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Chapter Text

Rey is dying. 

Or at least she thought she was. 

The days after Exegol passed by in a blur. Celebrations lasted a good week and a half after what had become known as the Battle of Exegol. Rey remembered some of it. She remembered being offered drinks. The stench of alcohol had turned her stomach. Brought unbidden memories to the surface; of half-forgotten faces and words shouted in anger. Rey had declined the proffered drink politely. 

She remembered watching the following festivities from her hidden nook till the emptiness inside her threatened to overwhelm her as she watched everyone dance and drink. There were others like her. Sitting on the outskirts, eyes hollow and faces long with sorrow as they grieved those they’d lost to the war. 

Finn and Poe expressed their concern when they noticed how withdrawn she’d become, shadows making a home under her eyes. Thankfully, they kept their distance, sensing correctly that that was what she needed. Although, Rey guessed she had Rose to thank that for. She was remarkably perceptive about such things. 

They believed her despondent mood was because she was still grieving the loss of her master, the closest thing Rey had had to a mother. Yes, she missed Leia but she had accepted her death as the woman had done when she’d called out to her son one last time. Leia was not the one she grieved and she didn’t know how to tell them that. There were no words to describe the gaping hole in her soul, how her entire being ached for her other half. 

And then Rey couldn’t take it anymore. Something in her was building, ugly and hot, and she feared it. Terrified of what would happen when it clawed its way out of her.

So she left, under the guise of putting the lightsabers of the twins to rest. Poe had insisted on BB-8 accompanying her when she refused their company. Rey thought maybe Poe knew more than he let on. 

“Chewie, I-I can’t.” Rey said when Chewie offered her the Falcon. He insisted, telling her it was what Han would have wanted. And maybe it was time he retire for a bit now that the fighting was done. 

Tatooine was hot and dry like Jakku had been. It was strangely comforting. Rey had thought, after seeing so many lush planets, she would never want for the endless dunes and burning heat of Jakku. But there was just something familiar about Tatooine. 

And it was there on Luke’s old home that she finally allowed herself to truly mourn. BB-8 had nearly short-circuited when Rey dropped to her knees with a keening sob. She’d wailed and screamed until her voice left her. And then she had cried some more.

And when there were no more tears, her body spent and tired, but her mind a flurry of thoughts and regrets, Rey decided with BB-8’s urging to focus on repairing the moisture farming equipment lest she dies of dehydration. And she was good for a couple of days. Her mind and body too focused on the task to busy itself with her darker thoughts. But then she’d finished and her grief and anger had come rushing back in like a dam that had burst inside her.

She woke up in a pool of her own vomit to BB-8 beeping and whirring like crazy, his chassis bumping against her shoulder repeatedly. 

“I’m fine.” She croaked. She wasn’t fine. BB-8 told her that much. The droid herded her onto the Falcon and into the ‘fresher. Rey had to admit it felt good to wash off the sick and sand that had caked her body.

She stepped out of the ‘fresher and made her way into the cockpit. She brushed off the ration bar BB-8 nudged towards her. Told him she wasn’t hungry despite having not eaten in two days. 

Her comms were full of messages from her friends. Rey stared at the blinking lights. She looked down at the ball droid who was looking innocently up at her. She sighed and pressed a button. Rey was immediately assaulted by a flurry of mixed voices as the messages all played at once. Rey scrambled to turn some of them off. Most of them were Finn’s but she heard Poe and Rose too. Even Chewie. 

“Rey? I don’t if you’re getting my messages.” A pause. Rey’s stomach twisted. “We’re worried about you. BB-8’s been telling us-” The message cut off and switched to another. His tone was pleading now. “We miss you, Rey. Come back. Please .” 

Rey nearly crashes into BB-8 in her rush to get to the ‘fresher. She clutches the vacc tube as she retches. There’s nothing left in her stomach, though. What does come out is acidic and burns her throat. Rey rests her head against the bowl and closes her eyes, BB-8’s concerned beeps lulling her sleep.

Thankfully when she wakes this time it’s in a puddle of her drool and not her puke. For this Rey is immensely grateful. Rey weakly makes her way back to the cockpit. The messages are still playing. She listens to them in a stupor. She should feel happy that her friends care for her so. But all Rey feels is...empty.

It’s not until Poe starts threatening to come down to Tatooine and kidnap her that Rey thinks maybe it’s time to go back. Lest her friends come and see the state she’s in. 

Rey takes another shower, changes her clothes once again, and accepts the ration bar BB-8 pushes towards her before plugging in the Resistance’s coordinates. 

The Falcon lands a few hours later. Rey slowly walks out, BB-8 dutifully following her.

Finn and Poe are standing in front of the platform waiting for her. Poe had his arms crossed but he looks relieved to see her. BB-8 croons happily and rushes to his master. 

“Rey.” Finn sighs in relief, his face relaxing as he approaches her, arms spread wide. Rey smiles. Or at least she hopes what her mouth is doing is a smile. She hasn’t smiled since Exogol. Rey steps forward to accept the embrace when she promptly collapses. 

“Rey!” Is all she hears before the darkness takes her.

“She‘s what ?!” Finn exclaims at the same time Poe asks, “Come again? Because, it’s funny,” Poe fakes a chuckle, “for a second I thought you said she was-”

“Pregnant,” Rey says numbly.

“Two months, I say.” The medic smiles. “Congratulations.”

Rey thinks she says thank you or something similar. She distantly hears Poe and Finn squawking in the background, asking if the medic is sure. That it’s not some fluke and that the machine isn’t picking up a tapeworm or something. 

Rey is released a few days later with strict instructions to eat plenty and no more off-world adventures. Finn is the one who escorts her from the medbay to her room on the Resistance base. There are significantly fewer people around, many having returned home. 

Home. Rey doesn’t think she’d ever had a real one before, but she plans on making one. She won’t have her little one grow up without one. Rey doesn’t how and where, but she’ll find one. It won’t be some rusted, scrapped AT-AT, that she knows for sure. 

Finn talks the whole way there and Rey is more than happy to have fill in what would have been a silently awkward journey. He talks about the Resistance’s plans, how they’ve begun reaching out to different planets in hopes of creating something new. Not a dictatorship like the First Order and not the flawed bureaucracy of the New Republic. They want something different, something that will finally bring peace to this war-torn galaxy. Finn talks about how the missions sent out to hunt down the last of the First Order are going. Of the stormtroopers that have been slowly trickling in, inspired by stories of Finn and the ex-stormtrooper Jannah and her company. 

Rey is happy for him. Truly. Even when the ugly, nasty thing in the back of her mind screeches as Finn embarrassedly talks of Poe, his cheeks dark. She roots for the creature and casts it deep down into her subconscious with all the other things she’d rather not think about.

Rey steps into her room. Her eyes determinately do not stray under her bed where a box containing the only evidence of her dyad partner’s existence lays.

“So, uh, Rey?” Finn starts, leaning against the wall in an attempt to appear casual. He fails spectacularly. Rey watches with growing amusement as he slides off the wall. Her friend scrambles to right himself. He clears his throat once he has both feet planted firmly on the floor. Rey tries to be patient as Finn stumbles over his words, but she’s tired. All she wants to do is hop in the fresher, wash the smell of the medbay off her, and hopefully fall into a dreamless sleep.

“Finn,” He jumps when she addresses him. She raises one brow. “What is it?” And then immediately regrets asking him.

“Who’s the father?” Finn blurts. Rey’s breath catches in her throat. Finn’s eyes widen and he brings up his hands. “Not that it’s any of my business! I mean you don’t have to tell me or anything if you don’t want to.” He rubs a hand over his face and groans. Rey would have laughed if it had been any other time and about a different question. Because, truthfully, Rey hasn’t got the faintest idea who the father could be.

“I don’t know.”

“You...don’t...know…?” Finna repeats back slowly, confused. Rey sits on her bed. She’s looking down so she doesn’t see when Finn joins her, only feels the slight dip in the bed as he sits. He swallows heavily. “You weren’t- someone didn’t...do something to you, did they?”

Now it’s Rey’s turn for her eyes to go wide.

“Oh, gods no!” She faces Finn and grabs his shoulder. “It wasn’t anything like that!” Finn melts and grabs her opposite shoulder.

“Thank the Maker.” He breathes a sigh of relief. He finds her eyes. “You had us really worried, Rey.”

Rey looks down. “I know,” she replies quietly. “I’m sorry I just needed time to…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. To anyone, if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.” Rey meets his eyes again. “But I want to try.”

“Rey-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” The corner of her lips lift up and she nudges his shoulder a little. “You’re my best friend.” It’s true. He’s her first and truest friend. She wants him to know this.

Finn’s eyes soften and he returns her smile. “You’re my best friend too.”

Rey nods and pulls away, hand slipping into her lap as she sits criss-cross applesauce on the bed.

“I wasn’t lying before. I really don’t know who the father is.”

Finn frowns. “But how?” He blinks. “I think I’d have remembered unless…”

Rey shakes her head. “I don’t drink, Finn. I’ve also don’t,” she clears her throat awkwardly, “do that. I’ve never had.”

Sensing her embarrassment, Finn simply nods, and offers a, “Me too.”

Rey’s heart warms at his honest confession and continues, “Right. And two months ago I was training with Leia and then there was the…”

“Battle of Exegol.” Finn finishes for her. His frown comes back. “You never did tell us what happened. Not really.” 

Rey takes a deep breath. And then chickens out. Well, she tried. “I will. One day.” And she will. Preferably when just the thought of what happened no longer threatens to bring her to her knees, a three-lettered name stuck in her throat as she sobs. “So there wasn’t any time for me to...you know…” Finn nods again, Force bless him.

“You don’t think…” Finn lowers his voice and leans in. “...it was the Force, do you?”

Rey blinks. “That…” it’s ludicrous; crazy, but... “actually makes sense.” The Force is weird like that. She wouldn’t strike it off the list of possibilities. 

Rey yawns. Finn stands up and bids her goodbye, telling her to rest.

“If you need anything. I mean anything, you can always count on me. On all of us.”

Rey swallows, “I know.” 

Finn leaves, the door sliding closed with a quiet hiss of air. Rey gets up and walks over to the ‘fresher attached to her room. She undresses and catches her eye in the mirror. She takes a step back and looks at herself.

She doesn’t look any different. She’d been eating more since joining the Resistance, minus her breakdown on Tatooine. She’s gained a bit more weight, no longer skin and bones. She looks the same.

Rey places her hands on her belly and closes her eyes. She focuses until she can feel the Force and all the living things beating in tandem to its mysterious tune. She can feel the person in the next room over. Feel the fly in the hallway. The crowd of living beings in what she assumes must be the mess hall. 

And then she feels it. Him. Her. She doesn’t which it is yet except that they’re there.

Rey gasps and her fingers tighten. 

A heartbeat. Small and faster than her own. She focuses on that and is surprised when she hears a second heartbeat. A smile, small and genuine spreads on her face. The Force hums softly around her. 

And just like the fleeting moment she’d shared when Ben, when she’d kissed him and they’d been one, Rey feels at peace.

Rey’s pregnancy was pretty normal for the most part. If you exclude the fact that apparently the Force was to blame for her pregnancy.

“A gift from the Force.” Chewbacca had told her when she’d informed him of her new situation. 

“Really?” Rey had asked, stunned to have it confirmed so quickly. 

“Not the first time.” He’d seen a lot of strange things over his long life and heard many stories. This wasn’t so bizarre to him. Especially not when the Force was involved which he just knew it was. 

It was just another run of the mill Force pregnancy. No hiccups… at least if she didn’t count the three times she had to be rushed to the medbay. Apparently, chronic childhood malnutrition and dehydration hadn’t done any good to her body. Who’d have thought? The medics were surprised she’d even been able to conceive, much less hold the babies this long. 

Okay, so maybe it isn’t so normal.

Her friends are all so wonderful, though. Supportive, if confused, and soldier through her erratic mood swings with the solemnity of war veterans. Maker, Rey’s never felt so off-kilter with her emotions. She’d be laughing one moment, crying the next, and then had narrowly clocked Finn with a wrench when he’d commented on the fact that she waddled like a porg. She and Chewie were still rooting the little creatures out of the Falcon.

Finn and Poe, despite their busy schedules, make time to check up and spend time with her. Poe is too good at cards. Rey is decent and wins a couple of rounds but Finn is terrible at it. Rey suspects Poe had intentionally allowed him to win the few times he’d managed to do so. 

Before Rey had been confined to bed rest she’d spent a lot of time with Rose and Chewie fixing up and restoring the Falcon to her former glory. Or as close as they could get to it. She’d never be her original stark white and some scars were permanent without completely replacing the parts but she was perfect. 

It was nice. Almost made her forget the yawning hole in her soul. 

Almost.

Rey’s pregnancy had been going relatively smoothly as of late. She was drinking water and eating enough for four people. Her children would never know what it was like to be hungry if she could help it. Rey was enjoying the rare stroll outside through the jungle, Rose holding onto the crook of her arm when it all went to shit.

“I swear if those two don’t stop dancing around each other and confess, I’m going to go insane!” Rose complains. Rey chuckles.

“Don’t worry. It won’t be long.” Rey soothes. “They’re absolutely smitten with each other.”

“Ugh, I hope your right.” Rose looks at her out of the corner of her eye. “So…”

Rey raises a brow. “So?”

“Is there anybody your ‘smitten’ with?”

Ben’s face, his radiant smile, pops up in her mind’s eye.

“No.” Rey turns the question on Rose. “What about you? Are you really okay with, er, Finn and Poe… you know.”

Rose shrugs. “We’re just friends. I’m happy for him.”

“Me too.” 

They continue their leisure pace. Birds and other creatures chirp around them from within the trees.

“Rey?”

“Hm?” Rey is trying to remember the name of the animal croaking. Poe had told her the name just yesterday. Did she forget it already? 

Rose’s next words are hesitant and for good reason. “Are you...okay?”

Rey stiffens. She struggles to loosen herself. “Why do you ask?”

Rose shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “I don’t know it’s just you’re so quiet sometimes and you get this look on your face.”

“Look?” Rey hears herself ask but her mind is far away, trying to run away from the conversation. Her stomach is twisting terribly.

“Sad. Depressed. Beaten down.” Rose shrugs. 

Rey stops walking. Rose is yanked back by her sudden stop. 

“Rey?” Rose looks back at her. Her brows furrow in concern. “I didn’t mean- did I push too hard?”

“Rose.” Rey croaks. Something warm leaks down her legs. Rose tenses and her eyes go to her stomach. She’s always been so perceptive. It’s made Rey a little uncomfortable. For once she’s glad for it.

“Is it the baby? Do you need to sit down?” 

Rey opens her mouth to say something. Rey doesn’t know what she says if she says anything, the blood rushing in her head is so loud. Her legs give out and Rey is only dimly aware of Rose fumbling to catch her. The pain in her stomach blooms and takes her voice with it so all she can manage is a small whimper.

Rey thinks she blacks out because one moment it’s her and Rose among the trees and the next she’s lying limply in Finn’s arms. Rey tries to lift her head and ask what’s going on but she’s hit by a wave of pain from somewhere in her womb and it takes everything she has in her to keep her eyes open.

“It’s going to be okay, Rey. It’s going to be okay.” Finn keeps repeating the phrase. Rey’s eyes roll from his panicked face to her lower half.

That’s a lot of blood. She thinks before she passes out again.

Finn is hysterical. The doctors know this. So do the infirmary droids. Everybody within a five-mile radio knows this. He knows this. Rose and Poe are equally as panicked. Because Rey is dying.

Her light is dimming more and more as the seconds pass by. Finn tries to break into the medbay and demand what’s going on, his friends close behind him. They stop him. Tell him that complications have come up and they’re doing their best to help his friend. Assured him they had the most skilled doctors and newest medic droids working on Rey. It does little to reassure him when he can feel Rey slipping away further and far away with every second that drags by.

Poe doesn’t understand what’s going on but he takes Finn’s hand and squeezes.

“Listen, buddy, if anybody can do this it’s Rey. It’s going to be okay.” Finn wants to believe him. Desperately. With all his soul. But Rey is dying. Can feel it, see it with this weird connection he has to the Force and her.

Tears cloud his eyes and run down his face. 

“Finn? What’s wrong?” Rose asks. Finn feels Poe take hold of his face, thumbs wiping at his tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. Rey’s-”

“Gone.” Finn chokes out. He meets Poe’s dark eyes. “She’s gone. ” And just like a candle, Rey’s light is snuffed. Her once bright presence drifting into the Force like smoke in the air.

“Oh my gods.” Rose gasps and collapses into the chair next to Finn. Finn means to breathe out, hadn’t known he was holding his breath. A broken sob rips out of him instead. Immediately Poe grabs the back of his head and pulls it to his shoulder, holding him closely.

Finn closes his eyes and cries against the other man.

 It’s dark one moment and then it’s not. A burst of light floods Finn’s senses through the Force. It’s so bright that if Finn hadn’t already had his eyes closed he’d have shut them. Poe must feel something too because he freezes. You’d have to be dead not to feel that, Force-sensitive or not.

The light. It should be blinding with how brilliant it shines. Brighter than even Rey’s who’s always been a beacon of light, lighting up the darkness around her. The light eventually dies down into two small pinpoints; soft and twinkling like starlight.

Finn is on his feet and rushing to where he feels Rey’s steady presence in the Force. Poe and Rose are hot on his heels. 

The human medics are fluttering around in kind of hurried frenzy. They’re so distracted they don’t even attempt to shoo the three new arrivals. Which is good with Finn. He isn’t planning on leaving Rey’s side.

She’s pale and drenched in sweat but her chest is rising and falling as she sleeps.

“It’s a miracle.” He catches a doctor murmur in awe, looking at Rey’s vitals. 

“I thought you said…” Poe trails off, watching in a sort of trance as Rey breathes in and out. 

“She’s not,” Finn says. Poe looks away and then blinks rapidly.

“Did you know she was having twins?”

“They’re so small…” Rose coos from behind his shoulder. Finn looks away from Rey and to the two pink bodies being checked over by an infirmary droid. Finn doesn’t think twice before approaching. The droid finishes wrapping the two newborns in a white blanket. Finn reaches forward and takes one of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rose take the other.

“Rose wasn’t kidding. She is small.” Poe comments next to him.

“He.” The droid corrects. “Human male. Approximately four point seven pounds. Fifteen inches in length. Birthing time is two-forty PM standard time.” 

Rose lifts the baby in her arms slightly. This one is bigger than Finn’s with a head of already thick dark hair. “Is this one a boy too?”

“Human female. Approximately seven point three pounds. Twenty-one inches in length. Birthing time is two thirty-six PM standard time.”

“Looks like Rey lucked out; got the whole set and everything,” Poe comments with a smirk. Finn pretends not to notice the way his voice shakes towards the end. It’s been a pretty traumatic four hours. 

Finn’s attention is called back to the baby boy in his arms. He stretches, pushing against his cloth prison and smacks his lips together twice before going back to sleep.

“Okay. Now that’s cute.” Finn nods in agreement with Poe.

“Awww, look, guys, she’s opening her mouth-”

A piercing wail cuts through the buzz of monitors and the doctors walking around them. Poe grimaces and Finn holds the baby closer to him in a vain attempt to muffle the noise.

“Okay. That. Not so cute.” Poe says over the baby’s cries.

Rose looks bewildered as the newborn in her arms makes it known how much she doesn’t care for this new outside world.

Finn laughs. It’s wet and a little creaky but that’s alright. 

Poe was right. Everything is going to be okay.

Rey’s never held a baby before now. She’s holding the twins, one in each arm. Plutt had put her in charge of the younger scavengers back on Jakku, trusting her to show them the ropes. But she’d never interacted with anybody that didn’t yet know how to walk and talk, much less clean themselves.  Jakku’s sun would have burnt their fragile skin. Babies this small were either kept inside or tightly strapped to their mother’s back in a thick cloth.

Rey looks down at the sleeping babe on her left. He’s small, much smaller than his twin. His eyes are closed so Rey has no idea what color they are. The few wisps of hair on his head are brown, like hers. Rey turns her head to her right. She couldn’t be more different. This one already has a whole head of dark hair. Her skin is paler and she’s a lot heavier than her counterpart. 

They’re so different. Rey thinks they’re the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.

They do share one thing in common, Rey’s noticed. Their ears, they’re large and stick out proudly from the sides of their heads. Like someone Rey knew. Had known.

Rey closes her eyes and feels the babies with the Force. She recognizes her presence within them but if she looks deeper, closer…

 Rey’s eyes snap open as she senses it. A familiar presence, so faint Rey doubted she’d have been able to catch if she hadn’t been so connected to him.

Ben.

She can feel him. A mixture of her, Ben, and something that is uniquely the twins swirling inside them.

Rey had died. Again. But just before she’d gone she’d felt it. A faint quiver of their bond, severed by his death, or so she thought. 

Ben? She’d projected into the bond. There was no answer. There never was. And then she was gone. Floating among the stars. But something bright and powerful had grabbed her and pulled her back and here she was again.

It’d been the twins. She was sure of it. Just as she was sure it had been Ben who’d guided them to her. 

She owed them her life, their father twice over now. And she’d give it to them. Rey leans down and presses a kiss to each of the baby’s foreheads. She’d be the mother Rey had yearned and begged for. Even if she knew squat about being a mother. Much less a good one. It’s a good thing Rey’s always been a fast learner.

Chapter Text

Being a mom is easier said than done. Bente — her daughter — is loud, voicing her displeasure with sharp cries echo day in and night out. Her brother, Hanzo, on the other hand, is much too quiet. If Rey wasn’t so attuned to his presence in the Force, she’d have thought him dead with how still he got. But that was only when they’re apart; together, Bente is calm and Hanzo sighs and wiggles.  

The rumors that follow after her don’t make her life any easier. They wonder about the identity of the father and voice their theories: Finn, Poe, the mechanic Rey is friends with, and others. Every male that comes into contact with her is scrutinized. Rey nearly bursts into laughter when she overhears a group of women suspecting Chewbacca. Her children look nothing like the Wookiee. Rey tries not to let their gossip bother her. Rose is pretty good at squashing down any rumors with a sharp look. Rey doesn’t do so bad herself either. 

Poe comments on her appearance. So do a few others at the base. Apparently motherhood suits her. And Rey has to agree. The bruises under her eyes are almost gone. They’d have disappeared entirely if it weren’t for the twins mewling in hunger or attention in the dead hours of the night. She’s gained a healthy bit of weight and for the first time in her life, she has fat. Which suits her fine. Better cushioning for the babies. And the boys have stopped moaning about how pointy she is when they hug. 

Then there’s the fact that she feels hope. That Ben isn’t entirely gone as she’d thought. Once the twins are a little older, not so dependent on her for their every need, she’d go about finding answers. For now, she’d content herself with Luke’s Jedi texts and her children’s presence: a beautiful blend of her and Ben.

It’s when the twins are three years old that Rey dares to venture off the now ex-Resistance base. It’s become a sort of haven for those who have nowhere and no one left to call home after the Resistance dissolved.

The idea hadn’t been Rey’s, however.

“C’mon. Take a breather.” Poe insists one day. They’re in one of the upgraded living quarters, big enough for Rey and the twins. Poe is sitting on the couch with Hanzo in his lap. Finn sits beside him. He’s holding Bente who’s busy slobbering on something rubbery and orange. “Stretch your legs. Get out for a bit.”

Finn nods, “Poe’s right. You need a break.”

Rey gives them a look. “You can’t take a break from being a mother.”

Poe takes no heed of her words. “When was the last time you went off-world? Hell, when was the last time you left the base ?” He holds up a finger when Rey opens her mouth. “The jungle doesn’t count.”

Rey huffs. “Even if I agreed, who would take care of the twins? I can’t just tote them around the galaxy. It’s not safe.” While the galaxy is a much safer place without the First Order and with the newly established Galactic Federation, there were still those who’d pay a handsome reward for the capture of the Last Jedi’s brood.

“We will!” Poe exclaims. Hanzo cranes his neck and gives his uncle a disgruntled look. Bente looks up, curious, but goes back to her toy.

“We will?” Finn asks at the same time Rey skeptically asks, “You will?” Poe nudges Finn sharply.

“Uh, we will!” The ex-stormtrooper clears his throat. His eyes are earnest when he looks at Rey. “We’ll take care of them. They’ll be safe.”

Rey still isn’t sure. She’s never been apart from the twins for more than a few hours.

“I don’t know…”

Something hard bumps against her shins. Rey looks down.

“Safe,” D-0 says. BB-8 whirs in agreement.

“Duh!” Bente coos and climbs off Finn’s laps and rushes over the one-wheeled droid.

“H-Hello, Baby.” 

Rey watches Bente chase after the small droid, BB-8 joining the game of tag as well. 

“Well,” Rey says, thinking about it. Poe has a point. Plus, she could finally figure out how to go about finding Ben. There was only so much information in the three Jedi texts she had. They had provided a good starting point. An otherworldly plane of existence within the Force simply known as the World Between Worlds. A gateway between space and time. And where Ben had probably ended up, Luke and Leia sensing him somewhere else . Rey couldn’t believe it. Trust Ben Solo to be floating around somewhere like some lost sock.

“Chewie didn’t retire and leave you the Falcon so it could collect dust, Rey.” 

Dammnit, now they were trying to guilt-trip her.

“She’s calling you, ya know.” Poe sing-songs. 

Rey narrows her eyes at her two closest friends. “Aren’t you two busy helping run the Galaxy?”

“Meh, the galaxy will be fine.” Poe waves his hand. “Besides we could use a little vacation too.”

Bente shrieks somewhere in the background. Rey turns and finds her hugging D-0 triumphantly to her chest. The poor droid whirs in panic. 

“Got you! Got you!” She chants happily.

Rey looks back at the two men sitting before her. “You call looking after these two goblins a vacation?”

“Sure,” Poe says and swings his free arm to wrap around Finn. “We could use a little domestic va-cay. Right, Finn?”

Rey cracks a grin as Finn flusters. “Oh! Um, right. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath to compose himself. The man looks down at Hanzo who’s dozing peacefully in Poe’s arms. “We’ve babysat them before. How hard could a few days be?”

BB-8 chooses then to whiz by, Bente hollering wildly from atop his head.

“Faster, Beebee, faster!”

The three adults watch the pair roll away into the next room. D-0 follows the two.

“Careful. C-careful.” He repeats.

Poe looks away first. “Like taking clams from a Gungan.” He grins. Finn rolls his eyes from next to him.

Rey popped out her hip. “Uh-huh.” 

“It’ll only be a for a couple of days.” Finn tries. “You can visit Chewie and Lando or Rose. Or just go sightseeing.”

She does miss her friends. It’d be nice to surprise them for once.

“Four days.” Rey relents. Her tone leaves no room for negotiating.

“Great!” Poe stands abruptly. Hanzo doesn’t even startle. The toddler could probably sleep through a minor catastrophe. The general leads the way to her room. “We’ll help you pack.”

“Wait, no Poe, that’s okay. You don’t-”

“Poe, I think Rey can-”

The three adults stop at the entrance to Rey’s room. 

“Like taking a clam from a Gungan?” Finn parrots and throws Poe a look as a book floats by his face. Bente giggles from her seat in the middle of the room. Various objects are levitating around, suspended by the Force. 

“No thank you. No th-thank you.” D-0 says from somewhere near the ceiling. 

“Yup,” Poe says looking up at BB-8 who’s floating above his head. He beeps a greeting down at them. Somehow Rey doubts that.

And Rey was right. It’s on day three of her impromptu, forced vacation that Rey perceives it — a disturbance in the Force.

Rey’s heart is in her throat as she closes her eyes and reaches for the twin’s presence in the Force. There. Identical stars, shimmering brightly among the dim beings around them. Rey brushes against their minds- fearhurtworryangerterror.

Rey gasps and collides heavily against the pilot’s seat. She reaches over for the controls. It’s a little awkward to fly the Falcon solo but she makes due, refusing Poe’s offer of one his own as a companion. Rey doesn’t hesitate to throw the ship into hyperdrive. 

Rey’s heart is beating furiously as she enters Ajan Kloss’ atmosphere. It picks up when Rey nears the Resistance base and finds a gaggle of unfamiliar ships parked outside. They look like they’d been put together in a scrapyard. As if someone had grabbed a couple of pieces from an X-wing, a few speeders, a Freighter, and then welded them all together. 

All around she sees people running around, ex-Resistance and some scruffy-looking thugs whom Rey assumes are the owners of the strange ships.

“Bounty hunters,” Rey growls. She’s had a few run-ins with the likes of them. Hard not to when you hold the title as the Last Jedi. Although there have been almost no attempts on her since she had the twins. 

Till now, that is.

Rey tries shooting at the ships but the blaster bolts simply ricochet off the ship’s shields. Rey curses and prepares the Falcon for a quick landing. She needs to get on the ground, find her children, and pummel the idiots who'd dared touch what was hers. 

The old girl is a few feet away from the ground when Rey jumps off. She gets up from her crouch, a fearsome look on her face. The five bounty hunters near her don’t hesitate to shoot. Rey flings the bolts aside, running straight for them. There’s no time for them to move as Rey takes out her lightsaber. The yellow blade sizzles as it cuts through the men. 

Rey doesn’t stop and continues forward, letting the Force guide her to what’s hers. She doesn’t know how many people she’s cut down by the time she makes it to her rooms but the hilt of her lightsaber is slick with blood. Rey stops outside the door to her home and wipes her hands on her tunic, staining the white cloth red. 

She takes a deep breath and rushes in. She only just stops herself from taking off Finn’s head.

“Rey!” He yells in surprise. Rey’s eyes widen and she immediately lowers her weapon. “Quick! We have to-”

“Finn?” She looks around her home, furniture destroyed and blaster bolts in the walls. “Where are the twins? Poe?” Her head whips to the right where she can hear Bente screaming. “Bente!” She rushes past Finn before he can say anything and to the twin’s shared room. 

She finds Poe crouched behind Hanzo’s upturned bed. There’s blood running down his temple and the air smells like burnt flesh. Poe points his blaster at her head but lowers it when he sees it’s Rey. D-0 and BB-8 peek out from behind him. Bente is crying up a storm where Poe is holding her tightly.

“Hanzo! Hanzo!” She’s screeching, tiny fists beating uselessly against the general’s chest. Rey looks around for her son. Her stomach drops. Something cold and dark grips her heart.

“Poe?” Rey meets his eyes. Something in them causes the man to flinch minutely. “Where’s Hanzo? Where’s my baby.”

“That’s what I was going to tell you.” Finn’s voice pops up from behind her. Rey whips around to face him. He looks stricken. It’s then Rey takes in his appearance. There’s a blaster wound in his shoulder and a nasty gash on his chest. Not to mention the way his left eye is starting the swell and the blood dribbling down his busted lip. He looks terrible. Rey looks at his arms. They’re empty. 

“No, no, no,” Rey mutters. Her lightsaber clatters to the floor. She can’t lose him. Can’t lose any more precious people. She cradles her head. 

“Rey, I’m so sorry,” Finn says. He doesn’t try touching her. Which is good. She doesn’t know how’d she’d take the contact. She lifts her head and takes a deep breath when Bente begins crying for her. She takes her from Poe who’d staggered onto his feet. Rey shushes her and holds her closely but she’s inconsolable. 

“Hanzo! The bad men took him, mummy! They- they took him!” Rey’s heart breaks at her sobs. She takes a deep breath, centering herself. Her eyes open and she looks at her two friends.

“Who?” Her voice is steel, unforgiving and demanding.

“Some hot new Kaalsian guild. Violent and greedy.” Poe spits. He wipes the blood from his mouth and holsters his blaster. 

“They’re headed to Cantonica,” Finn says the planet’s name like it’s something dirty. And it is. Underneath its glamour and prestige lie its true colors, ugly and dark. She knows what they plan to do with Hanzo there. The son of the Last Jedi will fetch a good sum at auction and where better to sell him than to the galaxy's deepest pockets?

Rey tries to push the anger down, but it’s always been there, just looking for something or someone to latch onto. Now it’s bubbling up in her chest like hot tar, sticking to her organs and burning her alive from the inside out. Rey grabs it with both hands and wraps it around herself like armor. Rey’s smile is sharp like broken glass. “Good thing we have a fast ship.” 

Rey picks up her fallen lightsaber and begins walking to where she left the Falcon. Poe and Finn follow her wordlessly. She can feel their guilt and shame in the Force. Rey does not blame them. They are not the ones who took what is hers and hers alone. With each step, Rey winds her anger and fear tighter and tighter around herself. When she steps out into the sunlight she’s completely drenched in the dark. 

No one will take what is hers. Not now. Not ever again.

Hanzo is, to be frank, completely terrified. The bad men had ripped him from his uncles and his sister and thrown him in a dark room somewhere on their ship. The ship is nothing like mother’s. There are no bright lights, no hidden snacks, or toys. Most importantly there’s no mother. And he misses his mom so much. She’s so bright. Her light never fails to make him feel safe and loved. It chases the dark away. And there is a lot of dark here.

Hanzo knows he’s not safe here in his dark little cell. The sharp pain in his arm where they’d grabbed him and his cheek where they slapped him when he wouldn't stop crying tell him so.

Hanzo curls tighter into himself until he resembles nothing more than a human ball. It’s dark and scary here. He sniffs. The smell of urine makes his face grow hot with shame. 

“Mother,” He whimpers. He closes his eyes and tries to feel her in the Big Space, what his mother calls the Force. Nothing. She’s too far away. He tries for his sister. Nothing. Hanzo is about to give up when he feels a pulse deep within him, just beside his frantic heartbeat.

Mother? He questions. Another pulse. Hanzo follows it, going deeper inside himself. There, nestled in his core is a powerful presence. Or at least it had been once upon a time. What must have been a great big shadow is nothing more than a wisp. Hanzo reaches out and cautiously touches the darkness. It reaches back and gently caresses him. It’s not cold and scary like the darkness outside around him. This one is soft, riddled with veins of light that he can see now that he’s closer.

Hanzo. A deep, grown-up voice reverberates in his head. It’s not harsh like the men who’d stolen him. This is one nice, like his uncles but deeper, like his mother’s ship engine. Hanzo decides he likes it.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. She’s coming.

Mother? Hanzo asks hopefully. 

Yes.

The darkness wraps around him like a warm blanket. Hanzo sighs and snuggles into it. Lets it take him away from the scary place.

Sleep, little one. I’ll watch over you.

Hanzo doesn’t need more convincing, trusting the strange voice wholly in the innocent way that only children are capable of. Hanzo sleeps, lulled by the gentle crooning of his new friend.

When Hanzo wakes next it’s to his mother crying, holding him close.

“He's okay, he's okay.” He hears his uncle Poe repeat breathlessly. 

“Mother?” He asks sleepily. Rey pulls back so he can see her face now. It’s dark but he can see the dirt, sweat, tears staining her face. Hanzo feels his own eyes well with tears and he reaches out and clumsily pats his mother’s face to make sure it’s really her.

“It’s me, baby, it’s me.” She sniffs and rubs his face with her free hand. He winces when her hand brushes his cheek. His mother makes a noise low in her throat. Hanzo flinches when her hand reaches for him again. Her touch is soothing and warm this time. His face no longer hurts.

“You came back for me?” 

The voice had been right. Mother had come back for him. 

His mother’s face falls, “Oh, of course I came back for you. Did you think I wasn’t?”

“You left,” Hanzo replies simply.

His mother is crying again. Hanzo doesn’t understand why. 

“I said I’d come back and I did, didn’t I?" 

Hanzo considers her answer. She did, didn’t she? He sighs and buries his face in her neck. His mother doesn’t protest even if he wets her neck with his tears and boogers. He closes his eyes and revels in her light. It’s nice like the dark friend he’d made but he loves his mother more.

“Love you, mommy.” He breathes. Rey coos and pats his head.

“I love you too.”

Hanzo allows himself to be cocooned in his mother’s presence. 

“Like stealing a clam from Gungan?” His mother says after a moment.

“Okay, okay. I get it, guys!” His uncle Poe cries. “I said I was sorry. No more vacations!"

Grown-ups are so weird. 

When they get back to his mother’s ship he hears Bente before he sees her.

“HANZO!” She screams. He opens one eye and watches his sister climb up their mother’s side the same way she does with grandpa Chewie. “Little brother.” She blubbers. Hanzo sighs and stretches his hand towards her before she can start crying. There’s been too much crying today for his liking. Bente takes his hand and tucks it in under her chin on his mother’s other shoulder. His uncles close in and now it’s become like one big hug. 

Hanzo rather likes it.

“...and then the Dark Knight asked the Scavenger become his queen but she said no-”

“Why’d she say no?” Hanzo asks. Rey starts, not expecting the question. The twins are older now. Five whole cycles she’s cared and protected them. After what became known as The Kaalsian Gang Massacre no one had dared touch her children again.

Still, they’re curious little creatures. Hanzo most of all. Although, Bente is more vocal than her brother when things stump her. Which is often, to her immense amusement. Hanzo prefers to sit and observe. The only exception is when it pertains to their nightly bedtime story. Normally, Rey didn’t mind and Hanzo is good about waiting until she finishes to ask his questions. Normally.

“Ugh! Who cares why she said no?” Bente complains. “Just get to the fighting part. That part's my favorite.”

“I know, Bente,” Rey says. “But your brother asked a good question.”

“Hmpf.” She huffs but settled down beside her brother in their shared bed. After The Incident Bente had refused to part from her brother's side. Hanzo was equally attached. It only made sense to get them a bigger bed to share when Bente kept falling out of Hanzo's.

 Hanzo looks at Rey expectantly.

“The Scavenger had to save her friends so that’s why she said no.”

“Why didn’t she just take the Dark Knight with her?”

Rey smiled sadly, memories swimming in her head. “She couldn’t. It wasn’t the right time yet.”

Hanzo frowns, his nose scrunching. “When is the right time? Didn’t they want to be together.”

“They did, but it just wasn’t the right time, there were still many battles to be fought,” Rey replies patiently. 

“And won!” Bente pipes up.

But Hanzo still looks confused. “I thought they loved each other. Why were they fighting?” 

“They did love each other.” The twins are too young to pay much attention to the way her voice catches. “But grown-ups are silly like that.”

Hanzo nods in agreement. Bente wiggles beside him and lifts her fist in the air. Hanzo’s exasperated expression makes Rey giggle.

“Now the battle!” Bente shakes her fist and looks at Rey excitedly. “Oh! Oh! Do the sounds too!” She makes a series of explosion sounds with her mouth. Hanzo grimaces as spit flies onto their shared blanket.

“Okay, okay.” Rey reaches over and gently pushes the girl's hands down. She continues the tale, interweaving dramatic sound effects and lowering her voice comically for the Flyboy’s and Buckethead’s parts that make the kids giggle.

Twelve happy, eventful years pass after the Battle of Exegol when Rey’s world is turned upside down all over again. Luckily, no one dies this time. It’s a small miracle all things considered.

“As you can see, your honor, by the evidence on this here holopad the Jedi Rey was indeed consorting with the deceased Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.” The man taps the screen. A picture of Rey and Kylo Ren in his Knights of Ren garb pops up. Below them blinks a recent picture of the twins. And below that are a series of numbers and percentages. But the only thing Rey focuses on is the word ‘PATERNAL MATCH’ written in Basic.

Scandalized gasps sound throughout the council room. 

Rey had always known the twins were hers and Ben’s. Yes, they’d never done more than touch hands and kiss that one time, but she knew, like how she knew the number of days she’d waited for her parents and how much she loved her little family, that they were his. 

The council chambers is a hub of hushed words. Rey should feel violated, angry. She does but overcasting those emotions is joy and a great pool of fear. What did the courts plan to do with this information now that they had it?

Rey swallows back her anger and worry and tries as diplomatically as she can to ask what will become of her children. She doesn't ask what is to be her fate. She does not fear death. The only thing she fears is what punishment might befall her children. There are those still wounded and resentful for what happened to the Hosnian Prime system and all the other horrors the First Order had committed. The galaxy tried hard to forget. But it’s hard to forget when wounds refuse to scab over.

The judge looks down on her. “Have no fear Jedi Rey. They will be exiled to the Outer Rim.” Her voice is clear and cool like ice.

Rey’s heart lurches and thumps angrily in her chest. Who are they to rip her children from their home and abandoned on some backwater planet as she’d been?

“She’s no Jedi .” The prosecutor hisses, low enough for only her ears. He says it with the intention of hurting her. But he does not know her well enough to know what would truly hurt her.

“No, I’m not,” Rey says. “I’m not a Jedi.” The man startles at being addressed so openly. Her eyes are hard. She stands her ground. “I’m Rey. Just Rey.” It’s what she’d been trying to tell them this whole time.

“Very well. Rey, you hereby sentenced to serve ninety-nine years on Gratr’s prison moon for acts of Treason and Espionage against the galaxy. Dismissed.”

Rey is escorted to her cell. Pictures and recordings are taken as she is led away in Force-resistant cuffs.

Finn and Poe, her loyal friends, put up a fuss. They argue, wheedle, threaten, and beg on her behalf and the children’s. But the Galactic Federation is unrelenting in its quest for 'justice'. Rey's beginning to see why Ben had detested such governments. 

She knows Finn’s intention were good when he offered the story of a weakened Jedi Scavenger and how the Evil Kylo Ren had taken advantage of her. It would have shortened her sentence, maybe even allowed the case to be dropped, but it was not the truth. Ben, even when he'd been Kylo Ren, never would have done something so despicable, especially not to her. 

She denies the claim. Tries to convince the council of the good Ben Solo had done, that without him she would have never defeated the ghost emperor Palpatine.

“A monster such as Kylo Ren cannot be redeemed.” The prosecutor scoffed. 

“Yes, they can,” Rey says with conviction. “It’s never too late to find the light.”

He flips a pencil between his claws. “Well, if we are to follow your logic can we not say that the opposite is equally true? Just as it’s ‘never too late’, you say, to turn to the ‘light’ can it not be true to turn to the 'dark'. Who’s to say that you have turned not to the ‘dark’?”

They’d taken and twisted her words until they were bent backward to better aim at her heart. They corrupted her well-meant words and truths. Used them like weapons against her. Rey has never longed for Leia’s counsel more. 

Rey senses him before they approach her cell. She leaps up and rushes to her cell window. Rey cups her hands around her eyes and struggles to see through the dirty transparisteel. Still no use. Don't they wash these things? She exhales on it and rubs it with the sleeve of her robes just in time to watch her two guards drop to the floor — asleep.

Finn’s face pops into view next. He’s sweaty and harried-looking.

“That was not easy.” He said, gestured to the guards. 

“Finn!” Rey hissed quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came back for you.” He said. It’s an echo of words he’d said in another time. It takes Rey a moment for her brain to come back online but when it does Finn’s already opened her cell door. “Come on. We have to go now.” He uses a key card he’d likely nabbed from one of the guards and her cuffs fall uselessly to the floor.

Rey pulls back her arm before he can grab it.

“Hanzo and Bente-”

“-are with Poe. He’s getting them with Chewie.” He grabs her arm and Rey lets him this time. “Lando and Rose are waiting for us outside.”

“Outside where?” Rey asks incredulously. “We can’t just waltz out of here.”

“We’re not.” Finn stops at a nearby window. “We’re going to fall.” And before she can ask him what the hell that means Finn is shooting at the window. It breaks and then they’re falling. Rey lets out an involuntary scream that is cut short when they face-plant atop the Falcon.

“Okay.” Finn wheezes beside her. “We could have...planned that better. 

Rey rolls onto her back and side-eyes him.

“You think?” 

“Mom!” “Mother!”

Rey winces and half-heartedly waves at the two preteens. Finn groans and rolls over. Hanzo appears above her and she smiles in relief, happy to see him safe. He hauls her carefully to her feet and helps her drop inside the ship. 

“Ow!” Finn cries. Rey looks behind her to see him rubbing his forehead. 

“Hehe, sorry Uncle Finn. My bad.” Bente apologizes sheepishly.

Chewie roars and Rey is being lifted off her feet in a hug from the Wookiee.

“It’s good to see you too, Chewie.” She says happily when he sets her back on her feet. 

“Mom! You’re okay!” Bente shouts. She wraps her long arms around Rey and squeezes tight. Rey returns the embrace eagerly and kisses the side of her head. Hanzo silently maneuvers himself into the hug. Rey chuckles and gives him a kiss too. Once they let go and Rey makes sure they’re okay, ‘they didn’t hurt you, did they?’ ‘no, mom. we’re fine.’, she makes her way to the cockpit.

Lando leans back in the pilot’s chair and grins a charming grin up at her. “Couldn’t stay out of trouble, huh, kid?”

Rey laughs. “No, sorry.”

“That’d be a miracle,” Poe grumbles from the co-pilot seat. 

“It’s Rey. What can you expect?” Finn chimes in from behind. He walks forward and Poe perks up. 

“Tough landing?” He grins at his partner. 

Finn rubs his back with a wince and nods.

“Yeah, I heard it,” Poe replies in amusement. Bente chortles. Lando is quick to maneuver the Falcon off the planet before the Galactic Federation can think to send anyone after them.

Rey’s no stranger to being a fugitive. Fugitive to the First Order? Done that. Fugitive to the Galactic Federation? Doing it.

For the twins, it’s a definite adjustment. It’s both equally thrilling and terrifying at first. And then it’s just terrifying. And then it’s mind-numbingly boring.

Hanzo’s adjusted just fine. He’s always been quiet and bookish. Tinkering with droids and reading holonovels in his room is no different than doing so on the Falcon. Bente struggles at first. She’s energetic and is used to exploring the outside jungle at the Resistance Base. And then there’s the fact that they’re constantly cooped up together on the Falcon. Even Hanzo’s patience isn’t infinite. Bente’s much less so.

“Bente, you’re being unreasonable.” Hanzo grounds out from the next room. Rey lifts her head where she’s oiling D-0’s wheel. 

“Me? I’m being unreasonable.” The seventeen-year-old lets out a fake laugh. “There are lives on the line, Hanzo!”

“Sometimes we must sacrifice a few for the survival of the majority.” Is her brother’s indifferent reply.

“What are they doing?” Rey murmurs to the droid. He just continues to look up at her.

“That’s sick! What if you had friends-”

“I don’t have friends.”

“Okay, smartass, what if I was on there? Or mother? Or-or even D-0!” Rey makes her way over to them. 

“I would- that wouldn’t change anything.” His voice wavers, betraying his true thoughts. 

“ Sure ,” Bente says smugly. Rey stops at the doorway and watches her daughter lean back, long legs clad in loose pants tucked into leather boots splaying open.

Hanzo raises a brow. “It’s a game, Bente.” He waves his hand through one of the hologame’s pawns for emphasis. 

“Ah, ah, little brother.” The girl wags her finger in his face. “Games like these reveal a person’s true morals and thoughts.” She makes a face. “At least that what Grandpa Chewie says.”

