Though Leia had been eager to hear what Ben had to tell her about the First Order, how to save the galaxy from its creeping shadow, it was Han who'd noticed Rey looking lost. He'd attempted to draw her into a conversation by asking her about Jakku, showing uncharacteristic kindness and awareness for the occasionally retired smuggler. Ben and his mother had taken the hint—it had been intended to be something akin to a family meal. Whatever that even means, now.

It wasn't long before Rey turned the focus away from herself and peppered Han with excited questions about the Falcon. Now they're both crawling in the depths of the old girl, no doubt thrilled to be in their element. The way her eyes had shined when she and his father bonded over Empire-era tech had shown him a whole new side to his miracle. While Ben already knew she'd spent most of her young life scavenging, he hadn't realized how much she'd liked it. Fondly, wistfully, he'd watched her disappear down the corridor of his childhood, enthusiastically interrogating Han.

He and his mother had stayed behind, sitting at the old dejarik table—both comforting in its familiarity and painful for the exact same reason. Ben had intended to remain detached, dispassionate when revealing details about his former organization. Unfortunately, the minute he heard what he was actually saying as he outlined the structure of the First Order, he'd lost all composure and spilled his guts to his mom, the general, the princess. All of her had listened, judged, soothed. But the air between them had become tense and uncomfortable, both digesting what it all meant.

Then she'd gone and suggested something far too good to be true.

"Are you sure?" Ben asks, uncertain if he and Rey should accept his mother's offer of a few days just to themselves while she travels to Hosnian Prime to meet with the security council. It's too tempting a gift, too kind. It's unexpected and undeserved.

And there's also the matter of keeping Rey safe. This could all be a ruse to take him unaware—send them to Naboo with a team of covert operatives lying in wait at Varykino, his family's estate. It would give Republic forces the perfect opportunity to capture him—not an easy feat. With the Force at his side, he's swift and deadly, weapon or no. Were their positions reversed, he'd do the same to ensure the target lived.

That he does know; his mother is a shrewd military leader, but she's never wanted him dead. Rey is the unknown element; the chance of her getting hurt in such an action is quite high given her protective … tendencies.

Even if he longs to trust the sincerity in Leia's eyes, their history is littered with far too many broken promises for him to just drop his guard and believe her without question. That he yearns to do just that is immaterial when it comes to keeping his assurances to Rey.

The Force has been swirling around mother and son, carrying snatches of feelings, fragments of images, sometimes easing communication, sometimes causing pain. Leia's eyes widen, taking in the flavor of his thoughts—his doubt clearly hurts her, but the only person he knows how to trust is Rey.

Taking in a deep breath, his mother affirms, "Of course I'm sure. It will take … time to prepare the government for your arrival. You might as well show off a little—Naboo's Lake Country is beautiful at this stage of its cycle." Though she's smiling, there's a tinge of sadness to her words, reminding him, once again, of how distorted, wrong he'd become. Once he had loved Naboo, before Mustafar burned it all away.

It will take every single favor ever owed to Leia Organa for her to gain him just the chance to make his case to the Republic. Ben frowns slightly, realizing he's been unfair to her, allowing Snoke's twisted thinking to still influence him. It may not come naturally any longer, but he will choose to trust his mother.

"You always loved Varykino when we would visit," she reminisces with a look of entreaty on her face.

"I did," he acknowledges with a faint smile. "Gliding across the water, rowing as fast as I could—it was almost like flying." His parents wouldn't even let him take a speeder out until he was 14; asking to pilot a ship wasn't even worth the effort.

Her uncomplicated laugh and eyes crinkled with memories of happier times slowly mends a bit of their tattered relationship and Ben joins her laughter with a chuckle of his own.

"Remember when dad got me that Scarifan catamaran to take out on the lakes?"

"How could I forget! I still can't imagine what he'd been thinking—you were only 12!" his mom exclaims.

Her aghast expression sends him spiraling into memories of the first time Luke had closed the temple during the worst of the monsoon season, sending all of his students to spend the time with their families. It had been almost two years since he'd left, and he can almost taste the thrill of excitement when he'd trundled down the ramp into his parent's waiting arms.

"We'd only been able to visit for a day here and there then your father goes and tries to get you killed!" she sputters, real fear lining her features.

Snoke had whispered to him in the night, spinning out his always-convincing narrative.

Your mother thinks you're a baby—she'll never let you become what you are meant to be …

Except … hadn't he crashed into the remains of an old pier? Leia had been right—Ben hadn't had the experience to control the nimble, finicky craft. But Snoke had purred into his young ears that his family held him back. He only crashed because Luke Skywalker was stunting his growth, stealing essential years of training to keep him weak …

She doesn't love you …

Her sharp inhale of breath makes him clench his eyes shut. Dammit, his control is slipping; she'd obviously caught hints of how he used to think of her and his father.

