and Leia's father answers, he does not speak directly to Luke or Mothma, but to the room, the air, the past, perhaps just to himself. "Sidious - the Emperor - has taken so much from me, from my family. If you would accept it," he does focus on Mothma now, "I would lend my aid to see everything that he has built, what I helped him build, dismantled." And that, he realizes only as he says it, is true enough.
Mothma smiles gently, seeming pleased. "I shall inform the council of your answer, then. Thank you for your time, Anakin."
2 ABY
"You are my only daughter," Anakin begins. His holographic form flickers above the comm unit in Leia's quarters aboard Home One. He, Luke, and Ahsoka are on an away mission, but he'd made an urgent call almost immediately after Leia had sent news of her and Han's engagement over to Luke. "And Luke may never get married, having chosen the path of the Jedi," He adds, his tone dripping with something only a shade lighter than disapproval.
"Hey now, Anakin!" Ahsoka's voice calls from off-screen. Anakin's eyes flick over to where she must be, one eyebrow raised in question, his gaze cool. "That path doesn't stop everyone from getting married, now does it?"
Anakin glowers and sighs before returning his attention to Leia. He's very expressive, she's noticed, though he has gotten better about not reacting to everything everyone says with a glare or an eyeroll in the years since leaving the mask behind.
"As I was saying," He continues, straightening his back very slightly. His cybernetic hands are clasped behind his back. "You are my only daughter, and I would like very much to attend your wedding – if you will have me." He adds after a pause.
Leia chews on her bottom lip and crosses her arms over her chest as she thinks. Her relationship with Anakin is still… strained, at best, though he has made a clear effort to respect the boundaries she has put up. He is not demanding that he be allowed to attend, merely asking. He's also done well in proving his dedication to the disestablishment of the Empire and his commitment to changing. There's also the fact that he is, technically, her father.
"I have some conditions." She replies after some time.
"Such as?"
"You must be civil towards my parents." She says firmly. Fire flares in Anakin's eyes and his jaw works but Leia presses on, not allowing him to interrupt. "There will be no accusations of kidnapping or vows for revenge, do you understand?"
"But they did –" He takes in a long, deep breath and closes his eyes before continuing. "I understand. Anything else?"
"I expect Luke or Ahsoka to be with you at all times, though I'm sure that the Alliance will also require that, and no weapons."
"Is that all?"
"Yes," Leia agrees, feeling a bit awkward. "Agree to those terms and I would be happy to have you at my wedding."
"Leia," He begins. His voice is not as deep as it once was, it is not the booming mechanical baritone of Vader, but the tone is still very low, solemn, she thinks. "Nothing could keep me from attending."
Days and weeks and months pass, and Leia almost forgets her agreement with Anakin – almost.
She spends a good deal of her time planning her wedding with her mother. Personally, she'd rather it be a smaller affair, the war is not technically over yet, but her mother insists on something far more lavish. Something befitting the heir to the crown of Alderaan, her mother says. Leia doesn't have it in her heart to argue, still feeling that every moment spent with her parents, on Alderaan, is time stolen from the cold grips of fate.
The morning of the wedding she is in her room and her mother is fussing with the pearl-encrusted veil atop her head. After a few minutes of adjusting and re-adjusting Leia bats her mother's hands away. "Mother, please!" Leia chastises playfully, laying the lace smoothly over her exposed shoulder. "You're going to ruin my hair."
"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" Her mother teases with a smirk, tucking a loose strand behind Leia's ear.
"Oh, stop that, will you? My braids look fine!" Leia says defensively. Han has been practicing Alderaanian marriage braids for months now and he'd been so nervous last night.
Are you sure you don't want your mother to do this? He'd asked, his brows knitted together in a mixture of concentration and frustration. I don't want to ruin this for you, sweetheart.
A few of the plaits are a bit clumsy or misplaced, but they are made with love and Leia adores them. "Please don't tease Han about them," She pleads spinning around. "He's about to combust as it is."
"I won't say a thing." Her mother vows with a warm smile. She takes Leia's face in both of her hands. "I'm so happy for you, my sweet girl." She says before pressing a gentle kiss to Leia's forehead.
A sharp rapping on the door startles both of them as neither had expected any visitors so close to the ceremony. Leia's mother looks at her quizzically, but she is able to sense who awaits her on the other side of the door before opening it. She raises a hand in her mother's direction, instructing her to stay put.
"Anakin," She opens the door quickly.
"I came alone." He points out before Leia is able. "I wanted a chance to speak with you in private, if possible."
"You came," Leia says, almost in disbelief.
"I told you that nothing could keep me." His eyes soften. "Not even your ridiculous terms. I have no weapons," He gestures to his lightsaber-less belt for emphasis. "I shall remain in the company of Luke or Ahsoka for the remainder of my visit, and I shall be…" He forces his mouth into something tight and uncomfortable that might pass for a smile, if she's being generous. "Civil with all present."
"Come in," Leia says, sweeping her skirts aside to allow him entry. He nods and crosses the threshold.
"Your Highness," He inclines his head respectfully in her mother's direction. His presence in the Force prickles but his polite exterior belies nothing.
"Leia, are you sure?" Her mother whispers, her face two shades paler than normal.
"Yes, mother," Something sharp spikes in Anakin's signature but it is not anger, it is something far sadder, something painful. Leia places a hand on her mother's arm and assures her, "I'll be fine."
Her mother nods and leaves slowly, stealing a few glances in Anakin's direction as she goes. His face remains neutral, a mask as real as the horrible black one he once wore. The door shuts with a soft click and they are left alone for the first time since Leia accused Anakin of killing Padmé.
"The veil," Anakin is the first to break the tense silence. He raises one gloved hand, his fingers almost brushing the lace that hangs around Leia's arms, but he pulls back at the last second.
"Sola brought it," Leia supplies numbly. "She said that it was hers – Padmé's, I mean."
"I know." Anakin replies.
Leia feels like a fool almost instantly. Of course he knows. He was the one who married her, after all. She had not considered how Anakin might feel about her wearing Padmé's veil. He doesn't speak much about her and Luke's mother, but when he does it is clear that the subject is a painful one for him. Is it painful for him now?
"It looks beautiful on you."
"Thank you."
"I see so much of her in you. She would be very proud of you and all that you have accomplished." He pauses and looks away for a moment, blue eyes flicking from a window to a painting and finally up to the ceiling. "I am proud of you, for whatever that is worth."
"Thank you." Leia repeats, unsure of what else to say.
"I wish that she were here, your mother. I wish that all the time, but especially on days like today, that she could see you like this." Wetness gathers in his eyes and Leia doesn't know what to do. She has never seen Anakin cry before. It has never occurred to her that he could, which is silly, because he is just a man, after all.
"Luke told me the Jedi teach that there is no death because we all become one with the Force when we die." Leia offers. She thinks she is trying to comfort him, but she's not sure if it's working. She doesn't find that idea particularly comforting, herself.
"Yes," His face hardens. "That is what the Jedi taught, but they were wrong. There is death. Your mother is dead. She no longer exists as I once knew her, but that does not mean that she is gone. Death is not the end, nor is it the worst thing that can happen to someone. It took me…" A small, sad sound escapes him. It might be a laugh. "Far too long to realize both of these things.