“Does he now?” Rey says, announcing her presence. Bente startles and nearly falls off her seat.

“Hello, mother.” Hanzo greets. He nods at the little droid. “Hello, D-0.”

“H-hello, Baby.” He replies. He then rolls away somewhere within the ship. Bente stands up and casually dusts herself off. 

“So, uh, how long were you standing there?”

Rey smiles. “Not long.” She looks back at her brother who nods in confirmation. Bente looks towards the cockpit.

“So, Mom, where to now?”

“Tatooine.”

Bente groans. “Ugh, c’mon! Anywhere but there. That planet’s a heat stroke waiting to happen.” 

“Perhaps if you’d cut your hair-”

Bente gasps, hand coming to coving her mouth as she impersonates a scandalized socialite. Her other comes up and brushes the four, messy buns tied in a similar style to her mother.

“Take that back!”

Hanzo gives her an unimpressed look. He looks at Rey for help. She shakes her head fondly and heads to the cockpit.

“Hanzo!” She calls over her shoulder. “Come. I need a co-pilot.”

“Aw,” Bente whines. “How come you always pick Hanzo?”

“Because unlike some people,” he says and sits down beside her, “I actually value human life. Especially mine.” Bente moodily stomps behind him.

“Liar.” She mutters. “He’d probably sell us for a new holonovel.” Rey shushes her gently, trying not to laugh.

“Mother? Never. You, on the other hand, I’d give for free.”

“Hanzo,” Rey chides, “she’s worth a least a quarter portion.”

“MUM!”

Rey chuckles as Bente stomps away. She shares a smile with her son and plugs in the correct coordinates. There’s a hut rumored to have belonged to a long-dead Jedi Master. One Obi-Wan Kenobi. To think the key to unlocking the secrets she’s been searching for all these years was back on Tatooine. What is it with her and desert planets? 

“Ready when you are,” Hanzo says. Rey takes a deep breath.

She’s so close. She can feel it. 

Soon, Ben. Soon.

“Ready.” The Falcon jerks forward as it goes into hyperdrive. Bente curses somewhere from within the ship.

Chapter Text

Rey can’t believe it. The answer she’d spent the past decade looking for was on Ahch-To all this time. Rey feels like an idiot. Of course, the answer was there! 

“Ahch-To?” Hanzo questions.

“Bless you.” Bente grunts in the background from where she’s doing her routine exercises. Hanzo rolls his eyes.

“Yes, but it’ll be tricky.” Rey begins punching in the coordinates for the remote planet. “The Galactic Federation has been monitoring it on and off for years now.” She bobs her head from side to side. “You know, what with me being the last Jedi’ and a fugitive and it being the First Jedi Temple.”

“They’d be foolish not to.” 

Rey turns to regard her son. He simply stares back at her, stoic as ever. A beat later, Rey leans her head back and calls for his sister. Bente tromps into the cockpit, breathing hard and covered in a light layer of sweat. She leans against Hanzo’s back seat.

“Yeah, mom?”

Rey looks at her children. They’ve grown so much from the squishy pink babies they’d been seventeen years ago. Bente had shot up like an untempered weed and her rigorous training schedule was slowly transforming her lanky frame into something sturdy and imposing. Hanzo is still shorter than his twin (and most everybody else), but he’s stocky from sparring against his sister and carting around large machinery to and fro. The pale pink scar stretching from the corner of his bottom lip to his left ear gives him a fearsome look that his round, feminine face wouldn’t normally give him. Despite Hanzo’s tender age, his eyes belay a wisdom and understanding that makes Rey uneasy sometimes. 

She never wanted this kind of life for her children. Running and hiding from governments that sought to punish her; to eliminate a possible third coming of Darth Vader. It’s dangerous and they’d have lost one another countless times before if it hadn’t been for the Force, Rey’s quick mind, and her many allies. But she knows better than to try and leave them behind. They have the blood of a Solo and whole lineage of Skywalkers running through their veins. Trouble is never far behind where Rey and her little family are concerned.

“I don’t have to tell you how dangerous this will be.” Rey gives them a hard look. Hanzo and Bente look back at her with equally serious expressions. “So it’s important you listen to my every word, understood?”

“But what if—”

“Bente,” Rey warns. The girl huffs but agrees with a petulant ‘yes, mom’. Rey looks at Hanzo. His brows twitch but other than the stiff nod he gives he says nothing. Rey accepts it and settles back in the pilot’s chair. 

You’re not going to listen to mother, are you? Hanzo asks through the mental link he shares with his sister in the Force. Bente pats his head and sits down in the seat behind him.

Nope. 

Hanzo lets out a long-suffering sigh and helps their mother ready the ship for hyperdrive. 

“Get ready,” Rey says. The stars whiz around them from the viewport.

Bente cries out and points to a group of porgs. “So this is where the little bastards come from!” Rey snorts and accepts Hanzo’s outstretched hand. He pulls her up gently onto the rock.

They’re close. Rey can feel the pull from the dark. It’s always enticed her with what she wants most, her deepest desires. Now instead of knowledge of her parents, it tempts her with Ben. And Rey will take that icy plunge a thousand times over just to see his face once more. Even if it’s only a reflection.

But if the faded text she’d found hidden on Obi-Wan Kenobi’s decrepit hut, she'll see more than a reflection.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Hanzo says suddenly. 

“Yes, I know.” Rey’s not surprised he can feel the dark’s pull. Rey’s greatest skill was always her ability to look at something broken and take from it what she needed, what was desirable; turn it into something new and uniquely her own. The Jedi and even the Sith’s teaching were not exemptions. Rey had passed this on to her children. Hanzo and Bente used the light and dark side of the Force interchangeably. The Jedi and Sith of old would have been appalled. But Rey thinks it’s beautiful. She likes to think the Force agrees with her.

Hanzo shakes his head. “No, not that. It’s—”

“GET DOWN!” Bente yells. She hooks her elbows around their necks and yanks them down. Rey feels the heat of the blaster bolts as they sail past. Chunks of rocks pelt them from the blast. Rey squints through the dust and sees what looks to be a dozen Galactic Federation fighter ships whizzing around in formation. Dread pools in her gut. She shouldn’t have brought the twins. She should have just tried and dropped them off somewhere. Kriff, how stupid could she be!

“Shit. Shitshitshit.” Bente mutters as she peeks up too. She lets go of their necks only to grab their wrists. She tugs them into a little alcove, big enough to hide them from eyes above but not for long. “C’mon we have to get back to the Falcon!” Bente says frantically. “We’re sitting porgs if we stay here.”

“No,” Rey shakes her head, “we can’t leave.” 

Bente makes a frustrated sound, squeezing the hilt of her lightsaber. “Look, I know you want to get to Dad, trust me I do too. But we gotta go!” Rey glares. That isn’t what she meant. She’d never risk the twin’s life over Ben’s. Not like that. They were her top and foremost priority. 

“Bente, you idiot. That’s not what she meant.” Hanzo sighs. “There are too many ships. We would never leave the atmosphere.”

“So what?” Bente asks threateningly. “You want us to surrender? Let them lock Mom up and force her to watch us get executed ?”

“No,” Rey snaps before Hanzo can retort. Anger and an iron-clad resolve strengthen her bones and make her teeth creak. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let it.” 

Bente loses a bit of her steam, shoulders drooping. “I know, Mom.” 

Rey shoots her a fond look before poking her head out. The coast is clear for the moment. She gestures to the teens and they start climbing down. They’re nearing where they parked the Falcon in one of the island’s many caves when Rey stops suddenly. Bente chokes and skids to a halt. 

“Why are we standing out here in the open? We’re nearly there.”

Rey takes in a deep breath. She doesn’t look at them. “Because this is where we part ways.”

“What?” Bente voices her disbelief. Rey points somewhere to the left.

“There’s a cave there where I stored Luke’s ship. Their scanners won’t be looking for it. I want you to take it and get out of here.” She turns and looks at the twins. Bente is looking at her like she’s lost her mind. Hanzo is simply watching her, face unreadable and eyes intense. He looks very much like his father in that moment.

Bente makes a face. “But Hanzo said—”

“I know what Hanzo said.” Rey interrupts harshly. Then, kinder: “I’m going to take the Falcon. Lead them away from you.”

“What? No! That’s suicidal. They’ll shoot you down in minutes.” 

Rey is silent as she reaches for the lightsaber hooked to her belt. She takes it off and hands it to Hanzo. It dawns on Bente then, as it had for Hanzo when Rey stopped suddenly, that their mother doesn’t plan to survive the encounter. 

Hanzo finally speaks up, voice thick with emotion. “Mother, I—I can’t.”

“You can,” Rey says gently. She grabs his hand and drops her lightsaber in it.

Bente shakes her head, a hysterical laugh bubbling and spilling over her lips.

“No, no, this is crazy. You can’t expect us to go along with this.”

“What did I say before we came here?” Rey snaps. “I said to ‘listen to my every word’.”

“You said listen not obey!” Bente argues. Rey growls. She blamed their father for their stubbornness. 

“We don’t have time for this.” She throws out her hand and pushes the twins into one of the empty huts before they can think to defend themselves. Rey grits her teeth and strips sheets of metal off the Falcon and over the Hut’s door. She nods to herself in satisfaction. That should hold them long enough for Rey to get on board and draw the Federation’s pilots away from the planet. And if they shot her down...well then their mission can be considered done and they’d leave.

Mom! Mom! You can’t DO THIS! Bente roars into the Force. Rey shakes her head and tries to ignore her daughter. 

“C’mon, D-0, out you go.” She says softly as she shepherds the droid off the Falcon. D-0 trusts her and obeys her without a word, rolling down the ramp and onto the soft mossy soil. Bente has switched from cursing to begging by the time Rey sits down in the cockpit. 

Mother. Hanzo’s quiet voice cuts through Bente’s screams. Please don’t do this. Don’t leave us. And Rey can’t take it anymore. With a heavy heart and tears running down her cheeks Rey closes the connection she shares with her children for the first time. The Falcon zooms out of its hidey-hole. The Galactic Federation is hot on her heels in seconds and it’s enough to distract her from her breaking heart.

“Hija de su puta— I’m going to kill her.” Bente kicks at the metal barrier. She huffs and stomps away. 

“If they don’t kill her first,” Hanzo adds darkly. 

“Never!” Bente screams and lashes out with her lightsaber. When that doesn’t work she stretches out her hand and pushes with the Force. Hanzo doesn’t know what she’s planning on accomplishing. It didn’t work five minutes ago and it won’t work now. Bente whips her head to face her brother as if sensing his thoughts. “Help me, damn it!”

Wordlessly Hanzo joins her. The metal creaks but refuses to budge. Bente throws up her other hand. Her mouth opens in a muted yell. Hanzo pulls from the power deep in his gut and gives one big push. The durasteel goes sailing into the sky from the force of their combined efforts. 

Bente runs out of the hut the second she’s able to and nearly trips over D-0. Hanzo grabs the back of her grey jacket and yanks her upright just in time to save them both. She grumbles a ‘thanks’ and fixes her clothes. 

“Hello, Baby.” The droid then looks at Hanzo and greets him in the same manner. Bente makes to walk past the little guy when the familiar visage of Falcon catches her eye in the distance.

She points at it excitedly, proof their mother is okay. “Look, guys, it’s Mom!” Her eyes widen and she lowers her arm at the mangled state of the Falcon. There’s a handful of fighter ships hot on her tail. “Shit, that’s not good. We gotta help her— MOM!” Bente yells when one of the fighter’s blasters shoot up the Falcon’s thrusters. Dark grey smoke sputters from the back. The ship suddenly jerks sharply the left. 

Right into the face of one of the nearby cliffs.

Mom!

Mother!

It’s not working. There are just too many ships for Rey to even try to lead them away from the planet. It’s too exposed. They’d blast the Falcon to pieces before Rey can even think of going into hyperdrive. The only reason she'd lasted this long was thanks to the planet's plethora of hiding spots.

Rey grunts as she stretches over the console to reach some buttons. Damn it, why are her arms so short!?

Rey tries then to get rid of as many as she can using the surrounding cliffs and natural peak formations. She’s careful to stay away from where she’d left the twins and the caretaker’s village. Utilizing some risky and definitely questionable moves she gets three of Federation pilots to crash into the cliff faces. 

Rey is rounding a bend when one of the fighter ships gets a lucky hit. 

“No!” Rey screams as Falcon jolts and stutters. She has to get Federation ships away. The twins are depending on her. Rey pulls hard to the right but it’s too late.

Everything happens in slow motion. The tip of the Flacon smashes into the cliff face with a crunch. The durasteel crumples like wet paper upon the impact, the force of the hit sending ripples throughout the ship’s body. The cockpit window shatters and the glass shards go right for her.

No no no! Rey thinks. Her breath catches in her throat. This can’t be it. No! I refuse! The twins are still in danger. And Ben…

The glass is flying towards her like translucent daggers, glittering dangerously in the dying sunlight. Instinctively Rey flinches back and squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t want to watch.

It’s too late for anything now. But not for this: Rey opens the bond she shares with the twins. 

Mom! Mother! She hears. Tears flow down her face and her heart throbs painfully in her chest in a slowed beat like death drums. Rey gathers up all her fondest memories, her love, hope, and strength and pushes it out into Force in one final act.

Rey breathes in and out for what is likely to be her last. Acceptance and serenity flood her. Rey wonders if this is how Leia felt, how luke felt. If this is how the Force prepares those who are with it for that final leap of faith. 

An anguished wail claws its way out of Bente’s throat as the Falcon crashes into the waters at the base of the island. The light that was their mother blinks out as if a switch had been flipped. Beside her, Hanzo falls to his knees. D-0 is a whirring mess.

Before either of the twins can truly process what they’d seen, blaster bolts are uplifting the dirt around them. Bente grabs D-0 by his cone-shaped head and with the other she grabs Hanzo’s hand. 

“Shitty shit shit.” Bente is cursing as they run away. Hanzo struggles to catch up with her longer strides. He looks up at her. There are tears falling down her cheeks but her expression is hard and determined. Hanzo knows that Bente won’t let anything happen to them, to him. He focuses on that and not on the sudden gaping abyss left in the Force from his mother’s departure.

Hanzo feels the familiar pull to the dark. Bente is leading them back to where they’d been headed before. They’re soaked and chilled to the core by the time they reach the cave. Bente lets go of her brother and unwinds her leather jacket from around D-0. The droid and Hanzo watch as Bente begins pacing around. Hanzo prays she doesn’t slip on the jagged ground. That’s the last thing they need right now. 

“Kriff, this is bad. This is so bad.” Bente runs her hands through her hair and pulls. The pain grounds her somewhat. “Okay, okay, I just need to calm down. We can do this, we can do this—” 

Hanzo feels something prickle at the back of his neck. A feeling. Hanzo heeds the call and turns. A little ways ahead is a huge sheet of ice. Hanzo walks closer. The surface is polished enough that he can see his reflection. He sees the tears tracks that had sliced through the dirt on his and his haunted eyes. His reflection shakes and then it changes . Hanzo’s eyes widen at what he sees.

“Okay, okay, we can do this. All we have to do is—"

“Bente.”

“—wait them out. I mean they have to leave eventually—”

“Bente.”

“—but if they don’t we can just wait for nightfall and grab the old man’s ship—”

“Bente.”

“—although who knows what kind of condition that thing is in—”

“Bente!” Hanzo finally hisses, patience worn thin. His sister whips around with a scowl.

“What? Can’t you see I’m trying to come up with an...escape... plan…” Bente trails off, eyes glued to scene playing out in front of them. She numbly walks over. 

“Rey!” D-0 says happily and parks himself directly in front of the ice mirror. There, on its surface, is their mother. She’s younger, a little too thin for Hanzo’s liking, and she’s hugging who looks to be a young version of their Uncle Finn. Another face pops into view. This one familiar even if neither of the twins have never seen him in the flesh.

“Han Solo.” Bente breathes. The visage of their grandfather is talking but they can’t hear what he’s saying through the ice.

The hairs on the back of Hanzo’s neck stand up straight, pulling his attention away from what’s happening in the mirror. He turns around and begins walking towards the tunnel from where they had entered after jumping into the water. 

Voices. Someone is coming. Hanzo backs up, not looking away from the cave’s entrance. 

“Bente, we need to—” he reaches back for his sister’s arm and grabs air. Startled, he turns around just in time see Bente take a step into the picture. 

Hanzo forgets all about the approaching Federation troops and calls for his sister.

“Bente!”

She walks all the way through except for her hand. Bente shakes it in Hanzo’s direction, gesturing for him to take it.

“Hey! Who’s down there?” One of the soldiers call. There’s the sound of thundering footsteps and Hanzo realizes they’re out of time. D-0 stutters worriedly in binary. He rolls back and forth, slamming his little body against the ice wall but is rebuffed every time. Hanzo curses lowly as a blaster bolt whizzes by his head and hits the portal just above where Bente’s shoulder would be. It bounces off the picture harmlessly. Hanzo turns to D-0 who is still trying to reach Bente. 

“D-0, you need to hide. Now.” The droid looks up at the teen. Hanzo can feel the droid’s hesitation. “Don’t worry. We’ll come back when it’s safe. Both of us.” 

“Okay. B-be safe.” He races away and hides among the rocks. 

“You! Put your hands where I can see them.” 

Hanzo ignores the soldier and takes a deep breath. He grabs Bente’s hand, his grip tight. The moment their skin makes contact she pulls him through the portal with one harsh tug.

Hanzo doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s like walking through cold putty, the dark pushing and squeezing like it's trying to spit him out. Hanzo looks back. There is nothing. Just darkness. There is no way back.

“Ugh, this feels disgusting,” Bente says in front of him. The darkness isn’t wet, per se, but it does leave a chilling cold in its wake. The chill is even more pronounced considering that they’re still dripping wet. She tugs him along as they shuffle forward like crabs. The farther they go the more cramped it becomes.

“Hanzo, I—I can’t move,” Bente announces suddenly. She wriggles around and manages to turn her head slightly to face him. She can just make out out her brother from the corner of her eyes. It’s getting harder to breathe now. She can’t tell if it’s because of how tight the darkness is squeezing her or the fact that maybe there’s not any air to breathe. “This was a mistake. G—go back.”

“Can’t.” Hanzo pants. Panic grips Bente as the darkness begins to creep in, obscuring the edges of her brother's face. He holds her hand tighter. “Bente, you’re— please don’t go.” His voice is small and afraid. It’s so unlike him. Bente struggles to keep her eyes open. She’s so tired all of a sudden.

Sleep, little one. It whispers in her ear. Let go. But Bente will never let go. So long as there is still breath in her body and fire in her veins.

“Don’t worry….I’ve got you...little...brother…” She’s breathing hard now.

“B—Bente!” His hand is slipping from hers as the darkness slowly tears them apart from each other. Bente can’t see him anymore. She can’t see anything. The fresh wave of panic serves to clear her mind a little. Bente blinks back the black spots covering her eyes. 

“Hanzo?...Hanzo!” She wheezes in desperation. It’s so hard to breathe. Why is it so hard breathe? 

Let go.

Bente isn’t sure who lets go but one second Hanzo’s hand is in hers and the next second its gone. Bente limply fights against the crushing darkness. But it’s futile. It's like trying to stop the ocean from moving. It’s too big, too vast. And she’s so so tired

“Hanzo...no...please…’m sorry…” 

Bente’s eyes roll into the back of her head and she knows no more. 

The darkness cradles the twins and croons. And then like one does when they’re too lazy to get up and throw away something, it chucks them through space and time.

Bente wakes with a groan. Her hand reaches out to shut off the shrill alarm that is doing nothing for the headache that’s threatening to split her head in two. 

“Hanzo,” she whines and frowns when her hand touches cool metal. Did she fall asleep on the floor again? “Why’d you set the alarm so early— the fuck!?” Bente sits up in alarm as she takes in her sterile surroundings. She’s in a long hallway of sorts. The same kind she’d seen her mom in on that weird portal thing. She scrambles up on shaky legs, the previous events coming back. 

Hanzo? HANZO! Please answer me. She desperately tries to feel for her brother but there’s nothing. He’s...gone. Bente’s legs threaten to collapse under her. No, she can’t lose him too. Not soon after Mom—

Bente swallows back a sob. She reaches again but there’s nothing. Where her brother’s calm and steadfast presence in the Force usually resides there’s just...nothing. Empty. 

“Hey, you!” A modulated voice crackles through her panic. “Identify yourself!”  Bente whips her head around and stares in shock at the pair of stormtroopers pointing their blasters at her. Bente blinks at them in disbelief. She’s never seen a real-life stormtrooper before. They were before her time. Bente is broken out of her reverie by the soldier’s voice. 

“I said identify yourself!” 

Bente raises her hands in surrender. The two come stomping up to her, one of them reaching for the cuffs clipped to their belt. Once they’re near enough Bente flicks her wrist and slams them against the durasteel with the Force. 

Bente winces when they slump to the ground unconscious. Guilt swirls uncomfortably in her belly when she remembers what little her Uncle Finn had told her about the stormtroopers of this era— stolen from their families and homes, brains scrubbed till all they knew was the feel and weight of a blaster in their hands. Bente resolves to be more careful next time. The Force was meant to be used to protect, not harm. Her mother had taught them that among other things.

Closing her eyes, Bente tries reaching for her brother one last time. He has to be somewhere. Maybe he’s still trapped in the darkness? The shock of his absence had distracted her and she’d ignored the Force’s warning of the approaching threats. She can’t risk being caught here. She has to find her brother. 

Bente is searching when she feels a weak tug on the bond she shares with her twin. 

Hanzo! She exclaims in relief. She can feel fear and alarm through his end. Don’t worry I’m going to figure out a way to get to you, I promise. She feels Hanzo takes comfort in her assurances.

Bente pulls away from the bond and looks up the ceiling in relief.

“Not dead. Thank the gods.” Hanzo wasn’t gone gone just very, very far away. Which makes sense if he is still stuck in that weird, dark jello place. After all, bonds like theirs are said to transcend space and time.

The Force brushes against the back of her neck causing the hairs there to stand on end. Bente takes a deep breath and straightens to her full height. 

She’s going to find her brother and once she does the two can (hopefully) figure out what the kriff is going on. Bente begins walking. She has to get to Ahch-To from wherever the hell she is if she’s going to save her brother. And to do that she needs to steal a ship. Bente puts her trust into the Force and lets it guide her around the patrolling stormtroopers and to what she hopes is the hangar.

“I wonder what the hell is going on here?” Bente muses from an alcove she’d ducked into. The girl peers around a corner and watches a group of soldiers cautiously following a banged-up looking stormtrooper. The captain’s chrome armor looks like it’s seen better days. Bente smirks. Looks like the poor sap went through a trash compactor or something. Curious, Bente reaches out and brushes against the captain’s mind. She wrinkles her nose at the rage and embarrassment bleeding from her and into the Force.

“I want FN-2187 and his rebel compatriots found and killed.” The captain hisses angrily at the group following her. 

“Yes, captain.” One of them replies stiffly. He does an about-face, the others hurrying to leave the woman’s murderous presence. Bente waits for her walk away before continuing her path. She turns a corner.

“Huh?” The Force hadn’t led to her to a ship or even the hangar. Instead, Bente finds herself standing in front of a door to what looks to be where the higher-ups on the ship reside. Bente is about to turn around and find a ship herself when she feels...something coming from behind the closed door. It’s a feeling...an instinct, she remembers her uncle describing. Bente uses the Force to bypass the room’s security measures like Hanzo had taught her eagerly one day and steps inside. 

The room is fairly large and fairly boring. Bente takes another step inside the tidy room. And then it’s decidedly not boring.

She feels it. Bente doesn’t know how she could have missed it. Darkness clings to every piece of cloth and the furniture, seeping through each crack and pooling darkly. Bente shivers and steps fully into the room, the door closing behind her. The darkness reaches out and brushes lightly against her. She’s unperturbed—it feels familiar— and allows its curious exploration. The darkness hums in the Force, sensing its presence imbued within Bente’s and retreats back into the room.

Bente’s breath hitches as realization dawns on her. This...this is her dad’s room. Ben Solo’s (or is it Kylo Ren?) private quarters. Imbued with a surge of excitement Bente darts around the room. She pulls open drawers and runs her hands over every object. These are his things. 

Bente presses her hand against a panel on the wall. It opens to reveal rows upon rows of black material. Bente reaches inside and pulls out one of the items. It’s some type of cowl. The material is thick and heavy. Bente shrugs and sweeps it over shoulders. It’s cold, wherever she is and her clothes being soaked through isn’t doing her any favors. Plus, Bente’s not one to pass up the opportunity for some free clothing. The shoulders are a little large but the length is just right. Being as tall as she is, it’s hard to find clothing that fits her properly.

Bente is about to see if anything else will fit her when she feels the bond thrum with power. Bente stumbles as the connection burst to life.

Hanzo! Bente shouts, breathing heavily.

...sister...? Is Hanzo’s weak reply. Bente feels his nausea and confusion through the bond.

Yes, it’s me, Bente! Don’t move. Bente closes her eyes and concentrates. He’s close, on the same planet, she knows. If he’d landed any further, she’d be hard-pressed to find him. 

There. 

Bente opens her eyes and uses the Force to open the door to her dad’s quarters.

Stay where you are, little brother. I’m coming.

Not to worry. Another ripple of nausea. Bente smirks and is about to make a joke when shock shakes their bond to its very roots. Bente has to stop, gasping for breath.

Hanzo!? What’s going on—

I’m sorry. Bente feels her brother’s shock fall away to be replaced with the same fast determination their mother was renowned for. I—I can’t stay.

Bente makes a face and starts moving again, careful to avoid any stormtroopers. The alarms shrieking over her head and her brother’s refusal to listen to her are not helping to stamp down her rising ire.

What? For love of— I can’t believe I’m the one lecturing you. All you have to do is find somewhere safe and stay put, for Force’s sake! How hard can that be? A stray thought has Bente wondering if this is how Hanzo normally feels when he deals with her. She sincerely hopes not. It’s annoying.

No.

Bente’s fingers itch for her lightsaber.

‘No’? What the kriff is that suppose to mean, you little bast—

Father is going to kill grandfather if I do not intervene now.

Bente chokes on her own spit and stumbles on a step. She throws herself into an alcove when a stormtrooper hears the noise and turns around suspiciously.

WHAT!?

Hanzo continues calmly, sounding more like himself and not like he’s going to puke, I said—

No, no, I heard you it’s just...well, shit. Bente rushes out of her hiding spot once it’s safe. She picks up her pace and all but runs to where she’s pretty sure the First Order’s hangar is. You better not die before I get there, you asshole. She uses the Force to dissuade the stormtroopers from looking at her too closely and makes a beeline to a lone TIE fighter.

I’ll do my best. Is Hanzo’s dry reply but the tremulous emotions seeping into their connection tell Bente he’s not as composed as he wants her to believe. He puts up his shields and blocks her out before she can try and find another way. Some way where her brother won’t be putting himself in danger because she can’t lose him, she can’t.

Bente curses and climbs up the side of the TIE fighter. She uses the Force and rips a startled stormtrooper out of the cockpit. Bente utilizes the surrounding chaos and slips in easily among the stream of TIE fighters leaving the hangar.

“I can do this, I can do this,” Bente repeats under her breath. “C’mon, Bente, you can do this. Hanzo’s counting on you. I mean how hard can this be?” She’s not as good a pilot as her brother or mother. Much less her Uncle Poe, but she’s decent. Bente squeaks when she collides against another fighter. She winces as it goes crashing to the ground.

“Oops.” Bente takes a deep breath and grabs the steering controls tighter. She’d be such a hypocrite if she kicked the bucket before her brother. She can’t let that happen. “Okay, okay, not doing that again.” Bente focuses on Hanzo’s bright signature and puts all the craft’s power into the thrusters. 

She can only hope she can make it before her brother loses a hand or, worse, his life. Their father hadn’t earned the fear and resentment of the galaxy by being kind to those he deemed an enemy. And if Hanzo went ahead with whatever he had planned that’s exactly what he’d be- just another nameless enemy of the First Order.

But Bente will be damned if she lets anything happen to her little brother. He was all she had left and not even their father would be safe from her if he so much as touched a hair on his head.

Bente jerks the controls to the left, a wicked grin spreading on her lips as she thought of fighting the notorious Kylo Ren, master of the Knights of Ren and heir to Darth Vader’s legacy. Now that would be a worthy challenge. A lot more satisfying than sparring with her brother and the odd bar brawl. Bente’s blood sings in response to the call of chaos and violence that awaits her. 

Chapter Text

Hanzo feels Bente’s departure to his very core. He drifts in and out of consciousness, heart and soul clamoring for its twin. The dark side of the Force has ripped his sister from him, torn them asunder; their bond pulled so taut it could snap at any moment, the stress of it almost too much. He’s never felt so alone, so empty before.

It's terrifying.

Hanzo takes in a stuttering breath and forces his eyes open. He tries but there is nothing to see—literally. Nothing but darkness surrounds him. It's as disorienting as it is daunting. Hanzo's can hardly tell what is up or down, his head foggy and thoughts far away lest the panic gripping his heart unlatch and seize his mind too.

He’s about to lose consciousness again—the dark determined to keep him asleep and spare him the torment of his waking mind—when he reaches deep inside, deeper than he’s ever reached before, and pulls on the bond he shares with his sister with all he the energy he has left. 

It twangs loudly and a ripple moves through the Force, going far beyond him and disappearing into the emptiness. Hanzo waits for a reply, but time is not a luxury he possesses. The darkness has just about finished swallowing him up like an animal caught in a tar pit when he hears his precious sister's voice. Hanzo clings to her words with a keen desperation very few have felt and even fewer have survived. His lungs beat at chest in protest when he holds what little breath he has to hear her better. She promises to find him and Hanzo knows that she will. Bente would tear the galaxy apart with nothing but her hands and teeth and wade through the wreckage she wrought without a second thought if it meant finding him.

Soothed by her words, Hanzo allows the darkness take him one final time.

It will not have him for long. He might be a creature of night but he is also a ward of the light.

The darkness thrums once in irration followed by a deeper, calmer thrum of acceptance soon after.

The next time Hanzo wakes, his head is a little clearer and it no longer feels like the air is being sucked out of his lungs. The dark is pushing him somewhere. Pushing him towards—towards his sister! Hanzo uses the bond like a mountain climber would a rope and pulls, helping the darkness reach its destination quicker. He’s almost there—he can feel Bente’s chaotic aurora flaring and spittling—when something catches his attention.

“M...mum?” He mumbles in shock. He can—he can feel her! Alive and vibrant and—Hanzo's eyes widen in astonishment—and whole, no longer the cracked half of one two pieces.

Hanzo immediatley heads over in her direction like a moth to a flame, each step taking him closer to the blazing presence that is his mother. She’s so—so bright. Awe fills Hanzo's whole body, distracting him from his fear and panic. He’s never felt such... she's so potent and pure, this version of his mother, age and grief having dulled her over the years.

Hanzo muscles groan in protest but he manages to lift one arm. His fingertips are inches away from her light when he’s suddenly wrenched away.

No! Mother!

His mouth opens in a silent scream and he chokes as the darkness crawls down his throat. Hanzo thrashes against the invasion but the darkness is relentless. Mercifully, he passes out quickly after.

Hanzo wakes with a gasp, his chest pulled skyward byt the force of the breath. His lungs take in what feels like his first breathe of fresh air in a millenia. He just barely manages to roll onto his side before his stomach empties itself. 

Hanzo! Bente is suddenly shouting into his head. He groans and cracks open his eyes.

...sister...? 

Bente’s relief is almost physical as it washes over him. Hanzo revels in it and uses her presence to strengthen himself. He staggers onto his hands and knees and immediately regrets the decision. He dry-heaves onto the grated platform beneath him. He stares at it in confusion, flexing his fingers into the gaps. Where is he? Where is Bente?

Yes, it’s me, Bente! His head throbs at the loud volume. Don’t move. A pause of blissful silence then, Stay where you are, little brother. I’m coming.

Not to worry. Hanzo’s head is swimming viciously. He wouldn’t be surprised if there were fish currently habiting his skull. He uses the railing to help himself up and leans against it. He peers over the side and nearly loses whatever is left in his stomach at what he sees down below him.

Bente is immediately in his head, trying to peice together what has his rattled through his errants thoughts and emotions.

Hanzo!? What’s going on—

I’m sorry. Hanzo interrupts. He watches in a stupor as Kylo Ren removes his helmet before Han Solo.

Kylo Ren.

Supreme Leader of the First Order and Leader of the Knights of Ren. Or in other words: his father. His thought be long-dead ("lost, he's merely lost," Rey tells him, voice firm despite the quiet desperation in her eyes) father.

Hanzo's eyes instinctively flit to the side and he sees his mother and Uncle Finn watching from a different level than the one he's on. 

This is where it happens, he realizes. Dread settles like a rock in his belly. His father’s most heinous crime. The one that his mother says had ripped him apart from the inside out. Plaguing him till his last breath and then beyond that. 

Hanzo’s knuckles whiten and his hands ache from how tightly he has them fisted.

No.

No, he will not let this moment come to pass. Everything in him: soul, heart, mind, and body is screaming for him to do something—anything. The Force adds the cacophony, a thunderous chorus in the background made up of warnings and pleas for him to moveactstopitpleaseyounglingsavethem.

 I—I can’t stay, he tells Bente regretfully. He wants nothing more than to be reunited with her but he cannot just watch his grandfather be murdered by his own flesh and blood.

Bente is predictably furious. 

What? For love of— I can’t believe I’m the one lecturing you. All you have to do is find somewhere safe and stay put, for Force’s sake! How hard can that be?

No. Hanzo takes a deep and pulls out his lightsaber. He knows what needs to be done. He can feel the conflict in his father, how it seeps and writhes in the Force as he offers Han his lightsaber. For a moment, Hanzo honestly believes his father might turn to the light, he’s that close, his resolve to dark withering as his father lays himself bare to his son, heart open and expression pleading.

‘No’? What the kriff is that suppose to mean, you little bast—

Father is going to kill grandfather if I do not intervene now. Time slows down as the red light of the building washes over Kylo’s bare face.

WHAT!? Is Bente’s stunned reaction. Hanzo rolls his eyes. Did she forget everything their mother had told them? All the tales he'd had to carefully pry from her becuase sometimes just the thought of his father is enough bring her to tears or, in the worst case scenarion, cause her shut down and hide in the captain's quarters for worrying stretches of time.

I said—

Bente interrupts him, No, no, I heard you it’s just...well, shit.

Hanzo readies himself for what he must do as the dark engulfs what little light there is left in Kylo Ren.

You better not die before I get there, you asshole.

I’ll do my best, Hanzo replies matter-of-factly. Hanzo cuts off the bond before Bente can respond. He can’t afford any distractions. Not with this. One misstep and any of them can die, himself included.

Hanzo takes a deep breath and, with a move that would have had Bente cackling and his mother face-palming, does the only thing he can do. 

“Here goes nothing," he mutters. Hanzoi cocks his hand back, his lightsaber a heavy weight in his palm, and flings his arm forward.

And sure enough, the hunk of metal finds its target.

Kylo Ren gives a shout of pain and stumbles backward. His lightsaber, the one about to pierce Han’s heart, falls innocently to the floor. Hanzo’s saber bounces off Kylo’s head and into the abyss below. Han blinks in surprise and looks up at where Hanzo is leaning against the railing. 

The young man wastes no time, hopping onto the railing and then down onto the platform. He lands with a clang and straightens from his crouch in one fluid movement, expression settling into something almost bored-looking despite the enormity of the situation he's quite literally dropped himself into. Han is staring at him in pure, unaldulterated bafflement. Kylo Ren on the other hand is much more calculating, his harsh gaze trying to gauge his threat level.

Hanzo, on the other hand, knows exactly the danger his father poses. Hanzo catches how the knight's eyes linger on the harsh scarring on his face and when his dark eyes narrow into little pinpricks of coal when his gaze zeroes in on his mother's lightsaber that is clipped to his utility belt.

Immediately, he raises his hand before Kylo can and pushes him back. The man's boots scrape against the grating and he lands several feet away in an unceremonious heap of black cloth and long limbs.

“Who the hell are you?” Han asks incredulously. Hanzo pulls out his mother’s saber and positions himself between his grandfather (he still can't beelive it, his grandfather—Han Solo—alive) and his father (oh, mother how I wish—).

Hanzo shakes his head minutely and holds back a sigh. Stars, he is dreading what else this day has in store for him. Curse his Skywalker blood and its cursed ability for attracting all manner of chaos (and tragedy).

Havoc blooms violently around them, blaster shots coming straight for Hanzo. He easily redirects the bolts elsewhere. Chewie gives a cry and starts firing back. 

“Seriously, kid, who are you?” Han asks again. He ducks behind Hanzo when another blast comes towards and lets the boy swat it aside. 

Hanzo tilts his head back so he can meet his eye (eye contact is very important when introducing oneself or so his Uncle Lando says) and introduces himself. “I am Hanzo.”

“Huh,” the corner of the man’s mouth lifts with the beginning of a smile. “Nice name.” 

“Thank you.” Han’s face breaks out into a full-fledged smirk at Hanzo’s amusingly polite manner even while in the heat of a blaster fight.

The two return their attention to Kylo when he clambers noisily to his feet, huffing like an enraged beast. He looks positively murderous. His footsteps are like claps of thunder, booming echoes enhanced by the structure's hollows-like exterior. The sound drowns out the sound of the blasters firing around them. Hanzo's Adam's apples bobs when he swallows, heartbeat thundering in chest in tandem to his father's heavy footfalls.

Hanzo inhales sharply and quickly scoops any and all feelings he has towards meeting his father for the very first time and locks them away deep inside himself. He cannot risk losing his focus. Not with lives hanging in the balance.

Hanzo raises his saber, activating the weapon when Kylo nears him. The boy glares at his shaking hands and tightens his grip, squaring his shoulders and widening his stance in preparation.

Han makes a sort of startled noise behind him when he sees the expression his son is sporting. Hanzo supposes the six-foot-something of unbridled rage and suffocating darkness stomping towards them should have phased him.

But growing up with a just as tall and equally temperamental sister, well, one grows accustomed to enduring and tempering such storms. Although, Hanzo has to admit, the blood running down his father’s temple is a little off-putting.

“Now, son,” Han starts. He makes to move past Hanzo in an attempt to placate or, at the very least, redirect his son’s fury. Hanzo knows that such an attempt will be futile given how embroiled his father is in the dark side at the moment.

He will not let his family grieve Han Solo a second time even if theese past versions of them know nothing of the first time. 

Han stops when Hanzo grabs his shoulder with surprising strength for someone so tiny. Han looks at him and notes how the boy's eyes never stray from Kylo’s own stormy ones even as he addresses him. “Han. You need to leave.” 

“What?” Han tries to shake off his hand. “No! I ain’t listening to some kid I just met five sec—”

Kylo whips out a hand to Force choke Hanzo but he had expected such a move and is prepared for it. Hanzo rebuffs the attack with a forceful push from the Force. Kylo crouches low and grits his teeth, feet sliding a few inches but nothing more unlike the last time when Hanzo had caught him unawares.

Hanzo whips his head to the side and glares at the older man, his eyes eyes going wide. Why is everyone in his damned family so stubborn?!

“I said leave.” Hanzo's expression softens and he tacks on a quiet, desperate, “please.” at the end. Han stares at him, eyes darting over his face. His confusion is visible but Hanzo has no more time left. He thrusts his hand out and pushes Han towards Chewie. The Wookiee deftly catches and rights his partner while simultaneously shooting at an approaching group of stormtroopers.

“NO!” Kylo shouts. Hanzo is about to turn around when he is distracted by a series of explosions. He stumbles slightly to left. Kylo chooses then to attack. He snarls like a wild animal and lunges forward, lightsaber crackling to life. Hanzo barely manages to raise his saber in time to meet his father’s, leading to a momentary stanstill as they push against each other.

Now, Hanzo is strong, but he is tired and weakened from his overextended stay in the void. It doesn’t take long for Kylo to overpower him. Hanzo cries out in pain as the crossguards sear into his face. He looks up into his father’s eyes, their faces mere inches from each other, and his breath catches when he is met with seething hate so dark it makes him falter, if only for moment.

But a moment is all it takes for Kylo gain more ground, the pointed spikes of his saber raking higher and deeper into the boy’s face. Hanzo curses for his momentary lapse in composure as the heat of the saber so close to his eye causes it to water and his vision to blur. He ignores the way is Bente beating at the doors of their bond and reaches out a hand in one last desperate attempt before he can lose his left eye.

He sends the command through the Force.

Come!

Kylo is forced to jump back lest Hanzo’s lightsaber knock him unconscious this time. He tries to grab as it returns like some demented boomerang but misses. Hanzo catches instead and, without missing a beat, slams the hilt of the two lightsabers together, connecting them to form a staff.

His lips twitch into a crooked smirk, steam swirling off the seared skin on his face, as he twirls the purple and yellow staff.

His father narrows his eyes, both at boy's clear mastery and the odd color of the second saber. The dark’s hold on him lessens as it battles with his inherently inquisitive nature.

“Where did you get those?”

Hanzo rights himself to full height. It’s not much but it makes him feel better.

“My mother.” He answers calmly, pride coloring his words. Kylo's borws pinch in interest. Then, without warning, Hanzo turns tail and runs away as another explosion rocks the building. 

He needs to leave. Hanzo has accomplished what he set out to do—save Han Solo. Now he needs to get somewhere safe until Bente can come for him. Engaging his father in a one-on-one duel is not part of that plan.

Hanzo is smart. He knows his strengths and weaknesses. And his strengths? Well, they're mainly geared towards defense and supports. Bente is the close-range specialist of the two. Hanzo knows with absolute certainty that if he were to fight his father as he is now he would lose.

Quite badly. And ugly, too. Hanzo ignores the scorching pain orginating from his face.

Bente probably would have stood a better chance. She is much more suited and skilled than him when it comes to close-range battles, her superior strength and fierce fighting spirit a better match for keeping up with their father's explosive combat style. Hanzo himself has never been much of a fighter, too stuck in his head and hesitant of hurting someone and thus proving those who thought him and his a sister a threat to the galaxy’s hard-earned peace that they were justified in their fears of them.

(They were the threat—no, monsters—willing to villify their galaxy's champion, his mother, just for giving birth to him and his sister)

Hanzo’s breath hitches when his muscles suddenly clamp together, the Force holding him still. He just manages to break free of the hold before Kylo can thrust his saber through his heart. In the end, the tree behind him is the one with a hole in its middle.

Hanzo stares at the glowing embers twinkling inside the hole.

“Who are you? Did Skywalker send you?” Kylo spits the name out like its something vile. Hanzo looks away from the tree and faces his father. Kylo begins to pace, snow crunching underfoot. Hanzo follows paralell to him, ending with the two of them circling one another.

“I am Hanzo.” It hurts to talk but he thinks if he can keep Kylo talking perhaps his anger will abate and in turn give Bente more time to find him.

Because she will.

Hanzo doesn't dare look away from the knight, not with this murdering intent mucking up the Force.

She has to. She has to—she's his only hope.

“He did not send me.”

“Then what are you doing here? Is the Resistance so desperate now that they’re sending children?” Kylo sneers.

Hanzo is not so easily riled. He leaves such follies to his sister. “No, I believe the Force sent me. Here, that is.”

“Why would it send a child?” 

Hanzo frowns. He knows he’s small for his age (any age, really), but that doesn’t make him a child. He has muscles. And one very proud hair on his chest. Bente has taken to calling ‘Jimmy’.

Ridiculous name.

James is much more professional and grown up sounding.

“I am not a child.” Hanzo takes in his father’s disheveled appearance. His anger has cooled down to something like a steady campire, controlled but no less dangerous. Hanzo is cautious but not fearful, not really. In truth, Kylo's current behavior is not so different than some of the more nastier temper tantrums Bente threw (and still does) when they were small.

Perhaps his father is ready to listen. “You are.”

Kylo’s body stiffens. “What?” he asks through gritted teeth. 

“You are the child here, Kylo Ren. Trying to snuff out the light inside you by any means necessary, following orders like a guileless child.” He needs to keep talking. Bente is close. He can feel her. She’s like a comet, hurtling right for them.

“Shut up.” Kylo hisses. 

Hanzo’s brows scrunch together, the only movement on his otherwise impassive face. He doesn’t understand. Why is he getting angrier? He is only speaking the truth. Can't his father see how blind Snoke has made him? How he's nothing more than a puppet; a tool to be used and then discarded when its master no longer deems it useful?

“You would have regretted it—killing your father, that is.” Kylo bares his teeth and stalks closer. Hanzo continues obliviously, “There is light inside you. Light you will never be rid of. You can deny it all you want, try and kill it, but the light is in your nature.”

“Enough." Kylo snarls, looking all too like some cornerd, feral animal as he takes unwitting step back. "Stop talking.”

Hanzo does not stop. He can sense the growing conflict in his father. It whips around them, creating a maelstrom in the Force. If he can just reach him then maybe he won’t need Bente to save him this time. Maybe this this time he can be the one to save himself and by extension—his father.

“Snoke is wrong. It would have weakened you, not strengthened you. It would have left a gaping hole inside you and you would have been broken—”

“I said enough!” Kylo shouts, effectively quieting Hanzo. “The Supreme Leader is wise. It is you who are wrong.” His eyes are wide and scared despite his obvious anger. 

Hanzo’s voice is quiet and earnest, “I’m not and you know it, Ben.”

His true name is the last straw. 

“NO!” Hanzo lifts the tail end of the saber staff to block Kylo’s sudden downward strike. His arms shake as Kylo pulls back only to lash out again, quicker this time. “You are wrong! You’re lying! What would you know?” He shouts. Hanzo parries another hit. He ducks just in time to avoid having his head lopped off.

“You are right. I would not know. I never knew my father.” Hanzo confesses through clenched teeth as Kylo grazes his forearm. He’d never known his father, much less murdered him. Palpatine can take credit for that feat.

Kylo falters at the honest confession and his attacks become less forceful but no less dangerous. Hanzo divides his attention between blocking and trying to talk his father down from his anger one last time.

“But a father’s love for his son and a son’s love for his father is not as unfathomable and impossible as you make it seem.” 

Whatever semblance of composure Kylo Ren had scrounged up crumbles like ash. Hanzo stumbles in shock as the dark side swallows up the knight. What little light he saw in him is gone.

“There is no love, only passion.”

Hanzo blocks the hit coming down on him with the end of his saber but the move leaves his torso exposed. He knows Kylo will strike for that next and twists out of the way of the man’s clenched fist. His punch grazes his stomach but nothing more.

“Through passion, I gain strength.”

Kylo kicks Hanzo back and the boy stumbles through the snow. He bears down on him with his saber. Hanzo’s arms shake as he pushes back, saber spitting between them. 

“Through strength, I gain power,” Kylo intones monotonously, eyes clouded with rage. He overpowers Hanzo and presses the blade into his shoulder. Hanzo cries out and scrambles backward, trying to put some distance between the two.

