Some sort of trance seems to have woven through all four of them, no one willing to speak after Rey's impassioned defense of Ben. Han continues to sit at the rarely-used console at the back of the main cabin, looking like he's considering fleeing for higher ground. His wife stands a few feet opposite Rey as both women hold themselves tensely but without any obvious anger.

Ben, though, just sits at the dejarik table with his jaw hanging open. Not once, not ever has anyone shown him the unreserved support that Rey seems to think is his due. That she'd held her own against his mother won't process—it's simply not done.

Then Leia tilts her head, seeming as if she's about to speak, spurring Ben to gain his feet quickly and stride to Rey. Standing directly behind her, he settles his hands on her shoulders. There must be no mistake about where his loyalties lie and the challenging expression he wears draws his mother's attention. If Leia intends to change tacks, treat Rey like an opponent, Ben won't allow it. They'll be back on Snoke's ship long before his parents can wake from his Force sleep.

Now, his mother's gaze is firmly fixed on Ben, and he meets her eyes with equal intensity. It's still not clear what Leia is thinking, feeling—the Force is frustratingly silent but the bond thrums with unanimity. Without ever talking about it, he and Rey are a united front. There will be disagreements, of that he's sure, just as he's absolutely certain that facing life alone is firmly in the past. It had always been his intention to protect her from even the slightest challenge; now he sees that Rey will defend him with equal fervor.

The wary silence grows until there is a welcomed shift in the atmosphere. It no longer pulses with years of unresolved hurts and misunderstandings, giving way to a sense of cautious curiosity. The feeling of impending conflict recedes, everyone beginning to relax.

Rey leans back against him as the anxiety leaves her limbs and he draws his fingers along her clavicle. Skin touching skin seems to calm them both.

An inelegant snort from Leia dispels any remaining unease, then she drolly observes, "Well, you certainly inherited your father's taste in women."

His father offers, "Son, you better get used to saying, 'Yes, sweetheart,' a lot! I used to just say it whenever I came into the room," followed by a bark of laughter.

"Han!" Leia protests. "I was never that bad!"

Ben tries, he really does, but he remembers how his mother ruled their home with very little tolerance for his dad's scoundrel tendencies. It was not uncommon for him to find Dad asleep in the sitting room come morning. She absolutely had been that bad. So, he snickers. Only a little.

Uh oh, now her hands are on her hips and she's looking at him expectantly.

Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, he mumbles, "Well, uhm … Mom …"

With narrowed eyes, she responds in a saccharine voice, "Yes, sweetheart?"

Wait. Had his mother just made a joke? At her own expense? Then she's the one to start laughing, loudly. She wheezes, "Your face!" in between chortles as she points at him. Once she has herself mostly back under control, she makes a chagrined expression. "I was that bad, wasn't I?"

Father and son aren't sure if this is a trap, so they both nod slowly, which only makes Leia lose her composure again. Ben shares a nervous look with his dad as his mom wipes her eyes and takes a few gasping breaths.

Once she'd recovered herself for the second time, his mother reaches forward, beckoning for Rey's hands. Turning her head, Rey turns looks up at him with questioning eyes. Leia's bearing is now open—the warm, welcoming presence that had always felt more real than the mask she presented to everyone else, so he nods encouragingly.

Trembling, she places her hands in Leia's, but rubbing small circles along the small of her back seems to calm her.

His mother gives her an abashed smile with eyes twinkling. "Put me in my place, didn't you?"

"I—I—" Rey stutters nervously, her back tensing under his fingers.

Leia's smile shifts into a sincere, almost pleading expression. "Thank you."

Though Rey doesn't relax, exactly, she no longer seems to be preparing for conflict. He's learned enough of Rey's ways to know that even though he can't see her face, her eyes are wide and blinking. She does that when she expects anger but receives kindness instead.

"I didn't quite see it when I met you yesterday. It was obvious that Ben loves you, that you share a miraculous bond, but now I understand." Leia's words are tinged with awe.

He wants to cut in, ask her what she means, but Rey gets there first. "What do you understand?"

For a long moment, Leia regards them both and if he thought his mother capable of it, he'd think she seemed … humbled.

"My son has always needed you. I never knew what to do for him—and I clearly made all the wrong choices—but it's obvious, now." Her eyes glisten and she surprises both Rey and himself when she lifts a hand cupping Rey's face. "I've never seen him this …" her gaze flicks to his, "Whole." Looking back at Rey, his mother's eyes trace her features as if she's trying to fathom something entirely new. "Thank you, for doing what I never could. You saved him; you saved my son."