"She is not gone. She lives on in you and your brother, in - in me, in my memories of her. She survives in the hearts and minds of everyone who knew and loved her, of every life she touched. She was a very good person, your mother, but I am sure you knew that already."
Yes, thanks to her parents' stories as well as her own interest in the woman's life growing up, Leia knows very well how wonderful Padmé Amidala was. Kind, with a generous heart, intelligent and fierce and strong, everything Leia has always hoped herself to be.
Someone she knows less is Anakin Skywalker. She's heard stories from Ahsoka, Rex, her father, and even the astromech droid, R2D2, of the man he used to be. They say that he was brave and that he often thought with his heart before his head, for better or for worse. Leia knows that he is not that man any longer but, better than anyone else, she also knows why.
She knows the way that man's mind was twisted and mangled in the Emperor's effort to create a monster. She knows because she lived it, even for just a few horrible moments, a knowledge made worse by what she doesn't know. What would she have done if Luke had not intervened? She doesn't have the answer to that question, even two years later.
She and Anakin are not necessarily close, but her anger towards him has been tempered by understanding, compassion she supposes, maybe more like commiseration. She finds now that she is grateful for his pride and, in many ways, she is proud of him as well, because she can see him trying every day.
She smiles and, in the here-and-now, she blames her softening heart on the fact that this is her wedding day and, in general, emotions are high, but later, in the safety of her and her husband's shared bed and alone in the secrecy of her mind, she will acknowledge that excuse for what it is, a lie.
"I'm very glad that you're here." Leia says, and she means it.
5 ABY
Leia Organa Solo wakes slowly, stretching out every inch of her body with a peaceful, languid fluidity. Her eyes remain closed, though she can see the bright light of morning shining through her eyelids. She rolls over and paws sleepily at Han's side of the bed, but her husband isn't there.
Her eyes flutter open and she props herself up on one elbow as she looks around the room. Han is never the first to wake up. She swings the thick, warm covers off of her legs just as the door to their bedchambers swings open.
"Oh, no," Han tuts, "back in bed with you." He sweeps into the room carrying a plater laden with plates of food, smiling in that roguish way she likes.
Unable to keep a smile from her own face, Leia tucks her legs back under the warm layer of comforters and duvets, but she stays sitting up, resting her back against the cushioned headrest.
"What's this for?" She asks as Han sets the tray down on the bed so that it hovers just over her thighs. She already knows the answer.
"Happy anniversary, sweetheart," He says placing a tender kiss to her temple. She turns her head to capture his lips with a kiss of her own, one he returns, gladly. "And good morning to you." He smiles before leaning down to place a soft peck on the ever-growing swell of her stomach. She's about twenty-five weeks along now and she feels huge.
Anakin had warned both her and Han that, due to the changes between Ben's original timeline and their own, he might not be the child she is carrying now – he might not be born at all. The thought terrifies her, but she and Han have resolved to love any child they have with all their hearts, even if they aren't Ben, even if they have to love him only in memory. Still, she has hope – she always does.
Something flutters inside of her as Han reverently rubs her swollen belly, a spark of bright, golden light shining within her as warm as the sun streaming through her windows. A burst of pure, simple joy and love that has nothing to do with her own. It's the baby, she realizes with a start.
"Han!" Leia gasps, covering his hand with her own. He looks up at her, worry etched into his features, surely afraid that he's done something wrong. "I felt him!"
"What, you mean like a kick? I didn't…"
"No, no." She shakes her head, happy tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "I can feel the baby through the Force. I think he could feel you were near, and he got so happy and…"
"Huh," Han lets out a choked sound that is halfway between a laugh and a cough as he looks back down at her stomach, his thumb tracing slow circular patterns across the blush-pink fabric of her nightgown. "How're ya' doing, kid?" He asks, his voice tight with emotions he typically likes to avoid.
She brushes her own presence in the Force against the baby's and she could swear it feels like he's trying to hold her. Her heart feels full to bursting. She meets the baby's Light in the Force again. It dances around her happily. There's something so familiar about it, something she can't quite place, not at first.
"It's Ben," She breathes, her eyes quickly filling with tears.
"What?" Han looks up at her with wide, hopeful eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," She nods emphatically.
Han takes her face in both of her hands and kisses her cheeks and forehead and lips. He pulls her to him tightly, burying his face where her neck meets her shoulder. She can feel wetness gathering there, can feel his chest heaving with strangled breaths, but she doesn't comment on it.
"I think we have a few things to explain to my parents."
5 ABY (3 months later)
Leia wakes Han in the middle of the night to inform him that her water has broken. She is calm, shockingly so, and Han is decidedly not. They'd prepared for this, had talked through the entire process at length, had packed a 'go' bag – something Han would have forgotten without Leia reminding him, twice – but all of that planning has done little to calm Han or help him feel ready now that the moment is finally upon them.
Twenty long hours of labor later, Ben arrives into the world, pink and wrinkled and squalling. The doctor hands him to Han along with a pair of scissors and allows him to cut the cord before the nurses whisk him away to place atop Leia's chest. Skin-to-skin contact is very important for mother and baby, they say. Han had read that somewhere too, in one of the seemingly hundreds of baby books he'd been sent by Breha and Bail and, mind-bogglingly, Anakin.
The rest of the day passes by in a blur and though Han tries to stop, memorize, preserve every moment, it all goes by too quickly to truly process. One moment he's crouched by Leia's bed, the both of them crying as their son opens his eyes and sees them for the first time, the next he's staring, slack-jawed at the front of a food dispenser in the hallway of Morr Antilles Memorial Hospital, a handful of credits shaking in his palm, a father.
He is a father.
He's known that he would be for some time now, of course. Hell, he was a father for a few months… technically. He's had more time to prepare for parenthood than most, but it hits him like a freighter crashing down on his head anyway.
He doesn't even know what he's looking at. Food, yes, but when he thinks about the tiny, new life squirming and cooing in the other room, the words, ones written in plain Aurebesh, lose all meaning. He can't read. Fathers need to know how to read, don't they?
He doesn't buy anything. He's not hungry, really, so he doesn't know why he'd gone out to the food dispenser in the first place. When he returns, empty-handed, the room is dark and Leia is asleep. The door behind him closes a little too loudly and Han hisses at the clang of metal-on-metal. Leia doesn't wake, out like a light as always, but Ben begins to stir fitfully in the clear plastoid bassinet beside her bed.
For a moment, he's terrified and his first thought is to wake Leia, but she only just managed to get some sleep and what kind of husband would he be if he woke her up after all that she's been through in the past day and a half?
Get it together, Solo. He mentally chastises himself. You're the father, go deal with your kid.
He approaches the small bed and gently, very gently, scoops the small bundle containing his son into his arms. He sits back down in the criminally uncomfortable armchair – what does this hospital have against fathers, anyway? – and holds the boy against his legs, head supported by one hand. He bounces his knee a bit because he's noticed that the kid likes to stay moving, likes the rhythm, maybe.