Kylo, however, is relentless. He follows after him and strikes quickly and wildly. All Hanzo can do is redirect the hits away from his vital areas, taking damage anywhere else he can spare and then some. 

Hanzo should fight back harder, should use the dirty tricks his mother had taught him. But he just can’t...he’s not strong enough. He can’t hurt his father. He can’t risk killing him. He could never do that to his mother, espeically not this bright, wonderful version of her.

Kylo Ren, however, has no such qualms in hurting him.

“Through power, I gain victory!” he roars with an upward strike. Hanzo’s eyes widen, but he’s not fast enough to stop the attack. His father’s lightsaber slashes accross his chest, sending him flying back. Hanzo chokes on the blood filling his mouth

Internal bleeding, he deduces, his mind detaching itself from his body and emotions. Hanzo coughs, blood speckling the white snow beneath him. He staggers to his feet and tries to retreat once more, but it’s no use. Kylo is upon him in seconds.

Hanzo falls to his knees as searing agony erupting in his back from his father had cut into the flesh and muscle of his back. Kylo rounds to face him, saber held high for the finishing blow. Hanzo simply looks up at him and blinks away the tears obscuring his vision.

His father...his sister looks so much like him. For as long as Hanzo can remember, people have always teased them that for a pair of twins they look nothing alike. Hanzo doesn’t take much stock in their teasing, whether it was said in good humor or not. He thinks it’s nice. Nice to have some idea about what his father may have looked like when he smiled, cried, frowned, and laughed. 

Hanzo knew his reluctance to do Kylo harm would be his downfall. He had just hoped Bente would have arrived and proved him wrong like the embodiment of chance and luck, the only two factors he could never understand. Hanzo's lip twitches upwards. Bente would have loved it, if only to prove him wrong like she so loved doing.

Hanzo looks up at father. Past his superficial anger he finds an acute fear (of himself? Hanzo does not know) and a well self-loathing and sorrow so profound it brings more tears to Hanzo's eyes.

As Hanzo stares into would-be excutioner's eyes—his father—he finds he holds no ill-will towards the man. Glad that he had the honor to meet the man who gave him life even if their meeting ended up as the cuase of his death. He might be only seventeen, not enough time to foster a deep regret but young enough to yearn for the things he will now never experience, but Hanzo feels oddly at peace.

I'm sorry, Mother, it would seem we will seeing each other much earlier than you anticipated.

He only has one regret: that he will leaving Bente behind, the last in the line of Skywalker and the only surviving Solo.

Poetic, if you think about it. 

Solo. Alone.

I’m sorry, Bente. He lets slips through the bond. I...I tried my best.

Bente’s answering wail shakes the very foundations of their bond and the Force itself.

Kylo Ren looks down at the boy. He’s on his knees, the impressive staff he wielded fallen and steadily sinking into the snow. He holds his lightsaber aloft ahead his head to end the fight. It will be a quick death. Kylo is not so merciless as to let him suffer. He ignores the guilt curdling in his stomach at the thought of cutting down one so young.

He must be what? Fourteen? Fifteen? Around his age when he fled the fiery ruins of the Jedi Temple. 

Kylo takes in a deep breath and drags his eyes to meet the boy’s. The least he can do is look the boy in the eye when he slays him. If he cannot manage that then how can he ever hope to kill his fa—

Kylo’s arms waver as the Force quakes in what he recognizes as grief. Never has he felt such a disturbance, not since the Hosnian Prime system was destroyed and even then it only happened less than a day ago and the grief was caused by the millions of lives lost and the ones who witnessed their annihilation. This, however...Kylo never knew one person could feel so profoundly; deep enough to move the Force, the cosmic stitching of the universe, with their anguish alone.

Kylo finds Hanzo’s eyes. The boy looks right back at him, but not in defiance like many have nor in fear like many more have. No, there is only acceptance and sorrow, and what looks suspiciously like…

No, no that can’t be right. Kylo thinks. It doesn’t make sense. What person would look into the eyes of his enemy, their executioner with love in their heart?

His next words don’t make any sense either.

“It's okay.” The corner of Hanzo’s lip twinges upwards. Blood dribbles down his face where he had wounded him earlier and mixes with his silent tears. "I forgive you, father."

Kylo’s grip on his weapon slackens and his arms begin lowering themselves despite the dark telling them no! we must finish what we started. Do it! Snuff the light, boy—

“What...what did you call me?” Kylo doesn’t know if the boy responds. Pain blooms in his side and he stumbles back. He touches the space below his ribs and looks down at his bloodied glove in shock. He looks up and is met with what has to be both the most terrifyingly beautiful creature he’s ever seen, her eyes wild and teeth bared.

Rey snarls something truly fearsome and brings down a blue lightsaber—his grandfather’s, where did she— onto him. Kylo single-handedly blocks it with his own, his other hand holding the bleeding wound in his side. His eyes are wide and he stares dumbfounded at the look of pure rage on her face.

“No!” She screams and spins away only to slash at him again. Kylo only just blocks it and staggers back. “I won’t let you hurt him anymore!” She sticks out hand, palm faced outward and Kylo finds himself flying backward away.

Rey mirrors the shock he feels as they look back and forth between her hand and each other. Rey shakes her head roughly and positions herself between him and Hanzo who’s laid out flat on his face, having fallen into the snow sometimes after the scavenger made her appearance.

“Finn!” She commands, her eyes never leaving him. “Take him to the Falcon.”

It’s then that Kylo takes notice of the traitor. His anger flares up again, bright and hot in his chest. 

The traitor hesitates, “But what about you, Rey? I mean, we don’t even know this kid—”

“I’ll be fine!” Rey snaps. “Just take him and go. I’ll meet you back at the Falcon.” 

“Fine.” Finn bites out. Kylo hears the man grumble as he lifts Hanzo’s into his arms. Something clenches tightly inside him at the sight. At seeing the boy—he’s really just a child—so bloodied and small. Unconsciously, he takes a step towards him.

“You.” Rey hisses, distracting him. Kylo looks back at her just in time to save himself from a beheading. “You’ll pay for what you did to him.” And then Rey is off, charging and snarling and slicing at him with all the finesse of a feral animal. Again, Kylo’s never seen anything more terrifying and beautiful in all his life. He’s also never been more confused in all his life.

Finn rushes through the snow, trying to remember where they left the Falcon. He looks down at the boy in his arms and feels that familiar guilty feeling creep in for thinking about abandoning him. Stars, he’s just a kid!

Finn skids to a stop as bright lights wash over them. His heart catches in his throat. His first thought is that the First Order has finally caught up with him. He can’t run forever. But then the ship turns, allowing him to see clearly. He blinks away the white spots and sags in relief when he recognizes the ship.

The Millenium Falcon’s platform lowers and Han is standing there, waving him forward.

“What are you waiting for, kid? Get in here!”

Finn doesn’t need any more convincing and runs onto the ship. Han’s face falls when he gets a good look at the boy.

“Oh Hanzo…” He sighs mournfully. Finn looks down and blanches when he finally takes notice of all the red. The boy’s face is bloody and raw, the wound from Kylo Ren’s lightsaber stretching from his nose to the bottom of his jaw, crisscrossing with the already garish scar he’d had before the fight. There’s deep gash on his chest that rises and falls in time with his shallow breathing; it’s the only visible sign he’s still alive, his skin deathly cold and lips turning blue.

“C’mon, I have some bacta patches over here.” Han leads him deep inside the ship. Han points to a little bunk attached to the wall. “Put him down over there. Take his shirt off and try to clean up the blood.”

Finn does as he’s told and carefully peels off the dark grey tunic-like robes the boy is wearing. He uses the clean parts of the shirt to mop up the blood from whatever cuts Kylo’s lightsaber hadn’t immediately cauterized. 

Han appears beside him with a handful of bacta patches. He applies them generously to the kid’s face and chest. 

“Roll him over.” Han orders. Finn does so. “Stars, kid, who did this to you?” Han mutters. There are slash marks littering the entire expanse of his back. They’re old and scarred over but it’s still a startling sight, especially coupled with the fresh slash that had torn through the old ones. 

The ship shudders and the Wookiee yells something from the cockpit. Han slaps the last of the bacta patches on Hanzo’s back and throws a thick blanket on him before rushing away.

“We have to find Rey!” Finn shouts after him at the same time he carefully positions Hanzo so he’s on his right side. “She’s still fighting with that— that monster.” He finishes angrily as he walks into the cockpit.

“That monster,” Han growls from the pilot’s chair, “is my son. So watch it.” Finn doesn’t know how to respond to that, much less process it. So he doesn’t. “And stop worrying. We’re not leaving the girl behind.” Chewbacca roars in what Finn thinks is agreement. Han spares him a look and smiles wryly. “You’re not the only one who wants her back.” 

Finn nods cautiously and silently helps keep a lookout for Rey.

Rey tears and lashes at her opponent like a woman possessed. And maybe she is. There is power thrumming through her veins, singing and calling for blood; vengeance for the boy Kylo had cut down so mercilessly. She doesn’t know what’s taken over her only that it is both exhilarating and terrifying. 

Exhilarating to be on top for once, that she’s the one with the power. No Plutt to bear down on her or bandits and other scavengers to gang up on her. She feels like she can do anything. 

She slashes at Kylo’s legs and watches as they buckle and he crashes into the snow.

It’s also terrifying. This fierce protective feeling that washed over her and filled her to the brim with righteous fury the moment she heard the boy cry out in pain. Her instincts had flared to life, the same ones that guided her to the parts that would fetch the highest portions and told her not to step there lest she fall through the rusted metal and to an early death. It screamed at her to go back, to fight, to protect. Her instincts have never led her astray before so Rey listened and went back despite Finn’s objections.

And when she’d seen the boy—who looked so much like her that it hurt—on his knees and with Kylo Ren looming over him like death itself, something in her just had snapped. 

Rey looks down at the man writhing in pain before her, the gaping wound on his face bleeding steadily. He looks back at her, dark eyes wide and glittering. They hold each other’s gaze, the atmosphere thick with tension. There’s something happening between them but for the life of her, Rey doesn’t know what. Then the planet splits them apart and the Falcon is hovering above the gaping crack.

“Get on!” Finn shouts from the platform and holds out his hand. Rey is about to jump when she hears someone shouting over the roar of the Falcon’s engine and the trees being uprooted around her. It sounds suspiciously like a ...girl?

“Rey! We need to leave! Like now!” Finn shouts in a panic, distracting her. Rey’s stumbles as the planet quivers beneath her feet. She shakes her head to clear her mind of the voice and awed expression on Kylo’s face as she stood over him. Rey takes a deep breath and jumps onto the ship. She falls short and her mouth lets loose a desperate shout. Luckily, Finn catches her arm and pulls her up and inside the ship. 

“Rey!” Finn shouts in relief and hugs her like Poe has taught him. “You’re okay.” 

“I’m fine,” Rey says, a little out of breath. She hugs him back. Rey pulls back after a moment with a worried expression. “The… the boy? Where is he? Is he alright?”

“You mean Hanzo? He’s over here.” Finn takes her hand and leads her over to the bunk where he left Hanzo. He’s still there, eyes closed and body still

“Oh…” She breathes. Rey reaches out to touch his face but thinks better of it when she sees the bacta patches. Instead, she brushes her fingers against the braid framing his battered face. 

“Han says he’s pretty beat up, but he’ll pull through,” Finn says at her obvious distress.

Rey frowns and holds the braid closer to her face for inspection. Interwoven into it is a strand of black curled hair. Rey puts it down and notices a similar braid opposite of that one. She picks that one open up and see a piece of dark brown hair, a few shades darker than Hanzo’s and identical to hers, interwoven there. 

Rey drops the braid when Hanzo stirs. He blinks up blearily at Rey. His pained grimace upon waking smoothes out in relief.

“Mother, you came back.” Hanzo murmurs and goes back to sleep. Rey just stares at him in shock, heart beginning to beat loudly.

“Did he just call you...his mother?” Finn incredulously asks from behind her. 

“I think he did,” Rey says numbly. Her eyes rake over her face. What isn’t scarred or covered in bacta patches reminds Rey of her own face. Same nose, same chin, same round face, same tanned skin. Everything is the same. Except for the dark moles peppering his skin in place of her freckles and his rather... prominent ears.

Rey swallows. They could be…

“You guys do look alike. Do you think you guys are—”

“Family.” Rey finishes his sentence breathlessly. The word feels so right on her tongue. Her instincts, the power— no, the Force— purrs in satisfaction. Rey is only vaguely aware of Finn leaving to go talk to Han. The need to be closer needles at Rey until she finally she gives in, curling herself comfortably at the end of the bunk. Rey props her head on her arm and just watches him.

The Falcon rocks as Starkiller base explodes behind them. 

Chapter Text

“Hanzo! Where are you?!” Bente shouts desperately into the forest. “I’m coming, Hanzo! Hold on!”

There’s snow filling her boots and numbing her toes, but Bente doesn’t care. She grits her teeth and leaps off a large boulder with the Force. She lands in a crouch and is off like a rocket again. They’d only been apart for less than an hour and already Hanzo has somehow managed to upgrade his brunch with death to a fancy three-course meal.

Seriously, Bente expected this kind of shit from herself not from her passive, nerdy brother. This day is just getting stranger and stranger.

“Kriff!” Bente ducks her head in time for a stray tree to fly harmlessly over her. The planet is beginning to deteriorate from the inside out. She’s running out of time! She wills her legs to go faster despite the fact that her feet are going numb and her breaths are nothing more than sharp rasps of air.

Bente can still feel her brother and the simple fact he’s still alive keeps her going. She’d been so close to losing him just minutes before. And stars, how it had hurt to think she would be all that was left of their little family. But whatever fate Hanzo had foreseen was thwarted and Ben had nearly crashed into a tree from the sheer amount of relief she felt. Hanzo is unconscious, that much she gathered when she tried nudging his mind, and his shields up but he is alive. 

Bente is nearing her brother when she sees her. 

She just manages to get enough air into her lungs to shout, “Mom! No, wait, please!” 

Bente can see her mother standing tall in the distance. Bente turns her head when she hears a familiar ship approach. 

“Hanzo!” Bente cries. She can feel her brother on the ship. She tries accessing the bond but its no use while Hanzo’s asleep. “No! Don’t leave me! Come BACK!” Bente howls as the Falcon takes off with her family on it. Bente is going to continue chasing after it, no matter useless it would be in the end, when she trips. She groans and flips over onto her back and looks over at the dark pile she tripped over.

“Oh gods!” She screams. “Gross, gross, gross. It’s still warm !” Bente scrambles back from the dead body. She screams again when she almost falls into the open trench behind her. Bente quickly stands and steps back from the canyon. Maker, is her whole family just pre-destined to fall into pits or something?

Very hesitantly she shuffles over to the corpse. Once she’s close enough she can see that the person—a very large man—is still breathing. Barely, but it’s enough to prove he isn’t a corpse.

Yet. 

Bente can feel his life force is fading steadily. She’s actually surprised he’s lasted this long, most others would have died from this kind of depletion. Curious, Bente inches even closer and peers down at the pale, ruined face.

“DAD?!” Bente shouts in surprise. Kylo Ren doesn’t respond seeing as he’s unconscious and likely bleeding out. The ground shakes again, knocking the girl to her knees.

“Oh no, you bastard, you don’t get to die here.” Bente gets up and places her hands on his chest. “Not after you kicked my little brother’s ass and scared me half to death.” Bente begins gathering her life force into her hands and Kylo’s eyes flutter open at the sensation. She holds her breath and stares at him. His eyes are cloudy with pain and exhaustion but they hold her own for a moment before shutting closed again. 

Bente breathes a sigh of relief—her dad isn’t really someone she wants nor knows how to deal with right now—and focuses all her energy on channeling her life force into Kylo’s body.  Sweat beads her brow and she grits her teeth, trying her best to close the deepest wounds. 

It’s hard work and they don’t have much time, but Bente gives it her all like she always does. She looks down at her handy work and finds she was more or less successful. The wounds are still there but they’ve stopped bleeding at least and his life force is a tad steadier than it was before. Bente shrugs and stands, pocketing the knight’s fallen lightsaber. Healing was always more Hanzo’s forte. Bente liked the smashing and the fighting bits a lot more. 

She hooks her arms under her dad’s armpits and begins retracing her steps. 

“Gods, dad, you’re heavy.” Bente complains as she drags Kylo Ren's limp body through the snow and to the TIE fighter she ‘liberated’. She prays to the Force she’ll make it in time before the planet explodes. “What are they feeding you? You’re huge .” Bente’s eyes widen as what looks like fire shoots out of the crack in the planet where she found Kylo. 

“Okay. That’s not good.” Bente unceremoniously drops the man’s body to the floor and lifts him with the Force instead. She races through the tree with her dad bobbing up and down furiously behind her. Bente winces as a branch whacks the underside of her dad’s chin and snaps his head backward. 

“Shit! Sorry, dad.” Bente huffs and hurriedly checks his vitals. Still alive. Good. 

As carefully as she can she places her dad inside, his limp body scrunched up awkwardly in the gunner’s chair.

CRACK!

Bente is halfway inside the ship when a tree comes careening down on them. 

“Shit shit shitty shitshit.” Bente scrambles the rest of the way inside. She only just thwarts the tree’s assassination attempt on them. This planet is really determined to kill her, huh? Bente puts the TIE fighter to work and shoots off into the sky. She pointedly doesn’t look back as the planet explodes behind, rocking the little ship dangerously.

Bente breathes a sigh of relief once they’re in the clear. She tries to look back to check on her dad but it’s impossible to get a good look in such a small craft. She uses the Force and brushes against the surface of his mind to get a read on his condition. Kylo’s...stable, but if he doesn’t get to a medbay soon then all the effort she’s put into saving his ass would be for naught. 

And Bente would really like it for the her of this timeline to born alongside her brother. And that can’t happen without both her parents alive and present. Bente knows how babies are made. Even though her mom had, with much embarrassment, told her that’s not her and her brother were conceived. Hanzo may have believed the whole ‘Force babies’ insanity but Bente’s not so naive. Honestly, you’d think with all the romance crap Hanzo reads he’d know better. Hopefully, they’ll both be long gone before that can happen.

Bente is about to pull away from his kind, having lingered long enough, when she feels something slimy and cold start in her direction. Immediately, Bente jerks back, heart racing.

“Snoke,” she whispers in horror. She shivers and makes a face. Oh gods, that had to be him. Her mother had told them that Emperor Palpatine had been manipulating their father through Snoke—one of his many puppets—for years by camping out in his head since he was baby. Ugh, the pedophile. Bente can’t imagine having so vile and dark living in her head for years, grooming her and whispering lies where no one could contradict them. Though she supposes the two assholes got what they deserved in the end. 

“I’m so going to regret this.” Bente moans. She turns around and reaches for her father’s belt. “Come on where are you? You gotta have- ah-ha!” Bente’s hand closes around her father’s personal comm. She finds a message from one General Hux demanding to know Kylo Ren’s whereabouts and return to-

Bente punches in the coordinates for the First Order ship and sets the fighter to auto-pilot. She leans back in the seat and yawns. 

She turns her head and mumbles, “You better thank me when you’re all better, Dad.” 

The back of her head gently hits the backrest and she gets as comfortable as she can for the trip.

Dad.

“Dad,” Bente repeats, “Daddy. Daddy-o hehe. Papa. Father- nah that’s more Hanzo’s thing.” 

Bente doesn’t know if she can trust these past versions of her mother and uncle to keep her brother safe. But she’s going to have to whether she likes it or not because where she’s headed... safe is the last thing she’ll be. Especially if Kylo doesn’t believe her, frankly, insane story and decides to just turn her in to the First Order instead. 

Bente shudders at the very real possibility of being taken to Snoke if her abilities in the Force are discovered by him. Maker, one of them has to make it out of this mess alive if only to bust the other out of trouble.

Stay safe, Hanzo. Bente sends and then allows herself to rest. 

Hanzo knows he’s sleeping. He’s also dreaming. And floating, if the sense of weightlessness is anything to go by. His eyes are already closed when he expands his awareness into the Force. He reaches out searching for the fiery ball of light that is his sister.

There, beyond his foggy consciousness and space, is his brilliant sister. He rushes to it and curls himself around her. The moment they come into contact his ears pop and Hanzo opens his eyes.

A surge of relief fills him when he sees his sister standing in front of him, her back to him, studying the vast expanse of nothing stretching out in front of them.

Hanzo represses the instinct to just run up and tackle his twin in a hug. He knew better than to sneak up on Bente like that. The half-dozen black eyes in his past taught him so. Instead, he slowly approaches her.

“Bente.” He says into the silence, he word warbles briefly as it passes by his lips. Bente yelps and whirls around to face him.

“Hanzo!” She erases the space between them with two long strides and wraps him up in a firm hug. Hanzo sighs and returns the embrace. Bente takes in a shuddering breath and then pulls away. “For kriff’s sake, Hanzo, how many times do I have to tell you not to creep up on me.” Her voice shakes slightly despite her chiding tone. 

Hanzo shrugs, her hands on his shoulders moving with the motion. “It’s important to be aware of one’s surroundings at all times.”

Bente rolls her eyes and grumbles, “I shouldn’t have to in my dreams.” Hanzo lips twitch at their usual banter.

“It could be my dream.”

“What- oh, never mind, what are you doing in my dream?” Bente looks around at the void around them. “Wait. Is this even a dream? Where the kriff are we?”

“We’re where the Force wants us to be.”

Bente swivels around with an annoyed frown. “By the gods, Hanzo, if you start spewing some half-assed mystical Force mumble jumbo I will punch you...in… the face...” She trails off, staring at him in abject horror. 

“Bente?” He asks, concerned. Bente extends a shaky hand towards his face.

“...your face…”

Hanzo reaches up and feels the familiar material of a bacta patch. Bente’s hand cups his own gently. 

Her distressed expression twists into something angry. Her eyes scan the rest of him and he feels the Force around them responding to her rising fury, the dreamscape rising in temperature. 

“ Who ?” Bente demands in a growl. Hanzo knows better to try and lie to her. 

“Father.” 

Bente’s expression flickers with conflict before settling into a fierce scowl. 

“I should have just left him on that ice rock to rot.”

Hanzo frowns at her words. “I don’t understand.” Bente sighs and lets her hand fall away from his face so she can cross her arms.

“Found the rotter half-dead in the snow. Healed him the best I could, but...” Hanzo watch in quiet fascination as Bente’s anger is replaced with an expression he’s seen from his sister and his mother many times before. It pulls Bente’s lips in her usual snarl but a mix of fear and worry makes her brows furrow. It’s an expression Hanzo is very familiar with, having grown up with the two overly-protective women, but he supposes that honor has been extended to their father now. “...he...he was dying and I’m not as good as you with the whole healing thing...I couldn’t let him die n-not like mo-” Bente shakes her head, unable to finish the sentence. “So, um, I’m taking him back.”

Hanzo swallows heavily. He knows the answer already but he asks anyway. 

“Back where?”

Bente shuffles nervously, her cloak her swaying with her steps. “The, uh, First...Order?”

Hanzo’s eyes go skyward. He inhales deeply and takes that moment to settle the tempest of distress and fear Bente’s words bring up in him. His sister is smart despite her impulsive tendencies. She’s strong, he reminds himself, and capable of taking care of herself. He trusts her.

Even so, he can’t help but asking, “You are aware of the danger you are putting yourself in?”

Bente rolls her eyes. “Yeah, Hanzo, I’m not an idiot”

 “I beg to differ.”

Bente raises a brow and smirks down at him from her superior height. 

“Then beg.” 

Hanzo groans and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, careful not to disturb the bacta patches even if it’s just a dream. Bente huffs and throws her arms out. “What was I supposed to do? The Resistance would just chuck dad in a prison cell if they don’t shoot us down first. Also, we’re not even born yet so all our contacts are moot. And even if I could find a healer they’d either report us or kill Dad.” 

Hanzo admits she does have a point. He squints up at her. “You promise to be careful?”

Bente’s lips curl into a charming grin. “Aren’t I always.”

“No,” Hanzo deadpans, “quite the opposite, actually.”

Bente deflates visibly. She pouts at him and petulantly retorts, “Says the one who charged in and challenged Dad after losing his lunch.”

Hanzo raises a brow. “Did you want me to let him murder Grandfather?”

Bente winces. “All I’m saying is that I expected that from me not, well,” she shrugs, “you.”

“Imitation is the greatest form of flattery,” Hanzo replies evenly. 

“Aw, lil bro,” Bente rests her hand daintily on her chest. “That’s so sweet of you.” 

“You are welcome,” Hanzo replies seriously, oblivious to her teasing. Bente ruffles his short hair fondly before resuming her earlier pout. 

“I just can’t believe you fought Dad, though.” Bente sighs wistfully and leans against him lightly. “What I wouldn’t give to go toe-to-toe with him.”

“You would have been hardpressed to defeat him.” Hanzo touches the healing slash mark going across his face. “He’s a very aggressive fighter.”

“Meh. I could have taken him.” Bente sends him an image through their bond of her standing over their father’s unconscious body, lightsaber held up high. Hanzo rolls his eyes, lip quirking in amusement.

All this talk about their father has him wondering...what was the man like? For all that their mother longed for him and the stories she’d told them, Hanzo doesn’t know much about the man. He wants to know what he is like outside their mother’s stories and wistful recollections. Their introduction—if you could call it that— had been relatively brief and tense.

“Bente?” His sister hums in response. “What's he like?”

Bente shrugs, jostling him slightly. “I dunno. He’s been out cold the whole time.” Hanzo frowns in disappointment. Bente sees this and squeezes his shoulder. “But when he wakes up I’ll find out.” Her teeth flash white in a predatory grin. “After I break his nose, though.”

“ Bente .” Hanzo scolds. “He had no reason not to attack me. I was an enemy. I hold no grudges.”

“Okay, fine. You have a point,” her nose wrinkles in distaste, “but you may not hold a grudge but I do .” She shines her wolfish grin down at him. “Someone has to defend your honor and who better than your big sister.”

“My hero,” Hanzo remarks dryly. Bente’s responding laughter is cut off suddenly. “Bente?” She pushes off him gently to stand to her full height. She looks down at her hands and frowns, holding them up. She looks through the transparent skin and back at him.

“Hanzo…” Bente trails off and slowly lowers her hands when she sees that Hanzo is also fading. He struggles to keep his face stoic as usual when he meets her gaze.

“I believe we’re waking up.” Bente must see through his farce—she always has— and her face softens as it only does when it’s just them.

“Don’t worry we’ll find each other again,” Bente says and then winks, confidence and conviction in her statement strengthening her stance. “Force knows even it can’t keep us apart. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Hanzo knows this to be true. There is nothing that can keep Bente from him and vice-versa. Solos have never been good at letting go. Hanzo hugs his sister and buries his face in her cloak. 

“I like your cloak.” He mumbles into the thick fabric. It’s disappearing quickly, but he can still feel it. It’s surprisingly soft. The cloak twists around his fingers as he grips it tighter, reluctant to let go.

Bente lets out a choked laugh and holds him just as tight. 

“Thanks, I stole it from dad’s closet.” 

Hanzo’s reply dies in his throat as Bente completely fades away. He tries to call out after her but he can’t push her name past the emotions lodged in his throat.

Hanzo wakes. A sorrowful whimper leaves his chapped lips when he finds himself alone.

Bente…

There is no reply.

Poe groans and tries to ignore the incessant beeping coming from somewhere in the dark room.

“Poe, can you please get that?” Finn pleads from beside him, head buried under his pillow. 

Poe whines, “Why can’t you?”

“It’s your comm.”

“How do you know that? It could be yours, for all I know.” 

“The, uh, Force told me.”

“Sure, buddy, sure.” Poe rolls his eyes but gets up like the good husband he is and fumbles in the dark as he pats random objects looking for the comm. He digs inside a familiar leather jacket and pulls out the comm with a triumphant, “Aha! Found it!” He turns it on and looks for the message that had rudely disrupted their sleep. 

“It was your comm, by the way. Must be getting a little rusty with your old- oof!” Poe stumbled and nearly tripped over a pair of discarded pants. The pillow Finn had thrown slides down his face and joins the mess on the floor. Poe laughs in response and Finn smiles into the mattress.

Poe’s laughter is cut off abruptly. Finn lifts his head and blinks blearily until he can make out Poe’s face in the dull glow of his comm. 

“Poe?” He asks, voice hoarse with sleep. Poe turns him, face grave and eery in the low lighting. Finn springs up and out of the bed, years of training kicking in. “What is it?” he asks as he rounds Poe’s side. Poe wordlessly hands him the device and Finn reads the message for himself.

Poe’s already decoded it. It’s from the Falcon, Rey more likely as its an older code that she and Finn came up so they could keep in touch when the twins were first born and Finn was swept up in his general duties. They had created a special code, separate from the Resistance’s standard one so Finn could easily pick it out. It’s a mixture of binary and Shyriiwook, with a few personal jokes sprinkled in. It’s simple but hard to crack without context. 

Finn feels ice creep into his fingers, tightening his grip on the comm. A sharp crack echoes in the dark room.

“I’ll get the ship ready,” Poe says, voice hard like steel, already putting on the clothes they’d shed only a few hours beforehand. Finn nods and follows suit and is ready in less than a minute. Efficiency was something the First Order had put emphasis on and Finn has never really shaken that particular conditioning. The ability to get battle-ready at a moment’s notice is a useful skill in war and one that has not only saved his life but that of his comrades.

Finn double checks his weapons and then goes out to meet Poe, who’s already starting up his X-wing. Poe had become rather fond of the ship and had kept it after the war ended. It had gone through some remodeling, Poe wanting there to be enough room for two people so he could take Finn on a ‘romantic, starlit’ flight. If you called jumping at lightspeed romantic, that is. Finn hadn’t been very amused that first trip.

BB-8 greets him solemnly. Finn gives the droid a short nod before climbing in the seat behind his husband. 

“Ahch-To?” Poe asks for confirmation, already tapping in the coordinates. 

“Ahch-To,” Finn confirms. Poe nods and smoothly maneuvers the starfighter out of their private hangar and into the void of space outside. 

The Force crackles with barely hidden anger. Poe whistles under his breath as he catches sight of Finn’s stormy face in the canopy’s reflection. He’d have pitied the poor fools who thought themselves big and bad enough to target Rey and her brood if he wasn’t so pissed off himself.

Poe just hopes they make it in time. If Rey hasn’t already destroyed them all, that is. This shaping up to be a repeat of the Kaalsian Gang Massacre. And Poe is all for it.

It’s so cold. Rey has never felt so cold and alone before. She thought the Force is supposed to bring you peace. Although without Ben, Rey doubts she will ever find true serenity. 

Rey opens her mouth to cry out but before she can make any noise, the cold is rushing in. Her lungs and throat burn from the cold’s onslaught. Rey weakly thrashes but it’s no use. Her limbs are numb and heavy. It’s all so heavy and Rey is so tired. 

She. Is. Just. So. Tired. 

Tired of being half-alive, half a person. Tired of this wretched solitude. Rey is contemplating just letting go, maybe she’ll go wherever Ben is, when she feels him.

Beloved. 

BEN. Her soul, her everything, howls. 

Our children still need you.

YES. 

Oh, how could she have forgotten her precious babies? Her only source of light and joy nowadays. Rey jolts as if shocked as a beautifully familiar warmth spreads out from her core, chasing away the cold. 

Ben, she sighs in heads.

He is always saving her. From Snoke, her loneliness, Palpatine, and even death. Now it is her turn.

 Beneath the tumultuous waters of Ahch-To, Rey’s eyes snap open.

Chapter Text

Rey watches Hanzo sleep with rapt attention. She’s never actually just watched someone sleep before, everyone on Jakku too guarded for such intimacy and Rey’s never been tempted to. Until now. She finds herself unable to look away. There’s an irrational fear there that if Rey was to look away he’d simply disappear.

So Rey keeps an eye out for any change in his condition as the Falcon makes the journey back to the Resistance’s base. The longer she stares at him the more obvious the similarities between them become and the harder Rey fights against the little seed of hope growing in her.  

“Who are you, Hanzo?” Rey murmurs from her perch atop his feet. She’d taken off his sodden boots and socks—she can’t wait to ask him about that because there’s not a body of saltwater anywhere on Starkiller—and promptly sat down on them when Finn mentioned frostbite and then explained it to her clueless self. Rey had been horrified to think the boy’s toes might snap off like the brittle sun-baked lizards Rey was reduced to eating when she couldn’t make her portions stretch far enough. Nasty little creatures ripe full of disease but they were mostly safe to eat if you let them cook in the sun long enough. 

Finn walks up to her, interrupting her musings. 

“Hey, um, Rey? Han wants to talk to you.” Rey looks back down at Hanzo, reluctance making her limbs heavy. “Don’t worry. I doubt he’s going anywhere right now.” Rey rolls her eyes at him, but grudgingly gets up and follows Finn to the cockpit.

“What does he want to talk to me about?” Rey asks curiously as they walk. Hesitation colors her next words but she’s not sure why. “Is it about Hanzo?”

“Probably. He’s been muttering about him for the past twenty minutes.”

“But I don’t even know him.” The words feel wrong, but it’s the truth. She doesn’t know him but there is something about him that calls to her. Rey’s afraid of what he’ll say when he wakes up. She doesn’t know what to do with the fragile hope that’s taken residence in her chest. Doesn’t know what to do if Maz is right. If this is her path. If maybe, just maybe, Hanzo is the family she’s been waiting for all along. Rey just doesn’t know and it’s eating at her.

“You don’t? Are you sure?” Finn asks incredulously. “You guys just, I don’t know, look…”  

“Alike,” Rey says in a clipped tone. She doesn’t want to think about it any longer. Better to snuff out whatever little fantasies she’s made up now rather than later when it’d only hurt more. “I know. You’ve mentioned it.” Rey steps into the cockpit before Finn can respond.

Han looks up at her when she enters. “Hey-”

Rey places her hand on her hip and gets down to business. “You wanted to talk about Hanzo?”

Han takes in a deep breath and slides in his chair. “You don’t beat around the bush do you, kid?” Rey frowns at the unfamiliar expression but Han continues, “What is he? A cousin of yours? Brother?”

“No.” Rey shakes her head. It’s the truth. Her heart aches in that familiar yearning for family. Rey tries to ignore it. “I’ve never even seen him before today.” 

Han’s brows furrow and he sits quietly in deep thought. He turns to Chewbacca. The Wookiee shrugs. 

“Wouldn’t Luke Skywalker know?” Finn asks. “I found this on him.” He reaches around his waist and pulls out a small staff, wait no, that’s not it. It was the twin lightsabers she’d caught a glimpse of during the firefight. Rey doesn’t know much about the Jedi, only what is told in stories and hushed tones, but she knew lightsabers were said to be wielded by the legendary warriors.

“Chewie,” Han turns slowly to face his best friend, “you don’t think he’s Luke’s, do you.” Chewie is quiet for all of three seconds before he busts out in a roar of laughter. Rey and Finn look at Han with simultaneous looks of disbelief. 

“Hey! It was a good question!” Chewbacca doesn’t relent. Han rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright. Laugh it up, buddy.”

“Do you think he’s Resistance, then?” Finn asks.

Han shrugs. “Beats me.” 

Rey eyes the lightsabers. “He can still be a Jedi, can’t he?”

“Well, what do you think he is? Resistance? Jedi?” Finn's voice lowers, “You don’t think he’s a ...spy, do you?”

“I am neither of those.” A raspy voice comes from the doorway. Finn spins around and nearly trips when he backs away from Hanzo. He looks so small and fragile standing there, swamped up in a blanket twice his height and body covered in bacta patches and bandages. Rey’s heart does a little squeeze.

“Speak of the devil…” Han mutters. Rey immediately darts out a hand to steady Hanzo when he wobbles. He looks at her—his eyes are hazel like hers—and nods in thanks. The little of his face Rey can see grimaces when he bends down to sit.

Han looks at the boy with sad eyes. “He really did a number on you.” The blanket moves up which Rey interprets as a shrug. Han sighs, “I’m sorry, kid, I never meant for this to happen.” His eyes linger on the bacta patches covering his face. The blanket moves again in a shrug.

“I am not sorry. For interfering. I do not regret my actions.” Hanzo talks in a low, formal tone. His voice is soft and cool like milk. Rey finds she likes it. It suits him, she thinks. His accent, Rey notices now that she’s heard him talk, is the same as hers. The hope in her chest wriggles excitedly and makes her hands sweat.

Han shifts to face him fully. “What were you doing there anyway?” His eyes scan Hanzo’s. “Who are you?”

Hanzo frowns, “Hanzo. I told you this before.”

Han waves his hand, “Yeah, yeah, I know that, but that doesn’t exactly explain anything. You got a last name?” Rey has to stop herself from leaning in. Maybe she’ll know it if she hears it, decide if the hope in her really deserves to stay.

“My mother did not know her parents so therefore I have no family name,” Hanzo says to her disappointment. Finn must see it on her face because he places his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. Rey flashes him a weak smile before returning her attention to the two.

“Well, what about your dad?” Han tries.

“He died before I was born,” Hanzo explains, his face stoic. He doesn’t exactly answer Han’s question, not really.

Han nods in understanding. It’s not odd for people to go by only one name. But something about it doesn’t sit right with him. He doesn’t believe the boy is lying...but he is keeping his cards close to his chest. Han admires the effort and decides to allow the boy to keep his secrets regarding his family name. For now. He’ll deal with it when the peanut gallery is gone.

“And Starkiller? If you’re not with the resistance what were you doing there?”

“The Force led me there.” 

The three humans blink simultaneously. Chewie simply sits there and acts like that’s a perfectly reasonable reason to be on the First Order’s stronghold base. Han groans and rubs his hand over his face. Rey catches a mumbled, ‘not this shit again.’

“The Force?” Finn questions, eyes lighting up. “But I thought you said you weren’t a Jedi?”

“You don’t have to be a Jedi to use the Force.” Hanzo’s face shifts minutely, his lips pulling downward. “My mother taught me how to wield it. But there were those are feared it, feared me and what I would become. That is how I ended up on Starkiller base. The Force me guided me there.” Hanzo’s eyes settle heavily on Han but flicker briefly to Rey. Her breath catches at the intensity she sees in his eyes. “To you.” There is a weight and solemnity behind his words that make the hairs on Rey’s arm stand on end. Han swallows and shifts uncomfortably. A thick silence settles in the cockpit.

“Hanzo?” Rey asks, breaking the quiet. She’s now the sole recipient of his deep gaze. It pulls her in like a ship caught in a planet’s gravitational force. “Why did you call me...um, are we...related?” Rey holds her breath certain that whatever Hanzo says next will either make or destroy her.

Hanzo does not hesitate to answer, giving no time for the suspense to build and squeeze her into anxiety-riddled goo.

“Yes. We are family.”

Rey wills her voice not to crack but it does, “H-how?”

Hanzo’s severe expression crumples and he looks so damn small and lost then that Rey wants nothing more than to pull the blankets tighter around him and take him far away from anything that might do him harm. It’s a startling emotion when not born from adrenaline, but it feels right. 

And with one simple sentence, Hanzo drops what feels like a Happabore on her head.

“You’re my mother.”

A beat of silence and then:

“She’s your WHAT?” Finn exclaims. Han groans louder and slumps in his seat. Rey just stands there blinking. Hanzo looks away from Rey to address Finn. 

“My mother.” Hanzo frowns and then squints up at him. “Did your hearing suffer damage on Starkiller, Uncle Finn?” Finn chokes on whatever response he was going to say and just stares at Hanzo. 

Han groans again. Chewie makes a mournful sound and pats his friend’s shoulder.

Rey stares at Hanzo. She searches for that bit of hope that had blossomed within her and plucks out with a harsh tug. 

Her upper lip curls back. “You’re— you’re lying! ” She hisses through her tears. Her expression twists in hurt that Hanzo mirrors, mouth open and eyes wide as he stares at her. “Why would you—this is a cruel joke. You disgust me.” Rey spats and begins to back out of the cockpit.

Hanzo struggles to stand. His face is open and earnest as he pleads with her. 

“No, Mother, I would never, never do that to you.” Rey shakes her head frantically. Tears roll down her face faster, hot and wet. Finn reaches for her but Rey steps out of the way. She manages to run away about five feet when Hanzo’s broken plea stops her dead in her tracks.

“No! Mother, please, come back.” A shuddering breath and then, “Don’t leave me, please !”

Come back! Come back! echoes a little girl’s voice in Rey’s head. Rey turns around slowly to see Hanzo standing in front of her. The blanket is gone, leaving him in just his underpants. Rey stares in horror at the spattering of dark bruises and slash marks that seem to cover every inch of his skin. 

Her gaze travels up to his face and Rey’s mouth goes dry. There are tears dripping past the dirt and dark moles sprinkled on his face like constellations.

Hanzo doesn’t seem to mind his state of undress, that profound gaze of his trapping her in place. He extends a scarred hand towards her. The same scars that cover her own hands from a life of working with sharp metal bits and livewire. 

“Please, Mother, you have to believe me.”

Rey shakes her head. It doesn’t make any sense. None of it does. 

“I can’t.”

Hanzo lowers his arms but steps closer to her. 

“Then look.”

Rey sniffs, “Look?” Hanzo gives Rey a nod, holding her gaze steady. His eyes go up to look at the top of his head. She realizes what he means and a deep revulsion washes over her and threatens to knock her down. “You want me to go look inside your mind ? No!” She snaps and takes a step back.

"You won't believe me otherwise."

Rey scowls. "I'm never doing that again." Hanzo frowns in confusion before his face clears in understanding. Rey doesn’t know how he can understand. Her terror and pain as Kylo invaded her mind, becoming privy to her deepest, darkest thoughts and desires; the fear and power that had enveloped her like armor when she’d torn inside his mind in turn. 

Hanzo’s voice is soft and calm. “It’s alright. You won’t hurt me. I’ll help you.”

Hanzo extends his hand again. 

Hesitantly, Rey takes it. Hanzo gives it a gentle squeeze and tells her to close her eyes. He gives her the same kind of talk Maz had told her in her castle. But this time Rey does close her eyes and lets herself feel. 

She gasps when she see Hanzo in front of her. Well, it’s not his corporeal body, no, it’s like a ball of light. It’s bright but not blinding, a heavy coat of darkness mixed inside it to temper the light. Rey peers closer and sees glittering bits inside the darkness like stars. It’s beautiful. 

The ball of light flashes and then it opens up. Rey reaches instinctively with her own light, she can feel it burning bright inside her, and she finds herself inside what must be Hanzo’s mind. 

There is a great wall made up of different scraps of metal and other materials welded together. Rey look left and right as she marvels at the grand structure. An impenetrable fortress. Rey feels a pull and heeds it. She walks along the wall for what feels like forever and then seconds. 

Rey stops when she sees the Falcon welded inside the wall. There’s a hissing sound and the platform lowers. Rey coughs and waves away the smoke. She hears a sizzling sound and then she’s screaming, a yellow lightsaber striking out from the mist. Rey trips and lands on her back. Her eyes widen as she stares up her attacker.

Her own face stares right back at from her this older version of herself. She’s wearing a different outfit and her figure is a little fuller, but it’s her. What she’ll look like in the future. A second figure emerges behind Rey’s doppelganger. Her breath hitches as her eyes travel up the length tall figure dressed in all black. For a moment she believes it to be Kylo, but it’s not. The figure is female, Rey can discern that much from what she can make of her figure. A black cloth mask covers most of her face except for her eyes, identical to Hanzo’s and therefore Rey’s.

Rey inhales shakily as the stranger looks her up and down, eyes dark and calculating. In the next instant, the Other Rey sheathes her weapon and the dark-clad warrior offers her hand. Rey takes it, albeit warily. She pulls Rey up with one tug. Rey stumbles and takes a step back to avoid falling into the giantess. The woman points at the platform that serves as the gateway into Hanzo’s mind.

“You may pass through there.” Rey is surprised to hear a young girl’s voice. Rey takes a deep breath and walks up the length of the durasteel. It hisses to a close behind her. 

Instead of walking inside the Falcon, Rey finds herself in a hallway. Rey walks forward and notes with alarm that with each step she takes she grows smaller and smaller. She tries walking back but her body refuses to listen to her. Rey begins to fight back but stops when she hears Hanzo’s voice echo in her head.

“Mother, please, stop fighting.” His voice is strained. Rey feels guilt rush in and practically goes limp. “Thank you.” He replies, audible relief in his tone.

Her eyes—no Hanzo’s eyes because she’s inside his mind—look down. Rey sees a small, pretty white flower cradled in Hanzo’s tiny hands. 

Hanzo stops at a door, halfway closed, and peeks in. She can feel his nervousness as if it was her own. Rey is surprised to see herself. She’s not as old as the Other Rey who stands guard outside Hanzo’s mind. No, this one is much closer to what Rey looks like now in the present. Only she looks...sadder and very tired as she stares down at a bundle of black cloth in her lap. Rey frowns when she realizes it’s a tattered black shirt. Why is she so upset over a shirt? Rey feels an apprehension creep into the edge of her mind. Had it belonged to someone she knew? Someone she...lost? 

Before Rey can really ponder it she feels a great well of determination stemming from Hanzo, halting her current train of thought, and snuffing out his previous anxiety. Hanzo walks into the room. This Sad Rey doesn’t seem to take notice, too immersed in her grief. 

“Mum?” Hanzo calls out tentatively. Rey watches herself start in surprise, quickly hiding the piece of clothing behind her. Hanzo stretches out his hand and offers her the flower. Sad Rey’s expression, already so soft and open—Rey doesn’t think she’s ever made a face like that before—blooms into something even softer, dare she say, maternal. 

“Is that for me?” Hanzo nods. Rey takes the little flower and smiles affectionately down at Hanzo. “I know just where to put it.” She says in a conspirational voice. Hanzo watches her as she tucks the flower behind her ear, her hair curling around it gently. 

Insecurity creeps back into Hanzo. “Do you like it?” 

Sad Rey’s face brightens in a pleased grin, “I love it. Now come here.” Hanzo is suddenly swooped into her arms, giggling as he curls there reflexively. Rey’s eyes well up as Sad Rey peppers his face in little kisses. Her mind is overwhelmed by the sheer joy and love he feels for her, for this Sad Rey. Rey wonders if she can be loved in such a way.

In the blink of an eye the scenery changes. 

Hanzo’s vision is clouded in with tears as he looks up at a group of children. Their little faces are twisted in sneers as they mock the boy. Rey’s anger burns through Hanzo’s fear. Rey growls in frustration at not being able to do anything. She hates bullies. Jakku is full of them, stealing her scavenge and kicking sand in her face.

“You want this back?” A girl, their leader Rey presumes, asks and dangles a holonovel in front of Hanzo. 

“Yes,” He says weakly. 

