Luke's body crashes to the floor as he gasps and coughs. There's no guilt, only a fleeting sense of disappointment that he still breathes. Then movement as his parents rush to the last Jedi Master, but Ben only barely notes it as he drops to his knees next to Rey.

"Rey!" he wails, pulling her limp form into his arms. She's so still.

Without her … she's the only thing that pulls him from Snoke's putrid teachings. It was always so easy to pick up the power he offered. Rey showed him what true power is, the shadow of surrender. Please, please, let him worship her, don't take her when he's only begun to understand.

Then there's just too much—the air around him fills with shouting and accusation. All he has left is to focus on her frozen, beautiful face. Will he ever see those eyes again? He can barely breathe through the thought that he might not.

Burying his face into her neck, her hair falling against his cheek, a broken sob is ripped from a place inside he'd only just found. This can't be happening. Not to her, not now, not because of him.

Is this his penance? Must he now understand, in a way that can't be explained, what it is to lose everything that makes your pathetic life worth living? Because he knows if she's already dead nothing matters. He could feast on Luke's innards, and it wouldn't mean a thing.

Because she'd still be gone.

He's cursed.

They all are.

Rey, Rey, Rey!

Is it too late? Could he even remember how to heal her? Force, it would take all of him, but that truly doesn't matter. He's about to pull back, fill her with every last scrap of his tattered life, but then he feels a flutter against his skin.

A pulse! She's still alive!

Laying her down gently, careful not to let her head hit the deck, he frantically searches her body for injury as the shouting around him only grows louder. He wants to scream for them to just be quiet, but he doesn't have time. When her chest rises and falls with her even breathing, he nearly passes out from relief. There's no wound, no scorch marks tainting her skin.

His father must have just—

"—stunned, she's only stunned," the gruff voice confirms his desperate hope.

Then Ben's eyes narrow when he feels a familiar hand on his shoulder, not needing to turn his head to confirm that it belongs to Han Solo. The same man who just shot Rey. Obscured by the primal rage that anyone would dare take the slightest chance with her life is the awareness that he was the intended target, that Rey just got in the way—that no harm was meant for either of them.

But his storm already has him wrapped in its whipping, violent tendrils and all he can see is Rey's body collapsing right in front of his eyes. Logic has no place here. He never should have trusted his family again. Apparently, Snoke had been right about that.

Reaching over his shoulder, he clamps his fingers around his father's wrist and uses all of his considerable strength to flip the man over his body. Han lands on his back, hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

Blue eyes blink in shock as his prey tries to catch his breath, but Ben doesn't care as his fist crashes into Han Solo's face. Blood spatters and cartilage crunches; Leia gasps in shock. He pulls his arm back, ready to add to the damage.

"Son! No!" his mother screams.

It makes him pause before he deals another blow to his father's broken nose. Somehow, he knows this all makes no sense, not any longer. There's a strange, buzzing noise that garbles his mother's pleas and his father's protests of innocence—it's just enough to hold him back, a taut bow, ready to let fly.

Leia's calm, assured tones make him waver further still. "Ben, please—everything is alright, she's fine. Your father would never hurt either of you; he knows what she means to you."

"Yer mom's right, I know Rey's your girl." There's nothing but truth in Han's eyes.

Rey … Rey is alive. She's just stunned. It won't be long before she's looking up at him, before he will again find redemption in those glints of gold. But he still can't quite bring himself to release his target. He has to keep Rey safe!

Leia cries out in panic, "Luke, wait—"

He realizes a moment too late that he's left himself fatally vulnerable to Luke Skywalker.

Then it all goes black.

Oh, that feels nice. Soothing fingers along his cheek, the scent of Rey all around him.

Mmmmm.

All he needs to do is wrap her up and pull her close, kiss her until they're both dizzy with sensation and need. But he can't seem to move his arms.

It's alright. Her lips are on his forehead and it's all just so good. He'll let her tend to him for now; it's so lovely that she wants to.

Wait. She's tensing. Is something wrong? Her fingers move from his face to his hand, holding it firmly.

Voices. Someone else is here.

Is she threatened?

He can't quite understand what's being said so he focuses hard on the words, swimming through the hazy warmth that threatens to pull him back down. Rey sounds … angry? Her voice rises, but he still can't parse what she's actually saying.

Someone responds. The cold that floods him confirms that it's Luke. Now, Ben is not content to float along in this in-between-place until full consciousness returns. Danger. Rey could be in danger!