"Hey there, big guy." Han whispers, a smile spreading over his face. Big, grey-blue eyes blink back at him – something that apparently will change as he gets older. They'll be brown, of course, like Leia's. Han hadn't known that about babies, that their eyes can change after they're born. He hardly knows anything about babies. He's not even sure if he's ever held a baby before Ben. If he did, he doesn't remember it now.
"You're smaller than I remember." He chuckles. Ben fidgets and makes a quiet, aggravated sound. "Just as cranky, though. Now, don't go crying and waking your mother."
Ben squirms around in his swaddle and gurgles. One tiny hand escapes the tightly wrapped blankets and he reaches out for Han who offers a finger in return. Ben squeezes Han's finger with more strength than he imagined something so small could have. Suddenly, Han is crying again. He'd thought he was done with that.
He can't help it though. He looks down at his son. He just – he loves the kid so damn much. He would give him anything – anything. It is terrifying to have this tiny little thing, this new life, one so precious and fragile, depend on him, but trying to imagine the galaxy as it was yesterday, a time before Ben, it's infinitely worse. Chewie'd said it would be like that, like the entire universe is spinning counter-clockwise on its axis and, yet, somehow feeling right-side-up for the first time in your life, but it's impossible to grasp until you've lived it.
"Listen kid," Han begins, his voice tight. "I don't know too much about this whole dad thing, but I promise, I'm gonna try like hell to be a good one for ya' – you can hold me to that." He rubs the back of his finger against the soft, brand new skin of his son's cheek.
"I'm never gonna be perfect, but I'm never gonna let you feel like – feel like I would've had a better life if you weren't around. 'Cause that's just not true." He lifts his son up and presses the boy's forehead to his lips, breathing in deeply. He'd never known newborn babies had such a distinct smell. He can't get enough. "I love you, Ben – I need you to know that. I'm not so good at… opening up, being vulnerable..." He pulls the baby back to look on his face again and smiles. "So, I guess I'm just gonna have to start practicing."
6 ABY
Armitage is alone. He'd been with his nanny, her hand grasped tightly in his own, but he'd lost her in the commotion that quickly engulfed the ship. He'd frozen in fear, feeling his hand empty. Others had pushed past him, either unaware of or not caring about the small child stood stock still in the middle of the chaos-filled corridor. They're all gone now, to escape pods or somewhere better to hide. He should find somewhere to hide - but he can't move! The only light in the hall is the swirling red one of the alarm and the siren is so loud and scary. All he can do is stand here and cry - his father would be so upset if he found him here, a pitiful, weeping mess.
His chest tightens as a group of people - people not dressed in Imperial uniforms - round the corner in front of him. His mind screams at his legs to move, to run away, but they don't listen. The man at the head of the group approaches him slowly, his face is scarred and severe looking.
"What is your name, young one?" The man asks. Armitage squeaks in fear and closes his eyes, hoping that the intruders will be gone when he opens them. They aren't.
A woman brushes past the scary man and kneels down in front of Armitage. She smiles, her dark eyes glistening even in the strange, frightening red lights. She looks kind, but Armitage has met many people who looked kind and then later proved to be very much the opposite.
"My name is Shara," She says warmly. "What's your name, sweetie?"
"Ar - Armitage," He responds shakily, then, remembering the way his father instructed him to greet people, he straightens his back and presses his arms flat against his side. You're a Hux, whether I'd like you to be or not, have some damn pride, boy! "Armitage Hux," He repeats, forcing his small voice to remain firm.
The scarred man looks at him curiously, but says nothing, thankfully. The woman smiles again and reaches out her hand. Armitage flinches, certain that she will strike him, but she doesn't. Her hand hovers in the air between them. He takes it tentatively.
"It's very nice to meet you, Armitage." She shakes his hand gently before releasing it.
Armitage is skeptical of the group gathered in front of him. They don't seem outwardly hostile, and they haven't hurt him… yet, but they do all have weapons - the scary man has a light sword, only Jedi carry those. Well, Jedi and Darth Vader – but Darth Vader is dead, his father told him so. Even the nice lady has a blaster, though she holstered it before approaching him. They aren't Imperials, he knows that much to be sure, and so they can't be trusted.
"You're Rebels," He says, frowning.
"We're from the New Republic," Shara corrects. Armitage doesn't understand the difference. Anyone fighting against the Empire is a rebel, and anyone that is a rebel is dangerous.
"Are you - are you going to kill me?" He whimpers, his whole body trembling. His father would be disgusted with him, but he can't help it!
"No!" Shara says. She reaches out again and places both of her hands on Armitage's shoulders. He stiffens completely at the contact, certain that she will hurt him, but she smiles again and he relaxes despite his better judgement. "No, of course not!"
"But my - my father said that if the Rebels ever found us, that they'd -" His voice breaks as a sob wracks his body. Tears pour down his face he tries to wipe them with the fraying edge of his sleeve. "I don't want to die," He whispers pitifully.
"And you won't," Shara says. It sounds like a promise, but Armitage knows from experience that promises can be easily broken. She pulls him into her body and wraps her arms around him, squeezing tightly. He doesn't fight her. Her embrace is so warm and he's received so few in his life. He thinks that his mother might have hugged him, but he hardly remembers her at all. Perhaps he'd just imagined the hugs.
He cries into Shara's shoulder, making a mess of her olive-drab jacket. She shushes and soothes him, rubbing one hand against the back of his head. He wishes his mother were here, or even Admiral Sloane. She's certainly never hugged him, but she's always been kind, or at least she's never been unkind, which Armitage supposes is the same thing.
Shara lifts him up and he lets her, nesting his face further into her neck and shoulder. His father would be livid if he saw him now, so mad that the thought of it alone frightens Armitage. He should be scared of this woman, should run away and tell an officer where she is, but he doesn't. No wonder his father is so ashamed of him. He cries harder.
"I'm going to take him back to the ship - this is no place for a child." Shara says softly. Armitage's heart thuds violently in his chest. He's being captured! He grasps at Shara's shirt and contemplates kicking away from her, but she rubs soothing circles into his back, so he stays where he is.
"I agree," The scary man says.
"Do you think - could there be more children here?"
"It is possible," The man agrees. Armitage squeezes his eyes shut tighter. "We shall keep an eye out for them."
Armitage weeps as he feels Shara running towards wherever the Rebel ship is docked. Are they going to torture him for information? He doesn't know anything - but they'll never believe him. His father had warned him about this, about Rebels. He shouldn't have trusted them, he should know better than to trust anyone.
Shara stops after some time and pulls him away from her shirt. She sits him in one of the seats aboard a small transport vessel and pulls something out of her pack - a ration bar and a packet of water. He grimaces at the offering and Shara laughs.
"Sorry, it's all I have with me right now."
"I'm not really hungry." He says, worrying the packaging on the ration bar. He looks up and meets Shara's eyes again. "I don't know anything." He promises, his voice watery. "I really don't."
Shara's face falls and Armitage's stomach plummets with it. He swallows hard, his throat dry. He's upset her. He knows what comes next. She'll strike him, or hurt him in some other way. He winces in anticipation, but the hit never comes.
"Armitage," She says softly. "No one here is going to hurt you, I promise."