Hesitantly, he reaches across the checkered table and holds out his hand. Enough of how he's broken her heart slips past her walls that he's determined to fight against instincts long corrupted by Snoke. She'd made mistakes, not deliberate acts of malice.

It takes her longer to accept his gesture than he would have expected, even if he should have. Yet, eventually, her fingers do curl around his, wrapping him in memories even Snoke couldn't taint.

Mama …

Stars, that had hurt. He's not sure he'll ever make peace with the way his mother had looked at him when she realized just how far he'd fallen—that he'd allowed the Starkiller project to move forward without even attempting to stop it. For years, Ben has ripped himself apart, desperate to emulate Darth Vader. Yet, in that moment … watching the destruction of her home, her family play out across his mother's face as she learned of Starkiller Base, he finally understood just what his grandfather had done to her.

What he had done to her.

And he had been so ashamed, barely able to look at her. Why had he never considered her suffering during the long hours he'd supplicated himself before Grandfather's mask? How could he have ever believed Snoke's honeyed poison?

When he'd finally been able to face her again, all he'd managed was to choke out, "I'm sorry." His inadequacy had bitten him with its sharp teeth, bitten him deep when her only response to his feeble words had been to gather herself up, her spine ramrod straight, and make one curt nod in acknowledgement.

Yet she'd still taken his offered hand. In fact, he's certain she'd already had the meetings arranged and sent a message alerting Varykino of his arrival before he'd even awakened. With knowing only the barest outline of his plans, she'd still marshaled all of her resources to help him rebuild his broken life.

There's very little danger to Ben once the senate hears of Starkiller. When they understand its immense power, how cataclysmic this new monstrosity truly is, well, they'll be thrilled to count Kylo Ren in their ranks. If they don't remember the destruction of Alderaan personally, they'll have come of age in its shadow.

Now, though, the feeling of her warm hand in his clears away what is to come. All that really matters to him is Rey … and his family. He no longer craves power, and he wonders if he ever knew Darth Vader at all.

Leia smiles, a true, gentle smile, before she says, "I'm proud of you."

Without intending to, he's shaking his head fiercely. "No, no, I don't deser—"

"Hush, Ben. You came home, after all this time, you came home. Allow a mother to be proud of her son."

Just the idea of it, earning her pride … an ache that's pained him for so long he barely notices it, now, fades away and he breathes a little bit easier.

Leia's eyes sparkle when she says, "So. Naboo? I've already ordered a new ship for you. I didn't think you'd want to travel in Snoke's craft." She doesn't even attempt to hide her distaste.

Scowling, he huffs, "No, absolutely not," as a shiver convulses up his spine. "I shouldn't decide for her," he points out just as he's realizing it for himself.

"I'm sure she'll want to go. What's the longest time you've had alone with her, anyway?" she asks in that strange way mothers have where they already know the answer.

Remembering the night they fell asleep on Rey's settee, he mumbles, "Not long—about ten hours."

Her fingers tighten around his and she smiles widely in triumph. "Then of course she'll say yes! Anyone can see that you're her whole universe."

Looking down quickly, he feels his face heat. Someday, maybe, he'll know how to believe that could ever be true, but not now … not yet.

"I wish you'd found her years ago," Leia sighs wistfully.

Images of Rey as a child flood his mind at the idea. Obviously, he'd do anything to have saved her from Plutt's brothel, but the thought of meeting her as a young girl makes him uncomfortable. The intensity of their connection … Swiftly, he shuts down that line of thinking. He has far too many sins dripping from his hands, he has no need to imagine more.

Leia looks at him oddly and he grimaces, hoping none of that had made its way to his mother. Gods know, Rey's already too young for him. Carefully, he schools his expression before saying, "Well, we should be grateful I didn't. She's 20 at most."

Expecting Leia to look aghast at Rey's youth, he's startled by the sound of Han chuckling heartily as he and Rey return from their tour. His father swaggers over to his wife, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as she rolls her eyes.

Then his dad slaps Ben's back with a self-satisfied grin. "You really do take after yer old man."

Withdrawing her hand from Ben's, Leia pivots to where Han is standing, pinning him with her sharp gaze. "We could have met when I was 15 and I still would have had you chasing your tail."

For a moment, he thinks his father will argue, defend himself. But instead, he makes that crooked grin. "Yeah, alright. You had me wrapped around your little finger before you even realized you liked me."

"Who says I liked you?" Leia responds, matching his cocky grin.

It takes Ben a moment to remember that his rogue of a father was 32 when he'd met his fierce princess—at the age of 19. Said rogue bends down and kisses his mother's cheek again as he wraps his arm around her shoulder, sliding next to her on the bench. Han nuzzles her ear, obviously whispering something between kisses. Ben looks away swiftly when she starts to giggle.