The clarity of her gaze and unguarded words are so unlike his mother—this is not the diplomat, nor the warrior. He wonders if this is the woman she truly is, underneath a lifetime of vigilance. There were always layers of meaning in her carefully chosen words; even how she braids her hair conveys her mood, if you know how to decipher the complicated Alderaanian styles. But he detects nothing but complete honesty from Leia as she pulls Rey into a heartfelt hug. Surprisingly, Rey leans into Leia's embrace, returning it with equal emotion.

Ben has the oddest feeling that he should look away from this private moment, that something new and essential is growing before him.

The women who bookend his life embrace for a long time, murmuring in each other's ears. Ben can only see Leia's face, and it brings forth memories of soft, safe times. Before her eyes began to hold a touch of wariness. Then open fear.

From Rey, through their connection, he can only discern a swelling affection, a sense of closeness.

Unexpected jealousy wells up inside him, and he's not even sure what he's jealous about. Is it that Rey is sharing confidences with someone other than him? Or that his bonded has inspired such maternal affection from his own mother? He doesn't want to be so petty, to feel such miserly, narrow emotions. Rey deserves to feel welcomed like this. And hasn't his mother earned a bit of grace after everything he's done to her life's work?

The feel of a hand on his shoulder startles him from his turbulent feelings and he finds his father next to him, offering comfort in his rough way.

"This is a good thing, kid," Han remarks.

Knowing he's right, Ben nods once. It doesn't change that he feels excluded.

His father huffs and makes a bemused expression, thrusting his chin towards Rey and Leia. "I can count on one hand with fingers to spare the number of folks your mom has accepted like that. Everyone else has to jump through her hoops until she was satisfied they won't hurt her. Or you."

"Me?" Ben cringes at how young, how pathetically needy he sounds.

"Oh, yeah. It's why you mostly had nanny-droids. After Alderaan …" Han trails off then takes a deep breath. "I never knew her before, an' she tried to let me fill that hole, but you … you healed something the day you were born—"

"Let's have something to eat!" Leia's bright voice interrupts the first conversation he's had with his father in almost a decade.

If Rey hadn't curled around him from behind, resting her head between his shoulder blades, he would likely be overwhelmed, as that odd, unwelcome jealousy wasn't the only feeling pushing him off his axis. While it was his mother who had always been the one to make him feel like an afterthought, his father's passive compliance had confirmed there would be no allies for Ben Solo.

He and his dad had been close when he was a boy—well, in a way. However, even though it was Leia who sent him away, Han had just let him go without a fight. Everything else was fair game, but there had been no raised voices for his son. That … well, that wound went deep. Arguing with his mother is familiar, easier to face than untangling his conflicted feelings about the man who pretended he was uncomplicated but was nothing of the sort.

Rey's firm warmth against his back and the way she holds him like he matters brings him fully into the present, reminding him that she should always be his first and last thought. Turning in her arms, Ben looks down into her bewildered face. Fleetingly, he wonders if she'll ever be able to meet acceptance without that uncertain fear in her eyes.

Lifting her chin and smiling softly, he says, "I think my mother likes you."

That insidious doubt, the sticky suspicion that clings to her whenever something good unfurls before her seeps through their connection. He's so proud when he both watches and feels her push it back, her pinched expression shifting to a quiet delight. The girl she should have been dances behind her eyes.

"She wants to have tea, just the two of us," Rey murmurs with a sort of starving hope.

In the face of her reaction to his mother—Rey never allows how she craves belonging to radiate unguardedly—Ben knows he couldn't envy anything Leia chooses to give her. It's new, all of it. There's a chance here to build something, with Rey, with his family, with the whole galaxy.

"When we're back on the Erso, I promise we'll have a meal to celebrate properly," Leia announces as she pulls a steaming tray of reconstituted whilk eggs from the rehydrator.

Han, who's slicing kavasa fruit at the other end of the small galley, twists his head then leers at his wife. "What are we celebrating, Princess?" he asks with a mischievous tone. "Are you finally ready for that vow renewal?"

The choking cough making his mom sputter gives Ben a better idea of how things stand with his parents. Though, Leia's private smile and scarlet cheeks makes him wonder how swiftly that's changing.