“Well too bad.” The girl responds with a mock-pout. Hopelessness fills Hanzo and the girl laughs as his expression falls apart, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Are you crying?” A boy asks in disbelief. Hanzo says nothing as he wipes at his eyes. Embarrassment burns hot in his mind and cheeks. He could hurt them, Hanzo thinks, could make them give it back...but Mother wouldn't like that. And he hated disappointing her. 

“He is crying.” Their leader says with malicious glee and she leans in closer to Hanzo. “Not so high and mighty without your mommy and your sis-” A fist flies out of nowhere and hits the girl right in the cheek. Rey thinks it was Hanzo, but no, he is just as surprised as her. Hanzo turns and relief nearly knocks Rey over within his mind when he sees a dark-haired girl, no older than ten, panting over the other girl’s body.

“No one,” the newcomer snarls with a viciousness that startles Rey, “and I mean no one messes with my little brother.” She looks up at the group of kids. She stares them down one by one, each one flinching or looking away when her gaze catches them. “Got it?” The gathered crowd all nod in blatant fear. “Good. Now scram!” She shouts and stomps her foot. The children all scramble like womp rats to get as far away from Hanzo’s sister—as if having one kid wasn’t enough, apparently she has two—as quickly as possible. Their leader cradles her cheek and staggers away, glaring through her tears at Hanzo’s savior.

“That’ll teach them.” His sister says, dusting her hands. She nods to herself in satisfaction once she’s sure everyone is gone. Hanzo blinks away his tears and watches her bend down and grab the holonovel the bully must have dropped in her haste to leave. She turns and Rey struggles to think outside of Hanzo’s thoughts. 

She has a son. 

She has a daughter. 

Rey watches in a stupor as her daughter extends the novel down to where Hanzo still lays on the floor.

“Lose something, lil bro?” 

Hanzo takes it and stands. 

“Thank you, Bente.” He says quietly, his voice wobbling. 

Bente. That’s her daughter’s name, Rey thinks and repeats it. Bente. Bente. Bente.

Bente pulls him in for a hug that Hanzo desperately returns. He sniffles into her shirt.

“Don’t worry. I’ll always be here to protect you.” She murmurs.

The memory changes and Rey’s blood freezes as Hanzo’s surroundings come into focus. 

He’s in a cell. There are cuffs on his wrist, dampening his connection to the Force, but not completely. He uses his fear for his sister and his mother to sharpen his mind, using whatever connection remains to carefully pick at his restraints.

Another memory. Sad Rey is standing above Hanzo with an older version of Finn and Poe behind her, blasters held in a ready position. Rey dimly recognizes they’re in the same smuggler compartment she and Finn had hidden in when hiding aboard the Falcon. 

“Don’t make any noise.” She commands and then, softer, “I’ll come back for you. I promise.” The ship shakes. Shouts echo in the background. Panic scrabbles up Hanzo’s chest and out his mouth in a pitiful mewl as Sad Rey shuts the trapdoor on them. Darkness fills his vision and terror grips Hanzo’s heart. A hand grabs his suddenly and Hanzo turns his head. Rey can just make out Bente’s face through the small gaps of light illuminating them the gaps in the grate. 

“It’s going to be okay. Mom’s going to be okay.” Hanzo nods and Rey is taken aback by the complete faith he has in his sister’s words.

A different memory, this one almost identical to the first. Hanzo is a little taller, muscles beginning to form and achy. He’s watching Rey, now her older version who’d attacked her earlier, mourn over the same black shirt. The color is slightly more faded and it’s looking a little threadbare. Other Rey lifts the shirt to her face and buries her face in it, shoulders shaking with enough force to rattle her whole body. Concern and sorrow fill Hanzo all at once. A hand settles on his shoulder. Hanzo doesn’t turn, already knowing who it is.

“Don’t worry.” Rey hears Bente say behind him. “We’ll find Dad. We have to.” Hanzo nods. Rey wonders just who their father is for her to mourn him so; if she is destined to be left behind by everyone she cares about.

Memories pass by quicker now, snippets of his life. Rey struggles to catch them but a few regrettably slip past her but the emotions they hold stick with her. Fortunately, these memories are much nicer and Rey allows herself to savor Hanzo’s warmth and contentment.

She sees through Hanzo’s eyes as his little family explores the galaxy, seeing both the best and worst the galaxy has to offer as they move from place to place. She’s there with Hanzo as he spars against Other Rey. She feels the admiration and awe he holds for her as she moves about gracefully with a yellow lightsaber. The same saber currently in Finn’s possession. That same awe and a sense of pride fill him as Other Rey demonstrates how to use his own saber: a brilliant purple.

Rey hears him chuckle, low and quiet, when Bente makes funny faces behind Other Rey’s back as she scolds him for nearly blowing up BB-8. She hears his pained hiss when he crosses the wrong wire. And his exasperated sighs whenever his sister gets herself in trouble for what has to be the sixth time in under an hour.

There’s no sense of a linear timeline to the memories. In some Hanzo is a toddler, waddling after his sister and watching the world with curiosity. In others he is a child, listening with apt attention as Other Rey teaches him how to oil a small one-wheeled droid that speaks in a polite nervous tone and calls Hanzo and Bente ‘Baby’ no matter how much Bente gripes. Hanzo is older in most of them, switching between tinkering with his droids and curled somewhere in the Falcon reading a holonovel. It seems he has a taste for romance stories Rey notes with amusement with a few academic texts sprinkled throughout his collection.

Rey is grateful that Hanzo has so many kind memories. She never would have forgiven this Other Rey if she had let her children grow up the same way she did. Alone and wanting, bereft of even the simplest pleasures. 

And, Stars, they are her children. Rey knows this deep in her bones and the knowledge makes her heart swell. 

Rey weeps in Hanzo’s mind as she watches herself tenderly tuck Hanzo into bed.

“I love you.” Sad Rey whispers softly. Rey can’t remember ever hearing those words come from her before. Much less hear them repeated back to her.

“Love you too, mommy,” Little Hanzo says sweetly.

It’s all too much, too fast. Rey pulls away abruptly and blinks blearily as she finds herself back in the Falcon. She’s vaguely aware of Han and Finn watching them, her and Hanzo having fallen to their knees while she perused his mind. Rey doesn’t pay much attention to them, all of her focus on the battered boy in front of her.

“Hanzo.” She says with meaning. She brings up a trembling hand and places it lightly on his unmarred cheek. Hanzo leans into the touch and sighs.

“Yes.”

Rey inhales shakily and she can’t stop herself, pulling him into a tight embrace. Hanzo makes no protest and hugs her just as tightly. 

Family. She has a family. And they’re here. Right in front of her. In her arms. 

Rey almost can’t believe it, but what Hanzo has shown her is real and true. Tears escape her eyes faster than Rey can blink them away. Hanzo has no such compunctions, quietly and openly weeping onto her shoulder. Rey takes a deep breath and for the first time in a very long time, she allows herself to cry in another’s presence, having been so careful to keep the softest, most tender parts of herself away from the vultures that inhabit Jakku. 

After all, the desert is no place for fragile things. 

Han watches Hanzo out of the corner of his eye. Hanzo is muttering to himself as he inspects another of Unkar Plutt’s genius modifications. The kid really shouldn’t be up and about, but he isn’t the boy’s mother— Rey is, which he still hasn’t quite wrapped his head around—and refrains from nagging the boy like Leia would have. 

Han is surprised that the boy is even awake and by himself, what with his injuries and the fact that he’s been stuck to Rey’s side like a tick since he woke up.

“Rey know you’re up here?” Han can’t help but ask. Hanzo doesn’t look up from the piece he’s still examining.

“No, she is asleep.”

Han doesn’t know how but he knows something isn’t right about him. Not in a bad he’s-a-spy-and-is-going-murder-us way, no, it’s like he’s missing something. Han has no idea what it could be, though the expression reminds him of someone. Who, Han can’t remember.

“Aren’t you a little young to be sneaking out?” Han teases, trying to get a reaction out of the boy.

“I am seventeen,” Hanzo replies evenly. That gets a reaction but not from the boy. Han blinks in shock. Chewbacca lets out a quiet, mournful trill and Han remembers that Hanzo is nothing but a baby compared to his best friend’s long lifespan. 

“Seventeen— what? But you—you look like a kid!” Han exclaims and then frowns to the side. “I mean you are a kid but still .” Han squints at Hanzo who’s simply watching him calmly. “You sure there’s not some Ewok in your family tree?”

“No,” Hanzo says and then hesitantly adds, “but my mother did say I must get it from my grandmother.”

Ah, so here were the rest of those cards Hanzo has kept hidden up till now. Guess with the big reveal earlier he felt less inclined to keep them secret.

Han keeps his voice neutral. “Thought you said Rey, er, your mom didn’t know her family.”

“She doesn’t. I was talking about my father’s mother.”

Another card is revealed.

“Who is she?”

Hanzo looks out the viewport and Han catches himself staring at his ears for a second. 

Huh.

He has drag his eyes to his face and what he sees there makes him feel more than a little guilty for prodding the boy for answers. He’s not sure which he look he prefers more: this new, mournful one or the lonely, empty one. Each is equally depressing. 

“I never knew my father’s parents either.” Hanzo sighs. “It was just me, mother, and Bente.”

“Bente?” Han asks and then trying to lighten the mood, “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No,” Hanzo says. His expression is neutral but his ears (Why were they so big? So familiar? Gods this kid is just one big deja vu. ) are steadily turning red. Han counts it as a win.

“So...I’m guessing sister?” Han wonders if Rey knows about this already. 

Hanzo nods and his shoulders droop.

“We’re twins...I-I’ve—we’ve never been apart this long before and I-I,” Ah, now Han gets why Hanzo’s gloom is so familiar. It’s not unlike the mood Leia gets in when she starts missing her own twin. 

To Han’s horror, Hanzo sniffs wetly but luckily he doesn’t start full-on bawling his eyes out. He’s never been good with crying people.

“You miss her.” Han finishes for him.

Hanzo’s voice is so small, “ Y-yes. ” Han’s heart drops at the sheer yearning and anguish there. And though his face is a match for his mother’s he looks like another lonely boy Han once knew. A boy he had lost a long time ago. 

Han has to look away at that point and his best friend looks at him in concern. Han shakes his head minutely and offers a grin that doesn’t quite cut it going by the Wookiee’s increased worry.

“Where is she?”

Gods, he hopes she’s not dead or something—

“With our father of this time.”

Han’s grip on the steering control tightens. 

“Oh.”

 He decides that’s enough questions for now. 

“Sit down, little one. Rest.” Chewie tells Hanzo and the boy obediently curls into the chair behind the Wookiee. He does it so naturally and smoothly, folding himself in a manner that takes up the least space while protecting his vital points. It’s almost as if he’s done it a thousand times before. And maybe he has, given that Han is still very much set on wrangling Rey into his crew and far away from miserable Jakku.

Not much time has passed when Han looks back at Hanzo. His hardened heart softens as the boy struggles to remain awake, eyes opening and closing. It’s a sight that Han is keenly familiar with—was, he corrects himself with a wince—and something in him just knows.

It’s the ears, he blames later. Those big, dorky ears.

“Hey, uh, kid?”

Hanzo opens his eyes and regards him curiously.

Han swallows heavily as another face overlaps Hanzo’s, this one paler and narrower. But the eyes are the same—intense and much too old. Sweat breaks out on his temple. It’s been so long since he’s been the object of such rapt focus.

“You’re Ben’s, aren’t you?”

Hanzo’s Adam's apple bobs in his throat. “Yes.”

Han sighs and sinks into the pilot’s chair.

 “Leia’s going to be happy, I guess. She always wanted grandkids.” Hanzo blinks sleepily at the mention of his grandmother. “Though I doubt this is how either of us thought it was going to happen.”

“No kidding.” Chewbacca snarks. Han laughs a little breathlessly and claps his friend on the shoulder.

“You can say that again,” Han grumbles in bewilderment.

Hanzo hums and tucks his chin into his chest, settling down again.

But Han isn’t quite done yet.

“Your sister is with Ben.” It’s not a question but Hanzo murmurs in confirmation. Han feels terrible but he has to ask, “And she’s safe?”

Hanzo hums again and then mumbles, “It’s Father ’m worried ‘bout.”

Han’s brows raise in surprise and then thinking back on how quick Ben was to anger and how he’d found Rey standing atop the edge of a cliff looking like the warriors of old and he gets it. Han chuckles, maneuvering the Falcon gently into D’Qar’s atmosphere.

“I see your point there, kid.”

Hanzo snuffles in reply.

Chapter Text

The doors to Kylo Ren’s private quarters glide shut behind Bente. She did it. Stars, she did it! Bente lets loose a hysterical giggle and slides down to the floor in an exhausted puddle. Not only has she successfully to snuck onto the Supremacy (which she pulled off thanks to her dad’s instant freebie pass-by-undeterred-because-I’m-kriffing-Kylo-Ren thingy) under Snoke’s and the First Order’s noses, but she also saved her dad’s life, dumping him at the medbay’s doors without getting caught.

Bente runs a hand through the hair that had escaped her buns. The same darkness that had permeated her dad’s other quarters swirls around in her greeting before retreating once more into the space like the last time.

“Holy shit,” Bente’s head drops back with a small thud, “I’m a stowaway on a kriffing dreadnaught.” Bente giggles a little more to herself and basks in her accomplishment before the cold durasteel starts to numb her bottom. Bente shivers and pulls the now damp cloak closer to herself. With her adrenaline finally dying down she’s finally conscious of the fact that she is freezing. Bente clambers back up on unsteady legs and ventures forward inside the area, intent on finding some dry clothes. The room is much larger than the one on Starkiller base. Bente makes a note to explore the space when she’s not on the verge of collapsing to hypothermia. 

After a bit of wandering and poking around, Bente finds her dad’s closet. 

“That’s… a lot of black,” Bente comments to herself before she begins rummaging through her dad’s clothes. Bente snatches a pair of neatly folded boxers and, after much looking, some sleep pants. Bente grabs one of the dark shirts Kylo must wear under his (totally badass) outfit and hums appreciatively at the surprisingly soft texture. She stretches it out in front of her for a better look and gasps, nearly dropping the tunic. 

She stares at the shirt in her hand. It’s the same shirt her mother has wept over for years. The only thing besides her and her brother that Ben Solo had left behind. 

“M-mom,” she chokes on the word and shakes her head roughly. 

No. She can’t deal with that now—she can’t. If she let herself think about her mom’s death, about what happened on that damned island there’ll be no coming back from that and she can’t risk losing it now. Not when she’s so deep inside enemy territory, with only a half-assed plan, and no Hanzo to calm her down. She can’t think about it now, no matter how much she wants to, needs to .

Bente chucks off her sodden clothes and quickly pulls on the clothes she picked out. She drags her now heavy limbs to the bed and flops down onto with a groan, placing her lightsaber under her pillow for easy access. She’s tempted to just drift off like that but a sudden cold draft reminds her of the warmth to be had under the covers. Bente burrows herself under the bedding—sheets, comforter, and all—and closes her eyes. It doesn’t take long for sleep to find her exhausted mind.

Kylo leaves the medbay feeling just as he did upon waking. Albeit, without death looming over him now that his injuries have been tended to, though the pain still lingers. After threatening questioning the droids and medbay personnel, he is still no closer to finding out how he got off Starkiller base and onto the Supremacy. 

“It's okay.” Hanzo murmurs kindly. "I forgive you, father."

He growls in frustration, trying to shoo away the memory and winces as the action pulls at the healing tissue on his face. Kylo continues his course to his rooms. 

Unfortunately for him, his subconscious is determined in its quest to torture him even in his waking hours.

“There is light inside you. Light you will never be rid of. You can deny it all you want, try and kill it, but the light is in your nature.”

He wrestles his anger the unbidden memory stirs and channels it into his gait, footsteps falling loud and heavy. The pathway to his chambers is thankfully empty, everybody seemingly sensing the knight’s foul mood and making an effort to avoid his route lest they fall underfoot. 

Kylo fists his hands, the leather of his gloves creaking, and turns his focus elsewhere. He has no time to ruminate over the words of a dead boy. Not when there are more pressing matters at hand. 

Like the mystery of how he got off that kriffing planet?!

Kylo wracks through his memories, absently-mindedly punching in the code for his rooms. It’s a futile effort. The only clue his muddled memory can procure is a blurry image of a dark figure knelt in front of him.

 He is so thoroughly distracted trying to clear up the picture in his memories, he fails to realize anything is amiss and steps right over the pile of wet clothes on his bedroom floor. It’s only when a loud snore rattles him from his thoughts that he finally notices he is not alone.

Kylo blinks incredulously down at the sleeping figure in his bed. For a brief moment he thinks he’s accidentally entered the wrong chambers, but no that can’t be it, those were his codes he entered and they would only work on his room. 

He takes a step back and nearly trips over the heap of sopping clothes. He looks back at the head of lush black hair with growing dread. 

Why is there a… Kylo uses the hilt of his lightsaber and draws back his blankets... child in my bed? 

Revulsion fills him and he drops the blanket. How dare they send him a child—for that’s what she is, her face still soft with youth and not yet weighed down with sin—in hopes of seducing him!? Kylo knows he’s a monster but he not that type of monster!

He glances back at the clothes and the puddle steadily growing under them. His brows furrow. There’s something... wrong about all this. Other than the child in his bed, that is. 

Kylo crouches and examines the clothing.  Ah, so not a seductress, he thinks in relief. The clothes are well-worn, having been patched a number of times. They’re a mix of earthy browns and soft greys. Clearly not the silky garments of a seductress.

She has good taste, though . Kylo drops the high-quality cloak and stands back up. He goes back to where the girl is deep asleep. In his bed. 

His. Bed. 

Kylo blinks again, completely stumped. 

Resisting the urge to frown he reaches out with the Force, intent on solving the mystery. He brushes against her mind, careful neither to harm nor wake her. He’s committed many great atrocities in his life, but he has always tried to spare at least the younglings he came across, turning a blind eye to their hiding spots or when they ran. 

Kylo pointedly does not think of those he could not let go. Of their little tear-streaked faces frozen in terror as the stormtroopers aimed their blasters.

Of the bleeding, lost boy kneeling in the snow before him.

“It’s okay.”

Kylo is distracted from his thoughts as he makes contact with the girl’s mind. He expects resistance. Even those not trained in the Force have some kind of barrier, feeble as it is. But, no, Kylo is practically welcomed inside her mind. He would be appalled if she wasn’t a potential threat.  

Her mind is a flurry of activity in her sleep as she dreams. It’s not a nightmare, thankfully, as the fear would have hindered his mission. No, the dream is peaceful. Unlike his. Kylo can sense warmth and contentment. He thinks about peeking in but quickly dismisses the thought. The longer he lingers, the more at risk her mind is. And it’s difficult to extract information from a broken mind. It’s not impossible but he’d like to avoid that particular outcome if he can.

Kylo probes gently past her dream and into her subconscious. Again, he expects her mind to finally recognize him as a foreign entity and reject him but there is no reaction. It’s almost as if she...recognizes him. Kylo waves the ridiculous thought aside. That can’t be, he’s never even seen this girl before today. 

He senses no ill intent from the girl. No dastardly assassination plans for himself or that carefully controlled bitter-sour anger that he’s come to associate with Resistance spies. He feels her grief, fresh and raw, but that is common in wartime and he ignores it. 

Kylo catches a thread of fear and follows it, curious. She’s scared, but not for herself or her circumstances, no she’s scared for someone. An image is forming in her mind. Someone close to her. Kylo can just make out the shape of the person’s face—brown hair and tanned skin. She loves them, deeply and truly. Friend? No, the sentiments are too strong for that. Lover? No, that doesn’t feel right. Family member? Yes, yes, that fits— 

Kylo is startled out of her mind by particularly loud snore. He hurriedly looks at the girl’s face, fearing he’d torn something with his hasty exit. But no, the youngling is perfectly fine. 

She rolls onto her side so she’s facing him properly and mumbles something in her sleep that sounds like ‘bother’? Or maybe ‘smother’?

Kylo is at a loss. He stares down at her and thinks about what he should do. He’s contemplating just calling someone else to deal with her when her eyes flutter open. She jolts and inhales sharply at the sight of him looming over her, although she is quick to settle down. As if waking up to someone staring at her is a normal occurrence. 

Kylo’s expression evens out and he looks coldly down at her. He opens his mouth to demand answers: who she is, why is she in his bed, and—are those my clothes?

He watches incredulously as the girl yawns loudly, looking right at home in his bed as she sits up, revealing that they are indeed his clothes. She stretches her arms above her head. There’s a small pop sound and she lowers her arms with a satisfied groan. 

Kylo has never felt more out of his element than he does then. His mouth opens and closes soundlessly, questions tripping over themselves in his mind. She raises an eyebrow at him and then rolls her eyes. 

At him. Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren. Apprentice to the Supreme Leader Snoke and heir to Darth Vader. 

He blinks at her in disbelief, voice stolen from him. Hers, however, works just fine.

“Well, I guess I know now where he gets that from.” The intruder mutters to Kylo’s increasing confusion. She rubs her eyes with a closed fist. “I see you’re still alive.” Her voice is dry and carries a slight accent. It’s similar to the scaven—no! No, he will not think about her or the boy. 

The girl cocks her head and peers up at him with curious eyes. Kylo observes her in turn, his brain not capable of much else. She looks...an awful lot like him, he realizes in mute shock. He looks away, uncomfortable at the realization and what it could mean. 

Bente continues to watch him with something akin to fascination and disbelief. Kylo is baffled with how at ease she is in his presence, her body relaxed and loose. Surely she must have some sense of self-preservation. 

Belatedly, Kylo realizes he doesn’t have his mask. He squashes the childish urge to duck down and hide beneath his hair.

The girl smirks suddenly and juts her chin towards the wounded part of his face. 

“That’s gonna leave a wicked cool scar.” Then as if sharing a private joke she chuckles, “Trust me. I know.”

Irritation prickles at Kylo, the novelty of the girl’s sudden appearance fading fast. Trust her? She is an unknown, an intruder and potential threat to himself and the First Order. For all he knows she can be an assassin, trying (and succeeding) to throw him off guard in what will be an ultimately fruitless endeavor to end his life. She would not be first nor the last. Though she would be the first child sent after him. Exactly the kind of dirty play he expected from the Resistance. 

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” the girl continues conversationally and unaware of his rising ire, “some girls like a few scars here and there. Adds to the whole bad boy look.”

Okay, that’s it. Kylo has had enough of this nonsense, ignoring the heat creeping up his neck. Who is this insolent girl to trespass into his private quarters, sleep in his bed, and—he notices she’s wearing his favorite sleep pants—steal his favorite sleep pants?! 

Kylo walks forward and looms above her in an attempt to intimidate her. “Who are you?” He demands, a dangerous edge to his voice. “What do you think you’re doing in my quarters?” 

Instead of becoming fearful or defensive like he expects the youngling grins excitedly up at him. 

“Glad you asked, old man. The name’s Bente.” The girl springs up out of the bed before he can process her words. Kylo takes an instinctive step back and prepares himself for an attack. He curses himself for not detaining her sooner. The darksider’s internal chastisement comes to a halt as the following buffoonery unfolds before him.

“GAH! Stupid kriffing blankets!” The girl—Bente, his mind supplies—curses loudly. Kylo relaxes his stance slowly as he watches her fight against the blankets where they’ve twisted around her legs. She gives the cloth a hearty tug that sends her toppling off the bed with a squeak. 

Instinctively, Kylo reaches out with the Force and stops her from face-planting on the durasteel floor. He quickly lets go, taken aback by his instinctual concern for this stranger. Kylo takes another step back and watches her go about untangling herself from his blankets.

“Ugh, thanks for the save,” Bente groans and flings the offending covers away. Kylo just stares her as she gets to her feet. They’re eye-to-eye now, a rare feat considering that Kylo towers nearly over everyone by a good foot or two. Her eyes, a familiar hazel, study him in again in open wonder. Kylo returns her gaze once again at a loss. Her eyes. They remind Kylo of the boy and the scaveng— damn it! No!

Bente’s face breaks out into a sheepish smile. “Hehe, sorry ‘bout that.” She lifts her leg up under the knee and swings it back and forth. “Mum says I’ll grow into them. Tells me I get it from my dad.” She winks at him. 

Winks. 

At him.

“Who are you ?” He finds himself asking again, less forceful and more in bewilderment. Bente tilts her head to the side, a few stray strands of her hair swinging to the side. The action catches Kylo’s attention. Her hair is an inky black—much like his—and long, the unruly waves pulled back...in four distinctive buns. 

Bente blinks those eyes at him. She’s not really looking at him anymore, not his face but deeper, past flesh and bone and straight into his soul. His eyes widen and he takes another step back not unlike a cornered animal.

 “I think you know the answer to that question.”

Kylo’s breaths are coming in faster now and he clenches his fists to keep his hands from trembling. 

Bente’s brows furrow, her gaze losing some of its intensity in face of her concern.

“Uh, you okay there? You’re looking a little peaky there, pops.”

Old man.

Pops.

“Well, I mean you did just almost die today. Should you be even walking around? Here, sit down, there we go—oh man you do not look good. Are you going to barf? Hold on let me find a bucket or a helmet or something.”

Dad.

His hand shoots out and grabs her wrist before she can leave. She stops and stares at him. He lets go of her, her skin cold and wet and too real.

Kylo’s eyes flicker all over her face, his head feeling light and heavy all at once. He takes in her long nose, her narrow face, her full, chapped lips, and those kriffing ears!

“No, no,” he mutters and shakes his head. He dodges her hands when she reaches for him. “It’s not possible. I’ve never even—grrrr ! I-It just can’t be!” He cradles his head and tries to banish the image of the girl’s face. How it overlaps over his and the scaveng—NO!

“Uh, look, I know it’s crazy. Like fucking insane, trust me I know , and you’re freaking out right now but I really need you to try and calm down before you have a stroke or something.”

“No!” He shouts. The furniture rattles noisily in the background. The Force sizzles loudly around them, joining the heavy thudding of his heart as it beats erratically in his chest. “It’s a LIE! A trick!” A dirty little lie. A cheap trick from the light. That’s all this is. Nothing more. 

He lifts his head, eyes wide and wild, sweat dripping beading his brow. Her eyes— those eyes —stare back at him.

She’s not real. She can’t be. Because if she’s real then that means so is the boy—

“I forgive you, father.”

He stammers, “The—the boy—oh gods, I—I didn’t know.” his voice is desperate and scrapes his throat as he repeats, “I didn’t know, oh gods, I didn’t know.”

“Well, you should have,” Bente accuses hotly and grabs his hand, placing it on her chest. “We’re yours ! Can’t you feel it?”

And Kylo does feel it. He feels the dark—him—and the light— Rey, he thinks reverently—and it’s all tied together by something that is purely Bente. He’d felt the same thing from Hanzo but had been so blinded by his anger he did not recognize the connection for what it was.

Oh gods, he murdered his own son . 

Something in him threatens to break irreparably at the horrid realization. His head is light and, kriff, he can’t—he can’t breathe ! Where has all the air gone!?

“Hey, hey, Hanzo’s alright,” Bente says softly. She is kneeling in front of him and he can feel her warmth and light. How it flows from her to him and wraps around him. He clings to it desperately.  “A little worse for wear but alive .”

Kylo inhales sharply, his vision blurring. Thank the Maker!

“Damn it. How am I supposed to punch you now?” Bente murmurs sorrowfully. Kylo’s breath shudders out of him at her expression. He can’t remember the last time someone looked at him with such tenderness. 

The lights flicker on and off wildly behind the Bente’s head, painting in her shadow then light. 

Shadow. Light. Shadow. Light.

“It’s not a trick or a lie, you know.” She squeezes his hand and Kylo has to fight not to pull it back. “I’m real. Promise.” Kylo flinches as she reaches forward with her free hand, her fingertips stopping an inch from his head. He could push her away, grab her pale throat and—snap!—rid himself of her. He won’t, though. Bile rises up in the back of his throat at the mere thought. 

He looks into her eyes and swallows heavily at what he sees there. The Force is roaring, pulling him towards this gangly girl and whispering secret truths in his ear like it had when the boy in the forest had been kneeling before him, blood dribbling down his lips. He’d had the same look in his eyes then too.

What is happening? Kylo thinks, terrified. What is this?

“It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.” She smiles warmly, eyes honey-brown now instead of the hard-rock brown they were before. He looks up at her hand. It’s trembling. “I feel it too.” Her fingertips touch his forehead and Kylo braces himself for the intrusion. He should be used to it. His head has never truly been his.

Silence. 

Kylo opens his eyes, not sure when he closed them. The furniture has stopped shaking and the lights have stopped blinking. The Force is... silent. Everything is. He looks at Bente for answers but her eyes are shut in concentration.

Suddenly there’s a roar in his ears and his head throbs like it did that one time when he’d been shot in the head point-blank with his mask on. And then he’s hurtling inside her mind.

Images flash before his eyes, almost too fast for him to catch. 

Almost.

He sees the girl before him in reflections, younger versions of herself. He sees a boy, the boy from the forest. His face is younger and unmarred, smiling at him—at her. 

Brother. 

The love and protectiveness she feels for him is profound and deeply imbedded in her sense of self.

Next is the traitor, FN-2187. He’s older now. He’s shaking his head at him—her—in fond exasperation. The Resistance pilot, Poe Dameron, pops up, telling the traitor he’ll make Bente clean up the mess and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.

Uncle Finn. Uncle Poe

Kylo’s chest squeezes tight in pain when he sees Chewbacca. He watches through the girl’s eyes as she scrambles up the Wookie’s back like Ben Solo had done once a very long time ago.

Grandpa Chewie.

One last image flashes across his eyes and it sears itself into his brain. 

It’s the scavenger from Jakku. 

Rey.

She’s older, like Bente’s uncles. There are lines around her eyes and a deep sadness even when she smiles down at him—her— but there is love there too. The sight makes him ache.

Mum.

Kylo gasps and his head hits the wall behind him with a loud thunk. They’re both sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom. His face is wet and his wounds are screaming at him. Kylo pays them no mind, his attention solely on the girl in front of him.

Bente stands up and places her hands on her hips. His eyes follow the motion and he spots the hilt of what appears to be a crudely made lightsaber clipped to her—his—sleep pants.

“You—you’re m-my,” He’s stammering like a fool, Kylo knows, but the words refuse to come out properly. To say it is to give it form. To give it form is to make it real. And if it is real then it is true.

“Bente.” She grins at him. His words only further catch in his throat. That grin. A memory of his father comes unbidden, grinning that same grin and ruffling his hair. “Bente B. Solo at your service, your darkness.” She bends at the waist in a dramatic bow.

Kylo finally finds his voice then. “You’re mine .” 

It is not a question but Bente answers it, all the same.

“Yes,” her cocky, joking demeanor changes into something softer; vulnerable, “ yours .”

His head swims as he clambers to his feet. 

“Woah, woah, watch it, Dad.” Bente’s hands come down on his shoulders to steady him. She looks at him in concern.

Kylo blinks rapidly but her expression does not change. If anything, she gets more worried as the action causes his tears to fall down faster.

He swallows and lifts up his hand, tentatively settling it on Bente’s shoulder. 

He wants to hold her close but everything he’s ever touched...he just ruins it all. So he settles for squeezing her shoulder awkwardly, careful to keep his touch light. Apparently, this mockery of an embrace won’t do for her because the next thing he knows, he’s got a mouthful of dark hair and a throbbing foot where she steps on him as Bente practically throws herself into his arms. 

“Dad, oh gods, I can’t believe it’s actually you.” 

Kylo feels something wet soaking the collar of his shirt. It’s when Bente starts shaking against him and her words turn into intelligible sobs that he realizes she is crying. 

And his arms are just there lying limply at his side like an idiot. 

Slowly, he wraps one arm around her back and the other cradles the back of her head. She shakes harder in his hold and Kylo just holds her that much closer. He’s probably holding her too tightly. It’s been so long since he held another person without the intent to harm, he doesn’t know if he’s doing it right. He’s pretty much just smooshed her against him but Bente doesn’t protest. In fact, she just clings to him tighter, burying her face deeper into his neck on his uninjured side. He presses his mouth to the back of her head and closes his eyes, breathing her in. 

She smells like saltwater, sweat, and wet leather. It’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever smelled.

For the first time in probably is his whole life, Kylo feels at peace.

And then it’s over. Just like everything good that has ever happened to him.

A crackle rips through the bubble Kylo’s found himself in and pops it. His eyes snap open as lieutenant Mitaka’s voice filters through the portable comm attached to his belt.

“Sir? Supreme Leader Snoke has requested your presence. Immediately.” 

Kylo fingers curl into Bente’s hair and side. Snoke knows he’s failed. Bente makes a concerned noise and squeezes him once.

The boy— his son —had thwarted his attempt at his father’s life. At snuffing the last dredges of light inside him. And for a moment he’d been relieved as his lightsaber had fallen from his hand and his father retreated. That relief, before the dark consumed him, worried him. It meant he hadn’t truly wanted to kill his father; meant that Ben Solo is not truly dead and gone. That his father was right; Hanzo was right. It would have broken him; destroyed him.  

The fact that his own son had traveled through space and time from the future to stop him, risking his life to save Han, unsettled him deeply. 

Unsettled him because he felt doubt. He doubted the Supreme Leader: his vision, the mission, and everything that led him here. And doubt was a very dangerous thing to have. If Snoke so much as sensed an inkling of it, he isn’t sure if he’d survive the encounter. And he can’t let that happen, not with the precious cargo he’s currently holding in his arms at risk from such a fallout. 

He’s been lucky so far, the Supreme Leader having mercifully decided to leave his mind be for the moment as he deals with the aftermath of Starkiller base’s destruction.

It meant Bente was safe. For the moment. 

“Sir?” Mitaka’s questions uncertainly.

Kylo slowly pulls away from Bente who reluctantly allows it. He reaches for his comm, ignoring Bente’s worried gaze, and, after clearing his throat, answers back an affirmative. The fact that his voice doesn’t break is a minor miracle.

Kylo pockets his comm and walks out of the room. Bente trails after him, her bare feet filling the silence.

“Dad?” Bente asks tentatively as the two walk into what serves as Kylo’s study. There are holopads scattered here and there.

“Yes?” He responds and presses a panel in the wall to reveal his spare helmet. He takes it and turns around to face the teen as her silence lengthens.

Bente flexes her fingers and meets his eyes nervously. Kylo watches her in quiet confusion. 

“Are you going to take me to him?” Bente takes in a deep breath. “To Snoke?”

“What?” Kylo recoils, his grip on his mask almost losing its hold. “No! Of course not.”

Bente frowns, “But he’s your master.” Her eyes widen fearfully. “Wait, what if he already knows I’m here? Oh gods, if gets me then he’ll find out about mom and Hanzo—”

“Bente!” Kylo interrupts. Bente stares at him wide-eyed. Kylo winces and then softer, “I’m not going to take you to him.” The thought of his master getting his hands on his daughter fills him with equal amounts of rage and revulsion. 

Bente squints at him. “Why not?” She asks, genuinely curious. 

Kylo contemplates her answers. He should take her Snoke, it’s what he’s supposed to do but he...does not want to. If Snoke gets his decrepit hands on her he’ll try and turn her into a caricature of himself. And he knows Bente will resist because she is his and Rey’s and if she’s anything like them she’ll fight with everything she has to keep her hold on the light; stubborn and desperate. 

His master will order her death once he realizes that Bente will not bend to him and the dark. Kylo knows she won’t turn; can’t turn, not when she lives in both the dark and the light. Stars, he’s never seen such balance. It’s breathtaking and fills him something that feels suspiciously like hope.

And then, knowing his master, Snoke will undoubtedly order him to do it, to prove his commitment to the dark that is slipping the longer he stands in Bente’s presence.

Kylo can not—will not—let that come to pass. So he’ll hide her for now, his secret, and he’ll protect her until he can get her somewhere safer. Somewhere very far away from Snoke.

And himself.

“Because you’re mine,” Kylo answers finally, not sure how to put everything into words. But it is enough for Bente. She nods to herself, satisfied with his answer.

“Okay, I’ll stay here and you,” she grabs his helmet from his hands and places it on his head, “ will go see that ugly sithspawn and not die.” She pats the cool metal of his mask and grins at him. “I can only save your ass so many times in one day.”

“So it was you.” The voice modulator masks his wonder and exasperation. Bente senses it regardless and laughs.

“Yes!” Her face darkens suddenly and she points at him, her lips curling. BLOOD PRESSURE RISING BY .2% his visor tells him. “You’re fucking lucky I didn’t just let you die for what you did to Hanzo.” Guilt, his old friend, curdles in his gut. Kylo does nothing as Bente snarls at him and points at his face. “The minute that heals up we’re going to spar.” Her teeth flash sharp and white under the overhead lights. “And I’m going to shatter your fucking nose.”

“That is fair.” It’s not. He deserves so much worse. So much.

“It isn’t.” Bente agrees with a huff and begins walking back to his bedroom. “Don’t wake me up unless the ship is on fire.” A pause. “Or you have candy.”

Seems she inherited his sweet tooth.

“Understood.” He replies. 

He checks on Bente before he leaves and finds her snuggled back up in his bed just like how she’d been when he first stumbled upon her. 

His master will not find her. Kylo puts up his shields and reinforces, taking his memories of Bente and tucking them away deep inside of himself with the other memories and dreams that he’d hid years ago, never allowing Snoke’s taint near them. Hopes and emotions he has kept locked away from even himself.

Kylo does not hesitate—there can be no hesitation—when he reaches his master’s audience chamber. He checks his mental shields one more time and steps out of the turbolift.

Snoke’s laughter echoes around in the great chamber. 

“Tied on a string indeed, General Hux, well done. The Resistance will soon be in our grasp.”

“Thank you, Supreme Leader.” 

Kylo stamps down his irritation when Hux sneers haughtily at him as he walks past. 

Snoke’s eyes turn to him and his eyes harden. Kylo’s stride does not falter despite the sudden urge to run back to his chambers and flee with Bente in tow. He squashes the thought before it can fully take form and kneels before his master.

“Kylo Ren,” Snoke greets, disdain filtering his voice, “how nice of you to finally join me.”

 He nearly bites his tongue off as bolts of lightning run through him.

Bente opens her eyes when she senses her father is far away enough. She stands to her feet, face placid and limbs jerking like a puppet, and exhales heavily.

And finally allows herself to let go.

Bente’s lightsaber comes to life with a hiss and she lunges at the wall with a wretched wail that will never fully encompass the sheer magnitude of what she has lost.

Mom! 

Bente doesn’t flinch as hot little pieces of durasteel glance off her. The smell of melted durasteel and burnt wool fill her nostrils as she takes in a deep breath.

You promised you’d never leave us! So WHY!? Why did you leave us!?

Bente screams intelligibly and strikes harder.

FP-1010 and her patrol partner stop short at the muffled, angry shouts echoing from Kylo Ren’s chambers. 

“You know what? I think I heard something back over there.” FP-1010 says.

The stormtrooper nods in silent agreement. In unison, they slowly backtrack, heading back the way they came from and very far away from Kylo Ren’s quarters.

Man, those rumors weren’t kidding.

Chapter Text

“The mighty Kylo Ren.” Snoke lifts a finger and another ray of lighting is added to join the other four tormenting Kylo. The Praetorian guards observe the scene apathetically. “Such a pitiful sight you make.” Snoke murmurs regretfully and relents his attack, the purple lightning disappearing just as quickly as it came.

Kylo drops to the floor with a gasp, body jerking roughly. His lungs rattle as he gulps down fresh air. He can feel Snoke watching him panting like a dog on the floor, his nose too bloodied to breathe through. He doesn’t bother getting up, having learned to wait till his master spoke. 

Snoke watches the fallen darksider with something between disappointment and carefully controlled anger. 

“Rise, my apprentice, I have questions that require answers.”

Kylo wordlessly rises to his knees and no higher, head bowed low and exposing the back of his neck. The sound of his pained breaths is the only sound in the throne room. Snoke’s ire is abated temporarily at the show of submission. His long fingers drum in a graceful arch on the arm of his throne as he contemplates his apprentice.

“Tell me about this boy, Hanzo, I believe his name is.”

“He is nobody,” Kylo says almost too quickly. He bites his tongue and speaks slower, “Simply a child playing hero in a war he knows nothing about.”

Snoke’s eyes watch him closely and Kylo fights hard to keep his body language respectfully neutral. He’s never been more thankful for his mask.

“A nobody you say? Yet he wielded not one but two sabers.” Snoke’s face pinches. “One yellow and the other purple.”

“He is no longer of importance. We should—”

Snoke stands suddenly and Kylo has to fight the very real instinct to flee. “He’s ‘no longer of importance’ you say? Who are you decide what is of importance?” Kylo nearly bites his tongue off as a bolt of lightning racks through his body once more. “Know your place, Kylo Ren.” The Supreme leader grits out. Sweat drips down Kylo’s face and back in a steady stream. 

“The boy is dead.” His tongue is thick and heavy in his mouth, blood pooling around it where he nipped it. “He was untrained and weak-willed. He fell down easily.”

Snoke’s expression twists in disappointment. “A pity. And the staff?” 

“Lost with the planet’s destruction.” As far as he knows, that is.

Snoke’s expression deepens. “And what of the scavenger?”

Kylo swallows and lowers his eyes. “I...I do not know.” The answer makes his stomach sink knowing that it’s not the one his master is looking for. And he’s right, going by the way Snoke’s eyes narrow down to two pinpricks of ice. Kylo keeps himself still when Snoke clambers to his feet. 

“You don’t know?” He asks slowly and walks down the steps to where Kylo kneels. His guards observe his descent with watchful eyes. Kylo doesn’t look up, knowing better to appeal to Snoke’s grandiose sense of self with his show of submission than to satisfy his curiosity. 

Snoke speaks, his voice gaining traction, “Tell me again how is it that you, Master of the Knights of Ren, with all your years of training and the strength of your blood, were bested by a girl who’s never held a lightsaber!? You’ve not only failed to kill your father, attempts thwarted by a child, but you also failed to bring the girl to me! She lives! Skywalker lives. Hope lives. What with the seed of the Jedi out there, poisoning their minds and filling them with hope.” Snoke’s voice is mournful just as it is mocking, “And here I thought you would be the one to snuff it out.”

Kylo does not speak. All his attention is focused inwards, careful to keep his true thoughts and emotions hidden as Snoke reflexively pours through his mind. He walks back to his throne and sits down.

“I want the girl and Skywalker found,” Snoke commands solemnly. He looks down at Kylo. “Do not fail me again, my apprentice. Next time I will not be so lenient. Go,” he waves his hand towards the turbolift, “and lick your wounds.”

Kylo gets to his feet, knees creaking and muscles trembling, and takes his leave.

His feet take him automatically to his room, his body on autopilot as his mind pours over his new orders. While he couldn’t give a womp rat’s ass about Luke Skywalker he does worry over what he is to do about Rey. He can’t give her to Snoke. Not only becuase it’s a terrible idea—Rey would just get herself killed, the stubborn woman— but Bente would never allow her mother to come anywhere near harm’s way. 

Kylo taps in his codes to his room, cursing when his hand spasms and the door rejects his failed attempt. He rips off his helmet to better see and becuase he can’t stand its suffocating presence any longer. He punches in the codes again and it’s a miracle the pad doesn’t crumble under his anger. The doors slide open and Kylo walks through and stops, his thoughts coming to a screeching halt.

His lightsaber is out and spitting in response to his emotions as he surveys the destroyed space. There are slash marks in the walls, their jagged edges still glowing a soft orange. 

“Bente!” He calls out sharply, eyes taking in the destruction and searching for intruders. Had someone found out about Bente? Who? Kylo takes a step forward. Is she alright? Is she hurt? His teeth threaten to crack and his grip tightens on his saber at the thought of someone harming so much as a hair on Bente’s head. 

Kylo’s head snaps in the direction of his bedroom. There. Someone is over there. He walks quickly, mindful to keep his footsteps silent for once. He will not risk Bente’s safety. Kylo takes a few deep breaths to steady his grip and gather his strength for a fight. He exhales forcefully and whips into the room, staring down the blade of his lightsaber at the intruder.

Bente blinks wet eyes at him, mouth open in surprise. Kylo stares back at her, arm already lowering his weapon. His mask falls to the floor with a loud clang!

“Bente?” He looks around but finds nobody else. “What happened? Are you alright?” A tear slips down Bente’s cheeks and Kylo starts. “Are you—why are you crying?”

“I’m not!” Bente replies defensively and hastily wipes at her face. 

Kylo watches her, feeling lost and adrift. He hopes this won’t be a common theme in their interactions. He’s...he’s not good at these kinds of things. He still doesn’t know how to deal with his own turbulent emotions much less another’s.

Bente sniffs and looks up at him. Only it’s like she’s looking through him like she’d done before.

“You’re…” she cocks her head to the side and squints at him. “...hurt, aren’t you?”

Kylo opens his mouth to deny it when his body decides then to spasm dramatically, making his hold on his lightsaber falter. It clatters to the floor, deactivated, though that doesn’t matter much given the state of the rest of his room.

Bente nods, “Yeah, you’re hurt. C’mon, big guy.” She grabs his hand and leads him over to his bed, the only thing untouched in the sea of chaos. “Sit down and let me take a looksie.”

Kylo allows himself to be manhandled and sits where Bente tells him to. She takes stock of his injuries and winces.

“Jeesh, Dad, I didn’t think you could look worse but you sure proved me wrong.”

Kylo gives her an unimpressed look. If it had been anybody else...well…

Bente grins cheekily in response and darts off to his ‘fresher room. She returns with a few damp hand towels and gently wipes away at the blood on his face.

Kylo watches her as she tends to him. Her eyes are focused and her tongue sticks out as she carefully wipes around his wound. It still stings no matter how careful she is but he makes sure to keep that fact to himself. 

“Why were you crying?”

Bente pauses at the sudden question but continues her work. 

“Why does anybody cry? Becuase they’re sad.”

“And you’re… you’re sad?” Kylo asks, the question awkward on his tongue but Bente doesn’t say anything about it. She puts down the dirtied towel and picks up another, dabbing at his mouth where the blood from his bitten tongue must have leaked.

“Yeah.”

Bente finishes cleaning him and raises a hand to his face, lifting a brow. Kylo nods minutely, granting her permission. Kylo lets out a soundless sigh as warmth floods from her to him, chasing away the pain and darkness and settling in the gaps left behind in their absence, knitting him back together.

“Why are you sad?” He asks softly. 

Bente looks at him and her eyes are pained and heavy with sorrow. Kylo wants nothing more to bundle her up in his cloak and take her somewhere safe and warm and happy. Except he doesn’t know a place like that. But he’ll search for one if that is what she needs, won’t stop until he finds it.

“My mom is dead.” Bente whispers and her warmth stutters to a halt, leaving him cold and numb.

