First, he becomes aware of her warmth; she's still here, and that knowledge eases him into awareness—not his usual way of jerking awake in panic. Before opening his eyes, he smiles at the realization that Rey allowed him to hold her close throughout the night. They'd fallen asleep on their sides facing the bulkhead with her tucked in his arms and his face pressed against her neck. As always, she fits perfectly, allowing him to feel all of her form.

This, for all of his life, let him have this.

Eventually, he blinks in the dim light of his old cabin. Gods, she feels so, so good. He'd be convinced that this was only a dream if he couldn't slide his hand along her hip, assure himself that she's really here. It's such a gift to be able to nuzzle closer, inhale the scent of her hair.

For a long moment he listens to her soft, rhythmic breaths; their connection is quiet—just a hum of security that invites him to go back to sleep. But he doesn't want to miss this opportunity to indulge himself in drifting along her currents. Knowing that she's safe is its own kind of contentment.

Perhaps it's that it's such an ordinary thing—to awaken next to one's love—that has him so entranced. Very little about his life has been ordinary. Sleeping deeply, the whole night through, then finding that she's still right here chips away at his reflexive doubt. He'll probably never be completely free of the certainty that he's badly made, but now he wonders if it was only that he was made to fit her. Now that she's here, she's slid into his most damaged places, subduing the pain.

Trying not to jostle her, he shifts slightly and lifts his head so that he may see her lovely face. There's a tendril of her hair across her cheek that flutters when she breathes out, every lovely detail softening his gaze. Pulling his hand from her side, he lightly smooths the ringlet back, enjoying its silky texture and letting his fingers linger along the softness of her skin.

She's … beautiful is the best he can think of, but it's not enough. Everything about her draws him in; Ben will never drink his fill. Words, he's beginning to understand, simply cannot capture the miracle in his arms. So beautiful will have to do for now.

He's torn between wanting to continue watching her—he's never had the opportunity to simply look at her like this—and wanting to hear her voice, fall into her eyes, learn more about her. Then he doesn't have to decide as her breathing changes and her lips curve into languid smile.

"Ben …" The way she says his name, as if it's precious, makes his chest swell with a new feeling that reminds him of pride. Her eyes open slowly, her smile widening when she turns her face and sees him watching her. Pressing her hand against his cheek, encouraging him closer, she gives him a spark of a kiss. Then she pulls back slightly, her face full of uncomplicated joy.

"How did you sleep?" he asks, still a bit stunned by the simple perfection of watching as the drowsiness ebbs away from her eyes. Arching her back, she stretches like a sleep-warmed kitten. It's difficult not to stare at the way her breasts strain against her tunic before she turns fully towards him and nestles herself against his chest.

"I don't think I've ever slept so well, honestly. What time is it?" she asks, her voice a bit muffled by his body.

Reaching over her to illuminate the chrono on the shelf above his bunk, she makes him nearly topple it over when she snakes her hand up under his tunic, stroking her fingers along his back and sides. Feeling her slender fingers glide along his skin, touching him in a way he's never experienced, has him caught up in the tension between desire and devotion. He can't help the low, needful groan that rumbles through him.

He'd been doing something, she'd asked a question … oh, gods, her hands just keep caressing his sensitive skin, robbing him of the ability to think. Then she teasingly dips her fingers just under the band of his trousers, swiftly flooding his mind with possibility. But she brushes back up, exploring the furrow of his spine.

"Ben?"

"Uh huh?" he responds without parsing anything but the way she's … exploring. Wait, he was reaching over her …

"Time?"

"Right, yeah."

Clumsily, he fumbles a moment before he gets the chrono's numbers to glow in the near-dark of his little cabin. Blinking blearily, he starts when he sees how late it is. It's enough to get his brain back on track. Well, mostly.

"It's almost lunchtime," he answers. Has he ever slept for so long in his life?

Rey's hands stop tormenting him as she makes a little squeak of alarm.

Settling back down next to her, he cups her cheek with his hand. "Is something wrong?"

"What? No, no … I just …" Her eyes flit away for a moment. "When I scavenged, before … well, you know—I always got an early start. Crawling through picked over Star Destroyers in the mid-day sun is not something I would recommend. I still panic if I wake up late, even though it doesn't matter now." Embarrassment bleeds along their connection.