"—isn't he waking up? It's been too long, you said it would only take a few minutes! It's been almost an hour!" Finally, her words coalesce, sharing their meaning. He must have put Ben in a Force sleep.

Luke answers in a condescending tone. "Now, Rey, you're new to the Force—"

"I don't care! You said. Were you lying?" she demands with a hard edge. He wishes he could see the look on that old eunuch's face. Luke never did like to be questioned.

"There are a number of reasons he might not have regained consciousness," his infuriating uncle explains in a patronizing tone.

"You know what? I don't care. I don't know what really happened at the Temple, but I am sure Ben wouldn't have attacked you like that without a very good reason. He doesn't trust you, so neither do I. If he's not awake soon ..." Her voice trails off and he gets flashes of shocking violence along the golden thread between them. If he could, he'd smile with approval at her nearly feral thoughts.

"Now, now, Rey, you're far too young—"

"Yeah. No. Go away, I don't think I want you anywhere near him! Clearly, you screwed up when you put him in a Force sleep and I'm not giving you a second chance—"

"Is everything alright in here?" his mother's voice joins the fray.

"Please inform your brother that he's not wanted. You said Ben was hesitating, he never had to knock him out in the first place! I'm worried it'll get ugly if I have to look at his smug face for another minute!" Rey nearly shrieks.

"Perhaps it would be best to give them a bit of space," Leia placates with a long-suffering sigh.

"It's not safe to leave her with him!" Is it possible for a man of Luke's age to whine?

Rey begins to argue, loudly, but his mother takes over. As usual. "I've got this. You just focus on Ben, I'm sure he'll wake up soon. Now, you, brother, why don't you go give Chewie a break so I can check on Han?"

"I don't care that they're bound! After everything he's done, do you truly trust your son?"

As Ben's temper rises, Luke's words cut through his instincts.

Bound? What does he mean, bound? A Force bond? No, that's simply not possible. They couldn't; they're not related, and they've not spent nearly enough time together for one to form, anyway. Though it would explain … well … everything.

"Leia, what does he mean, bound?" Rey asks. She doesn't sound afraid or displeased, just curious. That a word such as bound and all it implies doesn't have her panicked reminds him, once again, that she really does want to be with him.

There's a long, exasperated sigh, then his mother says, "We really should wait for Ben to talk about this. I promise, I'll tell you everything I know, but Ben deserves to be part of the conversation.

Now, that surprises him. Luke's contemptuous snort does not. But for his mother to be mindful of his feelings, actually imagining how it might impact him … it's oddly respectful of her.

"Hey!" Luke squawks indignantly.

"Oh, shut up, I barely touched you. Now come on!"

Ben can almost see his tiny mother man-handling her brother—he would smile, if he could.

The snick of the door sliding shut informs him that not only are he and Rey now alone, but that they're likely in his old bunk. It's strange to think of sharing this space with Rey; gods, he hopes his holos of scantily-clad Twi'leks no longer wink suggestively. His parents must have removed them at some point over the last decade. Right?

Then all that matters is that Rey has slid in next to him on the narrow bunk, her head laying on the hollow just above his chest and her arm slung over his waist. How much longer will he be aware but unable to access movement? Nothing would make him happier than to roll over and wrap her up in his arms, cage her with his legs. Touching her … it's what he craves, all of the time.

"Please wake up," she sighs out. Then she shifts, pressing her lips to his cheek. "We have so much to talk about. Your mother is amazing; she's been nothing but kind, but I barely know her. And your father is charming … but all I want is you."

Well, this won't do. She needs him and he's trapped in his head—by Luke Skywalker of all people. What the hell did he do anyway? He's never known Force sleep to work like this. Could it be because of the bond?

The bond!

Though unsure of precisely how to access it, he can easily sense it, their connection. There hasn't been enough time to really think about it until now. What he does know is that it feels like a part of him—like it's always been there.

Blanking out everything but the glowing tether between their hearts—their souls?—he's about to try to reach her when she's covering his body with her own, laying on top of him. Her weight is comforting as well as tantalizing. Perhaps his investigation into this bond can wait …

Her hands slide into his hair and she's caressing his face languidly. "Wake up, Ben. I miss you," she purrs.

The feeling of her nimble fingers massaging his scalp would have him groaning in any other situation. Soon, soon he'll have control back, because his hands have begun to twitch with the need to grasp her waist, encourage her to straddle him ...

"Oh!" she squeaks, and he can feel her smile against his face. "Someone is waking up."