"Promises are just words." He says, sniffling.
"That's true," Shara says thoughtfully. "But they mean something when you mean them – and I promise that you are safe with us, alright?"
He nods because he wants to believe her. He wants to believe her so badly. She has been so nice to him and warm and he wants to believe that people like that really exist, even if experience has taught him otherwise. She smiles and rubs his cheek gently.
"You know, I have a little boy of my own about your age."
7 ABY
Her face glows warm from the rays of the lavender sun and the wind blows through Leia's hair. She has elected to wear it mostly down today, though she knows that once Ben gets his little fingers in it, it will be filled with clumsy plaits that are really more knots than braids. She doesn't mind. The orange sun is pleasant and warm on her face. She is glad that Luke and their father chose Plooma to meet, it is so much nicer than some of the other planets in the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions those two always seem to find themselves on.
The blue-green grass is waist-length where she stands, watching the others. Luke sits cross-legged on the blanket Chewie had laid out. He floats a couple of X-Wing toys around in lazy circles for her son to chase. Ben shrieks in delight when he captures one in his toddler-sized fist. He runs over to his uncle to show off his victory. Luke wraps his arms around his nephew and pulls him in for a tight hug. She can't hear what he says to Ben from where she stands, but she can see the smile on his face.
"It is very good to see you – all of you." Anakin greets her.
"Even Han?" Leia asks with a wry smile.
There's a long beat of silence before Anakin answers with a short, "yes, of course."
"It's good to see you too." Leia says warmly. "It feels like it's been a while, though I know the New Republic has kept you all busy."
"It has," Anakin agrees.
"It's nice here – very temperate."
Anakin makes a noncommittal hum and tucks his hands behind his back. A force of habit, Leia thinks. "Your brother wants to start an academy here someday." He says soberly.
"Yes, he mentioned something about that. I think it's a fine idea – do you disagree?"
"No, it's not that. I am wary of Jedi teachings, in general, but I trust Luke to make the right decisions when it comes to what to adapt and what to toss out." He pauses for a moment. "He wants my help."
"Oh," Leia says, unable to think of anything else.
"Ahsoka warned him that people may be less-inclined to send their children off to, how did she put it, 'Darth Vader's School for Gifted Force-Sensitives'." He repeats the name flatly.
Leia masks the sound of the snicker threatening to bubble up her throat with a cough. "That would be an off-putting name." She agrees as seriously as she can.
"Your brother and I disagree a great deal when it comes to matters of the Force."
"I don't think that having multiple perspectives in an educational environment is ever a bad thing. It could even do a few students a world of good, I suspect."
"Oh?" His eyes, piercing and blue, bore holes into the side of Leia's face as he waits for her to continue. Something he hasn't quite lost in all these years is his intensity.
"Your… point of view might be beneficial to those who are more inclined to intense emotion. People like yourself, or – or me, or Ben."
"You've sensed it, then?"
"Yes," She agrees, unable help the splinters of sadness in her tone. "I've been shielding him as you taught me, but the dark presence that surrounds him is getting sronger." Sometimes her son is overcome with anger or sorrow so strong she doesn't know what to do. Sometimes he just cries and cries and nothing Leia or Han do will soothe him. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night from nightmares so horrible he doesn't sleep again for days. "I thought – I hoped we would have more time."
She brings her fingers up to her lip to hide the way they tremble. Han and Chewie descend the ramp of the Falcon and Ben rushes over to his father as quickly as his little legs will carry him. Han lifts their son into the air and spins him around. Ben squeals and giggles. Tears prick Leia's eyes at the thought of her son's mind being twisted by some malevolent, outside influence. It makes her sick.
"I have not been able to find the being named Snoke. The Amaxine station you told me about turned up nothing. It is abandoned. Though…" he purses his lips in a pause, his eyes narrowing in consideration. "I have heard rumors, nothing verifiable, of course, of an Imperial remnant. It calls itself the First order and I suspect… I am not sure. I will find him, Leia." He turns to face her now. "For you, for Ben."
"Thank you, father." She smiles softly and hesitantly reaches out to touch him high on his arm where the cybernetic limb ends and flesh begins. She doesn't believe she's ever called him that before this moment. Surprise flashes in her father's eyes but his face remains otherwise impassive.
"Mama! Mama!" Ben calls. He is running over to them, a small bouquet of mostly-crushed, white flowers clutched in one chubby fist. Leia leans down and scoops him up as he approaches. He places one of the flowers in her hair.
"Thank you, my sweet boy." She says, kissing his cheek and temple. Ben turns to look at her father.
"For you, Grampa!" He reaches one flower out towards his grandfather who leans down, allowing the small boy to slip it behind his ear. Anakin's eyes shine as he stands back up to his full height.
"Thank you, Ben." He says, his tone slightly less clipped than normal. He begins raising one hand but seems to think better of it, his jaw tensing. Ben, unawares of his grandfather's internal conflict, reaches both arms out towards the man, grasping at nothing.
"I think he wants you to hold him," Leia says carefully, trying to still the squirming and grunting toddler in her arms. Her father's eyes dart away from them.
"I do not want to hurt him." He says, his voice and shoulders tense.
"You won't." She assures, holding her son out to her father.
Anakin is hesitant, but he takes the boy, and pulls him into his body. He uses one arm to support his grandson's backside, the other hovers awkwardly around his shoulders. Ben begins placing more of the slowly disintegrating flowers into his grandfather's normally pristine hair.
"I have not held a child in a very long time." He says, looking a little scared of the prospect.
"Well, you're doing a fine job." Leia says with a small smile, crossing her arms over her chest.
"That's a good look for you, Father." Luke says with a laugh, throwing his arm around Leia's shoulders.
Leia can't help but to agree.
11 ABY
Han flips a switch, priming the sublight engines of the Falcon. The ship purrs around him happily. He twists his head around to the right.
"How're we lookin', oh co-pilot of mine?" He asks with a grin.
Ben swings his head around to beam at him, dark curls falling into his eyes. "Good, Dad!" He gives Han a big thumbs-up.
He'd been ecstatic when Han had suggested a trip for just the two of them – no mom, no uncles, no nobody. His son bounces up and down in his seat now, a small ball of energy and excitement.
"Yeah? And how can you tell?" He reaches over to ruffle Ben's hair. "You need a haircut, big guy."
"Aww, no!" Ben whines, sinking down in the co-pilot's seat and wrapping his already long arms around his head. "Not you too!" He furrows his brows and Han's heart stutters, his boy suddenly a picture of the sullen man he once knew, the man his son will become.
He coughs, a attempt to disguise his shock. "Yeah, me too - I mean, how're you supposed to learn to fly if you can't even see the viewport?" Han asks with a conspiratorial wink. Ben perks back up at that, his dark eyes, so like Leia's, widening.
"But Mom said I'm not supposed to until I'm older." He says, a weak attempt to protest that his heart simply isn't in.
"Well, maybe we don't tell Mom?" Han suggests with a shrug. He looks over at his son and struggles to keep the smirk off of his face. "What'd ya say, big guy?"