But then she closes her eyes tightly, and he can feel her push away her dismay. When she catches his gaze, she bites her lower lip and a flash of playfulness glitters in her eyes. "I can't believe I slept so long, so well."

"Me, too," he agrees, stroking his thumb along her cheek. "In fact, I think that was the best night of sleep I've had in a long, long time."

"Well, we did have a pretty big day," she minimizes.

"No, Rey … it's because I got to hold you all night."

He's growing to enjoy her blush more than almost anything.

A thudding rap on the durasteel makes them both turn towards the door.

"You kids gonna stay in there all day?" his father's gruff voice asks, muffled by the metal.

Sharing a glance, trepidation washes across her face and along the bond, but she nods hesitantly towards the door.

With an unsure tone, Ben answers, "No, we're just waking up now," as he's scrambling from bed. Rey's obviously nervous to leave this small bit of privacy they've created together, but he's not sure why. She's already spent time with his parents.

Han's voice penetrates the durasteel. "Well, time to get it in gear; your mom's been organizing the fleet all morning, but that won't work much longer. She's so damned tense she even snapped at Admiral Ackbar."

Sliding open the panel, he finds his dad leaning against the doorway. "Huh?" Ben asks, not exactly ready to deal with either of his parents.

Han rolls his eyes. "She's convinced herself yesterday didn't change anything, that you'll fly away, never to be heard from again."

He blinks at the edge in his father's voice. Does Dad blame him for their estrangement?

"Yeah, okay. Just give us a bit to get ready." A rush of cold sweeps up his spine, making him flinch. Damn. He didn't think to check with Rey.

"Don't take too long," his father says roughly, turning to presumably return to the cockpit. When he's a few feet away he grumbles, "Maker knows, girl probably can't walk by now."

The sound of Rey breathing in sharply paired with a crippling sense of humiliation makes him close his eyes tightly then rush back to her as the door slides close with a light snick. She's holding her knees tightly to her chest, her face hidden between them.

"Rey," he breathes out, unsure if he should touch her. "Sweetheart, what is it?" Her response is muffled, so he gently moves her hair to the side. At least this way he can see her eyes.

It takes some time, but eventually she glances up. Her shoulders drop when she finally lifts her head fully. "I forgot what I am, yesterday. With your parents," she murmurs dully.

"My bonded?" he asks in confusion.

The withering look she gives him puts paid to that notion. When she turns her whole body away as it hits him. Sighing deeply, he pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling unforgivably slow.

"It's none of their business," Ben declares sharply. "And, regardless, you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed about."

She snorts in derision, but she does glance towards him. "Oh, I'm sure Senator Organa would be plenty ashamed to have me in the family holos. 'And here's the trash my son—"

He's not quite sure how he'd moved so fast, but he has one hand over her mouth to stop that rot from escaping and his other grasping her bicep. He'd startled her enough that she simply watches him with wide eyes."

"I thought I'd made it clear last night. You are not trash. You are not what was done to you." Slowly, he pulls his fingers from her lips and drops to his knees in front of her. Like this, her face is a few inches above his and he clasps her by her shoulders, holding her eyes fiercely.

"What you are is precious beyond my ability to express. You're so strong, so vital. You're hope embodied, and I defy any being in this galaxy to withstand what you did and come through it with half your integrity, your loyalty, your goodness. Dammit, Rey, you shine with life," he exclaims with absolute certainty.

At first, all she does is blink, but he can see the moment she begins to hear his words. "I … I want to believe you," she breathes out shakily.

"I will tell you every day what I see when I look at you; what I feel through the Force. You're not even a bit of what Plutt ground into you. You're not nothing." He's spoken with such fervor that he's a bit out of breath.

Without seeming to mean to, she leans forward, bringing her face closer to his. "Then what am I?" she asks cautiously.

"You're the only woman I could ever love," he answers simply.

The side of her mouth turns up into an almost-smile but that ugly insecurity stubbornly lurks in the background. Almost, she almost understands.

Stroking his hands up along her shoulders until he frames her face, he softly presses his fingertips into her cheeks. The myriad shades of green and amber swirl so exquisitely in her enchanting eyes that—for a moment—he's too entranced to continue.

The balance shifts; the feeling as she moves from not even knowing how to believe him to a wondrous sense of possibility is intensely gratifying.

"Rey … my Rey …" he croons. "Everything. You're everything."