Had his parents always been like this? All he can remember are the epic battles for dominance … but he hopes there had been this side, as well. Wait. Hadn't Rey come into the main cabin with his father?

Casting his eyes about, he finds her at the edge of the space, making herself small by the corridor. Standing, he goes straight to her. He doesn't like the way she's curled into herself. When they aren't alone or she's not defiantly defending him, she always seems to be hiding away, protecting herself.

"Rey?" He reaches for her; she allows herself to be pulled into his arms.

Peering into her eyes worriedly, he asks, "What is it?"

That look she makes, with her lovely hazel eyes round with trepidation, strikes into his chest. He's not sure how long it will take, but he's determined to build that fire inside her into a towering inferno of confidence. Someday, she'll see herself as he does and she'll feel no need to hide.

Ben doesn't say anything else, just holds her eyes with his while rubbing his hand along her back. Eventually, she sheds a few layers of her protection.

"It's silly," she predictably dismisses.

"I know that's not true," he disagrees, his lips thinning.

Looking away from him, focusing on nothing, she murmurs, "I don't … I don't know how to act around a …. a family."

"Your family, now," he says, allowing her to find his eyes when she's ready.

"Han …" She purses her petal-pink lips then makes a conflicted expression. "He said that, too. That I was family."

Usually, his mother handled the softer aspects of communication, but Rey appears to draw something out of his father—something he doesn't recall having seen before.

"And he's right. Unless you choose otherwise, I'm afraid you're stuck with us … with me," he says quietly with more insecurity than he would have liked.

Now she does meet his eyes. "Of course I want that! It's all I've ever wanted. It's … it's only …"

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulls her closer, tipping her face up, trying to keep her gaze on him—to no avail. She's afraid, overwhelmed. He's certainly struggling to believe that he no longer needs to shred himself to pieces, that he could ever deserve the bounty of love that now surrounds him.

It's too good to be true, and yet, it is.

Though her eyes scan the main cabin, landing anywhere but him, her arms come up around his neck and she idly begins to play with his hair. The feeling of her fingers whispering against his neck forces him to suppress a moan; most of him wants to hide her away in his bunk until it's time to leave for Naboo. Time with her, only her for even a few precious days will help them both.

That low hum of bliss has him losing focus, but her voice, tangled with ache and tumult, tugs him back. "I don't know how. I keep trying to find the catch, the debt. Plutt only ever gave me enough portions to survive. Said I was working off all he'd had to spend before I was old enough to be useful," she sneers, but does find his eyes. "Then, he told me—" Her words stop abruptly, but he has a good idea of what she'd been about to say.

Though she stays in his arms, her face drops and her fingers cease dancing along the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck. Frustratingly, his attempts to comfort her have only resulted in her retreating deeper within herself.

"I never know how to act around my family, either. I never really did," he admits, hoping to coax her back.

His words cause her gaze to snap back to his. There's something indefinable circling her irises. "But, you grew up with them …"

Huffing out a mirthless laugh, he says, "It turns out that being related to someone doesn't actually mean much."

The way her eyes move away from his, an uncomfortable tension settling on her face, makes him rethink his words. She isn't talking about a strained relationship.

No, it was much simpler than that. She means it quite literally, he realizes suddenly. Ben takes a deep breath and studies her, attempting to understand what her life must have been like … The snatches he's seen through the bond paint a bleak picture; their childhoods the antithesis of each other.

Of course he's known since the beginning that Rey's life had always been desperate before he found her, carved by misfortune and burnished with scarcity. In contrast, his youth had been a series of upheavals, yet none of those profound changes had threatened his survival. Until the trembling woman in his arms had remade him, he'd never even noticed the mechanics of maintaining a life.

His needs have simply been met, in that respect. Sustenance a matter for the droids. A bedroom, a berth, a little hut amongst the trees of Yavin—has he ever wondered where he would sleep? Has he ever had a single thought about all he's been given?

The other half of him, however, that's almost all she's ever thought about. And she was never given anything.

Rage beckons—there must be something he can destroy to balance these scales. Plutt cannot be the only one who kept his boot on her neck. At the very least, all of Niima Outpost had looked away. He would gladly kill every single being who had so much as annoyed her; whatever she needs, wants, he'll give it to her.

Lifting his hand, he strokes the soft, warm skin of her cheek, hoping the act will soothe them both. She doesn't need his brutality; she needs his constancy. He may have planted the seeds of trust and devotion in her heart, but only time and experience will see them bloom.

"Tell me what first made you uncomfortable," Ben requests in a soft voice. He needs to let her lead him in this, as even he can see that violence wouldn't accomplish anything useful.

Well. Apart from feeding that part of him he's surprised to find still growls at the base of his skull.

"Please?" he entreats.