Ben, apparently, can't say anything to that. Instead, he nods his head so emphatically that Han half worries he's going to break something. He pats his lap and Ben wastes no time scrambling into it, elbowing his father's gut in the process.
"Easy there," Han warns with a pained grunt. You're gonna be too big for this soon, kid. He thinks but does not say, simply because it is too heartbreaking a thought. "Alright," He says as he adjusts Ben in his lap, taking his son's smaller hands in his own and placing them on the steering controls. "You ready to take her into the sky, Captain?"
"Uh, huh!" Ben agrees nodding.
Lightly, allowing Ben to feel like he has some control over the movement, Han pulls the yolk downwards. The engines rumble around them before the ground slowly slips out of sight. Ben gasps and giggles, gripping the controls tighter under Han's hands.
"I'm doing it, Dad!" He squeals.
"You sure are, kid." Han agrees with a smile, kissing his son's temple. He keeps a close eye the various systems and indicators on the main console, keeping vigilant of catastrophe Ben has no idea how to even look out for. All is well as they pull up out of the blue Alderaanian sky and into the black. "Expert flying there, big guy."
Han lets go of the controls and picks his son up under his arms, lifting him and depositing him onto the floor beside the pilot's seat.
"Aww man," Ben complains with a pout.
"You're not ready for hyperspace calculations just yet, – maybe next year." He adds with a wink.
He should probably get basic math down before they try that. Probably won't be too much longer, honestly. Ben's such a smart kid. So intelligent, with an urge to absorb everything he can. An unbridled and enthusiastic curiosity for learning that Han has only ever felt for exploring the galaxy. Sometimes it amazes Han that someone like Ben came from him.
"Okay," Ben says slightly dejectedly, his head drooping. He toes the grating under his boots.
"Hey kid," He says, placing one hand on his son's shoulder. Ben looks up at Han with those big brown eyes. "You know I love you, right?" Ben smiles, his head tilting to the side.
"'Course I do, Dad!" He laughs and rolls his eyes. "You only tell me all the time."
"Only so you don't forget it." Han laughs, wrapping his arms around his boy and pulling him into a tight hug. He rubs his hand in Ben's hair. His heart gives a little squeeze. He's never going to let Ben forget it, not for a moment, not ever.
"Are you okay, Dad?" Ben asks quietly as he pulls back. He frowns a little as he looks Han up and down. "You feel sad."
It never stops being strange, having a son who can read your emotions as easily as a holobook. Ben takes to the Force like a natural, apparently, though he doesn't have much interest in it. Luke and his grandfather have offered to teach him beyond a basic understanding and control, but he's never seemed to care much.
"Yeah, kid. I'm alright." Han smiles. "Let's get goin', huh?"
15 ABY
His father and Ahsoka's mission had been a success - if, finding yet another crèche of kidnapped children can be considered a success. This one had a larger mix of ages. Kids as old as six with glassy-eyed expressions, an unquestioning loyalty to the First Order already drilled into their heads, and infants as young as a few months old.
They had managed to secure more data logs this time around - a very good thing. The children's names were not contained within, but where they had been taken from was. Unfortunately, for every child they manage to return home, there is at least one with nothing to go back to. Whole villages wiped off of maps, nothing but ash and debris remaining.
Those unlucky few have been relocated to Plooma. There are only has a handful of students living on academy grounds currently which has left many of the dormitories vacant. Luke thinks that housing these children until more permanent arrangements can be made is a good a use of those empty rooms as any.
Really, he's happy to have the children here. He likes the way they bring life to the place, make it feel a little less empty, skittering through the tall turquoise grass, laughing high and loud while they chase each other, playing little games of their own design. It takes a while for new ones to get acclimated, to learn that they are not under the heavy thumb of the First Order any longer, but seeing them break out of that shell, those first moments of acknowledged freedom brightening their eyes, Luke doesn't think there's anything better.
"I am telling you, Chancellor, this has Brendol Hux written all over it." Luke's father explains to the blue-tinted holo of Chancellor Mon Mothma floating above the comm station in front of them. She nods calmly, indicating that he continue. "He spoke of this often in the final years of the Empire, though I am not sure Sidious ever took his plans seriously. There will be more crèches - there are more, I am certain of that."
"So, you believe the First Order to be a legitimate threat to the galaxy? Other reports I have seen show them to be small, and growing smaller all the time." A member of the Republic High Council says, a senator from Caamas.
Another senator scoffs, "Large or small, the increasing rate of these kidnappings is alarming. We cannot ignore people's suffering simply because they do not live on a Core world."
The first senator balks, aghast. "I'm not sure where that came from, and I resent the implication."
Others open their mouths to weigh in on the building argument, but Mon Mothma raises a hand and silence reigns instead. "Is there anything more?" She asks, calmly.
"Not at this time, Chancellor." Luke answers, feeling his father's prickling irritation in the Force.
"Thank you both very much for not only this information, but your service." She gestures behind her with an open hand to the chastened-looking High Council. "The Council and I will have to discuss this, and of course the senate will have to vote before any action can be taken. Do let us know if you learn anything new."
"Of course, Chancellor." Luke's father replies tersely, shutting the comm off with a slap to the front panel. "Republics…" he mutters lowly, rubbing his temple with one hand.
"Come on, Father, it could be worse," Luke chuckles, leaning back in his chair, which creaks in protest.
"I suppose," his father concedes with a grumble, though the look in his eyes says that he is still weighing the evils of democracy against those of the Sith.
The door of Luke's office slides open and, though he cannot see the source over the flat surface of his desk, he can hear small feet padding across the floor. Luke's father's face brightens almost instantly, and Luke is sure he knows who their unannounced visitor is without having to ask.
"Hello, young one." Luke's father says with a smile, leaning down to pick up the waiting child. "Son, your youngling is here."
It has taken some time, but Luke has stopped arguing with his father calling the boy 'his youngling'. The child follows him around like a lost Loth-wolf pup, and though it has taken some getting used to, Luke actually rather likes it. He's a really sweet kid, too, all smiles and laughter, despite all he has been through in the past few years.
"How are you today, kid?"
"Good!" He sticks his thumb up in the air and grins. "Arema gave me all of their barabel fruit!"
"That was very kind of them." Luke's father says.
The boy nods eagerly and then looks suddenly very serious. "Did Ben go home?" If the youngling likes Luke, he is absolutely enamored with Ben, constantly asking the older boy for rides on his shoulders; something which, despite Ben's complaints, he had agreed to every time. He'd been visiting with Leia for a short while - she'd found homes for a few of the children on Alderaan and had come to pick them up personally.
"Yes, Ben left last night." Luke agrees. "Maybe we can comm him when he gets home, how does that sound?"
The boy squirms in Luke's father's arms, unable to contain his excitement. "Down, please!" He squeals, sprinting from the room as soon as he is released – a ball of hardly contained energy.
"He is fond of you," Luke's father muses.
Luke nods, smiling. "I'm pretty fond of him, myself. He's Force-sensitive, you know?"
"Yes, I could tell."