Then he's catching her in his arms, lips crashing, healing and hope and love suffusing their intertwined souls and their passionate embrace.

Everything …

Much as he'd wanted to spend the rest of the day kissing, and kissing, and kissing her, his father had made it clear that their time alone was up. Grumbling, he'd accepted they needed to get ready. Now they're sitting in the main cabin of the Falcon waiting on his parents.

That he's about to share the mid-day meal with people he'd tried to consider the enemy until very recently is a reality that's too tangled, too terrifying … and far too wrapped up in denied yearning. Where the hell are they? His dad had made it sound like this star system would collapse if he and Rey didn't make an appearance. Quickly.

If he didn't have Rey, the conflicted turmoil would have him either hiding in his bunk or entering hyperspace coordinates. Thankfully, he can't take his eyes off Rey as she sits at dejarik table, leaning forward. It had never occurred to him that what she wore would matter to him. Given that he hasn't been able to do anything other than stare at her since she'd emerged from his small cabin, he'd been spectacularly wrong.

Once they'd finally managed to stop delighting in each other—she seems to need the comfort and heat of his touch as much as he needs hers—he'd put his mind to the issue of clothing. It wasn't as if they'd been able to pack. If there hadn't been so much last night, he might have noticed their bedraggled state earlier.

After he'd rummaged through long-forgotten things, he'd eventually found a shirt that had once swam on him. Now, it fits, but only in the sense that it's covering his chest. The seams strain and if he's not careful, he'll split them wide open.

Rey had already seen him without most of his clothing, so it would have been silly to refuse to change in front of her. Besides, even though he'd blushed all the way to the tips of his ears, the hungry look on her face as he'd wrestled the too-small shirt over his torso had more than made up for any initial discomfort. He … he likes that his body pleases her.

For one entertaining second, he'd considered teasing her that he expected her to change in front of him, as well. Unfortunately, she's not likely to shake that ingrained idea that she's an object for his pleasure without more time, so she might have taken him seriously. And so, he'd excused himself, inviting her to wear anything she could find amongst his old wardrobe.

When she'd shyly stepped into the corridor draped in his tunic, he'd been overwhelmed with visceral wanting. There was something about seeing her in his clothes that was immensely gratifying, filling him with a sense of claiming that verged on possessiveness.

That sense of instinctive, carnal desire hasn't lessened as they've waited for his parents, and so he just keeps staring. She glances at him furtively from time to time, her elbow on the table and her chin supported by her hand. He's been watching her so avidly that she can't quite hide the smug little smile that tugs at her lips.

She'd done this to him on purpose!

The neckline is lower than anything he's seen her wear. He'd thought it was because his old tunic is just too large for her. Now … he's not so sure. She'd found a thin scarf to use as a cincture, highlighting her slender waist. The only reason to have bothered with it would have been to draw his eyes to her alluring body. Additionally, she'd managed to tie it in such a way that the fabric clings to her breasts and reveals the curve of her decolletage to delicious effect.

Just to add to his addled state, the slate gray of his tunic brings out the warm hints of the sun in her skin, making her almost glow. Gods, he just wants to slide his fingers up her bare arms, bury his face between her—

"Good morning!" his mother chirps in a treacly tone as she and his father stand several feet away from where he and Rey are seated. "Or should I say afternoon?" she asks with a raised eyebrow that feels like a taunt.

Finally, something other than Rey's breasts has his attention. The glib, knowing look on Leia's face almost sends him back to the cabin, but then he takes in Rey's hopeful expression. The longer he's with her, the more he's learning about how her feelings glint and sigh along the cord that connects them.

Family. She longs for family. Ben doesn't think when he snorts at the perversity of the Force, making both women look at him sharply. His dad is already gradually retreating, his hands thrust into his pockets. Han had never been much help against his wife.

Taking in a long breath, Ben says, "Yesterday was … trying." Then his mother looks at him like she knows even a bit about who he is, making him sneer, "I don't typically switch my loyalties and find out I'm bonded on an average day."

The entire air in the main cabin shifts swiftly and he can't help but notice his father because he's frantically shaking his head. Great. When Dad knows there's no use in arguing, the cause is usually lost.

His mother glares at him with steely, doubtful eyes then the ebb and flow along his link with Rey swiftly floods with doubt. Attention firmly pulled to Rey, he finds her looking at her lap, her face blank.