“W-what?” He chokes out. No, that can’t be. Rey had been alive the last time he’d seen her...except the last time he’d seen had been on a crumbling planet. What if she hadn’t escaped? What if—

“Before we came here, she—she just threw her life away trying to protect us and now,” Bente’s shoulders shake, “we’re here in the past and she’s alive, you’re alive and—and Hanzo is far away where I can’t protect him and I—I just don’t know what to do anymore.” She looks up at him with teary eyes. Imploring; seeking answers. Comfort. 

Kylo has no idea what to do. He has no experience with crying people (well not anybody he couldn’t simply walk from) much less crying girls. He takes a deep breath and decides to wing it. He reaches out and slowly wraps his arms around Bente, giving her time to reject the embrace if it wasn’t something she needed. Thankfully, it’s the right thing to do. Bente melts into the hug, wrapping her arms tight around his middle and practically crawling into his lap. 

“I’ll help you find him.” Kylo murmurs into her hair. Bente shudders in his hold. Her grip tightens almost painfully.

“Thank you,” Bente says and buries her wet nose into his neck. Kylo takes it in stride and just holds her, safe and warm. 

As if the universe is intent on interrupting everything good in his life, a loud growl echoes in the room. Kylo instinctively pulls Bente to his chest, her legs wrapping around him like a small animal would with a tree. His lightsaber is raised and ready for the threat when he hears the growl again...only it sounds more like a gurgle...and it’s coming from…

Kylo looks at Bente incredulously. Her cheeks are pink and she shrugs her shoulders sheepishly.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any food around here, do you?”

Kylo exhales raggedly and switches his lightsaber off.

“Yes, I do. Wait here.”

Stars, he’s going to have grey hair by the time this is all over.

Rey hurts. Everything hurts. But at the same time, it doesn’t. The gaping hole in her soul is sated and silent for the first time since the Battle of Exogol.

Something hard and metal is pushing insistently at her arm. Rey weakly cracks her eyes open and looks down.

Her mouth twitches in a smile against the rocky ground, water dribbling down her pale lips.

“H—hey, D-0.” As soon as the words leave her mouth Rey is plagued by a coughing fit determined to return her back to the realm of the dead. D-0 immediately erupts in a cacophony of panicked binary. 

Ah , is Hanzo's first thought upon his return to consciousness. Not dead, I see. His second thought is much more panicked, realizing he’s no longer on the Falcon and has no idea where he is.

“Calm, little Han, we are safe.” Chewbacca’s voice brokers through his alarming thoughts. “With the Resistance. Han brought you here.”

“‘N the others? ‘y mother?” 

“With Leia."

Hanzo’s mind settles somewhat at that and relaxes onto the cot they’d laid him down in. A medic comes by a few minutes later, surprised to see him. Hanzo supposes he’s still supposed to be resting. He would have gone back to sleep if he could, it would certainly speed up his recovery, but he just can’t. His skin feels too tight, body aching, and senses raw with so many strangers around.

“You’re lucky to be alive let alone conscious.” The medic tells Hanzo with quirked lips. Hanzo blinks slowly in response. She goes on to explain his injuries and their effects into more depth. Hanzo tries his best to pay attention but it’s hard. Her voice is both too loud and too far away. 

The medic eventually finishes patching him up before walking over to tend to Chewbacca who, like his best friend before he married, shamelessly flirts with the pretty woman. 

Hanzo shifts uncomfortably. There are so many people here. All talking, shouting orders, scurrying here and there, the scent of cheap alcohol, sweat, and fear permeating the air. Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut and tries to drown them out. But it’s just too many sights, too many sounds, too many smells.

Too much life.

They had rarely traveled to the city, it was simply too risky. Their faces were plastered everywhere— wanted criminals that they are. It would be too easy for somebody to recognize his mother or him and his twin. They stuck mainly to sparsely populated planets and systems. And when they did have to stop somewhere more densely populated Hanzo always opted to stay with the Falcon while Rey and Bente did what they had to/explored the city. Only rarely did he venture into the city and never by himself, Bente always managing to wheedle him into the cities with promises of taking him to buy a new holonovel or to check out the planet’s library.

And now here he is at the heart of Resistance base surrounded by so many people it’s a miracle there’s enough air to go around. Hanzo wishes not for the first time that Bente or mother were with him. Alas, Bente is off gallivanting on a dreadnaught with their father while Rey is busy bringing his grandparents up to speed on recent events.

Hanzo checks on Chewie. He’s busy chatting the medic up. Hanzo slides off the bench, heedful of his many injuries, and slips out of the room. He keeps his head bent down and tries his best to ignore the overwhelming life around him. He only just begins to relax when he’s back on the Falcon, tucked away in one of the ship’s many hidey-holes. 

Though this one in particular is special to him; his very own slice of heaven. It lacks the nest of blankets and pillows he’d gathered over time and the small shelf he built for his holonovels in the future. But that’s alright with Hanzo so long as it’s quiet and dark.

Hanzo tucks himself into the corner of the small compartment and closes his eyes. The pain in his body is pushed to the side for the time being, letting him focus. He falls into meditation as easy as breathing now that he’s somewhere peaceful and familiar. 

Bente? Are you there? Can you hear me?

No answer.

Hanzo doesn’t give up. He reaches for that tether, the bond he shares for his sister, and grasps at nothing. Hanzo huffs. This would be a lot easier if Bente was meditating as well. However, sitting still and quiet has never been his sister’s strength. Still, Hanzo keeps the bond open and waits.

Hanzo doesn’t know how long he sits there, cradled in the hold of the Force as it flows and ebbs through him when he feels a tug on the bond. He eagerly adds his strength to Bente’s and there’s a soft pop and then his sister, bright and wild, is there with him, pressing against his consciousness like an overeager puppy.

HANZO! 

Hanzo winces at the sudden loud exclamation invading the till now silence.

Bente. He answers, more subdued but no less joyous. He pours all his happiness at making contact with her through the bond. Bente absorbs it and sends her own right back at him. 

Oh man, little brother, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice!

I as well.

Are you okay now? I mean you sound okay but I can’t see you and you looked...not good last time.

I’m fine, Bente. Hanzo reassures her, touched by her concern. The medics say I am recovering well. 

Bullshit. Is Bente’s swift response. Tell me the truth.

Hanzo sighs aloud. 

I am ‘lucky to be alive’ they said and there will be...minimal scarring and residual sensitivity when I am done healing.

Minimal my ass. Bente snipes, her displeasure souring the connection. 

Hanzo decides to redirect the conversation away from his injuries. It’s obviously still a touchy subject for his twin.

I admit I am surprised to have connected with you so soon. I predicted a few more hours before I would be able to contact you.

Bente allows it and groans. Meditating sucks . Had to burn off some major energy to get this deep.

Hanzo’s lips twitch in amusement. 

I trust you didn’t bring down the ship in your efforts.

Bente’s amusement joins his, resulting in a giddy loop. 

Heh, I wish, but nope. I just ‘rearranged’ dad’s room a bit.

Oh, dear. His worry filters through their connection.

A bit?

...he still has a door and his bed totally survived! When his concern does not dissipate Bente adds, Don’t worry, the old man was totally cool with it. Didn’t even yell at me or anything like mom would have. Some guys are cleaning it up right now. 

Hanzo sighs aloud. Well, he can’t blame his sister. She’s always been very physical when venting out her frustrations and emotions. Usually, she just spars with a droid or him or their mother. Rey is able to keep up easier with Bente than he is, so she’s Bente’s first pick when she’s truly pissed off. However, since neither of those options was available to Bente, she had sought out other, more destructive means to quell her need to rip and tear. 

Hanzo is relieved Bente didn’t end up acting out her grievances against their father. Although knowing his sister, it won’t be long before she’s begging the poor man for a spar. Bente’s blood always did run hot and fierce, always itching for action. 

Speaking of the man…

How is Father? Hanzo asks. He sounded close to death when Bente last spoke of him.

Still alive, Bente grumbles, though I don’t think Snoke was too happy to see him earlier. 

Dread pools in Hanzo’s stomach. 

He doesn’t know you are there, does he?

Nah, Dad’s got me locked up all safe and bored in his room. Or the bathroom right now. I wonder if those guys are done yet...

That’s good. Hanzo says before Bente’s attention goes elsewhere. Where is Father now? I assume you revealed the truth of our heritage to him? She must have if Kylo is protecting her.

Stubborn idiot went to go train. Can you believe it? Oh, Hanzo can believe it alright. But yeah, I told him. He freaked out at first but he’s cool now. You?

Yes...though I thought it prudent not to reveal who our father is just yet.

Bente laughs, Good luck keeping that quiet. You’re a shit liar and you know it. Hanzo sends what is an approximation of a shrug to his sister. It’s true, Hanzo’s not so prideful to deny the fact. Still, he’ll keep the truth from his mother until he’s convinced she can handle it. Hanzo isn’t so daft as to think that finding out you’re not only part of an ancient Force dyad with your mortal enemy but you also have children together in the future would be accepted so easily.

Curious, Hanzo asks, Is he treating you well?

You mean is he the evil asshole everybody says he is? Bente asks sardonically. 

Yes, to an extent. Hanzo knows their father is not the ghoulish, callous creature of legend, at least never when it concerned their mother. But Hanzo knows that he himself can come off as ‘unwelcoming’ and Bente’s told him he’s way too honest for his own good, sometimes hurting other’s feelings and pointing out things that are better kept private. Hanzo wonders if maybe Kylo is like him, if he’s offended or even hurt Bente without meaning to.

Then no. I mean the fact that I didn’t wake up in an interrogation cell was a good start.

Thank the Maker for small mercies. Hanzo replies, deadpan.

I mean he’s... Bente trails off. Warmth and fondness trickle through the connection and Hanzo relaxes in it, the pain from his injuries forgotten entirely for the moment. ...he’s nice. He’s a lot like you actually! Or you’re a lot like him? I dunno.

Hanzo perks up. 

How so?

Well, I mean you both have that stick up your ass and this intense, bordering-on-creepy vibe. Hanzo makes sure his annoyance is clear and felt.  Jeesh, okay, okay, sorry! But you’re both also sweet and smart and not to mention kinda dorky. In an adorable way, ‘course.

Oh, Hanzo says, thank you.

Anytime. 

Nervous energy suddenly ripples from Bente’s end. 

Bente? Hanzo prompts curiously, knowing his sister will sit on whatever thought she has until she bursts. Best to address it now then wait for that to happen. Less collateral damage. And it saves him an awful headache.

How’s Mom? I know you’re with her, past Mom, I mean, I felt her there with you on the Falcon. The nervous energy, having gathered into a wave that hung over Hanzo intimidatingly, recedes back to Bente when she asks, What’s she like? 

Hanzo’s thoughts trip over themselves as he tries to come up with a way to describe their mother. 

She’s wonderful like our...like Mother from our time. Grief permeates the bond. Hanzo isn’t sure whose it is only that it’s there and it’s overwhelming. Tears run down his cheeks. She is young and reckless and knows nothing of the Force but...she’s so...so bright , Hanzo says somewhat breathlessly despite their conversation taking place outside their bodies. Rey is powerful and so full of life. Their mother of this time is a beacon in the Force; untainted by grief and the loss of her other half. 

Don’t worry. We’ll save them both. Bente promises. Hanzo feels her conviction through the bond and is moved by it.

He grits his teeth, his determination rising to meet his sister’s. 

Yes.

Hanzo spends the next minutes, hours—time here with Bente is impossible to tell— shifting through the stories Rey had told them of this time and what Hanzo remembered reading in the history datapads. Soon, a plan begins to take shape. It is shaky and relies heavily on their parent’s willingness to come to an understanding earlier than the original timeline but it’s something.

Hanzo is reluctant to change too much of the timeline. The actions their parents took did eventually lead to the salvation of the galaxy. But Bente doesn’t care much for a galaxy that persecuted their family for more than one generation or the effects their presence has on the timeline. If it was up to Bente, she’d just grab the two and chuck them in a closet till they reconciled their differences.

Okay, let me see if I got this right. You’re going to stick with Mom: teach her the ropes, make sure she doesn’t go dark side, butter her up to Dad, and make sure she comes to him like last time. Right?

Right.

And I’m supposed to keep Dad from going off the deep end and turning into some sith lord. Did I get that right?

Yes.

Bente blows a sigh of relief. 

Oh, man, I do not envy you. At Hanzo’s confusion, Bente tries to explain, You have to deal Master Grumpy over there and also...um...you know… Embarrassment colors the bond and makes it uncomfortably warm.

I don’t understand, Bente. What do I ‘know’?

Bente splutters.

You know ! Ahch-To? Where mom and dad...you know...have — kriff! I can’t even think it!

Hanzo puzzles over Bente’s words. Clarity fills him when he deciphers what she cannot say.

Are you implying they had sex —

Bente interrupts him vehemently, their connection shuttering for a moment. 

Not another word! 

Bente, Hanzo rolls his eyes behind closed lids. I’m fairly certain our parents did not partake in intercour —

Hanzo Finn Solo! Don’t you dare finish that thought!

Very well, Hanzo relents, confused but unwilling to risk the connection shorting out just becuase Bente got overexcited. He can feel how hard she’s trying to remain here in this meditative state with him.

Bente breaks the slightly awkward silence.

Hey, uh, Hanzo are you going to be okay?

Yes, my injuries should be mostly healed by the time we —

No, no, I mean are you going to be okay without...you know… Bente’s embarrassment filters through the bond once again only this time it is accompanied by a deeply set anxiety ...without me?

No. Hanzo catches the thought before it can be broadcasted to his twin. He tries to come up with a better answer, not wanting to cause his sister any more distress than he already has. She’s going to have an aneurysm one of these days, worrying so much about him. Hanzo takes too long, Bente speaking up.

It’s okay, tough guy. You don’t have to answer that. We’ll see each other again soon.

Bente must sense his hesitation. Hanzo can’t hide everything. Not from his own twin. Not while so deeply connected. Not in the past, the present, or the future. 

Do you remember what I said? Earlier in our dream? Bente asks. Her confidence flows through the bond, lending him strength. Nothing will keep us apart. I mean it. Nothing.

It should scare him. How far Bente is willing to go for him, how dependant he is on her continued presence and vice-versa and the consequences should either of them be taken from the other. It should scare him. It would scare a normal person. But nothing about their lives has ever been normal.

Yes.

The Force niggles at the back of his mind. Hanzo frowns and loosens his focus on the bond to expand his awareness. 

His mother’s presence in the Force—swirling with anxiety that fills Hanzo with guilt when he realizes he never told anyone where he was going— is heading towards him followed closely by a tame, but no less potent presence and then a third person.

I have to go. I believe Mother is searching for me. She appears agitated. 

Shit, okay. Yeah, yeah no problem. I have to pee anyway. Stay safe.

You as well. Hanzo replies and then shuts off the connection just as the entryway to his hiding spot slides open with a squeak. Hanzo knows who they are even if all he can see is their mid-thigh and below. 

Rey crouches down, followed by Han who grunts at the new position. Their fraught expressions greet him. But Hanzo’s focus is not them. It’s on the short, authoritative figure standing in between them. She’s standing far away enough that he can see her face. 

Hanzo dips his head respectfully, body too sore to stand and greet her properly.

“General Organa,” he rasps. 

Leia looks him up and down with calculating expression.

“So you’re the one these two are making such a fuss about.”

Rey steps past her. Leia watches curiously as his mother kneels next to him, her hand going to his cheeks to wipe away his tears. Hanzo holds back a wince, the skin there the most sensitive than anywhere else on his body.

“Where have you been ? I was worried sick about you.”

Hanzo looks away from his Rey’s concerned gaze.

“I’ve been here.”

Rey opens her mouth, probably to question him more, but Han is quicker.

“How did you even find ‘here’?” He asks, looking around the small space about the size of a standard cargo box. There’s barely enough room for him and Rey, her hair squashed against the ceiling. “I didn’t even know this was here,” Han says both in disbelief and wonder. Leia huffs a laugh. Hanzo’s not surprised Han had been unaware of this secret compartment. You would have to be about knee-high, Force-sensitive, and very curious to find the hidden panel. 

“Hanzo,” Rey says in the same gentle tone she would use in the future when Hanzo is feeling frightened or uncomfortable.  “Why are you hiding here?”

“It’s quiet here.” He mumbles and chances a look at his mother. He sees understanding in her eyes and Hanzo is reminded that just hours ago she was living on a barren planet. She probably isn’t used to all the people and noise either.

Rey nods in response. Her hand drops to his shoulder carefully, a reassuring weight. 

Leia lowers herself gracefully. She offers him a gentle smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hanzo.”

It’s said softly and with so much emotion behind those brown eyes of hers that Hanzo is certain she knows who he is and her words are genuine. Hanzo looks at Han who just shrugs, flabbergasted.

Rey takes no note of this silent exchange.

Rey pats Hanzo’s shoulder, “Yes, um, this is Hanzo...my cousin.” Rey nods and looks at the two generals, specifically Leia.

Leia’s lips lift up briefly, “Cousin. Sure, okay.”

Rey’s expression wavers at the skepticism in the older woman’s voice. Eventually, her tightened grip on Hanzo’s shoulder lightens when it’s clear Leia isn’t going to address Rey’s obvious lie.

Leia looks back at Hanzo and her weathered face softens some.

“I have some questions for you, Hanzo, if that’s okay?”

Hanzo nods and begins to crawl out of the small space. Rey helps him and then he’s standing face-to-face with his grandmother. Actually, no, Hanzo thinks he might be an inch or two shorter.

Leia begins to lead Hanzo away and Rey goes to follow them. Han stops her, rumbling quietly in that gruff voice of his that he’ll be okay and it’s only ‘a couple of questions, your brat will be fine’.

Leia has Hanzo sit down at a table normally reserved for meals. She walks around to take her seat on the opposite side.

“So, Hanzo, I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Hanzo looks at her evenly, relaxed in what others might have thought to be a tense situation. But Leia’s presence is warm and kind. Hanzo knows he has nothing to fear from the other woman. 

“Yes.”

Leia folds her hands and sets them daintily on the dusty tabletop.

“You’re a long ways from home, aren’t you?” She asks with a raised brow.

Hanzo nods, shoulders drooping minutely. Leia catches it and huffs a laugh, shaking her head. Hanzo admires how not a single hair is out place, not even in wartime with all the chaos going around the base. Hanzo wonders if maybe she’ll teach him how she does it, that way Bente’s hair isn’t always smacking him in the face when it comes undone.

Leia looks at him with amusement and affection.

“You Solo men, always bringing trouble.”

Hanzo can’t say she’s wrong.

Chapter Text

“Absolutely not,” Leia says firmly. The way she says it makes it clear there will be no room for negotiation. “You’re lucky I haven’t told Han to take you back to the medbay.”

Hanzo doesn’t startle or immediately retaliate in indignation. No, her grandson sits there as cool as a cucumber. Leia has to admit she’s impressed and a little relieved. She’s had enough of people trying to argue their way out of the sickbay.

“I am the only person alive besides your brother who has piloted a ship there. Therefore it is strategically sound for me to come on this mission.”

Leia has to admit he has a point. 

“That may be true, but you’re in no condition to be piloting a ship.”

Hanzo dips his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, but I can still be of assistance as a guide.” 

Leia nods. Yeah, the kid is definitely her grandson alright. The stubborn little haggler.

“Even so, I cannot in good conscience allow a child to take part in such a dangerous mission.” Yes, it’s war and Leia’s made plenty of hard decisions over its course but if there’s a chance she can keep Ben’s child safe then she’ll take it, no regrets. 

Hanzo’s lip thin ever so. It’s the first outward reaction she’s gotten so far even as he told her his story, heartbreaking that it is. It would seem she’s hit a sore spot. And they say it’s older women who are the stuffy ones about their age.

“Rey is not much older than me, yet you’ve entrusted this task to her.” 

“Rey has proven herself more than capable.”

“Yes,” Hanzo nods in acquiescence, “but one might also accuse you of playing favorites, seeing as that I am your grandchild.”

Leia withholds a smirk. Oh, he’s good. Very perceptive, the little sneak. It’s been a very long time since she’s had this much fun. But it’s time to put their verbal spar to rest.

“Hanzo,” Leia reaches over the table and touches his arm lightly, “I know you mean well, I do, but you need to recover, honey. Han, Chewie, and Rey are more than enough to drag my brother back here.”

Hanzo’s face falls minutely, just a worried pinch of his brows and a slight downturn of his mouth on his good side. 

“I know that, but she’s my mother.” Hanzo shifts and her hand falls off his arm. “She’s done nothing but look after me and I want to do the same. I am tired of everybody thinking I can’t. I want, no I need, to protect her. I can’t—I can’t lose her again.” His voice cracks there at the end and he looks up at her with wide, watery eyes. 

Leia freezes. Hanzo hadn’t mentioned that in their talk earlier. Leia might not know the girl personally in this timeline, not like her counterpart, not yet, but she likes what she’s seen so far. Rey is headstrong, compassionate, hardy, and one spitfire of a girl. She’s a good fit for her son. She has to admit that in that instance The Force actually knew what it was doing.

“Hanzo,” Leia asks, steel in her voice, “what were you three doing on Ahch-To?”

Hanzo looks down and hunches his shoulders.

“Mother’s been searching for years, our whole life, for a way to bring our father back.”

Lei’s eyebrows go up. “That’s possible?”

Hanzo nods, “Technically speaking, yes, a dyad like theirs is rumored to surpass even death. One cannot be without the other.”

Leia files away the information to chew on later.

“Ahch-To was the answer? Is that what you were doing there?” Something must have gone terribly wrong there for Hanzo to have lost Rey and then to be flung into the past with his sister.

“The Federation tracked us there quicker than my mother had anticipated and she...she tried to lead them away.” Hanzo licks his lips and he curls more into himself. “She perished with the Falcon.”

Leia pushes all her compassion and empathy into her voice, “I’m sorry.” They’re just words, she knows, but they’re all she can offer him. And this: “I’ll let you go with your mother.”

Hanzo looks up at that. His shoulders widen slightly, opening up once more.

“Really?”

Leia nods. “Really.” Before Hanzo can say anything, she holds up a finger. “On the condition that you be the one to tell Rey’s friend that.”

Hanzo tilts his head to the right. “Friend?”

“The ex-stormtrooper,” Leia smirks. “Handsome. He came with—”

“Ah, you mean Uncle Finn.” Leia chuckles as Hanzo’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh.” She gets up and pats his shoulder.

“Good luck.”

Hanzo nods numbly. 

Han places a hand on Rey’s shoulder to stop her from following Hanzo and Leia. She whips her head to look at in angered bewilderment. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll be okay.” He tries but Rey only tenses under his hand and makes to follow the them anyway. Han sighs internally. “Relax, kid, it’s only a couple of questions. Your brat will be fine. He’s in good hands.”

“But—”

“Relax, kid.” Han gives her a stern look. He gets it, he really does. They didn’t spend the past half hour searching for Hanzo just for shits and giggles. Han had been this close to sending out a search party, much to Leia’s confusion. 

Rey, on the other hand, had been frantic. She’d been reluctant to part with him in the first place and it was understandable: the kid had been in bad shape when Han had handed him over to the medics, bloodied and hypothermic despite Rey’s best efforts to keep him warm. Han hadn’t wanted to leave the boy’s side either but war never did care about what he did want and what he didn’t. 

Although this is the last time he’s putting Chewie on babysitting duty. 

“Leia’s only going to ask him the usual stuff.” Well, the usual questions one asks their time-traveling grandson. Whatever the hell that is. Han still has no idea how the woman figured it out so quickly, but he’s not really surprised she did. Leia’s always had a keen mind. It makes her really good at putting together puzzles even when more than half the pieces are missing. 

“You got nothing to worry about. It’s just talk. Now, c’mon,” Han leads Rey off the Falcon, “let’s get the old girl ready. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us.” Because Rey is coming with him. Maybe Luke will be able to make sense of the new crazy that’s invaded their lives. He’s always been more tuned in to all this Force mumbo jumbo.

“Fine,” Rey says in bitter resignation. Han pretends not to see the way she constantly glances over her shoulder back at the ship as they walk.

Han is able to distract Rey by getting the Falcon back on her feet, refueling, making a few service repairs here and there, and stocking her up with rations that aren’t expired (he didn’t know the blasted things could expire. His stomach is never going to let him forget that).

Now they’re contemplating how to fix the jammed gunner.

“We could just take it out and replace it with one of the gunners from a decommissioned fighter—”

“What? No!” Han rejects vehemently. “It just needs some...oil or something.”

“Han,” Rey says like she’s talking to a particularly difficult child, “It won’t hurt to have something new. And with more firepower.”

Han refuses. The Falcon’s had enough 'modifications', thank you very much.

“No. It’s jammed not broken.”

“I can fix it.”

Han lets out a (very manly) shout. He and Rey both whirl around to face the source of the new voice. Hanzo looks at them cooly; unfazed by their surprise.

“Hanzo!” Rey cries. She goes to walk up to him but stops, taking in his new outfit. 

“You look good, kid. Just like your mom.” Han compliments. Leia must have given him a new change of clothes. Which is good considering the kid’s been walking around half-naked this whole time, his original outfit nothing more than a sopping, shredded mess. 

Hanzo’s outfit is very similar to original one and Rey’s. It’s all soft greys and dust whites, the fabric wrapped around him loosely for easy movement and suited for warmer climates like Rey’s. His arms and hands are covered in white bandages, his scarred fingertips peeking out. He’s wearing his original boots which are dried now and the belt he’d been wearing before. Hanzo must have disconnected the saber staff, a lightsaber clipped on each side of his hip.

“Thank you,” Hanzo says to Han and then looks down at the gunner station. “I can fix it if you like.”

“No, that’s okay. We’re leaving anyway.” Rey says and her lips thin out a little. Uh oh. “And you should be resting. Come on, I’ll take you back to the medbay.” Rey goes to do just that but Hanzo sidesteps her and shakes his head.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m going with you.”

Rey frowns, “What? No, you’re still injured. You should stay here and rest.”

Han crosses his arms, “Does Leia know about this?”

Hanzo looks at him, “Yes, General Organa is aware.”

Rey’s frown deepens, conflict clear on her face. Han feels similarly troubled. While, yeah, he’d like to have Hanzo come along if only to make sure the boy doesn’t finish that four-course meal he had going with Death, he’s been through enough. Quite a lot, in fact. Han doesn’t know what awaits then in the Unknown Regions and he doesn’t want to put Hanzo in more danger.

Hanzo notices their reluctance.

“It is important I go with you to find Luke Skywalker. To ensure the timeline remains intact.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Rey asks.

Hanzo’s brows draw downward, “My presence here has already resulted in drastic changes.” Han doesn’t like the way the boy glances at him, gaze profound and sad. He doesn’t know what it means and he’s not sure he wants to know.

“Does the general know all this? That you’re my—you’re from the future?”

“I told her I would like to remain with you and she allowed it,” Hanzo says. Han notices the kid doesn’t answer her question outright. Guess the kid is going to be keeping the truth of Leia’s knowledge and his father secret. Smart move...if it doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass later.

Rey huffs out an angry breath though he has a feeling that Hanzo wanting to stay with her secretly pleases her.

“Fine. Okay. But you are going to rest.” Rey puts one foot forward and stares him down sternly. “Right now.”

Hanzo blinks and then nods. 

“I’ll show him where the bunks are.” Han starts walking forward, Hanzo following him. “Get her warmed up in the meantime, will you?”

“Oh, um sure,” Rey responds, clearly surprised. “What about Chewbacca?”

“He’s going to stay with Leia and help out.” Han knows Leia’s a bigshot and can handle her own very well but he worries and so does the Wookiee. And maybe he’s still a little upset at his best friend for losing his grandson. “We’ve got enough hands anyways.” 

“Right. I’m on it.” 

Han goes to guide Hanzo to where the crew’s quarters are kept but it’s like he already knows his way around the ship. Again, Han thinks this isn’t his first time aboard the Falcon.

“You sure know you’re way around.” 

“I do.”

Han bites back the urge to groan. He doesn’t know if Hanzo’s deliberately being mysterious or if he’s just this straight forward. 

“You been here before? In your time?”

“Yes.” 

Han allows a groan. Getting information from this boy is like pulling teeth. Hanzo glances at him over his shoulder and then back ahead. They’re almost there. Han is trying to come up with better bait when Hanzo speaks:

“You know who my father is, yes?”

Han almost chokes, “Uh, yeah, Ben.”

Hanzo nods and his pace slows. “My father is Ben Solo, yes, but to the galaxy, my father is Kylo Ren: Master of the Knights of Ren, the Jedi killer,” Han winces at that, “and Supreme Leader of the First Order.”

“Supreme what—”

Hanzo continues, “My mother hid the truth of who my and my sister’s father was from the galaxy, the truth of our lineage.” They enter the crew’s quarters at last. Hanzo stops and faces him with that wizened gaze of his. Han is drawn in, unable to look away. 

“But all secrets eventually unravel and they feared us and what we would—could—become.”

“And they hunted you down like animals,” Han mutters angrily. He curses the Force again, uncaring if it hears him; for what its done to his family. 

Hanzo nods, “Yes. The Falcon has been my home for the past five years, though I’ve known it my whole life.” Han doesn’t ask where he fits into the picture, why he would give the Falcon to Rey (she’s a wonderful girl, don’t get him wrong, but he’d planned on riding the old girl till one of them gave out.) as Hanzo implies.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

Hanzo shrugs, “There’s no need to apologize. I was born a Solo and a Skywalker.” Hanzo unclips his belt and lays it down on a shelf. “Hardship is in our blood.”

Han wishes it wasn’t. He’s never wished for anything harder over the years.

It’s quiet after that as Han replaces the blankets with some nicer, not-falling-apart-at-the-seam ones from storage. He helps Hanzo with his boots when it’s clear the boy can’t do it himself on account of his wounds. Then, feeling like a nursemaid and not hating it, he helps Hanzo up onto the bunk, the teen’s injuries and short legs making the feat harder than it needs to be.

There’s still one question that is eating away at him like a bad case of heartburn. The thing is, Han doesn’t want to ask him because he already knows the answer. Hanzo already admitted as much, but he just can’t bring himself to accept it. That doesn’t stop him from asking.

“Where is Ben in all this?”

Hanzo looks up at him from where he’s lying on the bed. 

“I did not lie earlier.” Hanzo looks away and up at the top bunk. “He died before me and my sister were born.”

Han can’t swallow past the sudden lump in the throat. His chest feels hollow and empty at the thought of his son dying, dead before he could meet his children, hold them. 

Han knows the universe is a cruel, cold bitch with the Force as its partner in crime. It’d robbed his son of his childhood, his happiness, his family—Han’s family, though the man can’t blame it entirely since he’s just as much at fault—and the chance that Han had taken for granted: to hold his son in arms. Pink, with ears too big, and his. 

Han has to know. He has to know if he managed to do this one last thing before his son died.

“Do I…” Do I keep my promise to Leia? Do I bring our son home? Han coughs, “Does he…does Ben ever come home?”

Hanzo looks at him and blinks slowly and not unlike a reptile. It should be disconcerting but it’s something Han is starting to associate as another of Hanzo quirks. He waits, not even daring to breathe unless he breaks the sudden tension building around them. He knows without a doubt that Hanzo’s answer will change things. For better or worse, Han doesn’t know, but he so desperately hopes it’s for the better. Just this one time, let his family win.

Hanzo closes his eyes. His chest stutters as he inhales. His mouth opens and all Han can do is listen.

Hanzo doesn’t know how to tell his grandfather, who should be dead and would have been if not for his interference, that yes, Ben does come home. But the house he returns to is empty and barren, both mother, father, and uncle dead. And then before that can home can be filled anew with Chewie (who never truly stopped believing in Ben), his mother, his sister, and himself— he dies.

And Hanzo knows his father had wanted to come home more than anything. Knows from his mother’s stories and retellings that Ben had touched it, if only for a fleeting moment there in the end. Yes, he’d stumbled along the way and veered off onto darker paths, but he’d found it, a light illuminating his pathway in the form of his mother’s guiding hand and his grandmother’s final breath.

“In the end,” Hanzo says quietly, “he finds his way back home.” He lays there with his eyes closed and listens to Han let out a long, shaky breath.

“That’s...that’s good.” 

It is, but it’s not good enough for Hanzo. He’s going to make sure his father stays home this time. Even if he has to drag the man in by the ear himself and lock the door shut.

“I won’t let it end like last time,” Hanzo promises, words a little slurred as his consciousness slips from him like sand between his fingers.

“Good, because we Solos aren’t really good at staying solo.”

Hanzo’s mouth twitches in a smile. He thinks of his sister and his mother and D-0. No, they’re not really cut out for that lone-wolf life. Hanzo thinks his mother and father have had enough of that for ten lifetimes. He doesn’t want to even contemplate such twisted solitude for himself. Life without his family, his twin, would be meaningless. 

Hanzo falls asleep. The last thing he remembers is calloused hands tucking the blankets securely around him and Han’s rough voice bidding him goodnight.

It will take them at least three days to reach Luke Skywalker, the region too unknown to use hyperspeed. It’s not ideal but it’s not like there’s anything Rey or anybody can do. Hanzo tries to get her and Han to let him help, reasoning that he’s been to the planet before. They’re quick to shut him down. Even with Hanzo acting as co-pilot it would still take the three days. 

Rey’s body is thrumming with nervous energy. On one hand, she’s traveling with kriffing Han Solo, infamous rebel hero and smuggler, to go find Luke kriffing Skywalker, last living Jedi Master, and savior of the galaxy. And on the other hand, she has her time-traveling, double-lightsaber wielding son just a few meters away. She’s absolutely bursting with questions now that she’s had some time to process it all. (She’s not even remotely done but progress is progress.)

Han finally tires of her tapping fingers and constant shifting and banishes her from the cockpit.

“Go and stretch your legs. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Rey doesn’t need to be told twice. She leaves with a quick, ‘thanks! I’ll be back.’ that Han snorts at and goes off in search of Hanzo. It’s not hard to find him, her feet automatically taking her where she can feel him, steady and calm.

Rey’s only a little annoyed to find him out of bed, the rest of her attention drawn to the fact that Hanzo is floating. It’s only a couple of inches but it’s by far the oddest thing Rey has ever seen. Hanzo’s eyes are closed, back straight, and body completely still. It’s like looking at a statue. The only sign of life is the rise and fall of his chest and even then it’s barely noticeable. 

Rey observes him quietly, unwilling to disrupt whatever it is he’s doing and the peaceful aurora of the room. It runs over Rey’s body like cool water, soothing and washing away grime and stress. Lulled by the feeling around her, Rey sinks to the ground across from Hanzo and allows herself to relax.

“What is this?” Rey mumbles aloud after a few minutes. She’s not expecting a response but she gets one.

“The life energy of the universe,” Hanzo replies, lips moving just enough to let the words out. 

“It’s nice.” Rey sighs and rolls her shoulders back. Hanzo hums. 

They both sit there. Rey’s never felt so relaxed and...safe. She feels safe here with Hanzo. Rey opens her half-lidded eyes and takes in the boy floating in front of her. His face is still covered in bacta patches to ward off infection and finish the healing process. He looks weak and vulnerable sitting here with no weapon in sight. 

In a logical way, it makes sense for her to feel safe. Hanzo doesn’t exactly scream, ‘threat! run!’. ...but that’s not really it. Something about him just makes her feel warm and comfortable. Rey’s never felt that way with anybody before, her mind always a series of ringing alarm bells, her body always ready for a fight. 

It’s nice.

Rey is relaxed like the surface water of the island she spent so many lonely nights yearning for, the one Kylo had glimpsed. But there is something underneath the still waters, writhing and looking for its chance to break the surface barrier and breathe life.

“Hanzo?” Rey starts.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you about the future, about your time?”

“You can, if you wish,” Hanzo says without opening his eyes or moving more than his lips. 

Rey nods. Right. Okay. She takes a deep breath. What to ask first?

“What am I like? This other me, your mother, in the future.”

“Much like yourself now: strong, understanding, and determined.” Hanzo’s brows crease the smallest of creases. His form sinks a centimeter or two. “But you also are weary and mournful.”

Rey remembers that empty, grief-stricken woman she’d turned into from Hanzo’s memories as she wept over that black cloth. It was only a glimpse, Sad Rey brightening up the minute she took notice of Hanzo, but it was enough to worry her.

“Why?” Rey asks. Who does she mourn so deeply? She can’t imagine letting someone get so close for her to care about that way so intimately. Finn is her first and only friend and while Rey knows his death would hurt, it would eventually scar over. Not stay an open, festering wound. 

A memory blinks at the back of her mind, one of Hanzo’s actually, something Bente said about their father but she can’t remember what. Rey’s distracted by Hanzo and dismisses the forgotten memory.

Hanzo lands on the floor and opens his eyes. They find hers and once again she can’t look away. His eyes are a stark contrast to his impassive features. They are a sandstorm of emotions, turbulent and bright.

“My father died very early into your courtship and you... never truly recovered.”

Rey can’t begin to comprehend the notion. “Oh.” Is all she can think to say. Hanzo doesn’t say anything more, just looks back at her. “Did I...did I ever talk about him? Your father?” Rey finds herself asking.

Hanzo nods and the right, unmarred part of his lips lifts in a half-smile. It’s the first time she’s seen him smile, she thinks. 

“You would tell me and my sister stories about you and him before bed each night.”

Rey perks up. She’s always loved stories. She’d sneak around the settlements on Jakku and eavesdrop as people told each other tales around a fire. The thought that she’d told her own tales to her children makes Rey’s chest warm and ache at the same time.

“What kind of stories?”

“Mostly battles. Bente always liked those most.” Rey huffs a laugh. She’d liked those too when she was young. She thinks she still does. Or maybe not, her life has enough action to fill a series of holonovels.

“Which did you like?”

“The ones in between the fighting, how you two met and fell in love.”

Rey chokes on her spit suddenly and coughs, her cheeks warming. She glances at Hanzo to see if maybe he’s teasing her but no, his face is just as severe as it always is.

Embarrassed but still curious about her mysterious lover, she continues.

“What was he like?”

”...tall...” Hanzo answers awkwardly.

Rey laughs, “And?”

“Stubborn and hot-tempered.... but kind when he had no reason to be.” Hanzo answers. He tilts his head and then adds, “I was also told he is ‘smart’, ‘sweet’ and ‘kinda dorky’.” 

Rey blinks. 

“In an ‘adorable way’.” Hanzo finishes. He doesn’t look like he knows what to do with that description either.

“He sounds...nice.” She finds herself saying. He actually sounds a little like...Hanzo, minus the temper part. Hanzo doesn’t look like somebody who angers easily. Which is nothing like her either. Rey wonders where he gets it from.

Hanzo nods, “I look forward to meeting him.” 

“You haven’t?” 

“Not yet.”

Rey leaves it at that, her mind trying to summon this mysterious partner of hers and failing. It’s pointless, the only men she knows are Finn, Han, and Poe—Finn and BB-8 having introduced the pilot to her. Not one of them fit Hanzo’s description. Han’s married, for one, and as for the other two...well, Rey isn’t blind.

Rey thinks briefly of the men she knew on Jakku and dismisses the line of thought. No. There is nobody there that she would care for like this. No one.

She sits up straighter. Wait, there’s something else. Rey frowns. There was something else she’s been itching to ask Hanzo. Something or someone—

“Your sister!” Rey suddenly shouts, remembering. Gods, how had she forgotten that she has two children—one boy and one girl.

Hanzo blinks once then twice, “What about her?”

“Where is she? I didn’t see anyone with you on Starkiller.” Rey’s goes wide. What if… Her mouth goes dry. Hanzo watches her with obvious concern, brows drawn together. “She isn’t...did she not come with you when you came here? To the past?”

“She did.” 

Rey’s relief is short-lived, replaced with confusion. She’d fret more but Hanzo doesn’t look very concerned himself, so Rey assumes Bente is alright wherever she is.

“Where is she then?” She asks again.

Hanzo tells her, tone nonchalant and expression even.

Rey’s incredulous shout echoes throughout the Falcon.

“She’s where!?” 

Chapter Text

Bente sneezes. She wipes her nose on her sleeve and shrugs at the mess before dropping her head back on her dad’s study chair. Someone must be talking about her. That or the frigid temperature of the ship is starting to get to her. Honestly, is the First Order so cheap they can't afford to spare the cash to install a heating system?

Bente huffs angrily to herself.

Look! She can see her own breath, it's that cold!

Bente peers down at the datapad and holonovels littering the desk with little to no interest whatsoever.

Her brother on the other hand...

Bente fiddles with the device and sighs, her heart fond and aching at the thought of Hanzo. She places her hand over where her heart resides and massages it in an attempt to make the pain go away.

“Man, Hanzo would have looooved it here, the nerd.” Her studious little brother would have been all over the place, nose stuck in one of the many history holos their dad seems to favor.

Bente slides down the chair, her chin resting atop her chest. Gods, it is so boring here. There’s very little for her to do or entertain herself with.

Bente casts a glance down at the desk. 

Well...she could read something.

...

....

Pfft, yeah right. 

She's not that desperate.

Yet.

Bente growls and blows a stray curl that had escaped one of her buns away only for it to fall in her mouth.

"Blegh! Ugh!" She sits up, arms flailing, as she tries to spit it back out. When that doesn’t work, Bente reaches up and manually pulls the hairs out of her mouth, face scrunching in disgust as the wet strands stick to her cheek. 

"Okay, gross," Bente says to herself and begins to stand up, "Definitely time for a wash. Yup." Bente nods herself, satisfied with her decision. It's about time she took one anyway, her hair still crusty from the saltwater on Ahch-To. And it'll give her something to do, to focus on and distract her from the distressing anxiety caused by Hanzo's continued absence at her side.

Bente's tried mediation as a form of keeping in contact but she's always been piss-poor at the exercise. And it's only getting harder and harder as time passes. She can maintain the connection for a few minutes before her body eventually decides it’s had enough sitting around and waiting, eager to get moving. Bente's tried stretching and her other small workout routines at Hanzo’s suggestion but it just isn’t enough anymore. She's restless, emotions high and fingers twitchy with the need to do something. It makes her miss her brother’s calm, nerdy self even more.

And then there’s also the thing about Snoke being so close by. Bente is hesitant to reach out to her brother more than absolutely necessary, worried that Snoke might catch their scent. She’s done a pretty good job of hiding her presence in the Force so far. Her dad had even complimented her, impressed, which had Bente preening for the rest of the afternoon. She credits her skills to a childhood spent playing hide ‘n seek with Hanzo. Kinda hard to hide from someone when the two of you are so intricately connected. That and the fact that she and her family have been dodging governments and bounty hunters for years now. Hiding their presence has been paramount to them staying safe, one never knowing if the groups after them had a Force-sensitive member or not.

Bente heads over to the ‘fresher, rummaging through Kylo’s wardrobe and drawers for spare clothes on the way. She can just wear her own outfit, Kylo having sent them to be cleaned and pressed (fancy) but her dad’s clothes are a lot nicer than her own hand-me-downs and much comfier. The thread count must be ridiculous, his clothes are that soft.

Bente takes her time, savoring the feel of cool water on her skin. The Falcon has a built-in ‘fresher, one that Rey and Hanzo have tinkered with and customized over the years. It’s nice, but this one takes the cake. It's sleek, spacious, and you don't have to wait twenty minutes for the water to heat up.

Bente cleans herself fairly quickly, spending the rest of her time pouring over the many different shampoo bottles (why are there so many? ) and playing around with the settings. She yelps and flees the ‘fresher when she amps the temperature too high and scalds her back. 

Bente’s standing in front of the mirror—dried and dressed in her father's borrowed clothes—and struggling to tie up her hair. Normally, she does just fine on her own but she decided to let her hair grow out longer a few cycles ago and it's much longer now, reaching just above her backside. Hanzo, the saint, usually steps in right about now. That he’s not here to help her is just another reminder that he's not here, oh gods, I hope he's okay. What if he's not, though? What if he die—

Bente curses loudly when the brush catches on a knot. And then to make matters worse, one of her finished buns collapses, the band snapping and flying who-knows-where. Bente grits her teeth and yanks the brush free.

The quiet scrape of the 'fresher sliding open sounds behind her. Bente whips around and tries and fails to wipe the scowl off her face.

“I didn’t know you were in here.” He takes a step back, eyes looking anywhere but at her. Which is ridiculous because she’s obviously dressed. “I’ll just wait...out here.”

“You,” Bente points the brush at him and Kylo stills. “Do you know how to…” she gestures at her head with the hairbrush. He looks at her, the brush, her hair, and then back at her.

“...yes…” Is his hesitant response.

“Good.” Bente grabs his wrist and slaps the brush in his gloved hand. She faces the mirror and raises her eyebrows at him when he just stands there, staring down at the brush like it’s going to come to life and bite him on the nose. 

Kylo looks up, likely sensing her gaze on him, and finally steps forward to take his place behind her. His face is obscured behind Bente’s own and the tumbleweed her hair has chosen to emulate. There’s another pause where he does nothing and Bente waits it out patiently—for a whole ten seconds. 

“Well?” Bente raises a single brow again and taps her foot, crossing her arms. She catches sight of her reflection in the mirror and has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She looks just like her mom when she’s about to scold her and Hanzo for some mess that Bente had dragged her poor, gullible brother into. The memory makes her chest feel tight but it is bearable, the fondness the memory brings taking away most of the hurt.

“Oh. Right.” Kylo swipes the brush through Bente’s hair clumsily. She hisses and he freezes behind her. 

“...it’s fine. Just be more careful.” Bente leans to the side so he can see her face in the mirror. She shoots him a grin and then sticks out her lower lip in a pout, making her eyes wide and imploring like Hanzo’s always are, “I’m made out of glass, remember?”

Kylo’s grip shifts on the brush, body regaining motion now that he knows he hadn’t truly hurt her.

“Yes,” he agrees, seriously. “I’m sure my walls can attest to that.”

Bente laughs. 

Her dad goes to grab her hair with his hands, pauses, and she watches his arms move about, leather squeaking in the room. Then his bare hands are combing through her hair, smoothing it down, and picking out a handful of hairbands that Bente had managed to get tangled up and lost in her hair.

Kylo starts out a little awkwardly at first but pretty soon he loosens up, the repetitive motion of brushing her hair and tying it calming him. He’s working on the third bun when Bente speaks up.

“You’re pretty good at this, you know.” Bente admires the topmost bun. Hanzo would be impressed. Not a hair out of place. “Are you an aspiring hairdresser or something?”

His hands falter for a moment, her hair fleeing his grasp like sailors on a shipwreck. Bente stares hard at his broad shoulders, the only parts of him she can see besides his elbows.

“No,” Kylo retrieves the traitorous black strands and begins his work anew. “My mother...she used to let me do her hair.” His voice is stiff and strained like his body, muscles coiled tight and tense. His hands, however, are a gentle contrast.