"I was thinking… maybe he could stay here?" Luke scoots his chair back and scratches his newly-grown beard in an effort to appear casual. Han, were he here, would see through the ruse in a second. Luke hopes his father is less observant. "With his Force sensitivity, he'll need someone to, you know, show him how it works, how to control it, and…"
"Luke," his father shoots him a withering glare. "He is a bit young for the academy, yet, I think. Or, are you intent on carrying on the former Order's tradition of 'recruiting' toddlers?"
"No, that's not what I mean," Luke amends quickly. "He needs a family."
"And you wish to be that family?"
"I mean - yeah, I do."
"Well, good." Luke's father nods, seeming pleased. "Though, you cannot call him FN-2187 forever."
20 ABY
Leia braces her hand against her forehead to shield her eyes from the unforgiving sun of Jakku. Sand whips up all around her and she pulls her goggles down and secures the fabric covering her face. She remembers her first visit here with Luke – who had detested the planet upon arrival, claiming it a 'shittier Tatooine' – and Han – who'd not taken to it any better than her brother. She'd found it odd how surviving in the desert seemed to require more clothing than in a temperate climate.
Leia wonders where, exactly, Rey grew up - or, is growing up currently. The communities on the desert planet are few and far between, and small to boot. Most are just groups of people surviving on whatever they can manage to gather from their vaporators and on ration packs provided by travelling vendors and community service outreach programs. She remembers Rey once claiming that 'culture' was not something that existed on Jakku, well 'civilization' seems to be on the same ship.
"Ben, do you feel anything, sweetheart?" Leia calls out behind her.
"Hot," Her son replies moodily. Leia sighs as she turns to face him.
Ben shuffles slowly behind her and Han, his long, thin arms crossed over his chest, his face set in a deep scowl. The teenage years have hit him hard - and not just physically. He's shot up like a weed over the past couple of years, though Leia had expected that, but his attitude has taken a blow as well. He's moody and often rude and seems rather prone to brooding, but it's nothing atypical of the average fifteen-year-old boy, if Leia remembers correctly.
"Ben, you need to cover your face - you'll burn up if you don't." She chides. Ben rolls his eyes, one of his favorite things to do these days, it would seem.
"Why are we even here?" He moans, his head falling back. Leia notices that he does not pull down his facial coverings. She shakes her head as she turns back towards the small outpost ahead of them.
"We're looking for someone, Ben. Your father and I have told you that already, I believe?" Ben's only response is a low groan.
"Don't you come cryin' to me when you've got sun and sand burns all over your face." Han grunts.
"Why am I here?" Ben whines.
"Luke couldn't leave the academy."
"Lucky,"
"If I didn't like Rey so much I would turn around and head home right now. The kid can live without his damn… soulmate, or whatever they are, as far as I'm concerned." Han grumbles beside her, his voice low, meant only for her ears.
"They're a dyad, Han."
"Yeah, whatever," He says with a huff.
Niima Outpost is very small, even in comparison to the other communities that litter the planet. A few stalls are set up in a marketplace of sorts. One building near the center of the outpost seems to be the heart of it all. A Crolute mans the counter and seems to be handing out ration packets like they are currency – and they very well may be here.
"What'd'ya want?" He asks as Leia approaches. She pulls her facial coverings down so she can speak and breathe a little easier.
"We're looking for a little girl," Leia begins.
"Ain't got no missin' girls here, lady." The Crolute answers, spittle flying from his mouth. Leia wipes a bit of it from her cheek with a grimace.
"She's not missing - her name is Rey. She's got brown hair and -"
"No one 'round here by that name." He interrupts brusquely. "Now, you gonna buy somethin' or just stand there all day?"
Leia frowns. The alien is telling truth, she can sense that much. She tries a few other stalls on what was agreed to be 'her side' of the market, but the answer never changes. No one here knows anything about Rey. Sighing, she turns around. Han and Ben are waiting for her under the shade of a nearby canopy. Han looks at her, one eyebrow raising in question. Leia shakes her head solemnly.
"Hey, it's alright." Han says softly as she draws nearer. He wraps one arm around her back and cradles her head with the other hand, pulling her into him. "There're other places - and maybe, maybe she's not here yet. We'll find her, princess."
She looks up to find him smirking, his hazel eyes sparkling. She laughs at the old nickname turned term of endearment before pressing a kiss to his lips. Ben groans audibly beside them.
"Can we go home now?"
35 ABY
Ben stumbles into breakfast sometime in the mid-morning. Han's not sure exactly what time it is, only that his food has had to be rewarmed once already while he and Leia waited. Why she insisted on an intimate birthday breakfast when they've got a whole big ball planned for later today, Han'll never know, especially when he told her this would happen.
"Morning, kid," Han greets through a bite of sausage. "Even if you almost missed it."
Ben grunts something that might sound like hello and rubs his eye with the heel of his hand before plopping down into the chair across from his parents. He yawns and reaches for the pot of caf steaming in the center of the table to pour himself a cup.
"Yes, Benjamin, it's nice of you to join us." Leia says sharply. She hasn't sat down yet, the tips of her fingers tapping at the back of the chair beside Han.
"Full name, really?" Ben mumbles into his drink. "Is it that serious, Mother?"
"I thought you were going to sleep half the day away - and look at you," She gestures at Ben with both hands. He looks down and back up again, raising his brows in question. "You're not even dressed! Your uncle is going to be here any minute!"
Ben laughs, glancing down at the offending purple silk pajamas and cashmere robe he is still wearing. He starts gathering eggs and thick slices of salty bacon onto his plate.
"Somehow, I think Luke will survive seeing me in my bed clothes." He quips with a smirk.
"Please tell me that you'll be ready in time for the party tonight?" Leia pleads, taking the seat next to Han. He reaches over and rubs her shoulder soothingly.
"I'm sure I'll manage to find some time in the next eight hours to get dressed for your ball, yes."
"It's your ball." Leia insists. Ben meets Han's eye and raises one brow in question. All three of them know that while today is Ben's birthday, there wouldn't be a party at all if not for Leia's insistence. "Honestly, Ben. I don't know why you have to make things so difficult sometimes." Leia adds, rubbing her temple.
"Neither do I, Mother." Ben sighs.
"He gets this from you, you know?" Leia looks over at Han accusatorially.
"Very funny, Your Highness!" Han bristles. "Have you met your family? They're the definition of difficult! I'm downright normal in comparison."
"Oh, come on. That's a bit -"
"No, Leia, he's right." Luke calls from the doorway, his voice crackling with laughter. He rounds the table and throws an arm around Leia's shoulders. "How are you?"
"Stressed," Han answers for her.
"I'm not stressed," Leia stresses. "I just want to make sure that Ben's birthday ball goes well!"
"I'm sure it will be fine, Mom." Ben says, throwing his mother a small smile.
"It will be great, Leia." Luke smiles before pressing a kiss to the top of his sister's head and taking the seat beside her. "Father sends his love – to Ben and Han as well."
"I doubt that, somehow." Han mutters under his breath. Even after thirty-five years Anakin has never warmed to Han, not that he is ever particularly warm with anyone but his kids and grandchildren.
"Bail and Finn should be along in a minute." Luke meets Han's sarcasm with a grin but doesn't comment on it. "Finn is looking for someone, won't tell me who, but I have my suspicions."