If she didn't sound so pleased, he'd be worried that the evidence of his desire for her—desire he didn't even know he could feel until her eyes—would be alarming. He's still unsure if she'd ever want to share her body with him in that way. Oh … oh, gods. Rey's rearranging herself, now astride him.

Again, her hands dive into his hair and she presses a sweet, suggestive kiss at the corner of his mouth. A sultry moan stirs delicious warmth in his core and his eyes fly open as she rolls her hips, grinding against his rapidly hardening length.

Not truly aware that he can move again, his hands go to her waist as he turns his head just enough to ensnare her lips, delving his tongue within, feasting on her delectable mouth. The thread between them vibrates with pleased surprise when she meets him with equal excitement.

With one hand he cups the back of her head, ensuring she won't pull away from his kisses, while the other spans her back, pressing her firmly against his body. When she draws herself along his hardness again, he groans into the banquet of her lips and tongue.

Nothing has ever felt so glorious; the brilliant, shining cord winds around them, binding them close, so close. But when he thrusts up against her, imagining his cock buried in her heat, she tenses. It's only the briefest of moments before she's whimpering in need, but it's enough for him to notice.

He won't push her. Ever. So, he draws his hands up her body and cups her face, pulling back only far enough to find her eyes.

There's a flash of something, a wrinkling of her brow, that gives him pause, but then she's smiling down on him. "Hi."

"Hello, sweetheart," he rumbles, his own smile spreading along his face.

A slight blush blooms on her cheeks, making him wonder how many ways she can make his heart feel far too small to hold how much he loves her.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

"How could I not be, with you in my arms?"

The girlish giggle that escapes her has him swiftly turning them to their sides so that he's able to engulf her with his larger frame. In no time at all he has her wrapped up and nestled in the totality of his embrace.

"Ben!" she lets out in surprise.

"Hmmm, just right. I never want to let you go," he admits. It's so much easier than he could have ever fathomed to speak of what's inside him with Rey. There's no hiding, no fear.

Settling into him, surrendering completely to the security of his arms, she sighs in contentment. "You never have to."

It's going to take a long time for him to truly believe that he, Ben Solo—Kylo Ren—could ever be so blessed. Perhaps he never will. But he doesn't have to believe it to believe in her.

"Rey … when my father stunned you … I thought I'd lost you." The terror is still close and while he wants to scold her for shielding him, he has no wish to begin the argument that would assuredly follow.

Chuckling, she says, "Han would never hurt either of us. He's a big puppy."

Now, that's a new way to describe Han Solo … "And how do you know that?" he asks with an arched brow.

A burst of trepidation shivers along their connection, making him frown slightly. He'd meant his question in a teasing tone, but she's nervous, now.

"I'm sorry, I probably should have waited for you, but he wanted to sit with you for a bit and I didn't want to leave you … so …"

"You've nothing to be sorry for. I've told you, never apologize to me. I don't deserve it."

"Ben!"

"What?" he asks in confusion. After everything he's done in his life, the thought of someone like Rey apologizing for anything is preposterous.

She pulls back slightly, ensuring he can see her properly. "I wish … I wish you didn't think so poorly of yourself."

Shrugging, he rubs one hand along her back. "I always have," he admits.

Frowning, she looks like she wants to argue, but instead she gazes down for a long moment. As time stretches, he's about to ask out what's bothering her, but she looks up and blurts out, "What did Luke mean, about being bound?"

Carefully, he answers, "I'm not sure." Until he's certain, he doesn't want to frighten her. A lifelong bond to a murderer? Who would want such a thing?

"But, can't you sense it?" she asks with an insecurity that guts him.

Breathing in deeply, he responds, "Yes, yes, I can."

"That first day at Plutt's … I wanted to hate you, like all the rest, but when you ran from me … I just wanted you to come back," she admits.

Just the reminder of their torrid beginnings has him wanting to curl into himself with shame, but no, no. She deserves the truth.

"Don't worry. I felt it, too." He holds her eyes intensely, hoping she can sense exactly how much he's always loved her, even in that fetid moment.

"Then why did you run from me?" she asks with such plaintive honesty that it lays him flat.

She can't possibly think he doesn't want her. He nearly snorts at the very idea. Before her, he'd never been drawn to … anyone. The idea that he isn't utterly owned by her hands and lips is incomprehensible. There's simply no way she can think that he isn't weak with desire for her.

Can she?