What did he do? Ben looks to his dad for help but only finds the man looking vaguely amused and shrugging his shoulders. He's managed to get out of the line of fire without Mom noticing.

Right, okay. Rey first.

"Sweetheart, what is it? Whatever it is, I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmurs, trying to manage the illusion of privacy.

Her eyes catch his and she must sense something, because her guard drops immediately. "You said it was trying. Being bonded to me. But … I don't think that's what you meant."

"No, no, I meant so much happened yesterday, that I—we—needed sleep. I only meant that it wasn't on purpose that we took so long this morning." He hesitates, then carefully buries his hand in her hair, encouraging her to meet his eyes. "I hope, someday, you'll know that I could never find you trying."

When she folds herself against him, the tension he hadn't even noticed eases and he allows himself just one moment to hold her, feel her, before he looks over at his mother. "I never said I regretted my choice to come to you," he states tightly.

Cocking her head, Leia replies, "True, but you didn't exactly leave the First Order because of some sort of grand revelation. You did it for her."

"You're right," he acknowledges.

His mother walks closer to them with eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "I don't know if I can trust you."

"Well, Mom, I didn't join the First Order because of 'some grand revelation,' either. I did it because I was a scared, sheltered boy with more power than sense!" he exclaims angrily, gesturing with the hand not wrapped around Rey's bicep. "I went to Snoke because I couldn't see anything else to do."

"You could have come home," she remarks softly.

"I see that now, I do," he acknowledges, matching her tone. But then memory slams into him and Ben scoffs, "But, all I could understand back then was that your twin brother—who you always, always believed instead of me—had just tried to kill me! I was being hunted by my fellow Jedi! They refused to listen to me—how was I supposed to trust you?" For a single, charged moment he holds her eyes, but looks away before he can see her full reaction.

He was stupid to think she'd really meant what she'd said yesterday. Why does he never learn? Every single time he's ever put his faith in someone, they have invariably failed him. He huffs in bitter frustration and just stares at the table.

Leia sighs heavily but he can't tell how she's feeling, and he doesn't want to see the inevitable disappointment on her face. "Ben, I—"

"Leia," Rey surprisingly interrupts, causing his mother's mouth to close swiftly and Ben to swivel his head to see both women. When she swallows nervously, he gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and she sits a little straighter before continuing. "I know we've only just met, that you have no real reason to trust me, but I sense your son's feelings. I'm still learning how to untangle it all, but I'm certain you can trust him."

His mom's indulgent smile makes Ben wince and that his dad has already taken refuge at the console across from the dejarik table isn't a great sign.

With that patronizing tone she'd used when he was young, Leia justifies, "What you share with Ben is strong, much stronger than I suspect either of you understand, but you don't know the hist—"

Rey again interrupts before Ben can do it himself. "Then you're aware of how well I know him, even though we only met a few months ago," she says firmly. "All he needs is for you to believe in him. Ben is so kind, so loyal, but he's also hurt, deeply. Please don't question his integrity."

Han leans forward, listening intently to how his wife will respond to this while Ben wonders if he'll ever grow accustomed to the way Rey defends him first and asks questions later.

It's probably childish that he enjoys how his mother sputters out, "I'm not! I just can't take the chance—"

Jumping up to stand in front of Leia, Rey argues firmly, "You are. This man, your son saved me from a life so horrible I didn't even understand how bad it was until he got me away from that hellhole. For the first time in my entire life, I was able to know what it was like to go to sleep with a full belly and no fear of what would come for me in the night. Because of Ben. You might not be able to see who he is, who he always should have been before Snoke got his claws into him and you didn't notice, but I do!"

Her chest rises and falls with such ferocity, such surety, that even Leia Organa holds her tongue. Rey takes in a few calming breaths and Ben just wants to carry her back to bed. Feed her. Build monuments to her beauty. He could give her all the stars in the galaxy and it would never be enough to balance the scales of what she's given him. What she continues to give him.

With absolute conviction, Rey quietly asserts, "You can trust your son."

A/N: Thank you, ArtemisBare! You make me laugh way more often than should be legal and make me feel supported in all the best ways.

Thank you, Readers! I'm so grateful to those of you who are still reading. It's been awfully humbling to go from routinely writing a chapter a day to one every month, if the fates feel kind. I wish I could fill your sails with wind, the way you fill mine. You keep the fan fic garden watered and weeded. Thank you.