"Poe's not here yet." Ben before taking a large bite of toast slathered with liwi fruit jam.
"Well, then they shouldn't be very long at all – Happy birthday, kid!" Luke says, slapping the table with an open palm. A jar of sugar nearly upends but Luke catches it with the Force, righting the thing without ever looking at it. What a showoff. "Thirty years!" Luke continues. "I can hardly believe it, makes me feel like an old man."
"We are old men, Luke." Han laughs.
"Don't I know it! My back certainly won't let me forget."
"Alright, you old men," Leia teases before turning her attention back to Ben. "Do you have anyone that you're… bringing to the ball tonight?"
Han watches his son visibly deflate. Han knows that Leia means well, she worries about his happiness, especially with their never having found Rey, but he also knows that Ben hates this meddling.
"Just myself." Ben mumbles into the rim of his mug.
"Well, you know, I did here that Teckla, Senator Rumen's daughter, would be attending, and you know that she was asking about you this past summer…"
"Lay off the boy, will you Leia?" Han interjects. He catches Ben's appreciative glance.
"I know that your council has been on your back to get me married, but I -"
"That's not it, Ben." Leia says sincerely. "I only want you to be happy. I worry about you, all alone."
"And what if I'm happy all alone?" He challenges. He blinks rapidly a few times at the last word before shaking his head, his brows furrowing in apparent confusion.
"Are you? Leia asks softly.
"Am I?" Ben repeats. His fork falls from his hand and hits wooden floor below with a loud, metallic clatter. His voice is strange, almost toneless. "Am I - am I what? Where," He looks around, blinking. "Where am I?" He looks at Han, Leia, and Luke and his eyes go as wide as saucers. "Mom? Dad? L-Luke?"
He falls backwards out of his seat. Leia is up in a moment, rushing to his side. Han and Luke stand but stay put, unsure of what to do. He's breathing heavily, deep, ragged breaths like he's choking for air, like he's drowning.
"What the hell's wrong with him?" Han asks, looking to Luke.
"How am I supposed to know?" Luke asks with a shrug.
"Use the – the Force or something! Kid looks like he's gonna pass out!"
Luke hits Han with a withering glare. "That's not how the Force works."
"Ben, sweetheart?" Leia's voice is low and calm, but Ben looks at her like he's a trapped and wounded animal that she's just backed into a corner, like he doesn't know her at all. "Everything's okay."
"Where are we?" He looks around the room in a panic. "Sidious – where…" He gasps again. "Rey, where is Rey?"
"Ben… do you remember?" Leia asks cautiously.
Han meets Luke's eyes. They've wondered about this, all of them, if Ben would ever regain his memories. Anakin had speculated that the Ben they met might have been another Ben entirely, that there could be many different versions of all of them living different versions of their lives. The thought process had given Han a headache. He also didn't like to think about that Ben just… leaving. The idea that he would never see him again, it hurt.
"What is the last thing you remember, Ben?" Luke asks, taking a step around the table to where Leia stands. Ben seems a little spooked by the movement and Luke stops, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture.
"The throne room," He manages eventually. "Vader – Rey and I – Where is she?"
"Ben," Leia sighs, "we tried to find her, I promise we did."
"What?" Ben breathes, his face falling like a stone.
"Searched Jakku high and low for years, kid." Ben has to know how they searched for her. "Said she was a scavenger, but we never could figure out what it was she was scavenging. There's nothing out there worth its weight in sand."
"Fallen ships," Ben offers desperately, looking quickly from Han to Luke to Leia, as if, from hearing his words, one of them might understand. "Wreckage from the Battle of Jakku."
"There never was a Battle of Jakku, Ben." Luke says solemnly.
"No, you didn't look in the right place – there's an ATAT…" Ben blubbers, his eyes filling with tears. Han steps forward, wishing he knew some way to free his son of this pain, but Ben crawls away until his back hits the far wall behind him. "No! You're wrong. That's not how this works. There's no me without her – there's no point!"
"Ben," Leia whispers, a hurt, plaintive sound.
"She's the good one," Ben whimpers, "if either of us – No. I just have to…"
Suddenly, and seemingly without reason as far as Han can tell, Ben stops sputtering nonsense about how he shouldn't be alive. His eyes fly open wide. "Rey," he gasps, and Han would think that the kid had lost his mind with grief if Luke and Leia weren't looking equally as stunned at the same empty patch of floor he was. "Thank the Force." He scrambles across the floor and stops just in front of the window, wrapping his arms around nothing, he sobs, "they were trying to tell me that you - that they never - where are you?"
There's a moment of complete quiet. Leia takes a tentative step forward, but if Ben notices he doesn't acknowledge it.
"I'll be there," he whispers into the air. "I'll be there."
And then, like a balloon popping, the moment breaks.
The bond fades, leaving Ben's arms empty, but Rey is alive. She is alive and on Coruscant and, he hopes, safe, though she'd seemed rather upset about something on her end even before she saw him. Perhaps it is just the transition from the past to the present that rattled her so, it had certainly done that for Ben, blinking and finding himself somewhere new without warning. The sensation had been, and still is, very unsettling.
"Ben," his mother's voice rips his attention back to the here-and-now. He gapes up at her. Part of his mind is still trying to process not blinking back into the middle of a First Order meeting, Hux sneering at him and, rather unsubtly, plotting his demise. He is not on a ship, nor is he leading the First Order, and the woman in front of him is not General Organa, even if she bears a striking resemblance. She is Queen Leia Organa-Solo of Alderaan, his mother.
She speaks gently, her voice barely more than a whisper, and slowly she approaches, lowering herself to her knees to get on his level. She moves without fear or worry as she reaches up to cup his face with both hands, her thumbs brushing tears from his cheeks he hadn't even realized were still falling.
Breathing heavily, Ben looks up. Luke is here as well, wearing the loose, brown and tan robes of a Jedi, his hair and beard more grey than brown. He lowers his eyes when Ben's own meet them, and he takes a step back out of, perhaps, curtesy.
Then Ben sees his father and he cannot breathe. He sobs openly once again at the sight of Han Solo, old and grey and alive. His mother holds him through it, through the outpouring of grief and regret and remorse that, in reality, has no place in this time. Han Solo is alive. Ben did not kill him - but he did. He killed his father who is currently looking at him with a mixture of confusion and concern.
"- and we did look for her, Ben. I swear we did. I must have travelled all of Jakku twice over, myself." It takes Ben a moment to realize his mother is talking and another moment to realize that she is talking to him.
"Wait, what the hell?" Han cries, half incredulous, glaring in outrage at Luke who simply shrugs. "Rey was where? I didn't see anything."
"That is interesting," Luke says, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe and nodding his head in contemplation. "Must have something to do with Force sensitivity." He hums.
"Force sensitivity," Ben's father scoffs. He then looks at Ben, his expression suddenly much more sober. "It's true? Rey wasn't… She really is… She's here too?"
That snaps Ben into action, because Rey is here in the sense that Han means. She is in this time with her memories restored, but she is not here with him, and that is a problem Ben means to correct immediately. With all the calm he can muster, he peels his mother's hands from his face, and then he is up like a shot.