Then it doesn't matter, because his mother shoves her way into his small room, full of love and proclamation.

Flopping back onto his berth, he pulls Rey closer.

There's no point in trying to continue this conversation, not now.

"How are you feeling?" Leia asks, far too brightly from his doorway, outlined by the bright light of the corridor.

His head tilts and he desperately wants to gesture along Rey's body curled into him and say something snide.

Instead, he flatly states, "I'm fine."

"Good, good." Then her eyes widen slightly, as if only now realizing she might have interrupted something. "Uhm. Why don't you join us in the galley?" she suggests with the subtlety of a wild bantha. "When you're ready."

At least his mother looks a tad sheepish as she slinks away.

Oh, great. Everyone but Chewie is waiting for them around the dejarik table. Well, his uncle lurks at the edge of the galley, while his mother's eyes shift nervously between her brother and husband. Or former husband? He's not really sure how things stand between them just now.

Leading Rey closer, they stand a few feet from the gaming table. He has the ridiculous urge to shuffle his feet and hang his head as he waits for their judgement. More than a decade winks out of existence; he hasn't felt so much like a child in a long time.

Taking in a deep breath, he lets his eyes find each member of his family in turn. When they land on Luke, he crosses his arms, making it just that much clearer that his uncle has only contempt for his former apprentice.

When he looks to his father, the leering grin coupled with the expectancy in his eyes makes Ben want to turn on his heel and drag Rey back to his little room. He'd been 17 the last time he'd seen his father in the flesh, when Han had made it quite clear that he'd never listened when Luke would pontificate about the wisdom of the Jedi lifestyle and the danger of attachments.

The questions the man had asked … Ben isn't entirely sure his father hadn't simply been trying to see how hard he could make his son blush. He still doesn't know if a few of his degenerate suggestions are even anatomically possible. Though, now, with Rey ...

Her head swivels towards him quickly, eyes wide as her gaze bores into him. Dammit. He's going to have to figure out how to shield at least some of his thoughts. Just how connected are they?

"So, ya finally got yourself a little girlfriend!" Han exclaims and Ben cringes. Thanks, Dad.

"I think we have a few more important points to discuss than your son's dating life," Luke sneers, not bothering to even look at Ben or Rey.

Girlfriend? Girlfriend? Rey is so much more than that and he wants to rage at their belittling of her, but then it hits him that he honestly doesn't know how to name their relationship. Lovers? Betrothed? Soulmates? They're nearly strangers yet she sees the very essence of him ...

Fine, next issue. "Yes, Uncle, exactly what have you told my parents about what happened at the Temple?"

Now Luke does meet his gaze; the flash of guilt in his pale blue eyes makes Ben smirk slightly. But then he can't think through the sheer audacity of the Jedi's next words.

"The truth," he says with a shrug. "You tried to kill me then murdered almost all of your fellow students," he casually pronounces without even a shred of remorse. Something akin to the dark swirls around his former master.

He shifts his attention to his mother, hoping to find just a hint of what Rey had told him, that she knew there was more to what she'd been told. But her pinched expression rips open his childhood of neglect and mistrust, causing his stomach to sink. She's not going to believe his side of the story, even with Rey's assurances. Why would she start believing him now? All he's done for years is prove every single one of fears right.

The triumph in Luke's eyes begs Ben to launch himself across the galley and rip into Skywalker with his bare hands, but Rey grips his fingers tightly. He turns his head just enough to bring her into his field of vision. Steadily, she holds his gaze and suddenly his chest is bursting with confidence, her confidence. In him.

Because he knows Luke is lying—memories of the murderous green glow of his would-be executioner's blade cascade through him.

Standing tall, eyes searing into the architect of his fall, Ben spits, "I had nothing to do with the destruction of the Temple. And you well know, old man, that I only acted in self-defense after you tried to take my head while I was asleep!"

The temperature in the Falcon drops several degrees and Leia's eyes narrow into slits as she mechanically stands and turns to Luke. His father shrinks back, clearly wary of what she's going to do. Ben hadn't known that fury could burn cold.

"What?"

A/N: Thank you, ArtemisBare! You are so patient with me and my petulant refusal to write, ya know, descriptions. Thank you, my friend.

Thank you, Readers! I'm so sorry for that cliffhanger last chapter! I hope you like how that got sorted. You are all such a supportive and marvelous group of people-I treasure each and every one of you, from frequent reviewers to the shy. I'll never get over how generous you all are to give your time to my stories. XOXO