“That’s cool.” Bente doesn’t push for more, simply adds her own anecdote. “Mom doesn’t trust anybody but Hanzo. Says I pull too much.” Bente shrugs. “Her loss, I guess.”

Bente hears him exhale forcefully through his snort and wriggles happily. She made him laugh (sort of)!

“Is there a reason you choose to...why you do your hair like…” Kylo trails off unsure how to approach the topic of her mom.

“Like Mom?” Bente says for him. “Because she's a badass and I want to be like her.”

There’s a pause. And then:

“She is strong.” Kylo acknowledges absentmindedly, his attention retreating back to the task at hand. 

“And clever.”

Kylo grunts in agreement and ties off the third bun.

“And pretty.”

“Yes,” her dad agrees quietly, gathering up the remainder of her hair to make the fourth bun. Bente grins. “Wait—what?” He drops what he collected and leans to the side to look at her. His eyes narrow at her reflection and she laughs outright at the pink she sees on his cheeks. Kylo growls something under his breath and hurries through the fourth bun. Bente holds back another laugh, knowing she’s already toeing a dangerous line. 

Oh man, Dad is already crushing this hard? Bente rolls her eyes. Hanzo would just eat this up, the sap.

Kylo steps back and out of the room, making room for Bente to exit. 

She pats her hair appreciatively. “Thanks for the assist, pops.”

Kylo nods and walks over to collect his helmet. He always takes it off the moment the door shuts behind him. Bente thinks he does it for her. Which is sweet but totally unnecessary. The mask is cool. It’s not anything like the burnt husk sitting on the ashtray-stand-thingy in her father’s study. Now that one thing gives her heebie-jeebies.

Bente yawns while he puts on the mask. 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” she asks.

He regards her silently. “No,” is the mechanical response

Bente frowns. “You sure? I don’t want to sound like a mother hen but you look like shit—”

“How eloquent.”

“—and you’re still hurt from when Mom kicked your ass and then from Snoke’s hissy fit.”

“I said no." There's a sharp edge to his voice now. Bente resists the urge to roll her eyes. "I have matters to attend to.” With that said, he turns sharply, cloak swirling dramatically behind him, and is gone.

“...I hope you trip on that thing, you stubborn man,” Bente grumbles. She makes her way to the bed and tries to go sleep, ignoring the energy zipping through her veins like comets.

Maybe she should try some yoga? It’s supposed to be relaxing. And her hammies could probably use the stretch. 

Bente kicks off the covers with a sigh.

Bente wakes up the instant she hears the door to Kylo’s quarters open and close. She listens, careful to keep her breaths quiet and body motionless, her hand already clasped on the lightsaber under her pillow.

She breathes out a sigh and closes her eyes when she hears the familiar heavy tread and the swish of her father’s cape. She feigns sleep when his footsteps near the doorway of the bedroom. He lingers there for a moment, probably checking up on her, before retreating. She opens her eyes and checks the time.

Caraya’s soul, does the man ever sleep!? It’s been three days since Bente arrived in the past and she has yet to see the man close his eyes longer than the time it takes to blink. She doubts he’s been sleeping elsewhere, the bags under his eyes deepening. Is this some kind of dark side superpower she wasn’t aware of? 

Bente hears the ‘fresher turn on. She turns on her back and tries to go back to sleep. It is way too early to be alive let alone awake. 

Less than a minute go by when she deems it all a lost cause.

Bente groans and sits up. She gets out of bed with the intent of finding something to eat when she walks past her father’s combat helmet. Bente blinks and backtracks. She looks at the closed bathroom door and then back at the helmet. She repeats this a few times before her gaze finally settles on the mask. 

Bente’s hands grab each side of the helmet, the cool durasteel nipping against her bed-warm fingers. It’s lighter than she thought it’d be but still heavy. She passes it from one hand to the other, getting a feel for its weight. Bente wonders if maybe her dad’s grouchy attitude can’t be linked to a stiff neck because damn she can’t imagine wearing this thing all day, every day, and not getting cranky.

She looks once more at the ‘fresher door.

“I’m sure he won’t mind if I just...try it on.” Bente slips the mask on it. She jumps as it clicks and hisses into place. She whistles, impressed, the built-in vocoder making her sound like an electronic saxophone. The teen excitedly looks around, the built-in analyzing system sending her back information on her surroundings. 

“This is actually kinda cool—holy shit—is that my voice?” Bente laughs, positively thrilled at the demonic sound that filters out. Gods, she sounds so badass!

Bente straightens her stance and lifts her chin, looking down on some imaginary character.

“You dare defy me, pitiful mortal?” She takes a threatening step forward. Her voice is low and menacing, venom dripping off each syllable. “Do you not know who I am? I am The Eater of Worlds, Keeper of the Damned, The Gods Slayer, Supreme Overlord Bente B— kriff!” Bente whips her head to look behind her—her neck cracking with the helmet’s added momentum—at the sound of the water shutting off. 

Looks like playtime is over. Bente hooks her finger under the mask’s mouthpiece and tugs. 

And tugs.

And then tugs some more.

She grits her teeth and pulls again, muscles flexing and fingers bone-white.

“Shitshitshit,” Bente lets out breathlessly. She puts her foot next to her great-grandfather’s mask for some leverage and pulls harder, really putting her back into it this time.

Holy shit.

Sweat slides down her temple. She has no idea how the visor isn’t fogging over with how heavy she’s breathing.

The damned thing is stuck.

Bente is contemplating grabbing her lightsaber and just slicing it off when she hears a low rumble—like soft thunder—behind her. She turns around slowly. Her dad is standing there, dressed in his getup’s secondary (more like fifth) layer, hair wet, and—Bente’s hands fall to her sides limply; shocked—he’s laughing. Well, he’s not laughing laughing. It’s more like amused puffs of air leaving his body periodically. But (the 'but' is very important) the corners of his lips are arched upwards in the likeness of a smile. 

Bente stares at her Kylo’s face in a sort of stupor. Mother of—she hadn’t known the man was capable of laughing. Or anything resembling happiness, really. Her mom conveniently left out just how broody and dark her dad is in real life. Bente has never felt prouder—the day he’d complimented her Force skills dim in comparison—than this moment, knowing it is her who is responsible for Kylo’s good mood.

Kylo steps forward and sighs, not in annoyance but mirth. Wordlessly, he reaches forward and a click! hiss! later Bente is free. She laughs sheepishly as he tucks the helmet under his arm, looking at her in the same way Hanzo does when she does something extremely dumb. 

“Uh, thanks, it was getting kinda stuffy in there.”

Kylo sighs again, though it’s more tired than fond this time. Now he looks and sounds like her brother. She brings up a hand to rub at her chest at the pang the image brings hers. He steps past her and walks back to his room wordlessly. Bente follows him and frowns when he begins to put on the rest of his outfit, mask sitting on a dresser with his lightsaber. 

“Where are you going this time?”

“I have many duties.” Is what he says. Bente groans. Stars, he even acted like Hanzo, the little workaholic.

Kylo clips his lightsaber to his belt along with his comms and walks out, helmet back under his arm. Bente trails after him, squinting at his back.

“Don’t you have, like, days off?”

“No,” He responds, making himself a cup of caf. Her nose wrinkles at both the smell and his answer.

“Never? Not even one?”

“No.”

He pours himself another cup after he finishes the first one. Bente is positive that the stuff makes up ninety-percent of his blood now.

Okay, Bente thinks to herself, this has got to stop before he gives himself a heart attack. 

She gives herself a little shake, loosening up her limbs, and steps forward. Kylo doesn’t notice, his attention solely on his now third cup (when did he drink the first two?) of caf. Bente closes her eyes and tries to remember the trick her mom taught her. She’s done it once or twice against civies who’d recognized her and even tried it on D-0 one time. It didn’t work, obviously, but it was worth a shot when he caught her sneaking out. 

Bente’s seen her mom do it a hundred times on Hanzo. Usually, whenever he got a good holonovel he just couldn’t put down or when he became a little too invested in a new project. Their mom normally waits until Hanzo burns himself out but sometimes drastic times call for drastic measures.

“Five more minutes, mother.” Hanzo mumbles. He’s bent over his workbench, eyes bloodshot, and deft fingers working away at the wiring on the machinery in front of him.

“Hanzo,” Rey says in warning but her brother is already absorbed back into his work. A fire could break out and Bente is a hundred percent convinced he wouldn’t even notice. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened, after all. 

Their mom rolls her eyes and places her palm atop Hanzo’s head. His eyes immediately roll back in his head, his whole body going slack. Rey catches him before he can hit the table, one hand cradling his head and the other flat on his back.

“Finally,” Bente groans and looks heavenwards, “I thought he’d never stop.” 

Kylo doesn’t have a chance to question the sudden flux in Force, Bente being faster than him. She places her hand on his head and pushes the command, sleep, with enough strength and willpower to snuff out the sun if she wished.

Her dad never stood a chance.

Kylo’s eyes flutter shut and his mug slips out of his hand. Bente is expecting that and catches it easily. What she is not expecting is the two-hundred-something pounds of packed muscle and black cloth that comes toppling towards her a second later.

Bente squeaks. She throws the mug onto the counter hastily, the liquid splashing his helmet that’s sitting there, and struggles to keep the man upright. It’s a lost cause, however, just like the caf, and he falls to the floor in a boneless heap. Bente groans at the familiar scenario.

“Aw man, do I have to carry your heavy ass again?” Bente rolls her eyes and hooks her forearms under her dad’s armpits. She drags him out and over to his room. For some reason, the task is a lot harder than the last time she did this. Which makes no sense considering she was both emotionally and physically disorientated and wading through three feet of snow. Bente guesses it might be because of the lack of adrenaline and threat of an imploding planet hanging over her head.

The real challenge rears its head when it’s time to get his deadweight two feet up and onto the bed. It’d be easier to just quickly pick him up and deposit him via the Force but Bente is reluctant to use it again. Using it earlier had been a huge risk, Snoke’s presence on the ship a constant reminder in the back of her mind.

Bente tries to lighten the load by stripping off his belt (lightsaber, key cards, comms, etc. coming off with it), the outermost layers of his ridiculously complicated outfit, and his boots. It hardly changes anything, to her displeasure.

“I know what they’re feeding you now but c’mon!” 

Bente mutters a few choice curses that would scandalize even her Uncle Poe when her Kylo’s noodle-like arm smacks her face. 

“Godsdamnit, get on here— yes! Wait no, no!” She catches Kylo’s wide torso with her back. Lifting with her legs, Bente manages to finally get him on the bed. She stomps around to the other side of the bed and flops down beside him. Bente throws one arm over his chest and uses her other to wipe the sweat off her face.

“You,” she gives him the stink eye, “need to lay off the protein.”

Kylo says nothing, soundless except for the faintest exhale and inhale. 

Bente closes her eyes. This time her quest for sleep is successful. No yoga needed. 

“Curious,” Snoke comments quietly to himself. He turns to one of his guards. “Fetch me General Hux.”

The red-clad warrior closest to him bows his head and walks off to get someone to collect the aforementioned man. 

Snoke rests his head back on his throne.

It would seem he’d have to keep a closer eye on his apprentice than he thought.

Life aboard the Supremacy isn’t much different than when Mitaka had been on the Finalizer. It’s the same job, albeit with different people— he doesn’t think about all those lost on Starkiller— and that’s fine with him.

Or it would be if he didn’t have the galaxy’s worst case of luck, spoiled before he can try it for himself. Because here he is posted on Supreme Leader Snoke’s personal flagship (the pressure is terrifying) and heart of the First Order with the most difficult people Mitaka has ever had the displeasure of serving under.

Yeah. That’s right.

Them. General Armitage Hux, an ambitious, methodical man. Ruthless too. And his rival, Kylo Ren. The current leader of the Knights a Ren— dark specters of violence and death— and the Supreme Leader’s terrifying protege. 

And he’s on his way to meet one of them. Stars, guide me, he prays. 

Mitaka tries his best not to appear too anxious— he has some pride— as he approaches the general at the older man’s beckoning. Mitaka stops a respectful distance away, hands behind his back.

“You requested me, sir?”

Hux looks up from a clipboard full of forms and reports. “I did. Ten minutes ago.” He hisses.

Mitaka swallows. To be fair it’s a big ship. A very big ship. He practically sprinted over here, a hairbreadth away from just shoving everybody out of the way and looking to any onlookers like he had a herd of rancors after him. He doesn’t mention that, though, knowing to keep his mouth shut with this one.

Mitaka doesn’t look away from the random spot on the wall that he’s anchored himself to lest he is blown away by the man’s fury. 

“I apologize for—”

“I don’t need your apologies, lieutenant,” Hux snatches his comm from his belt and glares down at the poor device. Oh well, better it than him. “What I need is for someone to go and see why Ren isn’t answering his blasted comms!” Mitaka flinches as Hux whirls to face him.

“O-of course, sir,” he dips his head respectfully, “I’ll get right to it.”

Hux nods, satisfied, “See that you do.” 

Mitaka walks away after giving a short salute.

“I’m not that man’s bloody babysitter.” He hears Hux growl to himself before he leaves. 

Once he is sure he’s out of the general’s sight, Mitaka collapses against the hallway wall. He stares blankly the three feet ahead of him.

“I’m a dead man.” 

The stormtrooper posted across him says nothing. 

Mitaka exhales shakily and curses his foul fortune. He survives one of Kylo Ren’s tantrums and now everyone thinks he’s immortal. Great. Just his luck, it seems. 

The officer spares about twenty seconds more to freak out and then to gather whatever strength he has left before heading to Ren’s private quarters. It’s located a whole other block (it’s not even on the same level, now that he thinks about it) away from the other officers and First Order personnel. Isolated and barren except for the occasional patrol. 

Sweat gathers behind his neck as he walks down the eerily quiet halls. Once outside the knight’s door he tries comming him, praying to every deity he can think of that he’ll get lucky and Ren will pick up, saving him from having to deal with Snoke's personal attack dog face-to-face. It’s not an experience he’s eager to relive.

Alas, today isn’t his lucky day. Same as all the others. Something in him crumples.

Mitaka presses the interface button next to the passcode entry pad. 

“S-sir?” Mitaka winces at the audible tremor in his voice. “It’s Lieutenant Mitaka. General Hux sent me to...check on you…” Gods, that sounded so unprofessional but that is pretty much the purpose of the task given to him. “You, ah, aren’t answering you comms.” He finishes lamely, pulling his hand off the button so quickly he ends up slapping himself. He ignores his smarting chin and jumps back away from the door, preparing himself for the dark giant to come storming out of his quarters, snarling at his unwanted presence.

Silence.

Mitaka frowns at the door. He inhales deeply, gathering all his resolve, and tries once more.

Again, nothing. Just him and his pounding heartbeat.

Mitaka moans mournfully in the privacy of his mind. He quickly inputs the codes to bypass Ren’s security system and take a wary step inside after another fervent mental prayer. He looks around but doesn’t notice anything out of sorts. Until he gets to what he assumes is the Force-user’s kitchen.

Mitaka’s stares at the spilled caf on the counter. He takes a step closer to investigate it. Despite his...destructive tendencies and turbulent emotions...Ren doesn’t strike him as a messy person, er, creature. Mitaka doesn’t actually even know if he’s human under that mask, now that he thinks about it. So the fact that his infamous helmet is sitting in a puddle of at least day-old caf is alarming. 

Mitaka checks the other rooms and areas— the study and the ‘fresher— and is careful to keep his footsteps light. The whole area is not very large. It’s actually a lot smaller than he thought the Supreme Leader’s apprentice’s quarters should be. He purposely avoids the man’s room until it’s the only place left to check. 

Mitaka closes his eyes outside the open doorway (there are no doors anywhere except for the ‘fresher and the entrance which strikes him as odd) and takes out his blaster. He takes a few calming deep breaths— each one shakier than the last— and cautiously peaks into the room, his cheek plastered to the wall and rolling the skin back as he moves.

Mitaka makes a confused noise in the back of the throat when he isn’t met with the knight’s assassinated corpse or the gaggle of Resistance infiltrators that he was positive were waiting to blast him.

Instead, he’s greeted with a very large man dressed in all black laid out on his back, sleeping soundly. (A maskless Kylo Ren, he realizes, equally scandalized and curious.) Next to him on the bed is... someone, their legs hooked over Ren’s knees horizontally. Their upper body and face are obscured by the odd angle. Mitaka takes a step closer and peers over the pile of legs.

His mouth falls open in surprise.

It’s a girl, young and fair-skinned. Her eyes are closed but not in sleep, no, her brows are furrowed and she looks to be in deep concentration. His face burns when it registers in his mind that she’s wearing Ren’s clothes, the garb unmistakable.

By the Holy Stars, what has he walked in on— 

Her eyes snap open and flit over to meet his. Mitaka shrieks and jumps back. 

“Gods, I’m so sorry!” He hastily reholsters his blaster and holds up his hands in both a placating gesture and to shield his eyes. “Ren wasn’t answering his comms and General Hux sent me out to check on him and, oh gods, I—I didn’t see anything! I swear! Honest!” 

The girl is sitting up now, eyes wide and staring at him. 

Mitaka begins to retreat, feet stumbling over each other like a newborn foal’s underneath him. 

“I’ll just tell the general that Ren is, um, indisposed at the moment, re—recuperating from his injuries.”

“Uh, no, no, dude, I think you got the wrong idea—”

Mitaka flees the room before she can finish speaking.

“...shit…”

Bente blinks stupidly at the empty spot the baby-faced officer had just occupied. She looks down at Kylo’s unconscious self. It hasn’t even been an entire day since she blinked out his lights and already she’s managed to get herself in trouble. Her dad is going to be pissed when he wakes up. 

Bente groans and flops back on the bed.

On the bright side, however, at least no one will bug them now.

Bente’s whole body shudders in disgust and she sticks her tongue out. 

“Ew...just ew.”

Yes, they probably won't get any more impromptu visitors but she’s not sure if the means justify the end. Especially since the random officer thought they were— Bente gags—whatever he thought. Guess that’s what she gets for trying to be nice. And for putting her guard down while trying to connect with Hanzo that she hadn’t noticed the guy’s arrival.

Bente steals the pillow from under her dad’s head and smothers her face with it.

She opens her mouth and screams.

The next day is just as boring as the others before. Minus the whole fiasco towards the end with that random officer. It seems whatever the dude told this ‘General Hugs’ person was good enough. 

Bente is walking back to her dad’s room, squeaky clean from the ‘fresher after her modified workout, and armed with the last of the man’s rations when he begins to stir. She stops mid-bite and watches as he blinks blearily up the ceiling. He grimaces and wipes at the grime that’s collected on his eyes over the past two days and sits up.

Bente chews slowly. He turns to face her when he hears the familiar crunch.

He squints at her, “Bente?” he asks, voice thick from sleep.

She quickly chews and swallows, “Uh, yeah, hey, you have a nice nap?”

He blinks, looking more awake. He opens his mouth and then stops, surprised.

“...yes, actually…” He looks utterly bewildered at the fact that he actually slept decently. Bente’s heart goes out to the man and she feels a little less guilty about what she did.

Kylo narrows his eyes at her suspiciously.

Bente gulps. 

“Bente,” he says warningly, “how long was I asleep for?”

She chuckles nervously. Her hold on the ration bars tighten. 

“Oh, you know how it is...keeping track of time when there are no windows and stuff. It’s kinda hard. Impossible, some might say.”

Kylo’s expression is steadily darkening. His voice is all but a growl, “Bente. ”

Ah, crap. Looks like the jig is up.

“Um, let me think,” Bente squirms. Kylo’s gaze does not waver. “Like one...two…”

“Hours?” He tries. Bente winces and her dad’s eyes narrow at the action.

“More like... days.”

Kylo’s expression lightens, making way for quiet shock.

“Two...days?” 

“Two days,” Bente confirms dutifully. 

Then just like that, the dark, stormy look is back.

“Two days?” He rumbles, his voice like thunder. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you in those two days?”

Okay, now Bente’s offended. She’s not that much of a screw-up. She can take care of herself just fine. Has been for the last five years. 

She tells him so. “Calm down, I’m all good. See?” She holds her hands out to show him. A ration bar drops to the floor. Bente looks down at it before quickly picking it up. She looks back at him and rolls her eyes. “I’m okay, you worrywart.”

Kylo shakes his head and throws back the covers. He staggers slightly, legs like putty from being in bed so long after all that time upright. 

“No. Snoke could have—”

“Dad,” Bente interrupts. She tries her best to imitate Hanzo’s I’m-being-serious-so-listen-to-me face that makes him look constipated. “I. Am. Fine.” She annunciates pointedly. 

Kylo stares at her with slightly wide eyes, body trembling minutely. Bente rolls her eyes and sets the food down on the bedside table. She gently but insistently guides him back down to sit on the bed. 

Kylo looks like he still wants to argue, his earlier surprise gone, so Bente adds, “Besides, they all just think you’re still resting. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

He gives a dirty look at that last bit. Bente just grins at him and pats his back. He’s quiet after that, an almost thoughtful look on his face now. It’s a lot better than the glower he was sporting earlier. Bente wonders if she looks that scary when she’s angry. Maybe she’ll ask Hanzo about it. 

Thinking of Hanzo...he should be on Ahch-To by now. Her hand fists the fabric of her shirt over her heart. Which means it’s only a matter of days (a week at the most) until she’s reunited with her twin. The thought rekindles the hope inside her, warming her and settling her hyperactive mind.

“Bente?”

Bente makes a noise that she heard him, still caught up in her thoughts of her approaching reunion with her other half.

“How do they know I’m ‘just resting’?”

That wipes the smile clean off her face.

Shit.

Bente, Kylo is quick to learn, has enough fury and willpower to sustain a small planet for a dozen generations if she were to put her mind to it. 

Like right now, for instance.

“No.”

Kylo huffs angrily and runs a hand through his hair. Why is she being so difficult? He glowers at her and she returns the look, lips twitching in a barely held back snarl. 

“Take it.” He tries again. He’s trying to be nice—‘trying’ being the keyword—but Bente is refusing to cooperate, the insufferable gnat. Why can’t she just accept his offer? Can’t she see how hard this is for him?

Bente squares her jaw and her stance shifts into something more aggressive. 

“I said no.”

There is a headache beginning in the middle of his skull. Is she doing this deliberately? No one can be this stubborn on purpose, can they? 

“Why not?” He snaps forcefully, his patience spent. He regrets it immediately, afraid that his daughter will finally realize just what kind of monster man he is. Fortunately for him, Bente pays his words and tone no mind. Just like she’s been doing this whole argument.

Bente gestures at his bed like a vendor might do with their produce. 

“Because, you difficult man, there’s enough space for the two of us.” She drops down to sit on the bed. Her expression softens and she shrugs. “I don’t mind. I share all the time with Hanzo.”

But I mind, he thinks. He hasn’t shared his space (never a bed) with another living being since the Jedi—since before he came to Snoke. And that had been very brief, the other students disturbed by his constant nightmares that they’d had to move him to his own hut.

He still gets them. Dreams that have him springing out of bed with a choked scream, lightsaber drawn, and face wet. He can’t risk her seeing him like that. He might scare her away, or worse, hurt her.

Kylo takes an unconscious step back, already shaking his head. 

“No, I—I can’t.”

Bente crosses her arms. “Well, where else are you going to sleep? The floor?” She asks, tone sarcastic.

That’s exactly what he was planning. 

“Yes.”

Bente’s eyes widen and her nostrils flare like a Nerf.

“No.” 

Oh, for the love of— 

Anger bubbles up Kylo’s throat and settles like acid in his mouth. He bites his tongue lest he spews poison and truly drives Bente away for good. 

They stare at each other, the atmosphere tense and thick, each one too stubborn to make room for further arguments or compromises. Bente’s face is twisted in anger, teeth white and sharp. The Force around her starts to spark and shake. Fear at the possibility of Snoke noticing Bente’s lapse in control quickly flushes out his frustration and irritation from his system. 

“Control yourself!” He barks. Bente flinches as if struck. Kylo freezes. Horror and guilt bite and gnash at his soul, chilling and burning it at the same time. 

Bente drops her head, hands fisted in the sheets under her, her presence in the Force tightly coiled around her center and masked once more with something dark that blends into the surroundings.

“Why can’t you?” She asks, voice unnervingly quiet and bitter. “Do...do you not trust me?”

Kylo’s guilt grows like a rampant weed, sucking all the nutrients and life out of everything else when her voice cracks at ‘trust’. But it also prompts him to consider her question. Does he trust her? He’s only known Bente a handful of days. Half of those days he was unconscious, by her hand no less. She could have slaughtered him then. In his sleep. The knowledge threatens to bring back unwanted memories— why Uncle? Why? Why!? WHY!?

Or she could have left him on Starkiller. Let the planet do the dirty work. Now that he's thought about it, she's had multiple opportunities to kill him if she wanted to. But she hasn't. On the contrary, all her actions so far have been to either help or preserve his life. 

“I do trust you,” Kylo says softly, his body loosening at the admission. Bente follows right after, her grip on the covers slackening. She lifts her head. Her expression is no longer furious, her features softened in a mix of confusion and a desire to understand him.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Kylo tells her the truth. He’s not one for lies. He doesn’t think he can with her. 

“I don’t know how.”

Bente’s brow furrows. She speaks slowly, “You...don’t know how...to sleep?”

He clears his throat and shifts. “I don’t know how to…” He looks at her, the bed, and then back at her. Embarrassment and awkwardness at his confession is making him hot, a flush creeping up his neck and his cheeks.

Bente’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh.” She smiles sheepishly. “Right. Sorry. I didn’t think of that.” 

Kylo nods jerkily. He tells Bente he’s going to order some extra blankets and pillows—asking for a cot will look odd—and practically flees the room despite his comm being hooked on his belt.

Ten minutes later Kylo opens the door to find Lieutenant Mitaka, his small form stiff-limbed and swamped under the pile of bedding he’d requested. His fear taints the Force around him. Kylo grimaces behind his mask. He takes the items from the officer who nervously but professionally asks if that will be all. 

“Yes.” He takes a step closer and the Force quakes around the officer. “Speak of this to no one.” He growls through his helmet, making an effort to sound intimidating despite the pillow covering half of his visor. 

It works. The lieutenant struggles to reply, mouth closing and opening uselessly. Irritation prickles at Kylo. 

“Y—yes, sir.”

“Good.” Kylo nods. “That is all, lieutenant.”

The young man dips his head in a jerky bow and hastily marches away. 

Kylo makes his way inside his quarters. He debates whether he should make his bed in his study or his bedroom. He settles on the latter idea, wanting to show Bente he trusts her. Enough to rest (not sleep, not yet, doesn't know if he can) in the same room. He can manage that at least, he believes.

Bente is already in bed and swaddled like an infant when he walks his bedroom. She watches with sleepy eyes as he makes his bed a few feet away from her and then when he returns, donned in sleepwear. 

He shuts off the lights and lays down. It’s uncomfortable but Kylo thinks it has to do more with how tense and stiff he is than it being his makeshift bed’s fault.

Bente yawns. “G‘night, Dad.”

Emotion clogs his throat, halting any reply from him. He stares at the dark ceiling above him. Kylo doesn’t dare blink his watery eyes.

He chokes out a reply after another minute. 

“...good night, Bente.” 

Kylo wakes up with an undignified snort, startled at the fact he had actually fallen and then stayed asleep.

With no nightmares.

And to top it all off, he actually feels well-rested. 

Again.

A snore pops the awed, confused bubble he found himself in. That’s when he takes notice of a warm weight across his chest. He turns slowly, pulse racing and body ready to defendfightkill. His eyes adjust quickly to the dark. Once they do, he finds Bente spread out like a starfish beside him, the blankets and pillows from his bed tucked underneath her. 

Kylo turns back to face the ceiling, nerves settling down once more. An amused puff of air leaves his nose and his mouth upturns in an awkward, half-forgotten expression. One that hasn't graced his face since he was young boy.

Bente mumbles something in her sleep and stretches, her hand sliding up and pushing his face away. The smile slides off his face and he sighs tiredly. Kylo grabs Bente’s wrist and drops it somewhere on her person.

It falls on her face.

The girl makes a sound like an animal snorting around in slop and rolls away from him. And in doing so, steals his blanket.

A long, tired exhale leaves his lungs. 

What a stubborn girl. Must get it from her mother.

“You sound like Hanzo.” She mutters, tucking his blanket under her chin before nodding off again. 

Kylo closes his eyes, smiling for the first time in years.

Chapter Text

Han is relishing in peace and quiet now that he kicked Rey out. It's just him, his trusty ship, and the stars. They’ve bypassed most obstacles and all he needs to is sit back and keep an eye open in case anything pops up. All is calm. 

He’s just about to doze off when Rey bursts into the cockpit with all the ferocious energy of a comet. Han jumps upright, wide awake now. He wants to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing except he’s too busy trying (and failing) not to choke on his spit.

“We need to turn this ship around.” Rey drops herself into the co-pilot’s seat. She gives Han a hard look when he doesn’t immediately comply with her demands, too busy dying —is no one going to help him!?

“Mother,” Hanzo says over the sound of Han hacking up a lung, “be reasonable.”

Rey ignores them both and begins to re-route the system’s navigational system. Hanzo finally notices Han’s predicament and gives his back a few hard thwaps. Now that his body isn’t busy trying to kill him, Han reaches out and shoos Rey’s hands from the controls. The furious look she gives him almost makes him want to just step out her way and let her do her thing but this is his ship, godsdammit.

“What’s going on, you two?” He glances back at Hanzo and then Rey. “What’s wrong this time?” It’s always something with these two. It’s like having two Lukes onboard at once.

“Nothing.” Hanzo says at the same time as Rey’s hissed, “Everything.”

Han frowns in confusion. He looks to Hanzo who he knows he can trust to give a reasonable explanation to what’s going on. 

Hanzo sighs, “It’s my sister. Bente.” He drops into the seat behind them. “Mother is worried about her safety.”

“For a good reason, seeing that she’s a prisoner of the First Order.” Rey says, glaring at the boy and then turns to Han with a beseeching expression. “Please. You have to help me save her.”

Now he gets it. Looks like the Loth-cat’s out of the bag. Han was wondering when Hanzo was going to let Rey in on the fact that her daughter was off gallivanting on a dreadnought.

Hanzo sighs again. Han is surprised he hasn’t just deflated at this point like a sad, overspent balloon. 

“She’s not a prisoner.” 

Rey whips around to face him. “What? How is she not a prisoner?”

Hanzo glances at Han.

Oh boy. Here they go.

Han holds his breath when Hanzo replies with, “She’s with an...ally.”

Rey’s expression clears in surprise. “What? Who? A spy?” She looks at Han. “Is it someone from the Resistance?”

Han awkwardly clears his throat. “Not exactly.” Rey must sense his reluctance on the matter so she turns to Hanzo.

“Who…” Rey asks slowly, seriously, “...who is she with, Hanzo?”

Hanzo holds her gaze calmly. He reminds Han of Leia, serene and confident in what he would say next.

“Kylo Ren.” 

Just two words—a name. Three syllables. That’s all it takes for things to go to shit. 

Rey stands up. Her face is twisted in an ugly mix between livid and fear.  

“She’s with Kylo Ren!?” She shouts incredulously. Han grabs the seat under him as the Falcon shakes with something that can’t be blamed on turbulence or a nearby star’s gravitational field. The air is heavy and simmering as Rey and Hanzo stare each other down with all the intensity of a Death Star’s ray. Han inches back as far as he can go in his seat so he doesn’t get caught in the crossfire of whatever is about to go down. 

“Yes,” Hanzo replies, unruffled in the face of his mom’s fury. He’s either brave as hell or stupid. Han doesn’t know which yet.

Rey takes a step forward. “And you consider Kylo Ren an ally?”

“Yes.”

Her teeth flash white like predator’s. The sound of metal creaking echoes around them. A spark goes off behind Han and he flinches away. Hanzo doesn't react, the textbook picture of composure. Han is beginning to lean towards stupid. Stars, does this kid have no sense of self preservation!?

“Why?”

“Because Bente saved his life.” 

The pressure in the cockpit lightens. Han takes in a deep breath, no longer feeling like he is ten feet underwater.

Rey stumbles back into the co-pilot’s seat, “W—what? Why would she…?”

“Becuase it was the right thing to do.”

Rey shakes her head, clearly in denial. Han would be too if he didn’t know the full story.

“But he—” Her eyes flicker over Hanzo’s face. At the healing, blistered flesh underneath his bandages. “—he’s part of the First Order. Why would she help an him? Didn’t she know who he was?”

“She did.” Hanzo turns away to look outside at the black expanse surrounding them. “As for why...well my sister’s never cared much for rules.”

Rey looks like she doesn’t know what to say. She finds her words eventually, though. 

“How can we trust that, that —” she glances at Han and changes whatever she was about to say, “—him? How can we trust him? How can we trust that Bente is safe with him? How?” She pleads.

Han understands where Rey is coming from. She’d been there, been the one to stop his son from turning Hanzo into a skewered food dish. But it still hurts. It pains him to hear just how far Ben has fallen and knowing that he is responsible. 

“We don’t have to.” Rey blinks in surprise. Hanzo continues, “We don’t have to trust Kylo Ren. We just have to trust Bente.” 

Still, Rey doesn’t let up. Han has to give her props. The girl is stubborn. 

“But how can we know for sure? I don’t understand. Are you able to communicate with her?” Rey squints down at Hanzo’s belt, likely searching for some kind of communicator. Han has to admit he’s curious about it too. Has he been in contact with his other grandkid this whole time? And if so, how? He’d taken a look through Hanzo’s belt earlier (just in case) and all he found were a couple of food portions, little bits of tech junk, a small leather case of tools, and some sweets wrapped in a soft cloth. No sign of any comms or transmitter whatsoever.

“Yes. Bente and I share a unique bond in the Force.” 

Of course. Han should have known. He slumps in his seat.

Rey frowns, “I still—I don’t understand.” Hanzo matches her frown. The novelty of explaining how the Force works to his mom—Han’s positive it was her who’d trained him, saw it in how he moved and fought earlier—must be settling in.

Hanzo explains, “We are twins, two halves of one whole, and always aware of the other. That is how we communicate.” Rey nods slowly but it’s obvious she doesn’t get it and if Han is being honest neither does he. 

Hanzo’s frown deepens and he tries again, “It is similar to a two-way private channel that only we have access to. We can share emotions, thoughts, and sometimes even physical occurrences such as pain. With enough concentration it even allows us to mentally communicate over long distances.”

“...I think I get it.” Rey says. Han stares at Hanzo. They’re that connected? He can’t imagine having someone so intimately familiar with his thoughts and feelings. The idea makes him shiver. Stupid Force Bantha fodder. He wonders if Leia and Luke have something similar and then realizes that—yes, yes they do—the two have always had this uncanny ability to tell when the other was in trouble or when one of them was about to do something stupid.

Rey crosses her arms and glares angrily out the viewport. 

"Still," she begins to argue. "what’s stopping him from using her as—as leverage or hurting her?” She looks back at Hanzo, avoiding Han’s eyes. It’s a reasonable question but still...Han clenches the leather of the seat under him tighter and grits his teeth.

“He wouldn’t.” Hanzo says firmly. Rey’s eyebrows lift up at the conviction in his voice and Han himself is surprised. Hanzo continues, oblivious, “Besides, my sister is a very capable fighter. She can subdue him if needed. Injured or not.”

“I still don’t like it,” Rey says stubbornly. Han sighs. They’ll be talking in circles if one of them doesn’t end this conversation soon. Han opens his mouth to change the subject but Hanzo stops him before he can try.

“I love my sister,” Hanzo starts, capturing both of their attention with the ease in which he says the words. “If I believed there was a remote chance she was in danger, I would not be here with you two, lightyears away from her.”

Rey’s eyes soften, “Hanzo, I didn’t mean—”

Hanzo stops her with one look. Han's surprise doubles. This is the closest to anger he’s seen from the boy so far and even now, he’s more irritated and offended than truly angry. 

“I know you didn’t, but what I say is the truth. Ren may be of the dark side now but he was born and fell from the light.” Han is very glad not to be on the receiving end of the sharp-as-vibroblades look Hanzo shoots Rey. “He will not harm Bente.”

Rey huffs hotly, “And you’re okay with that? With your sister being in the care of the person responsible for,” she looks pointedly at his injuries, “hurting you?”

“Yes.”

Rey blinks, shocked at Hanzo’s simple but honest reply. Han has to admit he’s a little incredulous himself. If it was his old man—not that he remembers much of the man other than the fact he’d been a right bastard—he’d be a little resentful.

“Truly? You’re honestly okay with it? You aren’t the least bit upset?” Rey asks.

“No.”

“Why not?” Han blurts out. Hanzo looks at him with that unfathomable wisdom born of someone who’s lived through the birth and death of a dozen universes. It’s both unnerving and humbling.

“War is war. There is no place for grudges or resentment. That is not how wars end.” 

“How...how do they end then?” Rey asks quietly. 

“Love," Han replies, eyes faraway as if speaking from memory. "That is how they are won—fighting for those we love not against those we hate.”

Han and Rey are both silent, quietly ruminating over the boy’s words. 

Hanzo suddenly yawns and then hisses when the action pulls at his wounds. Rey is at his side in a blink.

“Come on, you should go to bed.” She takes him by the elbow and gently leads him away. Han sits in the quiet, empty cabin by himself.

“...Ren may be of the dark side now but he was born and fell from the light.”

When had he given up his son—deemed him a cause so lost he’d run away from any chance of fighting for him? Han can’t blame the acidic, heavy sensation burning in his throat and chest as mere heartburn. 

I’m sorry, Ben. 

Han reaches over to the controls and undoes whatever Rey had messed up in her earlier frenzy. 

“We’re coming, Ben,” Han mutters. “Right after your stubborn uncle. Just you wait, junior.”

Rey seeks Hanzo out when he is meditating again. He senses his mother take a seat beside him, careful to keep her footsteps light as not to disturb him. The thoughtful way in which she does this reminds Hanzo of Bente. While noisy and disruptive from the second she woke, his sister had always shown a measure of respect and control when he was meditating, often taking a seat beside him and practicing some breathing controls or quietly stretching. 

The memory makes him ache, the Force around him responding in turn and dampening in melancholy. He knew that their separation would be difficult. But he could not have known it would be this difficult. It is bordering on both agony, every nerve in him scraped raw, and also a profound nothingness, a gaping chasm where his soul should reside and numbing him to the core. But his mother’s presence, a brilliant light, is a soothing balm on his frayed nerves. Her warmth penetrates past flesh and bone into his very essence and chases away the emptiness there, curling in his chest like some type of furry animal.

Although, right now he senses something more like hesitation or apprehensiveness from her, making her aurora flicker here and there in agitation. Hanzo doesn’t have to wait long for Rey to voice what is troubling her.

“Hanzo?” She prompts carefully, unaware that he has been conscious of her this whole time. He hums low in his throat in response, encouraging her to continue. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Hanzo has a feeling what she wants to talk about and it takes more strength than he’d like to admit not to sigh aloud. 

“Mother, for the sixth time, I will not tell you where Bente is.” He opens his eyes and frowns at her as he comes down from where he was levitating. “I will not risk Bente’s safety for an unnecessary and ill-advised rescue mission.”

Rey opens her mouth and pauses. “...that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Hanzo tilts his head to convey his confusion and growing curiosity. “It isn’t?”

“Well, it’s not the first thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Rey says sheepishly. 

So he wasn’t entirely wrong. “There is more than one?”

Rey shakes her head, “Just two, well now, one thing.”

“I’m listening.” 

Rey scoots over until she is sitting across from him. She looks at him head-on and the apprehension he felt from her reaches a crescendo as she visibly struggles for words. Hanzo wonders just what his mother needs to speak with him about that would have her so out of sorts. 

“I think it would be a good idea,” Rey starts, looking awkward and unsure, “if you didn’t—if you stopped calling me ‘mother’. It would just—”

Hanzo’s heart drops down to his gut. His mother’s next words dissolve into background noise, his mind now converted into a deafening orchestra of rampant thoughts. How had he never seen this conversation coming? He curses inwardly. Bente never would have let him make this kind of mistake. She’s always been much better with people than he is.

People are hard. It is one of the reasons he likes droids so much. Their way of thinking is linear and clear. Hanzo never has to guess with them like he has to do with organic beings. If Bente were here she would have snipped this social faux in the bud before it ever had the chance to grow like some unchecked weed. 

Gods, he should have known. How had he not sensed his mother’s discomfort? The Force and years spent together on the same ship strengthening the bond between mother and son made it easy to tell what his mother is feeling. It’s not as clear as what he can feel from Bente but it is close enough to make even interacting with this younger version of his mother manageable.

Or so he thought.

“Hanzo?” 

Hanzo blinks and finds Rey looking at him in concern. He should apologize now. That would be the correct first action to take. Hopefully, his social blunder will not damage their relationship irreparably. He doesn’t think he can take it if that turns out to be the case. He’s already lost his mother once by his inaction and to lose her again by his own hands would destroy him.

“I apologize…” Hanzo swallows heavily, “for assuming you would not mind. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable. Please forgive me.”

Hanzo does not understand why Rey looks so stunned. Had...had he apologized wrong? (He was sure he did it right like his mother had shown him that time when he was young and said something unknowingly mean-spirited to his sister) Was there something he missed? Another unspoken social rule or protocol he failed to follow correctly.

“Hanzo...did you not hear what I just said?”

Hanzo looks down, ashamed. He hadn’t, too caught up in his own head. And he’d told Rey he would listen to her, hadn’t he? Guilt settles side by side with the shame hanging low in his chest.

“No.”

Instead of being angry, Rey rolls her eyes. “Well, that explains the sudden apology.” 

Hanzo cocks his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” Rey huffs. “You weren’t listening.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rey smiles at him and Hanzo does not understand why she is smiling. Why is she not upset with him? Angry? It is frustrating because—

 He. Does. Not. Understand. 

But he wants to. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” She reaches out and pats his knee. Hanzo stares at her hand. His mother isn’t very casual with her touches, at least not this younger version of herself, and Hanzo knows it has to do with the way she grew up on Jakku. She doesn’t talk much about her time on Jakku, only shares what the planet taught her to her children, but Hanzo knows that his mother had been very lonely. And that’s probably why her future self is so carefree in her affections for him and Bente. 

As for this Rey, the only person Hanzo’s seen her touch freely is himself. He is proud to be the recipient of such an honor. His mother’s hugs are the best (Bente’s are arguably as good, so long as she doesn’t lift him up and shake him). Everybody else’s hugs are too loose and the lack of pressure makes him uncomfortable. 

Hanzo tilts his head further. For some reason, this makes his mother’s smile widen. 

“I don’t?”

“No.” Another pat. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable. It actually, uh,” Rey’s hand retreats back. Hanzo has enough sense to know that asking for it back will sound odd and might truly make his mother uncomfortable. Best to let her initiate contact at her own pace. Hanzo is nothing but patient. “It actually feels...nice. Like we’re family.”

“We are family.” Hanzo is quick to reaffirm. 

“Yeah. We are.” Rey’s smile is softer and her Force signature falls upon him like gentle sunshine. Hanzo basks in it like a sun-drunk Loth-cat. “So you don’t have to stop. I just need you  to call me ‘Rey’ when we’re not with Han or Finn.” Hanzo nods in understanding but says it out loud so she knows he’s grasped her meaning. Rey grins and pats his head. Hanzo closes his eyes, pleased. 

Hanzo opens his eyes when he feels her hand lower to tug gently on one of his braids. Rey is looking at it curiously.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” She thumbs the black strand. “Why do you have your hair like this?”

“It’s an Alderaanian custom. You weave in a strand of hair from someone whom you are close with.” Hanzo explains and then adds, “It can be a family member, close friend, or lover.” 

“What does it mean?”

“It symbolizes your loyalty and bond with that person or persons.”

Rey lifts the braid in her hand. “Whose is this?”

“Bente’s.”

She lifts up the other one.

“Yours.”

Rey cups the braid, an unfamiliar look on her face. Finally, she lets go. Her eyes are a little wet but she doesn’t feel upset. No, she feels...it’s a positive feeling, is what Hanzo surmises.

“They’re very nice.” She compliments quietly.

“Thank you,” Hanzo responds, adopting the same low volume despite not understanding why they're whispering. Rey laughs at that and pets his head gently. Hanzo's eyes fall shut of their own accord. If he had the ability to purr he’d have put the Falcon’s engine to shame long ago.

Hanzo spends most of the journey to Ahch-To either sleeping, keeping his mother and grandfather company in the cockpit, or meditating in hopes that he’ll catch Bente doing the same. He knows how hard it is for his hyperactive twin to sit still, especially now they’re apart. Hanzo pities his father. It won’t be long before all that pent up energy explodes and when it does...well, let’s just say Hanzo is very very glad that he’ll be halfway across the galaxy when that happens.

Then there's also the very real danger of Snoke discovering them. The chance of that happening is minimal, Bente is always very careful to keep her Force signature small and contained and Hanzo is fairly confident he’d be able to sense the Supreme Leader before the humanoid can. But the risk of Snoke finding them and somehow hijacking their connection is never zero. The recuperations, if that were to happen, would be irreversible.

Still, the knowledge of the threat Snoke represents is not enough to entirely dissuade Hanzo or Bente from reaching out to one another. The instinct, the need to be close to each other is far too ingrained in them to simply ignore. 

Hanzo is meditating, casting a line out for his twin when he feels a tug. Hanzo zeroes in on the sensation and reels in the connection like a fanatic fisherman. Bente’s consciousness slams into his with such Force that Hanzo’s head snaps back, hitting the wall behind him. He ignores the throbbing in his skull in favor of wading through Bente’s stray thoughts and emotions.

I put on dad’s helmet! is the first thing Bente says once Hanzo finds her. Her mirth and pleasure dance around him. Hanzo’s can’t help but smile along with the feeling. And he braided my hair. You better watch out, lil bro, Dad has some serious skills. 

I guess I’ll just have to practice more, then. Hanzo replies. His amusement and relief that she’s getting along with their father joins Bente’s emotions, mixing together to create something bright and happy. The Force hums contently, wrapped protectively around the pair.

How is Father? Are his injuries healing alright?

Oh, um, yeah. He’s...doing good. Hanzo frowns at the nervousness tainting the bond. Like super duper good. The best! She chuckles awkwardly towards the end.

Bente, Hanzo starts, suspicion leaking into his tone, what did you do?

Nothing! Bente replies much too quickly to his liking.

Bente.

There’s a sensation like a bubble bursting and another flood emotions come in from his sister’s end. Hanzo weathers the storm like an experienced sailor.

It wasn’t my fault! I mean it was but it was for his own good, I swear! He was practically dead on his feet and drinking waaaay too much caf —I pretty much saved the man from a heart attack— so I decided to...intervene.

And how did you decide to intervene? Hanzo asks calmly.

I uh...did what Mom does, Bente’s presence shrinks back minutely from him, and put him...to sleep.