"I've got to go," is the only explanation he gives before bursting through the dining room doors and sprinting from the room. If any of them call after him, he doesn't hear it.
He tears through the halls on his way to his family's personal hangar. Though he has only been here once, he knows the way intimately - but he hasn't only been here once. He grew up here. His childhood was spent roaming these halls, learning the finer points of governance from his mother in her office, helping his father rebuild old ships in the hangar. He knows this place and he doesn't. His life growing up here was a dream and the other was a nightmare and they don't know how to merge properly.
"Hey Ben!" A voice stalls Ben in his tracks. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
Ben inhales quickly, taking one step back and then another as his mind trips over itself to process what he is seeing. The stormtrooper, FN-2187, smiles and waves in friendly greeting beside the young man who had called Ben's name. Ben doesn't know this other man, but he does, he is his brother, Bail. He has a brother - and a sister as well, his memory supplies eagerly, Padmé, though where she might be currently is a mystery to both sides of his mind.
"Happy birthday!" FN-2187 calls - Finn, that's his name, Finn Skywalker. Cousin Finn. His eyes narrow as he takes in Ben's distress, which he can only imagine is painted very clearly on his face. "I know it's not actually your birthday, but - hey, are you alright?"
"Ben?" Bail waves one hand in front of Ben's face when he does not respond.
Ben opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. What can he say? Assuring them that he is fine would be a lie. He is far from fine.
They wear robes similar to Luke's and each of them bear long, thin padawan braids which hang over their right shoulder. Of course they do. They attend Luke's academy, which is still standing, which Ben and his parents and his - grandfather helped to build.
"I, uh, um, I -" He sputters which only makes Bail and Finn look more worried. "Luke is looking for you!" He blurts out before sidestepping the pair and taking off again, his bare-feet slapping hard against the marble and synthstone tile.
When he does finally arrive at the hangar he heads straight towards where he already knows the Millennium Falcon to be docked. Without need for an entry or an ignition ship, the ramp slams open with a brutal pull of the Force and Ben is haphazardly running through pre-flight checks before he can blink.
Thankfully, Coruscant is only a few hours away from Alderaan via hyperspace, but Ben is a mess the entire time. Why is Rey on Coruscant? That is where they had both been before returning to the future - the present, he corrects himself mentally. He wonders if it is the still the same day. He'd not tracked the day especially closely since taking up the mantle of 'Kylo Ren', but he'd known that his birthday had been approaching, even if only because it was - is - his thirtieth and that seemed important somehow.
He should have asked Rey more questions, such as where she is on Coruscant - but the bond had closed so quickly, he hadn't had the chance. He wonders if he preemptively closed the connection in his haste to get to her.
The pounding of his heart in his ears is deafening as he pulls through the Coruscanti atmosphere. Lights twinkle below and Ben realizes with a sickening blow to his gut that there are a trillion places she could be on this planet. His mind is swimming with possibilities when her presence washes over him, a cool, soothing balm. He feels confusion, worry, and, bizarrely, anger, from her side of the bond, but all of those are nearly washed out by the blinding force of her relief.
She projects an address into his mind, an apartment number mid-level, and the location of a hangar. Ben likely breaks every known traffic law to get there as quickly as possible. He only hopes for some sort of diplomatic immunity if planet-side police attempt to pull him over.
An attendant at the entrance of the hangar attempts to stop him, but Ben blows past them, and finds a space to land almost immediately. The grated floor of the Falcon digs into the soles of his feet and, knowing that the walkways outside won't be any kinder, he digs through a store of clothes in the second hold and manages to find a pair of boots that actually fit him. They likely are his, actually.
The attendant is waiting for him at the bottom of the Falcon's ramp, red-faced and panting. "Hey, pal! It's a hundred credits a day to dock here for the day."
"I won't be here the whole day," Ben explains, trying to step around the attendant, but they block his path, their quick movements fueled surely by their indignation at Ben's lack of respect for the hangar's rules. "I'll only be a few minutes, at most." It's not exactly a lie if he hopes that it's true, right?
"That doesn't matter," the attendant huffs, their brows furrowing with mounting frustration. "You've gotta pay for the whole day.
Ben looks down at his sleep clothes with a sigh. "I don't exactly have my credit chip with me." He says, indicating his person. The attendant rolls their eyes, unimpressed. "I can pay you back. I can pay you a thousand credits, five, if you just let me go."
The attendant barks out a single, harsh laugh. "Yeah right. I wasn't born yesterday, buddy. Why don't you just get on your ship and get outta my hangar before I call security?"
"It's fine that I dock here." Ben says coolly, pushing his influence through the attendant's weak mental barriers with the words. He feels genuinely bad for the manipulation, but he hasn't got much of a choice.
"It's fine that you dock here." They repeat instantly, blinking through the Force-induced haze.
"Thank you!" Ben calls back as he tears out of the hangar and onto the waiting walkway outside.
It is early morning on this side of the planet, and the level he is on is not so low that none of the first lights of day are able to make it down, though they are mostly washed out by the artificial glow of walkway lamps and apartment viewports.
The mostly residential level holds a kind of sleepy quiet, in as much as such a quality can ever be attributed to somewhere like Coruscant. Few other pedestrians crowd the walkways, and those that do shuffle in that half-awake daze of someone who would much rather still be in bed.
Ben feels himself getting closer with each step. The thread binding his and Rey's souls grows slowly and surely thicker with each fall of his foot, glowing with the promise of imminent nearness. He stops in front of an unassuming door which bears the same string of aurbesh letters and numerals she'd sent along to him earlier. His fist is already in the air, ready to knock, when the door slides open.
A man stands on the other side, middle-aged with coppery-brown hair, his neck craned around to look behind him. "See, Rey, there's nobody -" he stops when he turns to face Ben. The man's blue eyes widen with surprise and then narrow with something else that Ben can't place, not with his emotions so wild and Rey so breathtakingly close. "Here…" the man finishes lamely.
The man's arm is crossed along the width of the doorway, blocking Ben's entry, and before Ben can decide whether begging to be let in or pushing past the stranger is the right move, Rey is ducking under the arm to come to him. She beams shakily at him, her eyes shining, and she is trembling when he wraps his arms around her, pulls her close so that their bodies are flush together.
He kisses every part of her face that he can find, tasting her tears and his own. Distantly, he is aware that the man is speaking, him and another person, a woman, Ben thinks, but whatever it is they are saying is lost to the morning air. Perhaps Rey can hear them, though she ignores them just as equally.
Ben pulls back and holds Rey's face in each of his hands. All he can see is her eyes, brown and green and sparkling gold and all he's ever really needed in his life. He can't speak to say aloud that he loves her or how completely, incandescently happy he is that she is safe and here, but he doesn't need to. She can feel it through the string of energy that binds them.
This reality they've found themselves in is strange and, in some ways, frightening in its newness, but Ben doesn't care about that. None of it matters. All that matters to either of them at this moment is each other. This present may be different from the one they left, but Ben sees past that when he looks into Rey's eyes. He sees their future, just the shape of it, but solid and clear. They will help each other navigate this new reality and they will be together, and so long as that is true, they are home.