"Ben and Rey, of course," Leia announces with a slightly strangled voice.

"We could always make it a double ceremony," Han presses, eyebrows waggling. Every last molecule of oxygen rushes from Ben's lungs.

Of course he wants to marry her, but they're a few parsecs from that step. Besides, he will handle his own proposal, Dad. Next to him, Rey has gone completely still, drawing his attention. The look on her face could be terror or shock and she's clearly learning to shield her feelings from him, because the bond eerily silent.

Maybe she doesn't want to marry him. Or maybe the people on Jakku don't hold to formality like that? It could always be—wait, wait. He always does this, allow a threatening thought to careen through his mind so quickly that there's no time to think anything through, invariably landing him at the worst possible interpretation. Rey hasn't said or broadcast anything to indicate he has cause for concern. Everything's fine. Her wide, blinking eyes don't have to mean anything bad. Everything's fine.

Everything's fine.

"Han! I swear you live to torment! Don't pressure them!" his mother exclaims, slowing Ben's racing thoughts.

"Awe, c'mon, your highness, you know it's not them I'm pressuring," Han teases.

Interesting, there's a desperate undercurrent to his father's words. Ben catches his gaze and raises a questioning brow, but Han's face is now frustratingly blank.

A screaming alarm blares, causing his mother to jump slightly. "Ah! The moof sausages!" she chirps, smiling. Except it's nothing like her usual smiles, more like a terrifying rictus of joy. "Why don't you two go sit, we're almost finished here."

Grateful to retreat from whatever the hell is going on with his parents, he grabs Rey's hand and pulls her over to the opposite side of the main cabin.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing," Rey admits as Ben pulls the dining table out from the bulkhead.

In a low, conspiratorial voice, Ben mutters, "I have no idea, either. I haven't been in the same room with them for almost ten years."

Rey stops him from clicking one of the benches into place with a soft squeeze of his bicep. "Are you alright?" she asks gently, capturing his gaze with concerned eyes.

He stops fiddling with the bench then lets out a shuddering sigh. "I just need everything to stop until I can catch my breath. It's all changing so quickly; I want time to find my bearings." She's just so beautiful, with her open face and worried expression.

"Honestly, all I want is to take you somewhere quiet, ignore everything. Find out what this bond actually means." But there is a debt that must be paid, to his family, to the galaxy. Ben won't have Rey all to himself for quite a while.

His breath hitches when she strokes her fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his head. Eyes growing serious, she nods stoically as she says, "Okay. But can we eat first?"

It takes him a moment to catch up, and then her lips curl into a wicked smile that sets him giggling. There's no other word for it—what else can you do when faced with the absurdity your life has become but giggle? Then he completely loses it, laughing hysterically.

She doesn't sneer at his loss of control, or scoff in disgust like his classmates used to. Ben Solo is so weird. No, Rey is grinning.

Before his laughter can turn to sobs, he pulls her into his arms and presses his cheek against hers. "I love you, Rey. I love you so damned much."

Once everyone has filled their plates and begun eating, Ben decides to wade right into the swamp of unsaid things and uncertain futures.

"So, Mom … uh, your friends … will they …" He might be ready to begin building after seven years of destruction, but if he won't be welcomed by the New Republic, he and Rey need to leave before anyone starts asking questions. Clearing his throat, Ben tries again. "Do I need to be concerned about how I will be received? No clear declaration of war exists between the First Order and the New Republic, but will they work with Ky—" He chokes on the moniker that had once brought him such pride. "Me?"

Leia drops her utensils with a clattering sound, blinking furiously until she carefully says, "I didn't realize you'd decided to help."

Father and son roll their eyes in tandem then begin to talk over each other.

"Of course he's decided—"

"It's not even a choice—"

"He's here, ain't he?"

"I know my purpose now."

"One at a time," Leia demands, raising her voice slightly to be heard. Pointing at Ben, she gestures for him to continue.

Luckily, Rey is right beside him and she laces his fingers with hers, hidden by the table. She always seems to know just what he needs; he hopes she feels the same way. Her steadying hand reminds him all over again that she's his beacon, now.

Though he's impatient to remember what purposeful, untainted work even feels like, a cascade of the First Order's barbaric, depraved plans and projects overwhelms him with a shame so deep it will surely drown him. Starkiller Base—how can he ever tell his mother that her own son did nothing to stop the development of a new planet killer?