Hanzo sighs aloud. He really, truly does pity his father—the poor man.

Hey! He’s fine. It’s not like I hurt him. He’ll wake up...eventually.

A pause.

I hope, comes Bente's mumbled thought.

Oh Maker, Hanzo thinks privately to himself, his father is a dead man.

Han side-eyes Hanzo. The boy is sitting beside him the co-pilot chair, gazing out at the asteroids and stars. His body language is relaxed, body slumped slightly from his normally rigid posture, holonovel resting in his lap, and his eyes half-lidded. He looks content.

The cockpit is silent, Rey having left a little while ago to eat and shower, and Han is surprised by how not-awkward it is. It’s a different sort of quiet than what he shares with Chewie mostly because it’s never really quiet when it’s them two, Han always talking and joking about something or other while his best friend offers well-timed comebacks and witty commentary. 

His grandson—gods, that is never going to not sound weird—has made it a habit shambling on over to the front of the ship to stargaze. Rey allows it so long as he doesn’t move around too much and doesn't touch any of the controls when she’s gone. And that’s just the thing, Rey doesn’t take much breaks—diligent co-pilot that she is—but when she does it’s like Hanzo knows and next thing Han knows the kid is sitting beside him, silent and unflappable no matter how hard Han tries to break the ice.

The deja vu is unreal. 

It reminds Han too much of his stilted and mostly unsuccessful attempts to bond with Ben. His relationship with his son before they’d sent him away, much to his regret, was strained and more often than not led into some argument or disagreement that would have Ben stomping away hurt and angry while Han would be irritable for the rest of the day. 

Han is determined to do better by his grandson, taking his time with Hanzo as a sort of second chance. Determined not to put his foot in his mouth and after fishing for something—anything—to talk about, Han learns that his skill for piloting ships and Rey’s mechanic know-how must be genetic becuase, stars, Hanzo is smart. 

Now, Han knows his way around ships and their parts, you have to in his business unless you want to be duped (or you want to do the duping) so Han knows his stuff. Even so, it’s clear that Hanzo knows way more than he could ever hope to learn. The kid even had the balls to tell him that his specialty isn’t ships but droids, be they protocol or astromech. Han has never been happier that C3PO is with Leia. He bets those two could talk for hours. 

Han had found himself trying (and failing) to keep up. Hanzo must have known he’d lost him and he had frowned and apologized despite Han telling him he didn’t need to. Han remembered floundering for something else to talk about, anything to avoid the awkward silence he knew was coming. And in doing so exposed his longest, deepest held secret. 

“I liked it,” Hanzo says quietly, his voice still raspy. Han should really find something to help with that before the kid loses his voice and has to use a voice modulator for the rest of his life.

“Liked what?” Hanzo looks down pointedly at the holonovel on his lap. Han clears his throat awkwardly. “Oh. Right.” It’s one of his. How Hanzo found his secret stash is a mystery that Han is positive had to do with a mixture of boredom, ample time, and curious little hands.

Han flexes his fingers against the steering handle. 

Some people hide porn. Or special snacks they don't want anyone else to eat. Well, Han...he hides a treasure trove of cheesy romance holos.

“So, uh, did you have any favorite parts?”

Hanzo hums, “Yes.”

Embarrassed but genuinely curious Han asks, “So what were your, uh, favorite parts?”

“‘If my love were an ocean, there would be no more land’.” Hanzo begins to recite from memory. “‘If my love were a desert, you would see only sand. If my love were a star–late at night, only light. And if my love could grow wings, I’d be soaring in flight’.” 

Han feels heat seep into his cheeks. “Uh, yeah, that was good.”

“I also liked when Diana told Jay, ‘No matter where I went, I always knew my way back to you. You are my compass star’.”

Han coughs into his fist. “Yeah. Um. Me too, kid.”

“Did you have a favorite part, Grandfather?” Hanzo asks innocently. Han looks at him. The boy is looking back at him with a steady, nonjudgemental gaze that settles some Han’s nerves. 

“Yeah, I, er, did.” Han runs a hand through his hair and ignores how his face is on fire. “‘I wanted to tell you that wherever I am, whatever happens, I’ll always think of you, and the time we spent together, as my happiest time. I’d do it all over again, if I had the choice. No regrets.’”

“...what are you two talking about?” Comes Rey’s voice from behind him.

Han does not scream. He shouts. It’s a very manly shout. The definition of masculine. Worthy of a Rathtar. 

A manly man shout.

Yeah.

The minute they set down on Ahch-To Rey is accosted by a case of bubbly nerves. The feeling stirs her body awake, having been lulled earlier when she sat in on another of Hanzo’s meditation sessions. He's has been spending more and more time meditating the closer they got to Ahch-To, now that Rey thinks about it. She supposes he’s just as nervous as she is despite his otherwise impassive demeanor. The more time she spends with him, the simpler it is to get a feel for what he's thinking or feeling. Hanzo is surprisingly easy to read—like an open holonovel—once you know what to look for. It's actually rather adorable, how open and honest he is.

Rey is marching off the loading ramp the moment it touches down. She’s about to continue walking, something calling her to and guiding her, when she notices Hanzo is not by her side anymore. Which is odd, seeing as Hanzo's been following her around like a baby animal would its mother the whole time they've known each other. It's endearing just as it is strange. Rey’s never had someone hang around her and not want something from her. It's a little surreal to have someone want to be with her just for the sake of being with her, of being in her company. And the strangest thing is that Rey finds herself wanting his company too. She'd never really felt that with the other scavengers on Jakku.

Rey looks back up and finds Hanzo standing at the top of the ramp. She’s about to call out to him when she sees the expression on his face. His normally tanned skin has turned an alarming shade of white and his eyes are wide open. There’s an energy—the Force—whirling and crackling around him. Rey hurries back up and settles a hand on his bicep.

“Hanzo?” 

He doesn’t respond, his eyes and face are eerily devoid of emotion, of life.  

“Hanzo?” Rey tries again, voice rising in her panic. She shakes him a little. “Hanzo? What’s wrong?”

His faraway eyes roll over to her. They don’t seem to be focusing on anything. It’s like he’s looking right through her. It makes the hairs on her arms stand on end. 

Rey reaches up and squeezes his shoulders with both hands. She maneuvers him so he’s facing her, trying to get him to see her.

“Hanzo? Answer me.” Her eyes search his wildly. They stare past her, unfixed and empty. “Please.”

Nothing. No response.

Rey leans her head back and calls for Han frantically. The man appears almost instantaneously, blaster in hand and ready to shoot, his narrowed eyes scanning the area for threats.

“What? What is it?” His gaze settles on Hanzo and his eyes widen. “Oh, hell.” Han holsters his weapon and walksup to them, “What happened?”

Rey doesn’t look away from Hanzo’s glassy eyes.

“I—I don’t know. I turned around he was just like this.”

Han sidles up next to her and leans in. “Hey, kid.” He shakes his shoulder, the boy’s body limp and pliable under his hands. “C’mon, Hanzo, snap out of it.”

The man snaps his fingers in front of his face. Again, nothing. No response. 

Han turns to Rey equally bewildered and concerned.

“What the hell happened to make him go catatonic like this?”

Panic makes her throat tight and words hard. “I don’t know,” Rey repeats desperately.

Han grunts and places his hands on his hips, studying the boy.

“Was he acting weird—well, weirder, ” Han corrects himself, “—than usual?”

Rey bites her lip, “He seemed the same. Maybe a little tired? He’s been sleeping and meditating a lot.” But she doesn’t know if that’s normal for Hanzo. She hasn’t known him that long to know for sure if his behavior these past three days has been abnormal or not. Rey thinks hard. “...and anxious? I think. It’s hard to tell he’s just so quiet and serious.”

“Trust me, kid,” Han says tiredly, clearly speaking from experience. “I get it.” 

Rey suddenly remembers than Han had been—had becuase his son is lost to him now—a father. Father to Kylo Ren. Rey shakes off the curiosity of what Ren might have been like as a child. She has more important things to focus on him.

Han hums in thought. He reaches over and pulls Hanzo’s bottom eyelid down to look at his eyes better. It’s then Rey sees just how big his pupils have gotten. They're blown wide, just a thin ring of hazel left behind.

“It looks like he’s in shock.”

Rey looks up at the older man. “How do we—what should we do?”

Han, the helpful man that he is, shrugs. Rey glares at him.

“What? I’m not a crinking doctor, kid.” He turns back at Hanzo, eyebrows furrowed. “I guess we can try and talk him out of it.” 

Rey nods. She takes in a shaky breath and reaffirms her hold on Hanzo’s shoulders.

“Hanzo?" She's careful to keep her voice steady and calm and not shout like she wants to. "It’s me. Rey. Can you hear me?”

Nothing. 

Fear, naked and cold, curls tight around Rey’s heart and squeezes. 

“Kid, talk to us.” Han glances at Rey. “C’mon, you’re scaring your mom.”

Hanzo’s eye twitches. Rey gasps and turns to Han who appears just as shocked as she feels.

“Hanzo?” She tries again.

Another twitch and then his eyes slowly roll over to meet hers. “M—mum?”

“Yes,” Rey says, breathless as relief crashes over and threatens to sweep her up. 

“Mum?” Hanzo croaks. He blinks rapidly, his gaze beginning to clear after each blink. “You-you're really here?” 

Rey grabs his face—careful with his injuries—and cradles it tenderly like Hanzo might crumble in her hands but she's so desperate to touch him, to hold him safe and keep him safe. His skin is clammy and cold underneath her hands. Tears prick at her eyes.

“Yes. I’m here, Hanzo, I’m right here.” She repeats the phrase over and over until his eyes slowly clear and he’s looking at her, really seeing her.

“Mum.” He whispers, eyes wide in awe and spilling over in tears. The instinct to wrap Hanzo in her arms is strong and one Rey isn’t inclined to ignore. Hanzo buries his face in her chest and the grip he has on her clothes threaten to tear the sun-bleached fabric. Rey could care less.

“It’s okay, I’m here. It's alright.” She places her cheek atop of his head and pulls him in closer when he starts shaking. “I’m here, you’re okay.” The words that come from her are natural and something she'd once yearned more than anything to hear repeated back to her.

Ten more minutes pass by like that, Hanzo in Rey’s arms and Han quietly looking on in support and worry. Finally, Hanzo pulls away and Rey watches as the boy wrangles in his errant emotions into something controlled and contained. It breaks Rey’s heart a little to see it happen.

“You alright there, junior? Feeling any better?” Han asks after Hanzo finishes wiping the tear tracks off his face. The boy nods and brings down his arm, expression inscrutable if it weren't for the slightest downturn on his mouth and the minuscule pinch in his eyebrows.

“Yes. I apologize.” His mouth pulls downward as he takes in the island’s scenery. “I...I don't like this place.”

“No kidding.” Han grunts.

“How come?” Rey asks. There had been no sign of his dislike before. Rey’s brows dip down in a worried frown. Just how much does Hanzo hide within himself? Why hadn’t he said anything? Why hadn't he told her?

“Bad memories.”

His reply is tense and curt, clearly uncomfortable and unwilling to say anything else. Rey gets the sense that something terrible must have happened here. What else could explain Hanzo’s strong reaction? Rey finds that she desperately wants to know what—so she can prevent a similar occurrence from ever happening again.

Han voices her question, “Something bad happened here, didn’t it?” 

Hanzo doesn’t look their way, his gaze focused on the blue sky above them.

“Yes,” he rasps. “I lost someone very important to me...someone I love...here.”

Rey brushes her hand against his and Hanzo grabs onto it tightly without hesitation. 

“You can stay here with Han if you want.” Han nods beside her. “You don’t have to come with me.” Hanzo seems to come back to himself at that.

“No.” He frowns and faces her. The determination and protectiveness he exudes both confuses and endears her. “I’m staying with you.”

Rey can’t find it in herself to argue. “Okay,” she agrees quietly and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. Hanzo’s expression softens and his lips quirk up briefly in what Rey has come to understand is his way of smiling. Rey smiles back at him. 

Han excuses himself with a gentle pat to Hanzo’s head and a reminder for them to be careful and not fall off the island. Rey rolls her eyes. She knows what a running man looks like and that is Han. 

Rey tugs Hanzo forward gently and he dutifully begins following her. Looks like it’s going to be just her and Hanzo. 

Rey’s mouth thins into a determined line. 

Yes, her and Hanzo will be the ones to bring Luke back to the Resistance and end this war. 

The blue lightsaber on hip bounces against her thing as they climb. Rey doesn't let go Hanzo and neither does he even if it would make their journey easier. The Force leads her to the highest spot on the island.

A weathered-looking man turns to the pair.

Luke Skywalker.

Rey takes a deep breath. Time to finally get some answers.

Hanzo lets go of his mother’s hand even though it's the last thing he want to do. The warm weight of her hand in his, the pulse in her wrist beating against his own is a reminder that she is not gone—dead at the bottom of the planet’s waters. However, he needs both hands free if he is to protect her. 

Luke eyes the both of them curiously, the skin around his eyes scrunching when he instinctively goes to check Rey then Hanzo for weapons. He glances from one lightsaber to the other. Hanzo’s only outward reaction to the close scrutiny is a twitch of his fingers. The kyber crystal in his sword hums anxiously. 

Wordlessly, Rey unclips Hanzo’s great-grandfather’s lightsaber and reverently offers it to the man in front of her. 

Hanzo had come into this not knowing what to expect but prepared for any scenario, regardless. He could not, never in a million years, have predicted what came next.

Hanzo’s eyes follow the lightsaber as it arches up into the air and over the cliffside. His great-uncle then walks off like he hadn’t just chucked a priceless weapon off the planet. 

“Master Skywalker?” Rey questions incredulously and hurries off after the man. Hanzo watches them before looking back at where he feels the legacy saber buzzing in annoyance. It calls to him, demanding to be picked up. Hanzo sighs heavily, sparing his mother a glance. He can still reach her in a timely manner if the need arises. 

Mother will be fine. He reminds himself as he walks to the edge. She is strong, even now, and Grand-Uncle has cut himself off from the Force. Still, Hanzo vows not to leave her side unless absolutely necessary.

Hanzo reaches out with the Force and summons the saber. It responds to his call. It feels both light and heavy in his palm, weighed down by its previous owner’s sins and raised up by their hopes and dreams. 

Hanzo turns on his heels and sprints back to his mother’s side. Relief tempers his worry when he sees her unharmed. She doesn’t look at him when he arrives, her focus entirely ahead of her.

“He won’t come out.” Rey puts her hands on her hips and glowers at the closed metal door. Hanzo has to quickly look away from it, the sight dredging up unwanted memories.

Mother is here. He reminds himself. She’s alright. She’s safe. She’s alive. And it is going to stay that way. 

“Come on, Hanzo.” Rey beckons and begins to make her way back down. “Maybe Han can get him to come out.” Hanzo follows obediently after her. 

Han’s had the whole trip to psyche himself up for this but he can’t help but feel unsure and hesitant about meeting Luke after—after everything that happened those six years ago.

Han draws in a deep breath once they reach their destination. Partly to gather up his resolve, partly in relief, and then also becuase his lungs are burning. Hanzo looks at him with something akin to concern that has Han bristling. He is not out of shape or old or any of those other things he bets they're both thinking. It’s just that he’s been sitting down this whole trip and his joints still hurt from Starkiller (he’s not old, godsdammit. At least the snowball was better than Hoth. If only slightly) and he didn’t get a chance to stretch his legs out before Rey and Hanzo decided to drag him up a karking mountain.  

And to think Luke, who’s only ten years younger than him, lives all the way up here. Han bends down, hands on his knees, and tries to get his breathing to sound like a normal human and not a broken flute. 

How does Luke do it? He thinks, incredulous. Han waves off the hand Hanzo offers him and stands up straight. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just show me where he is.” 

Rey rolls her eyes fondly (the gall of this girl) and leads him over to one of the huts. He raises a brow at the door. Kind of looks like someone welded the surface frame of an X-wing—

“Son of a blaster…” Han trails off. Luke never planned on coming back, did he? Han sighs and lifts his fist to bang on the door. Looks like they're both running from their pasts.

“Luke!” Han shouts. He hears something fall to the ground inside the hut. He raps on the door twice. “It's me! Now open the damn door already!” Han takes a step back.

A moment of silence. Then a quiet, weary voice breaks through the still air, “...Han? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Now come out. Your sister wants to see you. Let's go.”

“Leia sent you?” 

He sounds surprised. Han makes a face. “Well, yeah, she’s only been looking for you for the past, I don’t know, six years .”

Luke chuckles. Han frowns at the deprecating tone he hears there. “That long, huh?” 

Han sighs, “She needs your help, Luke.”

Silence.

Han waits it out. They all crack eventually.

“I can’t help you.” Comes Luke’s quiet resigned voice. “I’m not—I’m just not what the galaxy needs right now.”

Han rolls his eyes. “It ain’t the galaxy that needs you.” Well, kind of, but whatever. Semantics was never Han’s thing, he let Leia handle that one. Bribing and smuggling were more his forte. “It’s your sister. Leia. She needs you.”

“I’m sorry, Han,” and he really does sound sorry the sympathetic bastard, “but I—I can’t face Leia not after...not after what happened.” With the Jedi academy, with Ben, are the unsaid words. But it feels like there’s something else. Something bigger, something so big Luke had no choice but to hide himself away on the most remote planet in the galaxy in shame. 

Han walks over to the door and leans against it. “Luke...what really happened six years ago?” He asks lowly. 

“Go away, Han.” Luke says after a time, voice tired and pained. Han tries again, trying to convince the man to come out, but Luke refuses to respond. 

“Stubborn farm boy,” Han grumbles as he marches back to Rey and Hanzo. He mutters a few other insults, careful to keep his voice so the two kids can’t pick them out. Finally, he crosses his arms and glowers at the hut his friend has chosen to hide away in. “Well, I tried. Your turn.”

Rey huffs, “I already tried. If he won’t listen to you then I doubt he’ll start listening to me.”

“Then let the kid take a crack at it.” 

“What?” Rey asks, face scrunching up. Han doesn’t answer her, instead meeting Hanzo’s eyes and then gesturing at the door.

“C’mon, squirt, your turn.”

Hanzo holds his gaze silently. A gust of wind rustles through their clothes and sends Hanzo’s braids in his face yet the boy does not break eye contact. It’s a little impressive, Han has to admit. The kid would probably be decent at Sabaac. 

“Okay,” Hanzo says at last and walks forward. He lifts up his hand and the air around them begins to vibrate.

“Wait, Hanzo—” Rey begins worriedly only to be interrupted by the screeching of durasteel as it’s wrenched away and thrown off the planet.

“Hey!” Comes Luke’s scandalized voice from within the hut. 

“Should have just done that from the beginning,” Han mutters and marches inside the hut, the pair following after him. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darker lighting but when they do, they immediately find the wide, blue eyes of his friend and brother-in-law.

“Hey, kid,” Han goes for a smirk but it feels strained and not nearly as charming as he was aiming for, “Long time no see.”

Luke gapes up at him wordlessly.

Chapter Text

After the stunt Bente pulled on him, Kylo knows it’s only a matter of time before Snoke sends for him again, what with the reckless display of power the foolish teen had let slip. 

And so Kylo waits with bated breath, ready to shove Bente into the nearest escape pod if necessary.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits some more.

But when no red-armored guards come for him the heavy cloud of foreboding and apprehension that had hung over him begins to thin but it does not completely dissipate. No, it is still there shrouding his mind in a light fog. Light enough that his mind is now capable of running more than just horrible scenario after horrible scenario—each one ending with either his or Bente’s capture or their demise. Not that he would ever let such things come to pass but he can't make his mind stop conjuring such images. 

And so he spends a considerable amount of time trying parse out why Snoke hasn't come for him or, most importantly, Bente. Surely, Snoke must have felt it, the great swell of energy right before it’d crashed upon his head with all the heft of a dreadnought. You'd have to be Force-blind not have felt such power. And Force-blind his master is not.

Kylo feels all the blood in his face leave, his whole being feeling very faint and far away as if to separate him from this new horror he's pieced together.

Is his master...is his master toying with him? Playing some kind of tortuous mental game, waiting like a veiled viper for his prey to come scurrying to him in a guilt-laced panic straight into the serpent’s jaws? 

It wouldn’t be the first time Snoke played such games with him but then again if Snoke knew Kylo was harboring such a powerful Force-user, the decrepit alien would have already taken Bente, wasting no time in trying to turn her into another weapon for the First Order, especially after Starkiller base’s humiliating loss. Bente would be turned into a tool of death and destruction not unlike what his master had viciously carved out of the broken, charred remains of Ben Solo. 

Kylo slumps heavily against the doorway of his study that Bente’s turned into an improvised workout area. He watches as she contorts herself into yet another odd and painful-looking position on the floor.

Her Force signature is drawn tightly within her, so much so that Kylo would be hard-pressed to pick her out in a crowd of people—her unique appearance notwithstanding. But alone like he is now with her and with what he knows is part instinct and part the Force, it’s impossible not to recognize her as his.  

Kylo’s eyes widen. 

Yes, that must be why. Bente is his. She shares not just his blood and looks but also his likeness in the Force. He’s read about it before in the few Jedi medical texts that had survived the Empire’s purge. Read about how the Force signatures between parent-offspring and sibling-sibling, while easy to tell apart amongst themselves, is a much harder feat for those not belonging to that specific family unit to distinguish sister from brother or daughter from mother, etc.

Kylo nearly falls over in his relief. While Snoke has always chastised him for his ill-control, his emotions leaking out into the Force and stifling it, Kylo has never been more thankful for the often punished flaw. It is very likely Kylo’s distinct presence in the Force has served as a shield for Bente’s outburst the other day.

“Dad,” Bente pipes up, nearly startling him, “while I’m glad you figured out whatever was bugging you, you’re kinda distracting me.”

Kylo looks down at Bente. She’d moved sometime during his inner ruminations and is now balanced on her forearms, torso and lower body held aloft and curled backward, the points of toes brushing the tops of her buns.

He clears his throat, “Ah, yes, I apologize.” He's impressed. The pose is obviously difficult to maintain yet Bente holds it with remarkable composure and grace. Bente, noticing his attention, raises an eyebrow and shoots him a friendly grin. Kylo smothers the need to fidget at having such a welcoming, bright sight directed at him. He’s never had someone smile so much around him.

“You wanna join me?” she asks, tone playful and inviting all in one. 

“I don’t think I’m quite as,” Kylo grimaces as Bente unfolds herself only to cross her legs and pull her body up by the strength of her arms alone, “...flexible as you are.”

Kylo doesn’t know how she does it but Bente manages a shrug, her entire body lifting with the action.

“That’s okay. Hanzo isn’t either. Stiff as a board." Bente shrugs again, crossing her legs one over the other in a tighter knot that makes Kylo's hamstrings hurt just looking at her. "Kinda like his personality.” Bente’s grin turns mischievous, a look he’s regrettably becoming more familiar with. “Mum, on the other hand, oh she’s pretty bendy.” Bente winks at him. “You’d be impressed.”

Kylo feels his face flush instantly. He tromps over to Bente’s right, refusing to acknowledge both the heat in his cheeks and his daughter’s teasing. He drops onto the ground in a seated position harder than he ought to. Kylo winces as pain shoots past his tailbone. Bente giggles. Kylo steadily ignores her and stares mulishly at the shelf of holotexts in front of him.

He doesn’t have to look at Bente to see the smug smirk that she's most definitely sporting. Out of his peripheral vision, he watches her lower her bottom to the floor before scooching forward and swiveling around so she’s sitting criss-cross-applesauce parallel to him. 

“Okay, we’ll start off with some simple stretches since you’re still, ya know,” Bente mimes the black strip of bacta running down his face and chest, “healing from mom’s epic ass-whooping.”

Kylo grips his knees tightly but doesn’t otherwise react. He's learned that it only feeds her need to further antagonize him.

The girl pouts when she gets no visible reaction before resuming her instruction.

“Alright stretch out your legs—stars, why do we have such long legs for?” Bente positions her legs so that one of his is slotted between hers and vice-versa, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. She reaches out with both hands and motions for him to grab them. She waves her arms impatiently when he doesn’t.

“C’mon, grab my hands.” At his continued hesitation, Bente coaxes, “They’re clean. I promise.”

“That’s—that’s not it,” he tries to explain and fails if Bente’s confused expression is any indication. Kylo looks down at his hands, where they’re still clutching his knees, the pressure painful but grounding. He’d taken off his gloves earlier to better run his hands through his hair in frustration as he panicked over their imminent capture. His hands have sowed more pain and suffering than he cares to think about.

He lifts his hands and stares down at them, watches as the red rivulets run down the jagged scars, and listens to the hiss as the thick liquid evaporates on the heated blade of his lightsaber.

“Mine aren’t,” he swallows heavily, “mine aren’t clean.” He watches in an odd state of detachment as his hands begin to shake, his voice sounding far away even to his own ears. 

He stares in mute horror at his hands, hands that have ripped, choked, clawed, punched, and taken the very lives and sanity out of so many people. Hands that have done nothing but wreak havoc and pain on anything and everything they touched; that have shattered every last good thing in his life, the shards biting into his palms and fingers, errant remembrances that only serve to pain him, embedded so deeply into his flesh no amount of digging could hope to unearth them.

Kylo’s gaze flicks to Bente’s, her face contorted in pain and eyes spilling over in tears. Shame fills him and he pulls his hands back to clutch at his knees, nails tearing into the skin there through the fabric in a fruitless bid to control himself. 

Bente’s touched him far too much already, the naturally tactile person that she is. Her pale, calloused hands always grabbing and pulling at his clothes, hands, and arms, her grubby fingers poking at his cheeks to gain his attention, her legs and shoulders brushing against his as they ate meals together, limbs slapping and kicking him in her sleep, her arms wrapping around in quick but affectionate hugs. No matter how much he’s tried to distance himself from her, both physically and emotionally, she always manages to pull him back in with a cheeky smile and a playful tug to his cloak.

He’s already hurt one child—Hanzo’s pained cries as his lightsaber cuts through his skin like soft butter plays in the back of his mind—he cannot bear the thought of hurting another of his children. His daughter who is full of compassion, love, and so much good. It’s a miracle his touch has yet to brand her with the stench and filth of his many sins. 

Maybe it is a blessing that he died in her timeline—he knows he did, his absence from Bente’s memories and the way she clings to him now all indicate he’d died sometime before the twin’s birth. The thought unsettles him like it would any other person but it also saddens that selfish, foolish part of him. The part of him that craves peace (peace is a lie!), home (gonegonedestroyedgone), and family (they never wanted you. they feared you). 

Kylo makes to leave, to run away, and get as far away from her as he possibly can but Bente’s hands flashforward, latching onto his and bringing him back down. He tries to wrench them from her hold before his evil can seep into her but Bente holds on stubbornly.

“Bente,” he pleads, voice rough with emotion, “let go, please, let go.”

“No!” she snaps and tugs his hands down, pulling him closer. “I don’t care if your hands are dirty. I’m not letting go.” 

Kylo stops his struggling. “You would,” he whispers lowly, “if you knew of all the things I have done with them.”

Bente glares at him, “You think I don’t know?” She sneers and Kylo is taken aback by the bitterness and resentment he can feel coming from her, her control slipping and allowing him to peek inside the brewing storm of emotions rising inside her. Bente leans back, their hands still joined, and tosses her head to the side with a scoff.

“I spent most of my life bearing the weight of your crimes. I know every wicked, black deed you’ve done. I have heard the stories and seen the aftermath.” Kylo draws back in horror but Bente jerkily pulls him back in, eyes blazing; accusing. “All my life people looked at me and my brother and all they saw was you.” Something in Kylo cracks at that because he knows exactly what it’s like to carry such a dark legacy, how it’s weight shatters bones and wills. He knows what it’s like for people to look at him, never really seeing him, but the people who came before him—legends all of them, but none greater than the legend of Darth Vader.

“I know, Bente, I know,” He says, voice hoarse like he’d been screaming for days on end.

“You ‘know’, you say,” Bente mocks, her lips pulling back in anger, “well you weren’t hunted down like a wild animal, forced to lie and hide. You didn’t have to live every day scared out of your mind that one day you and everyone you love will be taken away!” 

Kylo grits his teeth as the rising tide of horror, guilt, rage threaten to break his admittingly shaky control. He very carefully keeps his hands loose lest he accidentally hurt Bente. He wants to demand who, who would dare do this to what is his but then he remembers who he is. He is Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren and Snoke’s preferred weapon. He inspires fear, despair, and hatred in all those he meets. Preying on his son and daughter after he was dead was exactly the kind of move he’d expect of his enemies. Anger bubbles hot in his veins. However, that doesn’t mean he’ll condone their action, oh no, he’ll kill them all.

Kylo takes a deep breath, teeth creaking. No, his anger, while justified, has no place here. He looks at Bente at the angry tears rolling down her face and heaving chest. No, anger is the least thing his daughter needs right now.

“Bente,” he starts, unsure what to do but willing to try, “you’re right, I didn’t go through the same pain you did but I do understand pain.” Oh yes, Kylo is very familiar with pain. It’s a very primitive and archaic thing, one of the only things in this universe that unites all sentients. Kylo meets Bente’s eyes, willing her to understand, to know that she is not alone in this, that it is his fault and not hers that she was dealt these cards in life. 

His voice cracks, “I—I’m sorry, I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”

Bente’s face twists suddenly in grief and her control wavers, emotions leaking through the cracks in her mental shields. Kylo’s breath leaves him on swell whoosh when that simple leak crashes against his mental shields, rattling them with an onslaught of longing/betrayal/sorrow/anger .

“Stop it,” Bente demands through clenched teeth. Her eyes flash dangerously and Kylo nearly backs away when she leans in close. “You want to know what your biggest sin was, what hurt the most?”

“What?” Kylo asks hoarsely.

“Your greatest sin, dad," she spits the word like it's something foul, "is that you left us!” Bente howls, her emotions battering against his barriers. “But worst of all you abandoned mom! You died and left her in pieces!” Bente snaps her teeth, canines sharp and ready to tear. Kylo reels back. He’s suspected as much, his absence from Bente’s memories a blatant sign, but to have his death confirmed is...disturbing. And that his death affected Rey in such a way—a Rey who at this time very much wants nothing to do with him—is shocking. 

Bente gives a self-deprecating laugh, “Me and Hanzo and everybody, we all did our best but it was just never enough. It was—it was like she was a half a person—half dead, half alive.” 

Kylo senses no lies, each word ringing true in the Force but he can’t bring himself to believe it. That his loss could, no, would devastate Rey to such a degree, that she loved cared for him so much that his death broke that indomitable spirit of hers is unthinkable. 

Softly, Bente says, “People say you were a tyrant, a murderer—a monster.” 

Kylo knows he is a monster, but to have it said aloud by his daughter is akin to setting his heart afire. The shame her words bring him has him lowering his head, hands limp in hers as he awaits her judgment, waits for the thick, oily feel of her disgust and hatred to hit him. He is taken aback when something warm brushes against him, gentle and kind, and very much unlike Bente’s earlier abuse of his shields.

“But those people don’t really know you.” 

Kylo’s head shoots up, surprise stiffening his spine. The hostility he’d felt from Bente earlier retreats and is slowly replaced by something light and bittersweet and fond. Bente smiles at him, lips trembling, and takes a deep breath.

“Because, yeah, you’re Kylo Ren and you’ve done a lot of t—terrible things,” Kylo’s heart, dark and hardened as it is, aches at the deep hurt look he sees in her eyes, that he knows he is the cause of. Bente sniffs and her hold on his hands gentles. She turns them so that his are cupped in hers like—his black heart beats faster—like they are something precious, something worth holding so tenderly.

“But you are also Ben Solo, my father, and there is light and goodness in you that no one, not your master or even yourself, can ever get rid of.” She says, Hanzo’s voice echoing behind hers.

The thundering of his heartbeat threatens to consume everything in its wake but it’s not nearly powerful enough to drown out Bente. He begins his struggle anew; desperate now to be free; to escape the words being spoken. He doesn’t want to hear—he doesn’t, he doesn’t, he can’t—

However, Bente has proven to be quicker than him, and circles her fingers tight around his wrists before he can flee. It takes more self-control than he'd care to admit not to lash out at her like a cornered animal.

“No, you’re wrong. Ben Solo is dead,” he spits in between gasps for air, “I killed him! He’s dead!" He yanks his wrists roughly top the right, hoping to forcefully break free but Bente's hold is unyielding. A snarl rips free from his throat, "Now let me go!”

The air around them is vibrating, the Force roiling mess of dark and light.

“He is not, I know it, I feel it!” Bente snaps back, her grip bruising and leaving his fingers numb. Kylo's anger rises when she raises her chin, a defiant look in her eyes. “And no, I won’t. I already told you I’m not letting go, you—you stubborn arse!”

She dares call him a stubborn arse!? The nerve! His anger spikes dangerously, filling him and burning away what little restraint he'd managed to hold on to like a forest fire.

Why? Why must she—why must they all (Bente, Hanzo, Snoke, his father that man) insist that that naive, stupid, blind boy that was once Ben Solo still lives!? Why can't he she let him go!?!?

—WHY NOT WHY NOT WHYNOTWHY—

“Why not?!” Kylo roars and just like that the last threads of his self-control snap. He glares poisonously at the girl sitting across from him; the foolish little girl so like her father.

Red seeps into his vision. He snatches at the Force around him, that dark cloying power, and uses it to pry Bente’s fingers, one by one, from his wrists. Bente grimaces and grits her teeth as the joints crack and pop audibly. 

She is foolish and weak just like her father was before he’d killed him. Like he will kill this idiotic notion his daughter holds that Ben Solo is still alive—

“You want to know why not? Why I won't let you go?! I'll tell you why!" Bente yells, her voice barely audible through the thick fog of rageshamefearconfusion. "It’s because we’re family!” Bente screams at him, the muscles in her neck jumping out.

Kylo stops his assault, the word ‘family’ breaking through the cloud of dark that’d taken him over. He looks at Bente, the horror at what he’d done (he hadn’t broken her fingers, thank the gods, but he could have, the power was there) quickly replacing his anger.

Bente looks at him, her expression both stern and vulnerable all at once in a way that shouldn't be conceivable but which she accomplishes so heartbreakingly easily. 

Whatever is left of his anger that his horror, his guilt hasn't chased out is quickly swallowed up by Bente’s own, and in the same breath it takes for one to blink, Kylo finds himself flat on his back, pain stealing his breath away, and Bente's foot planted firmly on his chest, holding him down. He flinches when Bente slams a hand down right next to his ear. She leans in close, close enough that their noses are touching, and Kylo does not dare to so much as blink lest she tear his throat out. A very real possibility considering the truly fearsome expression twisting her face that has even him, great shadow on the First Order, feeling cautious.

It's the type of expression he’s only seen once before on one other person. While yes, the two look almost nothing alike despite being closely related, there is a distinct likeness in the way Bente bares her teeth—like a feral beast warding off another—and the way her nose . But most of all it is those eyes. 

Kylo stares up at her in awe, the very real threat she poses forgotten at the moment. She really is her mother’s daughter, isn’t she?

Kylo’s focus snaps back into place when Bente snarls in his face, an inhuman sound that shouldn't have been able to come from her vocal cords.

“You want to know why?” she asks, that odd coruscanti accent she shares with Rey thickening, “Because I’ll tell you why, you daft twat, it’s because we’re family. ” Bente jabs her finger in his chest. “And family sticks together no matter what the fuck happens!” The words fall from her lips like both a promise and a warning. Kylo stares up at her, wide-eyed and speechless. 

Satisfied that her words have registered, Bente removes her foot and backs up. Before Kylo can get his bearings or even take a breath, her hands once again wrap around his and smoothly pull him up into a sitting position. Bente knocks his legs apart to make room for hers and just like that they resume their earlier positions, this time holding hands.

“Okay, now close your eyes—close your eyes gods damn it, I’m not going to bite your head off—yes, good, good.” Bente’s grip on his hands shifts so now he’s holding onto her just as much as she’s holding onto him. “Now, lean back—yup, all the way, good, feel your shoulders stretch—now relax and let go—no!” Bente squeaks when he loosens his hold on her, nearly dropping them both. Kylo opens his eyes and blinks in confusion when he’s met with Bente glaring murder at him.

What? She’s told him to let go, he was just listening to her!

“You said to let go.”

Bente huffs, “I meant let go like mentally not literally.” She rolls her eyes. “You and my brother, you guys are so weird sometimes.” Bente’s words may sound like an insult but Kylo knows how much Bente adores her brother so to be compared to him both pleases and warms him. 

Kylo closes his eyes again when Bente tells him to. His injuries ache, especially after Bente had slammed him into the floor but other than that, the stretch is fine. Hesitantly, he allows himself to relax, shoulders dropping and legs loosening and is relieved when Bente does not let him fall. She simply adjusts her grip and that’s it.

The quiet and stillness have him slipping into meditation faster than he’s ever managed to before. It’s different from how he was taught. For starters, his muscles are busy working to keep both him and Bente upright, keeping him grounded in the physical world which is the exact opposite of what meditation usually entails. And then there’s just something about this position, having to trust Bente not to drop him, that both scares and settles him. Not the kind of mental state that meditation is supposed to elicit. 

Kylo finds himself sinking into the Force. The Force around them is fraught with the remnants of their volatile emotions from before but as he wades past the tar-thick anger and crushing sorrow, he finds Bente in its center. Cautiously, he approaches her. Bente’s presence neither flinches nor flickers as he settles next to her.

Kylo finds his thoughts wandering. He winces as he remembers how he’d lost control, letting his anger and fear get the better of him. It’s been so long since he’s had to reign himself in, since he’s had something he cared enough about to want to spare his temper.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs out loud. 

Bente squeezes his hand once, “‘s okay,” she mumbles, “’m fine. 

“Did I...did I hurt you?” he asks, dread coiled inside him as he recalls the way her fingers popped.

“Nope.” Bente squeezes his hand again as if to emphasize her point. Kylo lets out a long breath, the coil of dread in his chest unwinding. “Besides. I get it.”

“Do you really?” he finds himself asking.

“Yes,” Bente whispers, voice pained. Kylo tightens his grip on her in support. “I’ve done some things that were bad—things I’m not very proud of.” 

“I’m sorry,” Kylo repeats brokenly. Because it is his fault, this dark legacy he’s cursed Bente with, the same legacy that had burdened him in his youth, that continues to plague him. He knows how heavy that kind of burden is, how heavily it weighs on your heart and soul. Shame and guilt fill him and he starts to pull away again.

“Stop it,” Bente squeezes his hands hard once before softening her grip. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. I might not have chosen to be your daughter but if I did have a choice I’d pick to be yours. Always,” she promises fiercely.

Her words bring him a warmth that wiggles around his chest, pushing aside whatever the self-loathing and guilt he’d allowed to build up and grip his heart just as tight as Bente is holding onto him. 

He cracks open an eye and looks at Bente. Her eyes are closed, lashes coming to rest on freckled cheeks. Kylo feels himself soften impossibly further as he takes her in. Her forehead is wrinkled in concentration but her body is loose and relaxed. To think his daughter, knowing all that she does about him, is still as comfortable with him as she was in the beginning is nothing short of fantastical.

Kylo closes his eyes once more and after some deliberation, tentatively reaches out with the Force and gently brushes against her mind. Just as before, Bente readily offers no resistance. His lips twitch upwards as her presence bounds around him, not unlike an eager puppy welcoming its master home. Kylo allows it and tries his best to keep the darker aspects of himself hidden as Bente swirls around him like a happy whirlwind. 

Kylo marvels once again at the swirling mixture of Light and Dark, how it teeters here and there but never truly dips too far one way or the other. No matter what Bente’s said she’s done, he knows that there is good in her, shining bright despite the budding hatred he senses in her heart. 

Kylo huffs in both surprise and amusement as Bente sends a wave of joy/play/content/concern at him. He concentrates, picking out what he wants to relay. Bente’s presence brightens almost too much for him to bear before calming at the soothing content/pride/humor he sends back to her.

Kylo feels admiration for both Bente and Rey, the future one, on how she’d raised their daughter. A small part of him wonders what it would have been if he’d been there too, what it would have been like to be a part of this small but fiercely devoted family. 

Longing flows between the two of them in a loop, the two of them sharing the same sentiment. Kylo physically shakes his head and tries to think of something more pleasant. He is thankfully distracted when Bente flits around him, her Force presence brushing and poking against him playfully. Kylo decides to humor her and carefully nudges her back.

Joy/play/excitement flare brightly in this tiny space they’ve made for themselves. Having her here so close to him, in a place that has seldom felt like his despite it being his mind, should have him in a panic. Yes, the knee-jerk instinct to kick her out and reinforce his shields is there, skulking about, but it’s quickly soothed each time Bente’s presence passes through it. Because there is something about Bente that very essence of his soul knows and recognizes as his, that she belongs here with him.

Kylo freezes, remembering the other presence that has lurks in his mind before remembering Snoke has retreated from his mind temporarily and that his Force Presence, enveloped around Bente like it is right now, should be more than enough to cloak her.

Kylo sends another calming wave at Bente when he senses her concern. He doesn’t so much hear her, per se, more like he feels her purr. The Force rumbling contently, unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

Like him, there is both dark and light (Kylo winces but can no longer deny the light present in him, small as it) within Bente. But unlike him, there is no conflict to be found within her. He can sense that such balance is almost instinctual for Bente—probably been there since her birth—it still takes a measure of control and skill to maintain it. That his daughter is able to do so is nothing short of miraculous.

And goes against everything Snoke and even the Jedi preached. This fills him with doubt because he’s beginning to realize that maybe his master is not as knowledgeable and powerful as he claims to be. Maybe none of them are. Because who in the known universe, past or present, can truly claim to know with one-hundred percent certainty what the Force really wants, infuriatingly fickle thing that it is.

Bente nudges him again concern/worry being projected at him. Kylo soothes her again but sends along something new that both puzzles and excites her.

Hope.

“Did you find what is keeping Master Ren so preoccupied he can’t bother with the simple courtesy of answering his comms?” General Hux asks bitterly, not bothering to look up from where he’s glaring at the datapad in his hands. Mitaka thanks the universe for small mercies. He’d hate to have all that hostility directed at him so soon after the shock he had earlier. He must take too long to answer because General Hux looks up from the data he was scrolling through, face set into an irritated scowl.

“Well, lieutenant, anything to report?”

Mitaka’s thoughts go immediately to the girl.

It’s not a ‘what’ but a ‘who’ Lord Ren is currently ‘preoccupied’ with, Mitaka thinks with a barely held back shudder.

Out loud he says, “No, nothing to report, General. Ren is simply recuperating from his injuries he sustained on Starkiller base.”

Mitaka does shudder when the general’s mouth curls up into a wicked smile. Luckily for him, he doesn’t notice, too caught up in whatever he’s thinking.

“Yes,” he says almost to himself, “I heard about that. Quite the disgrace indeed.”

Mitaka resists the professional urge to fidget as an awkward silence falls upon them, well, more like him, the general absorbed in whatever disturbing fantasy he has going on in his head. Most likely featuring Ren and the murky events leading up to his current miserable state.

“...will that be all, sir?” Mitaka asks, eager to leave the redhead’s company. Hux straightens and readjusts the datapad in his hands.

“Yes, yes you’re dismissed.” He says impatiently. “Let’s let his lordship lick his wounds in peace because gods forbid he has anything else important to be doing, the brute.” He sneers, his focus returning to the numbers on the screen. 

Mitaka wisely keeps his mouth shut, saluting the general before beating a hasty retreat.

“Okay. That’s it. I can’t take this anymore.” Bente uncurls out of her yoga position. She carefully hops off her dad’s desk and lands with a soft thud, her thick socks—well more like her dad’s but whatever they’re warm and he only has two feet, what does he need all those other socks for? He can share—softening her landing.

Bente pulls out the modified communicator Kylo had given her. It’s been tweaked to only comm him and no else, the device handicapped especially for her, the paranoid jerk.

She presses a button and waits impatiently for him to pick up. Just as she’s contemplating chucking the thing at the wall, that mechanical voice of his booming through the comms, startling her. Bente fumbles to catch the small device.

“What’s wrong?” Kylo immediately demands. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” she threatens and throws her free hand out, the other squeezing the comm tightly, “I’m going mad! There’s literally nothing for me to do but eat, nap, shit, and repeat.”

Nothing but silence on his end.

“I’m not a loth-cat, I can’t live like this!” Bente whines, stomping her foot to emphasize her point. Not that he can see or hear it. But it does make her feel a little better. 

“...you’re bored? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Gods, yes, that is exactly what I’m saying,” Bente confirms, dropping her head back with a long sigh. “Like I said there’s literally nothing to do here.”

Another bout of silence then, “...you could...read a book?”

Bente gives the wall a deadpan look.

“Listen, pops,” Bente drawls, “I know we haven’t known each other a super long time but I think me and you both know myself well enough by now to know that that is a stupid suggestion.”

“...”

“Exactly,” Bente says somewhat smugly.

A sigh comes through the comms, crackling with static.

“Just try one.”

“Nu-uh, no way. Hanzo’s been trying to get me interested in the trash since we were kids and if I can say no to him, there’s no way in hell you’re going to change my—”

“I have a few holotexts on lightsaber forms.” 

Bente blinks. Well, that didn’t sound horribly boring.

“You’ll find them on my bookshelf. Second shelf. Third from the right.”

Bente doesn’t really like the amused tone he’s using. Normally she’d find it adorable but for some reason, it just irks her.

“What makes you think I’m interested?” Bente snaps, harsher than she meant to. Kylo takes her sour mood in stride.

“Because like you said there’s nothing else for you to do.”

“But I hate reading,” Bente mumbles mulishly and then glares at the floor, waving her arm up and down. “It’s hard especially when the letters keep getting all mixed up and move around.”

“That’s peculiar —”

Bente perks up when a new voice filters over the comms.

“Lord Ren,” they greet her dad, sounding like rocks tumbling down a cliffside, “Vicrul and Ap’lek have concluded their match. They await your assessment.”

“Very well, Kuruk.” Her dad’s voice is cold, further emphasized by the mechanical lilt his vocoder produces “Leave me. I will give my assessment in a moment.”

“Yes, Lord Ren.” The stranger from before intones before seemingly leaving.

“Who was that?” Bente asks once she’s sure the mystery person is gone.

“One of my knights.” 

The comms creak under her harsh grip. Bente swears Hanzo and her dad are much too alike for their own good. She has to be direct and straight to the point otherwise she’ll never get anything from them.

“Does this knight have a name?”

“Yes.” Bente raises an eyebrow that while her dad can’t see it he probably can feel it given that he tacks on a, “His name is Kuruk.” Before Bente can ask more about him and his other mysteriously interesting knights Kylo bids her goodbye. 