Her brow furrows, but her stiff bearing finally relaxes. "Even after I challenged your mother, she accepted me." There's a wild, frantic confusion storming in the hazel of her eyes. "I can find my way to understanding why you do; we're the same. Your mother, though … even I know who Leia Organa is. What could I possibly offer her?" Rey's voice wavers with shame.

He wants to say something, find just the right combination of words to unlock these heavy chains that tether her to her shattered childhood. Casting about frantically, scouring his memory, there's nothing. It's not wisdom he possesses.

Rey shakes her head with a hint of defeat then says, "With Han it makes more sense, I can be useful, help with his ship …" Her eyes lift, pleading with him—for what, he's not sure.

With meager, inadequate sentiments, Ben tries anyway. "Rey, there's nothing hidden, no trick. You don't have to be useful."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffs, "Not in my experience."

A disturbing bitterness begins to envelop her, wedging itself between them. His instinct is to hold her, kiss her, push this jagged feeling away, but when he attempts to pull her closer, her eyes flash.

There's so much he hasn't even considered. Rey has always seemed the stronger between the two of them, she never would have endured, otherwise … and then he understands. She's been fighting, scraping, barely surviving her whole life. Understanding the rules of engagement kept her alive—not knowing what's expected has to be terrifying.

Something heavy and thick sinks in his belly. He's thrust her into a completely foreign land, never thinking of the impact. His throat thick with shame, he realizes that it was his father who noticed she had been so unmoored, helped her feel more at ease, when it should have been him.

Everything he can think of to say to address his failure feels horribly patronizing, but he has to try.

Instead of attempting to draw her nearer, this time he cups her heart-shaped face with his hands, hoping she'll decide to look at him. As he draws his thumbs along the freckles decorating her skin, she rewards his affection with her gaze.

"When I tell you that you're safe, cared for—that you will never know deprivation again, that you can trust my parents, I know you won't, can't believe me. However, you aren't alone any longer."

For the first time since he'd noticed how she'd lurked at the edges, unsure of her place, their connection shudders with emotion. It's so new to him, this whole new dimension to his life, that he hadn't really noticed how empty it had been until the balm of her settles around him, glints of her quiet hope making him shiver.

Continuing, he explains, "It's not that I wish to help you, though I do, it's simply that I'm here.

No words can erase what your life has been, but, together I know we're building something new that shelters both of us." Letting out a long, regretful breath, he presses forward. "I was so naive when we found each other. I thought by getting you away from there, making you the best home that I could with the time I—"

"Are you seriously suggesting that somehow you didn't rescue me from Plutt properly?" she asks with an incredulous expression but such a fond tone.

He begins to withdraw his hands from her face, now feeling wrong-footed, but she grabs them and presses his palms back into place. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted," she apologizes sincerely. "It's only … what you did, for me—I treasure that time in my little cottage. I don't want you to think you did anything wrong when it's so, so precious to me. Like you."

Then she blushes so prettily. Her intoxicating words, knowing that even back then she cared, well, kissing her seems the best course of action. But she smiles, almost as if she knows what he's thinking, and says, "Please, go on."

For a moment he can only blink, but then he remembers the rest of what he'd wanted to tell her. "My parents like you. Probably more than they like me, honestly." That makes her frown, but before she can argue with him, he rushes forward, "It will take time, I know, but I promise you that my mother will only want to help you feel more comfortable."

Rey's eyebrows rise skeptically, but her eyes shine with optimism. With a gentle smile, he confesses, "I suspect I've given you a … skewed perspective on my mother. Yes, she hurt me, didn't know what I needed. But, if you let her, she will love you like the mother you never had."

Like a sun rising over the sea, pure wonder breaks through the last of her reticence. Perhaps he'd found the right words, after all.

The outpouring of Rey's love surges through their connection, making him dizzy, making him drunk on his miracle. Kissing, yes, they should absolutely be kissing. Leaning forward, he encourages her to meet him by tenderly guiding her face towards his, drifting in her gaze—

"Hey, kids! Stop makin' googly eyes at each other!" Han barks with mock severity.

"Oh, stop it," his mother fusses as both his parents approach them. "Ben, have you been able to ask Rey about Naboo?"

She tilts her head in question, her eyes glassy and cheeks flushed. Ben's having trouble orienting himself after his father had so rudely yanked them out of a truly perfect moment, so he only notices the confusion in Rey's expression when she gently grasps his hand.

It takes her giving him a little tug for him to actually focus.

"Ben, what's Naboo?"

A/N: Thank you, ArtemisBare! She was above and beyond for this chapter, editing twice. I knew there was a problem, but I just wanted to pooooost. Without her, my laziness would have deluded myself into giving y'all a mediocre chapter. All the points to Ravenclaw!

Thank you, Readers! Slowly but surely, I'm re-accustoming myself to writing every day and it's pretty fantastic for my noggin'. Thank you all for the time you give this story, the favorites, the follows, the reviews. Being rad. *blows kisses*