What had felt straight-forward a moment ago, now his intentions are caught on the barbed cruelty of his recent past, rendering him mute. Leia's concerned expression makes it clear his overly-expressive face has given away his turmoil. Rey leans against him, curling her other hand around his arm. Oh. He's trembling.

"Son?" his mother pushes with a quavering voice.

Owlishly, he blinks, wishing he knew nothing of an organization so rancid, so vile. Soon, Rey will know all of his sins.

For only a moment he closes his eyes against what Snoke did to him, then shakily says, "I don't know how to explain, but with Snoke dead …" He trails off as he realizes Rey is the only one who might, one day, be able to understand how that invading consciousness had distorted reality itself. Words will never adequately express it. But he has to try.

"I feel as if my thoughts are entirely mine for the first time in my adult life. Probably longer. Everything was always twisted, confusing. It only made sense when he'd explain …" Ben looks down, horrified by his master's control over him.

Once again, Rey shores up his crumbling center and he can again face his mother. "You have no idea the scale of the First Order, how they've grown in the shadows."

Surprisingly, his mother only frowns. "I'd thought as much, but I haven't been able to convince the senate—all they'll approve is funding a small fleet. Rebuilding after the Empire still isn't done; they're so afraid of history repeating itself that they just won't listen." Her nostrils flare in frustrated futility.

"A reality the First Order knows well and has exploited to terrifying effect. I doubt even you could have anticipated the scope of what they've created," Ben responds bluntly.

Before the meaning of his words fully show in Leia's eyes, Han reaches for his wife, pulling her to him protectively.

"I'm fine," she hisses, trying to push him away.

"No, you aren't," he argues. His father is right; there's nothing but bleakness in her eyes. Gently, Han says, "This isn't your fault."

As Ben watches, his mother crumbles right in front of him. She relents, letting Han fold his arm around her shoulders and hold her close.

With a hollow voice, she says, "Of course it is. If I'd pushed harder to investigate the outer regions, found all those escaped war criminals—"

"Stop," he mutters against her forehead. "You do more than anyone. You always have."

Ben's mind almost can't comprehend what his eyes are showing him. Has he ever seen her defeated? Not Leia Organa. His father might tease his princess mercilessly, but that's only because he knows his wife defines formidable.

Even when he was small and the most despised words in his universe were, "Later, Ben," she'd still been the foundation of his family. It was Snoke who made him believe she was ignoring him, that she couldn't be bothered with her son. But that wasn't it at all—her whole life she's been fighting with whatever tools she had to save the galaxy, make it just and good.

As a child it made perfect sense that her absence was his fault, that if he'd been calmer, stronger, smarter, better she would have wanted to spend time with him. Not send him away because she couldn't take it any longer.

Had it been only yesterday that Rey saved him from Snoke? That his parents firmly chose him over Luke? Each new discovery is fundamentally shifting his understanding of the past, his family, himself.

It had never been abandonment.

It had been sacrifice.

There's no more space in his brain, hell his heart, to fully understand this revelation. To let it wind its way through him, turning up to down. Not when he has it in his power to give his mother what she's devoted her life to: lasting peace.

"Mom?"

His parents startle and swiftly look at him with matching expressions of confusion, as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"It's not too late, not nearly," Ben says strongly.

Leia's eyes light with hope, then dim. "But, you just told us—"

"Yes, the First Order has positioned itself to be far worse than the Empire—" His mother opens her mouth to interject, as she always does, but not this time. "However, I was second only to Snoke. I know everything you need to stop them. For good this time."

Her mouth snaps closed. Her eyes, though, they rove searchingly over his face, seeking some hint of doubt. There's even the feeling of her probing at him through the Force.

"Everything?" his mother eventually questions with a cautious voice.

He's filled with a heady cocktail of confidence and knowing this is how he fulfills his legacy. The moment is only made more satisfying by the way Leia looks at him as if she's seeing him for the first time.

Ben's lips crook into the roguish smile he learned from Han Solo.

"Everything."

A/N: Thank you, ArtemisBare! I think I told you like six different times that the next chapter was almost ready and I'd send it by day's end. Thank you for your endless patience, my dear friend!

Thank you, Readers! At least it wasn't a month between updates this time? I have a firmer sense of the story now, so hopefully my fickle beast of a muse will deign to hang around more in February. Every time I write these notes, I get all warm and smiley because I still can't believe y'all read my stories! *runs around the room giggling like a 4-year-old*