“You’ll be back later right?” Bente asks before he can cut the connection. She plays with the hem of her shirt sleeve. “I don’t like being—it’s not fun eating alone.” 

It’s really not. Bente can only do so much to fill the unnerving silence around her. She’s never been left alone like. Rey or her brother—always her brother, her one constant in life rife with chaos and change—at her side. To be left alone like this day in and out, Kylo only returning to shower and sleep, is quickly wearing her down.

“Dad?” Bente asks, not liking how small her voice sounds but not willing to correct it lest her voice does something else embarrassing like crack or something. 

“Yes,” Kylo says quietly. “I’ll be there.”

The connection ends.

Bente ends up muddling through the holotext. Reading aloud helps and so do the neatly drawn diagrams but it’s tough work. She’s working through one of the forms, an imaginary lightsaber in her hands—she’s not going to repeat that first-day incident no matter how nonchalant her dad had been about her destroying his room. There’s no way she’s going to spend another three hours trapped in the ‘fresher like some stowaway no matter how badly she wants to use her lightsaber.

Bente twirls her imaginary saber in a complicated pattern meant to block a quick-succession barrage. Successful in parrying her invisible foe’s attack, Bente lunges forward, aiming for the heart.

Mother! Hanzo’s voice cries, echoing in her mind painfully.

Bente gasps and stumbles forward, banging her knees on her dad’s desk. She ignores the throbbing in her leg and lowers herself to the floor, quickly getting into a meditative pose.

Fear/panic/loss/pain/grief/panic comes pouring in from Hanzo’s end, shaking the foundation of her mental walls.

Hanzo! Hanzo, what’s going on!? 

Nothing. Just another surge of Fear/panic/loss/pain/grief/panic

Hanzo!? Answer me, please, I need to know what’s wrong!

Bente squeezes her eyes shut, falling deeper into the Force where their bond is the strongest.

It starts off as an unintelligible panicked whisper but the deeper she goes the louder it gets. Hanzo’s emotions are all around her and it’s only her concern and fear for her brother that keep her from being swept up in the chaos of it all.

Mothermothermother. Hanzo’s voice repeats over and over. It comes from all angles and directions. His voice is warped and static-like, frenzied muttering aside

Bente doubles down on her mental shields but it’s near useless here, her mind and Hanzo’s melding together becoming one. Bente loses her what little hold she had on herself. Her very essence seeps away to join her brother’s.

Their emotions, their thoughts, their very beings become indistinguishable from each other. Bente does not know where she begins and where Hanzo ends. Her fear and Hanzo’s collide before merging together into a whirlwind of terrorized chaos that sucks Bente—no, Them —inside.

Mum!!

Mother, I’m sorry!

This is where Mother died. She died here. I let it happen.

I failed her. 

WE failed her.

DeaddeaddeaddeADDEADDEAD DEAD !!

They are lost in this sea of despair and torment. Waves of guilt and anguish pull Them down, holding Their head underwater. They hold Their breath and kick but it only drags Them down deeper. Finally, They can no longer hold it any longer and open Their mouth and scream hurtguiltsorrow, Their lungs flooding with heartache. 

They can’t breathe. They can’t breATHE. THEY CAN’T BREATHE!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP!!! 

MOTHER!! They screech. 

And They scream and scream and scream because it hurtshurtshurts HURTS H U R T S HuRtS H u R t S

However, in the midst of all this chaos  a sliver of voice breaks through. One that should not exist but does now because the Force willed it so. And who are They to deny Their creator? Especially when Their wishes align with Theirs. 

“...you’re scaring your mom.”

They are? But how can They? Dead people feel no fear and Their mother is—

Their mouth opens and They scream Their denial, the sound gurgled and angry.

“Hanzo?”

 Yes, yes, that is one of Their names! But who speaks it. It’s a challenge to push past the drowning sorrow but They make do becuase together they are strong. Together they push, a tendril of Themselves breaking free and feeling around Them.

They are greeted with an inferno blazing with a worry/panic/confusion/concern that nearly mirrors Their own. It is a light They know intimately. One They would recognize anywhere for it is this same light they were fashioned from, cradled safe and warm in her center. A light They thought they’d never see or feel again.

Mother is talking to them? But how? Mother is dead gone.

“M—mum?” They call out tentatively, wanting confirmation that this not some kind of machination of the Force, born out of longing and grief.

“Yes.”

“BENTE!”

Like a rubber band being stretched, Bente’s mind is snapped back in her own body, wrenched roughly from Hanzo; from that wonderful, frightening, all-consuming Them- ness.

“Bente!?” Kylo calls again and uses the hand holding her face to turn her head so she’s facing him. Bente blinks up at him, finding herself cradled in his lap, one arm curled protectively around her. 

“Bente,” Kylo says softer, voice cracking and his expression unguarded. The barrier he’d erected around them pulses in the Force. His hold on her face gentles. One of his thumbs sweeps across her cheekbone, spreading her tears. Bente blinks again and shakily raises her hand to join her dad‘s. She startles at the wetness she finds there. Bente grabs his hand, stopping his previous ministrations.

“W—what,” Bente swallows and winces at the pain the action causes. Gods, what happened to her? Her throat feels like it’s on fire. The headache she’d woken up with throbs painfully when she tries to remember. Bente licks her lips, “What happened?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you.” His expression shutters close and he draws her closer to himself. “I thought...for a moment I thought Snoke had found you.”

“No,” Bente shudders and shakes her head against his chest, “I think I would remember that.”

Silence descends on them and they sit there on the floor for a moment.

“What happened?” Bente asks again.

“I don’t know.” Kylo frowns and adjusts her so she’s fully in his lap. Bente relaxes, now realizing just how tense she’d been. Her eyes flutter half shut. Cocooned like she is, both physically and in the Force, settles something inside her. 

“I sensed something was wrong.” Bente stiffens back up but Kylo is quick to reassure her not that it works. “Not in the Force. At least not yet. No, it told me something was wrong. With you. So I came.” 

“Of course you came,” Bente huffs, “I’m yours.”

“Yes. You are.” Kylo rumbles and holds her tighter; his touch that of a possessive Anooba, a carnivorous predator native to Tatooine who are notorious for defending their young with a single-minded viciousness that many of the planet’s citizens feared. 

“I found you on the floor, gasping and choking.” The muscles in arms flex around her. Bente listens, wide-eyed. “And then you were screaming and screaming and I could do nothing!” He finishes bitterly and Bente can almost feel his self-loathing for all that his shields hold firm. She says nothing as Kylo spends the next few moments reigning himself in.

Once he’s calm enough, he looks down at her and asks, “Do you truly not remember anything?”

Bente thinks back on it. Her headache momentarily stops her from taking a deeper look at her memories but Bente grits her teeth and determinedly pushes through, weathering the pain. It hurts, yes, her head throbbing and causing white spot to dot her sight, but many things have hurt her and one more will not stop her now. Bente manages to retreat far enough into her mind to skim through her recent memories.

And what she finds makes her heart quiver and shake.

“Hanzo!” Bente cries, remembering her brother’s panic and terror. How he had sucked her in, their volatile emotions clashing and colliding to create one massive storm that they’d nearly lost themselves inside of.

“Hanzo?” Kylo asks, body going rigid in alarm. “Did something happen?”

“Yes,” Bente croaks. 

“What happened? Is he okay?” Kylo asks in concern. Bente knows he means well, that he’s just as concerned as she is but his questions prickle and prod. Angering her because she should know but she doesn’t! She doesn’t have the slightest clue what all that was about and it’s driving her mad. She’s never felt so disconnected from her brother, her twin whose heartbeat she knows as well as her own, whose thoughts and emotions have never felt so out of her grasp. 

“I don’t know,” she says through clenched teeth. Her frustration is hers alone. Her dad, while infuriating all on his own, is not to blame. Bente repeats this to herself. It’s not her dad’s fault she’s such a horrible sister. That she can’t stop her family from falling apart over and over.

“Bente,” Kylo says and Bente bristles at the reproachful tone, “I know that Hanzo is with Re—your mother. I know you know where they are.”

Bente tries to remember the breathing exercises her mom taught, something to manage her infamous temper.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Bente,” Kylo says again, impatient now, “I need to know so we can—”

“No, you don’t!” Bente replies hotly 

 Kylo huffs and his muscles flex around her in their agitation. Bente squirms, his embrace feeling more like a viper’s trap than a parent’s comforting touch.

“Fine. Don’t tell me,” he growls. “But you can at least tell me what’s wrong with Hanzo.”

And just like that Bente’s tenuous hold on her anger crumbles to dust.

“That’s just it!” she howls. “I don’t know!” Bente jerks in Kylo’s hold suddenly. She uses his surprise to free herself and jumps to her feet. The need to get up, to move, to do something claws at her.

She glares down at him.

“I should know but I don’t! Because I’m not there where I’m supposed to be, where I was born to be.” Bente’s hand comes to clutch at that aching chasm where her heart normally resides. Her pain echoes within it, searing with a longing she hasn't felt since—

Bente is distracted from the painful memory as Kylo stands, dark specter rising from the ashes of its own smiting, his inky black cloak wrapped around him like a death shroud.

“I will bring him back to you.” The promise leaves his lips like a death spell because the only concrete thing in this universe is death. Yes, it can be cheated and held off but you can never rid yourself of it.

Kylo comes to stand in front of her, his bulky frame towering over her. It makes her feel like something small and fragile. And it’s been so long since she last felt that way. She’d long outgrown her mother and uncles, and especially her brother—an easy feat considering how godsdamned short he is. But it's not just her physical height but also she's been fighting for so long, always putting a brave front for her mom and Hanzo because if she didn't then who would? Her mom, stars and moons bless her heart, is just as devoted and ready to rip into anybody who dares wish their small family harm but she's waning. A supernova slowly dying out. And Hanzo, well, Bente is the older sibling. Thus, it's her job to look out for him.

But for the first time since—since forever!—she can finally just...let go and feel.

Feel small and vulnerable.

And instead of feeling weak like she ought to, she feelsprotected; Kylo's shadow falling over her like the great wings of a bird with its chick.

Kylo reaches one hand out, outstretched fingers brushing her tear-stained cheeks.

“I said I would help you find him. I don’t—I wouldn’t,” His voice cracks under the heavy weight of his emotions. Emotions that Bente can feel roiling between and around them. Kylo takes a deep breath, visibly gathering himself, his lower lip trembling.

Bente feels herself soften. Her dad, for all that he’s wrapped in legend and mythos, is just a man. A very troubled, sad, and lonely man.

“I don’t lie.” he says finally.

Not to others, not, and most definitely not to her (she'd have felt it), this she knows.

But to himself?

Yes.

Bente walks forward into Kylo’s waiting embrace. His arms wrap around her tightly and Bente relishes in the security of it all. She knows Hanzo is coming, that if all goes well their mother will be joining him like what transpired in her parent’s original timeline.

She knows this. She trusts that he will come (she has to) and while patience isn’t her best quality, per say, but for Hanzo, she'd wait an eternity.

Still.

Their dad does make for a good Plan B. 

Y'know. Just in case. Skywalker-Solo genes and all that.

Chapter Text

It’s been six years. 

Six years since his dreams for a better galaxy, a better future came burning down. Nothing left but the taste of ash and regret on his tongue. 

Six years since he his first (and last) student betrayed him and everything he and the boy’s mother stood for.

Six years since he turned his back on everyone and everything—his responsibilities as the galaxy’s last Jedi master, his friends, his family, the galaxy, the Force itself, and all that it entailed. 

Six long years stewing in a pot of horror and regret for a feast of one. 

Six long years since he’s felt so much at once, not since that night .

Grief/longing/joy/shame/anger/indignation all churn within him, each emotion clamoring for attention and tugging on his robes like his students had once done to him.

Luke breathes in deeply and closes his eyes, willing his mind to settle.

My mind and body are calm and tranquil. Luke repeats the mantra until his words begin to ring true.

His bearings gathered once more, he opens his eyes to Han staring him down, one brow quirked up and that familiar smirk of his playing on his lips more genuinely than before. The two teens from earlier linger behind him. The girl peers around Han, a mixture of curiosity and impatience on her face.

She’s trouble. Luke just knows it.

He glances at the boy, very aware of the way the old smuggler’s eyes burning holes in the side of his face and the not-at-all-subtle way he’s avoiding them. 

Stars! Luke thinks loudly, his breath catching as his gaze meets the boy’s. The boy—he is a boy, can’t be much older than when Leia sent—

Luke swallows. His eyes. They’re looking right at him. Or rather through him, his gaze murky and distant but—

“You still here with us, kid?” Han teases. Luke blinks and breaks away from his impromptu staring contest with the mysterious kid.

He clears his throat and grumbles, “Unfortunately.”

He glares at the trio, focusing more on Han and definitely not on the boy beside him.

“You mind explaining why you still are?” He says so gruffly, not unlike those first few days when he was just Luke Skywalker, moisture farmer, and Han Solo was a simple smuggler working under Jabba and keeping everybody at arm’s length away, his heart closely guarded like Luke is doing to his own now.

Where once he’d worn his heart on his sleeve, something Han and Leia had teased him about, well, now he knows better.

Something like fear begins to creep up his chest at the thought of his sister. Because if Han knows where he is then that means Leia— oh how his heart aches —must know where he is. And if Leia knows where he is then the Resistance knows and by then it’s only a matter of time before the First Order knows. And if the First Order knows then so too will Ben—

no, no, not Ben, Luke thinks desperately, Kylo Ren. Ben Solo is gone.  

(and you made it so, a traitorous thoughts whispers)

Luke’s glare hardens, “ How are you here? There’s no way you could have found me. I made sure of it.” 

He’d wiped every log record, switched ships dozens of times, hidden his very recognizable face, and used untraceable credits whenever he stopped to refuel. Because Luke is a child of the desert and like the desert wind, he knows how to scatter sand until no trace remains.

He looks at the two accompanying Han and his eyes narrow, blue eyes like chips of ice.

No one should have been able to find not unless...a certain powerful cosmic force decided to stick its nose where it's not wanted.

Han’s face falls at Luke’s admission, that he himself admitted that he’d purposefully hidden from them: his friends, his family . 

“It was R2-D2.” A voice rasps behind Han. 

Artoo? What?

Luke looks past Han and to the speaker. It’s the boy, his eyes clearer now and piercing, staring not through Luke this time, but into him , past flesh and bone, past carefully crafted shields and straight into his core, into what makes Luke Luke . 

Luke has to physically stop himself from taking a step back, from closing his eyes and tucking his robes closer to himself as if it might shield him from those eyes .

“He had a partial map of your location. Coupled with the other partial map the Resistance retrieved from the First Order, we were led to this planet.” The boy finishes. 

Luke is too preoccupied trying to figure out where a map of his location could have come from and why Artoo of all people—and the astromech is people despite the age-old debate in regards to who’s considered sentient or not—gave it away to catch the identical looks of confusion on Han and the girl.

How the hell—no, no, where the hell had they gotten such a map? No one should have known where he’d gone. He’d told no one. Given no hint or indication of his plans, much less where he was he was going. The Empire itself in the heyday of its prime, with all their resources—troops of inquisitors specially trained to hunt down Force-sensitives and with Darth Vader still in its ranks—would have been hardpressed to find him.

Oh. 

Luke’s eyes widen.

“San Tekka.” he says aloud. The boy nods in confirmation.

“Who?” Han asks but Luke ignores him.

He lets loose a long breath. Of course! It had to have been him. The man always has been a little too good at finding lost Jedi relics. Relics that were better left undisturbed and not dragged into whatever mess the galaxy had managed to get itself into this time. 

Well, now he knows how they got here but that still doesn’t explain why they’re here.

(You know why they’re here, the Force his mind whispers, just as you know why he is here.)

Luke gulps forcefully and looks away from the boy and back to Han. Somehow facing his friend, his friend whose son he’d tried to murd—whose son he failed— is easier than continuing to look into those eyes .

Those sharp, wisened eyes, aged beyond their years by tragedy and who-knows-how-much loss. The same eyes of that lost, sad boy he’d been sent all those years to guide and nurture.

Luke gestures to the empty space beside Han, just in front of the girl, where his best friend’s better half (well his other- other better half) normally resides, towering over all others.

“Where’s Chewie?” He asks, genuinely curious and not in a desperate bid to talk about literally anything else. Going by the terse look Han shoots him he knows exactly what’s he’s doing but decides to play along.

“Grounded,” Han says and jerks a thumb back at the boy. Luke follows the action but is careful to keep his eyes away from the other. “For losing the squirt and nearly giving me a heart attack.” The boy doesn’t show any outward reaction, not anything he can see, but Luke catches the way the girl subtly seeks his hand out and gives it a quick, reassuring squeeze. 

“And by ‘squirt’ you mean…” Luke trails off, hoping Han will get a clue and introduce the two curious strangers. True, he hasn't shown much interest in them….but that was before one of them tore the door off his hut. 

Han smirks, “Well, normally I mean you—” Luke rolls his eyes. “—but right now I mean Hanzo.” He reaches behind him and pats the boy’s—Hanzo’s—shoulder, jostling him a little and causing the girl to send a nasty look at Han and pull Hanzo closer by their still intertwined hands.

Luke tests the name aloud, “Han-zo.” he returns Han’s smirk with a wry one of his own. “Nice name.”

After the war, and in those few years that the galaxy knew peace, there’d been a lot of Luke’s, Leia’s, and Han’s born. It was as embarrassing as it was humbling. Because people name their children after legends and heroes in hopes that their spirit will guide them. That’s how it done on Tatooine, a place where slavery prospered and where sometimes your name was the only thing you ever truly owned. 

Han rolls his eyes and looks back at the two and Luke does not miss the fond way he looks at the two of them.

Curious and wanting answers sooner rather than later, Luke clears his throat. Once he has their attention he pointedly looks between Hanzo and the girl.

“So...the girl—”

Han opens his mouth, most likely to introduce her, but the girl steps forward and beats him to it.

“Rey.” She juts her chin up when the silence stretches. “Just Rey.”

Luke nods, fighting the amused smile that wants to break out on his face at the brave front the girl’s putting up.

“...so ‘Just Rey’,” Rey bristles at his tone but Luke plows through, curiosity driving him for the moment, “Hanzo is your—” he takes in their matching desert-planet clothes, identical hazel eyes (sans the intense, otherworldly gaze the younger one possesses), and shared facial features (what he can see of it, considering that half of Hanzo’s face is obscured in bacta) and makes an educated guess, “—brother, I’m guessing?”

“Yes.” “No.” They both say at the same time. Rey snaps her head to the side and shoots the younger boy a heated glare, hissing under her breath, though Hanzo does not falter and merely blinks back at her. Han throws his head back and lets out a soft groan.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “...right.”

It only goes higher when Rey clumsily attempts to salvage the obvious lie.

“Yes and no—that’s right because he’s my, uh, cousin...but he’s, um, more like a brother... to me?” 

Han mumbles something that sounds vaguely like, ‘unbelievable’ under his breath but doesn’t otherwise try to intervene. Not that there’s anything he can do to stop the utter railspeeder-wreck this conversation has turned into.

Rey takes a deep breath and nods, pursing her lips. “Yup. Like a brother. My brother.” She looks at the Hanzo, her mouth a thin line and eyes narrowed in challenge. “Isn’t that right, Hanzo?”

Hanzo blinks those wide eyes of his and when Rey’s mouth begins to downturn into a scowl, dips his head and nods stiffly once then twice.

Luke catches Han’s gaze and stares pointedly at him.

Really? He thinks at him.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough out of you two.” Han places his hands on two kid’s shoulders—Luke notes he does so very carefully with Hanzo and it’s then that he notices the bandages peeking out of the collar of his robes—and shoves them out of the hut.

Trepidation fills Luke as he realizes he’s now alone with Han.

Han looks away from the doorway once he‘s sure the two have wandered away. Luke is very tempted to go out and drag them back in. Better yet, why doesn’t he join them? He could use the fresh air. His hut gets awfully stuffy sometimes.

Luke makes to follow after the two not-quite-siblings but Han steps in front of him. Luke resists the instinctive urge to swallow as those hardened smuggler eyes land on him, pinning him down, all of that fondness and deep exasperation he’d shown before leached from his expression and replaced with something more befitting the general of a guerilla warfare-based rebellion.

“I think it’s time we grown-ups had a talk.” Han’s lips twist in a smirk but it lacks the familiar warmth and charm. “Y'know. Parent to teacher.”

This, Luke can’t let help but think semi-hysterically, is going to be the worst parent-teacher conference ever.

Rey’s a little miffed Han just shooed the two of them out like a pair of unruly children because they are not! Rey is nineteen sun cycles old (she thinks, her memory is kind of fuzzy on that but she is definitely that or older) and Hanzo is—!

Rey stops suddenly in her descent down the island side causing Hanzo to bump into her with how close he’s walking behind her. She shoots out a steadying hand (aware, so very aware, of where he's hurting) to prevent him from sending the both of them tumbling off the island.

How old is Hanzo? 

She looks up at him, the terrain giving him a height advantage, and tries to guess. Tries, being the keyword. There weren’t very many children on Jakku, everybody seemingly born old and sun-weary. The few other children were closely guarded by their guardians and those without guardians...well it’s hard to tell how little or big someone is supposed to be when they’re starving, swollen bellies and gaunt, wrinkled faces the norm on Jakku.

But Hanzo isn’t anything like the children she’d seen on Jakku. His clothes might be something a desert-dweller wore—loose and pieces of his light brown robes bleached white by the sun—but his eyes are bright, a little weighed by melancholy but nothing like the burnt lumps found on Jakku. Also his cheeks are full, his skin soft and naturally tanned by a tame sun, and his hair is a deep healthy brown and soft, so very soft.

That’s it.

The biggest difference between Hanzo and the other youth on Jakku, one that fills her with a fierce sense of satisfaction and pride even if it’s not really her own doing but a future version of herself, is that Hanzo is soft. And soft means he’s fed .

Well-fed even, given the fat she’d see on him while helping him redress his wounds and the little snacks she’d spied (and eaten) in his utility belt.

Rey doesn’t know how long they’ve just been staring at each other so she blurts out the first thing on her mind.

“How old are you?”

When Hanzo doesn’t respond right away Rey begins to worry. And that worry turns to fear when that horrifyingly familiar empty look begins to creep back into his eyes.

“Hanzo?”

And just like Hanzo blinks, awareness flooding back into his expression. He tilts his head in question so Rey repeats herself, trying not to let her fear show through her voice.

“I asked how old you are?” 

If Hanzo thinks the abrupt topic is weird, he doesn’t let it show.

“Seventeen standard years.” 

Rey gapes at him. “S—seventeen?” That’s only two cycles younger than her!

A weary puff leaves Hanzo’s nose.

“Yes. I don’t know why…” Hanzo’s eyebrows furrow in a frown and he takes a deep breath. Rey matches his frown. He really should be resting. Rey looks for a spot for them to do just that. 

There, she thinks, spotting a jutting piece of rock overlooking the waters. It’s flat and plenty big enough that she won’t have to worry about either of them falling over the edge.

“...everyone always has that same…” Hanzo continues as he allows Rey to herd him onto the spot she’s picked out. “...reaction.” He makes his limbs go soft and pliant as Rey gently folds and prods him so he’s sitting down next to her, the stone beneath them smooth from the constant exposure to water.

“It’s because of these,” Rey explains, pointing at his wide, doe-like eyes. He tilts his head curiously. Rey smiles at the adorable action and allows herself to reach up and pinch Hanzo’s good cheek (so soft!). “And these.” She finishes voice light and teasing.

“Oh,” Is all Hanzo says, completely indifferent as Rey indulges herself and gently shakes her hand back and forth. A happy noise escapes her mouth before she can think to stop it when his cheek jiggles beneath her hand. She looks back at Hanzo and the mirth slowly ebbs away.

“Hanzo?”

Hanzo hums after a moment, prompting her. Rey takes in a deep breath and decides that Hanzo will appreciate a more direct line questioning than her probing him awkwardly for who-knows-how-long.

“What was that? Before—back when we first got here?” Rey takes another deep, making sure to keep her voice calm, “I know that—you told me that you...lost someone. Here, that is. Someone important to you?” She finishes awkwardly when Hanzo doesn’t respond. 

“Hanzo?” she asks a little too quickly, concerned he’s drifted off again. He glances at her once before looking back out to the waters surrounding Ahch-To.

“I did.”

Rey fidgets uneasily. She wants to ask who. Who did Hanzo lose that was so important he would shut down like that?  But another part of her is wary of his answer. She knows from Hanzo’s memories and from being around him this long that the boy is a very reserved person, preferring his own company to others. The people he considers precious are few and far in-between. And Hanzo told her her sister is here and alive so that leaves his uncles, the little droid she’d seen in his memories, and herself—

“Hanzo,” Rey starts, dreading the answer but unable to stop herself from asking, “Who did you lose here?”

Hanzo’s breath catches before he slowly turns to her. Rey’s eyes flicker over his, taking in his expression and analyzing it, looking for any kind of clue. But she finds none. His face, while normally open and queerly expressive if you knew what to look for, is now closed off; unreadable and for first time, foreign to her.

Rey jumps when Hanzo abruptly announces, “I need to meditate.” 

She tries not to let her disappointment and frustration show on her face.

Damn it. She'd blown it.

Rey swallows around her tongue, “Oh, uh, okay.” She makes to get up and give him some space (?) but Hanzo is quick to put a stop to that, reaching out to her faster than she’d ever seen the normally slow-paced boy move.

“No,” he rasps, voice laced with a desperate fear, “you—I need—you can stay. Please.”

“Okay.” Rey says softly and slowly sits down, Hanzo’s hold on her sleeve never letting up.

“Okay,” she says again, “I’ll stay. Right here. I promise.”

Hanzo studies her a moment and when he senses no lies from her, he gives her a jerky nod before turning his head back forward and closing his eyes. 

Rey sits beside him, feeling both frustrated and relieved at Hanzo’s continued stubborn silence.

She fists the pants of her tunic. Is she...is she really ready to hear what he has to say? Truly?

Rey lets out a shaky breath.

No. 

She isn’t.

Rey’s grip tightens, threatening to tear the material.

Her other self, that future version of herself who stood strong despite being so burdened, she would have been.

It’s ridiculous, Rey knows, to be jealous of herself but she can’t help it. She would have known what to do. She would know what is wrong with Hanzo, she would have known how to help her son.

But she’s not here.

Rey is.

Rey’s eases her grip, color flooding back into her bone-white knuckles.

And she might not have the most experience being, well, a mother to her time-traveling teenage son of all things. But she’ll do her best. Rey nods to herself. Yes, she’ll do her best because it’s what he deserves.

And she’ll start by making sure her son doesn’t fall off this watery death trap of a planet.

Hanzo flinches next to her, hard enough to send him teetering off the side of the cliff ledge they’re sitting on.

“HANZO!” Rey screams and makes a mad grab for him.

Hanzo feels...he feels...odd...to say the least.

But if he had to use more words, he'd use: bereft. Lost. And confused.

His mother’s presence at his side is comforting and the light she gives off warms him and serves as a reminder that she is here, she is alive and not gone dead elsewhere. She is here within easy reach and not somewhere he can’t hope to follow.

But his mother is not the only person he needs right now.

Hanzo reaches past star systems and through the entirety of space itself for that bright beacon.

Bente , he calls when he finds her. 

Bente, he whines, scratching gently at her mind like a pet hoping to be let in the house.

And let in he is.

HANZO! Is the deafening cry he is greeted with, startling him, and nearly severing their connection.

Hanzo is vaguely aware of his body tipping over but he’s quickly righted, his mother’s light encasing him in a fiercely protective hold. He knows she won’t let him fall and so he settles back into the bond.

Immediately he’s swamped by Bente’s concern and fear for him. Her presence swirls around him with all the destructive might of a cyclone, but anytime she nears his mind, she’s slows down to a mere soft breeze, pushing lightly at his mind. 

Hanzo allows her entrance with no compunctions and patiently tolerates the way she prods and pokes before soothing the area and then moving along his mind, checking him over with a single-minded determination that floods their bond with his affection for her.

Bente speaks, inspecting him carefully as she does so, Hanzo? Are you okay? What’s going on? Bente’s voice shakes. What was that back then? When you—when we... did whatever the kriff that was.

Hanzo is confused and Bente must sense it because she sends him a memory. A memory so deep and complex he nearly loses himself in it as he relives it.

The bond is quiet save for thrum of power flowing between as Bente smoothes out the wrinkles in his mind he hadn’t even been aware of were there. 

Finally, after giving it some thought and consulting that thrum of energy, he answers her.

I think...I think we simply returned to our natural state, if only for a moment.

Natural? What?? How does that — wait. Does this have anything to do with—i s this because we’re twins?

Yes.

Explain. Now, Hanzo.

Hanzo sighs.

Bente, we are twins and not only in the physical but we are twins in the Force. His words ring with truth, the Force lending them weight. Two halves of one whole. 

Hanzo feels Bente go through a myriad of emotions, their connection open and true. He feels as she cycles through incredulitly and then a deep thoughtfulness as she thinks it through which leads to the sweet feeling of acceptance, and at the end of the cycle is a profound sense of wonder and intense satisfaction (yes yes yes) that results in feedback loop, the two of them getting caught up in the sensation for what seems like days before Bente gently breaks it.

“Are we...” Bente’s presence quivers in awe; reverent “...are we like mum and dad?”

Hanzo doesn’t know. He searches the Force for answers once again. The answer is dubious at best: a gleeful chorus yes yes yes and interspersed with reverberations of no no no . 

( special. one of a kind. mine , the Force trills)

Yes...and no, Hanzo summarizes.

Bente’s frustration is obvious, a gale of wind sweeping through his mind when she sighs haughtily.

You know what? Things would just be easier if the Force just told us what it kriffing means or better yet what it wants. 

You know the Force doesn’t work that way, Hanzo chides, having had this exact conversation many times before.

Well it should. Bente says petulantly. Silence descends on the two, both twins content to linger here. Hanzo is beginning drift deeper into the bond, relax and loose like one gets they go to a hot spring when Bente speaks up, voice quiet.

Will it...will it happen again?

Hanzo rouses to awareness and contemplates her question.

Yes. 

If it is their natural state like the Force is singing telling him then it is very likely it will happen again. Although why this phenomenon hasn’t happened before is a mystery. A mystery whose answers might be found in the unique circumstances Hanzo and his sister currently find themselves in.

Bente is quiet as she mulls over his answer. Fear/awe/longing/confusion flow from her end.

Hanzo doesn’t understand her reservations. While, yes, it had all been terrifyingly chaotic there was those few precious moments where it had been beautiful, where it had been right.

( yes, the Force whisper-sings in his ears, yes)

I liked it. Hanzo finds himself saying.

Bente's shock plucks at their connection like a string instrument.

You — what?! Bente shouts. You liked it?!

Yes. Hanzo replies, trying not to let his hurt bleed through. He had thought his sister understood but maybe he was wrong.

But it was terrifying!

...okay she does have point.

Yes, it was, Hanzo concedes if only to calm her down before he develops a headache, but it was...nice too. He says for a better lack of words.

Bente sputters, her emotions spiking and overwhelming him briefly.

But—but! You think—you thought it was nice !?

…

….

…..yes.

Bente’s presence spikes again and Hanzo has to retreat back a little bit to avoid the backlash. Though they have no need for air here in the shared space of their minds, Bente takes in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

I can’t believe you, you little weirdo— Bente finally relents and Hanzo is relieved to know that she doesn’t really find the idea so displeasing...just bizarre.

Another breath and then:

...I guess it was nice…

Hanzo preens. 

...if you forget all of the scary crazy bits. Bente chuckles at the stream of amusement he sends her.

Yes.  It was nice.

( yes yes yes.)

Rey pulls Hanzo’s arm closer to herself, watching the little bird-like creatures as they waddle closer and closer to where she and Hanzo are sitting (far from any ledges this time). Her attention is so focused on the little animals that she almost doesn’t hear the raised voices coming from the direction of Luke’s hut. 

Fearing the worst—did the First Order track them here? How?!—Rey is on her feet and marching over to where she can now hear Han clearly shouting. But before she can get any closer, Hanzo is in front of her, his lightsaber powered off but ready in front of him should he need it.

Rey frowns and is about protest because, really, Hanzo should be resting. In a medbay. Very far from here and any danger that might be present. But when she meets his eyes and sees her determination and fire reflected back at her she relents. 

She knows if she told him to go back he’d refused and even if she made him, he’d just find some way to insert himself and get into trouble. Because it’s what she would do. So better he stay with here where she can keep an eye on him.

Gods, motherhood is so stressful!

Rey has to put her foot down when Hanzo goes to take lead. 

Nope. No way. She is barely tolerating him here as it is. No way is he going out front. No, he was better suited to the back, out of the line of fire, and where she could shove him behind her if there was a need for it.

Hanzo sighs when Rey slips on the unfamiliar terrain for the fourth time. He gives her a stern look that Rey does not falter under and hooks her elbow with his. Together they make their way back to Han and Luke.

Rey doesn’t know what she was expecting. The white gleam of a stormtroopers armor or maybe even some type of fish-like predator native to the island wrecking havoc. Or maybe, just maybe the crackling red sheen of an unstable saber.

Rey is greeted with none of these. 

Instead, she’s met with the sight of Han Solo swinging an angry left hook into Luke Skywalker’s scruffy face. The shorter man goes stumbling back.

Rey lets out a startled noise that lets them know they now have an audience of two.

Han whips around, his face twisted in a scowl, and stomps past them.

Rey reaches out to him, grabbing blindly for answers.

“Han? What on—what happened?”

Han dodges her hand with a rough yank of his shoulder.

“I’ll be on the Falcon,” he all but snarls.

Rey gapes after him not knowing if she should follow him or stay here and try and find out how everything went so wrong. 

She closes her eyes and seeks out the Force, knowing it will guide as it always has. She opens her eyes. She knows what she has to do.

Rey untangles herself from Hanzo and goes after Han.

Hanzo stands there, feeling the bright light that is his mother walk away from him. It is only the knowledge that she is going after Han, who he knows will look after; won’t let anything happen to her, that keeps him from racing after her and clinging to her possessively. 

He watches as Luke gathers what little of his pride and self he has left and only when he is standing on semi-steady feet, does he allow their gazes to meet.

Luke breath catches and he can’t stop himself this time from taking a step back when he meets Hanzo’s eyes. His heart protests before beating harder than it has in years at the disappointed and knowing— oh gods, he knows doesn’t he? He knows what I did —look he receives. Before he can fall any further into self-pity and despair, Hanzo turns, taking those powerful, all-seeing eyes with him. Luke finds himself falling to his knees, uncaring when the tiny pebbles beneath him dig into knees.

Because there is a far worse pain happening inside him. More painful than the throbbing in his cheek. It pours into the cracks of his weary heart, searing its way through until it becomes too great a pain to bear, and only then does his body fall numb, a deep shame rushing to blanket the havoc wrought upon him.

Luke slumps all the way down, hoping the universe might answer his prayers just this once and allow the island to swallow him whole once and for all. His head hangs heavy with defeat.

Oh gods, what have I done?

Luke watches as single drop splatters onto the moss-covered ground. Two more join the first and then another and then more until there’s a steady stream of drops drip-dripping onto the cold floor.

But it’s not raining, Luke thinks distractedly. 

Somewhere in the distance, a porg lets loose a cry and Luke feels his very soul echo with it.

Han can’t believe it. Doesn’t want to believe because if he believes then it all becomes that much more complicated, that much more real.

He doesn’t want to believe it but he does, oh stars, does he want to. 

But that means his best friend tried to—

His son was—

The betrayal burns him. Burns every part of him. Makes his blood bubble and boil, nostrils flaring open like the Krayt dragons of legend, and his hands shake because of how tightly he has them clenched because if doesn’t then he’d lash out far worse than he did moments before.

And—

And Luke would let him. He knows he would. And Han can’t let himself do that, can’t let himself go back there, back to the fear and hunger and anger that'd fueled and let him survive under that damned pirate Shrike’s boot when he was young and more foolish.

But he doesn’t need that anymore, doesn’t want it anymore.

And so he stays, prowling through the Falcon and looking for something to keep his hands (and mind) busy.

Because if he let his thought loose for just one second he’ll—

He'll do something crazy. Absolutely bantha-shit crazy. Something like take the Falcon right up to the blasted First Order and challenge that slimy, karking sleemo of a Supreme (ha!) Leader to a fight or something equally stupid and suicidal.

What Luke told him changed everything.

And also nothing.

Because his son had still left. Straight into the arms of that son of blaster.

Ben is still gone but maybe...maybe he's not as far as he once thought?

Because when he first learned the truth (is it really? What with the undisclosed lies and truths he’s learned today) those six years ago he had refused to believe it. But then as Ben’s, now Kylo Ren, exploits of terror and destruction became known to more and more people, Han had found himself desperately fighting against it.

That is until he saw that horrid holo-screenshot. It was of Kylo Ren, fully decked out in his dark robes and armor and that cursed red blade. He had looked nothing like his son—pale skin, snarky remarks, and big dark eyes—but that stance. 

That stance.

He’d taught Ben that. Taught him how to fight because as a father he would always want to protect him but as a man, he knew it wasn’t always possible.

And it was then he’d had to accept that truth. 

The truth that his son is gone.

But now.

That small, stupidly stubborn part of himself. The part that remembered holding a small wrinkly baby, of placing his hands over a pair of much smaller ones as he helped guide the Falcon to a smooth landing, and of a teenage boy smiling and rolling his eyes at his father.

That part never stopped hoping, never stopped believing. 

Han slumps in the cockpit of the Falcon, staring out the familiar viewport. It’s there that, in that seat that holds so many memories, both good and bad, that that small part of himself begins to unfurl like a flower after a harsh winter, hope blossoming in his chest and spreading warmth throughout his body, chasing the chill of winter away.

Because it knows— he knows his son out there. Lost, so very lost, but there and alive.

“Han?” comes Rey’s hesitant voice behind him.

Han swallows.

“I need—I need to be alone.” He turns his head just enough for her to see the tired but genuine smile on his face. “Just for a little bit.”

For a moment he thinks Rey is going to fight him on it like she fought everything else with tooth and nail, but to his surprise and relief, she surrenders.

“Okay,” she says softly and retreats.

It’s only when he sure Rey is far away enough that Han finally (how many years has it been? Since his mother died?) gives himself permission.

“Oh, Ben, why why didn’t you come to us...to me?” Han squeezes the flight controls hard, pressing into the familiar mold, “Why? I could have—I would have—” 

Shielded him, hidden him so far away in the outer reaches that not even Snoke and all his karking Force wizardry would have ever found him.

He would have if only Ben reached out. He would have listened—

A memory comes to him. The day he’d abandoned dropped his son off at Luke’s fledgling Jedi Academy.

Ben looks up at him, face stricken and angry desperate tears flowing down his round face.

“Why can’t I stay with you and mom? Why!?” He cries, stubbornly refusing to leave the ship despite Luke waiting for them patiently at the end of the ramp.

Han sighs and rubs his hand across his face.

“Ben, we've been over this. Me and your mom just want what’s best for and right now this is it.”

Ben takes a rebellious step forward. “Well, what about what I want?”

Han frowns and points a stern finger at his son, “Now listen here, junior—”

“No!”

“—you’re going—” Han steps forward and grabs the boy’s bag with one hand and his arm in the other.

“No! I want to—why can’t I stay—”

“—and that is—”

Han practically drags the struggling, crying boy down the ramp. 

Ben looks up at him and there’s something in his eyes that makes Han falter.

“Why aren’t you listening to me!? WHY!?” He screams and the Falcon groans as it shakes back and forth.

“—final.” Han finishes, knowing his face is white as a sheet. He hands Ben off to Luke who he only spares a quick 'good luck, see you on Life Day' and he—

He left.

Just like that.

Han gasps from the strength of the memory. 

No, Ben wouldn’t have. Why would he? Their relationship was strained at the time, furthered pulled taut by whatever poison Snoke had been whispering into his son’s mind for gods knows how long!

“Oh, Ben, I’m so sorry.” He whispers and his shoulders shake with the strength of his regret and the weight of his failure.

Kylo knows that Bente has been...off...these past few days. Their talk had definitely helped, he knows and spares as much time as he can spare with her. But even so...he’s poor replacement for his son. Not that he’s looking to replace him, that is, no, even a blind man can see he holds a very special place in Bente’s heart. One very different from him and Rey her mother.

He knows he can’t replace Hanzo and that he can’t begin to fathom what their separation is doing to Bente though he has his theories and suspicions if the lost, pained look in Bente’s eyes is any clue.

But he can try.

That’s all he can really do.

And he is trying but maybe he should have tried harder. Then they all could have avoided this mess.

Kylo just barely stops himself from killing his knight when catches him with his arm to Bente’s throat, pinning her to the durasteel wall. Instead, he reaches out with the Force and grabs a hold of Kuruk’s throat.

“ Let her go, Kuruk . ” Kylo orders, the dark side lending his voice power.

Not that it’s needed. Kuruk, the most obedient of all his knights, immediately complies and Kylo makes himself let go. Bente is quick to jump back, shooting the knight a nasty look and rubbing at her throat.  Kylo walks the rest of way over, putting himself between his daughter and the knight. Kuruk drops to one knee, head bowed subserviently. 

“My Lord,” he says reverently, voice hoarse.

While Kuruk is the most favored of his knights, he can’t stand the sight of him right now, every fiber of him urging him to finish what he started and choke the life out of him.

“ Go .”

Kuruk places his forearm over his chest where one of his many hearts reside and bows once from where he still kneels before jerkily standing up. He pauses before going, his helmeted head turning to look at Bente and then to him in question.

“Leave the girl to me. I will handle her.” Kylo grabs Bente by the crook of her elbow and the girl ducks her head sheepishly.

Kuruk gives a jerky nod before turning around and disappearing into the belly of the ship.

Kylo doesn’t spare the knight another thought once he’s gone, knowing that Kuruk will not speak of what happened or ask about the girl again, discreet and prudent knight that he is. So unlike his other knights who are more prone to idle gossip when they can get away with it.

Once he’s sure the knight’s dark presence is far away enough, Kylo rounds on his daughter.

“What were you thinking?!” He hisses.

Bente frowns and opens her mouth but Kylo doesn’t give her the chance to explain herself. He yanks her forward and marches her to his rooms like one does when escorting a prisoner to their cell.

Gods, does this girl have no common sense!? No shred of self-preservation!?

Apparently now she does, given the desperate babbling that is pouring from her mouth. 

“I just wanted—I was only going to look around a bit. Get a bit of fresh air, you know? Well, I mean it’s all recycled but whatever, that's not the point I'm trying to make. What I mean is that I was only going to go down the hall and—and then I was going to head right back, I swear I was, Dad! But then he—Ku...Kurok, was it? Well then Kurok showed up out of nowhere and—”

“ Enough, Bente . ” 

“...okay…” she says quietly and plods along silently beside him.

Kylo doesn’t let go of her until they’re safely sealed back in his private quarters.

“What were you thinking!?” His vocoder crackles at the sudden explosive volume.

“I don’t know!” Bente crosses her arms, hugging herself, a defensive gesture, he notes absently. “I was….bored?”

Force help him. His daughter is an idiot!

“Bored? You risked your safety, your life because you were bored?!” He’s shouting by the end of it. Bente doesn’t cower but she does shrink back, arms circling around her tighter. 

She scoffs, “Oh, c’mon you're making it sound like I’m some reckless idiot--”

“ Because you are! ” !Kylo explodes. “Do you realize what could have happened to you if I hadn’t been there? If Kuruk had looked at you any closer? Do you?!”

“Yes!” Bente yells back. Great now they’re both yelling. Just what he needs. “I know .” Her voice goes hoarse and then quietly and more to herself she whispers, “Of course I know.”

And she does know, doesn’t she? She probably knows more than he ever could because unlike his daughter he hadn’t spent his teens hunted and preyed on. Something that never fails to ignite something dark and savage inside him.

“Then why?” He asks, desperate to understand why she would risk her safety, her life (and his but his life is worth little to nothing in comparison to his daughter’s) for a godsdamned stroll!?

 Kylo swallows back an irritated growl when Bente shrugs sheepishly but at the very least she’s trying so he tries and keeps his frustration to himself

“I—I don’t know. I’m—it’s— ARGH !” Bente huffs angrily and abruptly turns away from him, pacing the small area like a caged predator. “I’m not really good at this whole ‘explaining’ thing and using ‘my words’” Kylo has to put effort into not letting his amusement bleed through when Bente begins miming, obviously repeating someone, “but it feels, I feel—” Bente stops and faces him. The entire line of her body is tense and rigid, hands fisted so tightly her knuckles bleed white and the sight makes his own ache in familiarity.

And then it clicks in his head, each piece falling neatly into place.

“You feel trapped.” He remembers the way she’d held herself earlier. “And alone.”

Bente’s eyes widen and her posture slackens in surprise.

“Um, I, yeah,” Bente confirms clumsily.

This—

This is something he can work with.

“And what do you normally do when...you’re feeling this way?” He knows what he does. Finds an empty training room and beats the—

“—shit out of some training droids, mostly.” Bente's eyes roll up in thought. “Or if there’s none I usually spar with mum or Hanzo. Mostly with Hanzo. He doesn't like it when I 'murder' the practice droids.” Her face falls. “Or sometimes we watch a holo-film, one of those cheesy ones with princesses and knights because Hanzo likes those or sometimes we play a game or I don’t know…” she shrugs, voice trailing off. Kylo wants desperately to bring the natural fire in her back even if it only gets her in trouble because seeing her like this—so quiet and forlorn—hurts too much, it isn’t right.

Bente hiccups. "I miss him, gods,” She drops her face in her hands and gasps for breath, “I miss him. I miss him! " 

Kylo doesn’t know what to do but thankfully his daughter does. She crashes against his chest and latches onto him, strong fingers seeking purchase. Kylo winces, his wounds still tender, but envelops her in his arms and allows her to burrow into him.

Kylo sighs and, carefully because he still has his helmet on, places his cheek atop Bente’s head and ignores the wetness he feels on his neck. Only when her hiccups finally stop and the death-grip Bente has on him lessens, does he dare to move her. 

Gently, so as not to come off as rejection, Kylo pulls her away and, copying something his uncle Lando had once done to him when he hurt himself and was a crying mess, uses the edge off his cape to wipe at her face. Bente looks at him in confusion when he holds the cloth over her nose and waits.

“Blow,” he explains, his mask making it sound more menacing than it ought to. Bente recoils and looks at him, aghast.

“What—no!”

Kylo rolls his eyes. It would be hardly the most unpleasant thing to get on his cloak. He places the cloth over her nose again but this time he squeezes, forcing her hand. Bente lets out a muffled squawk of protest before begrudgingly blowing her nose. Bente grumbles and fidgets as he finishes cleaning her face.

Kylo lets his cape fall back to his side and removes his helmet before looking at Bente. She stubbornly refuses to meet his eyes, pouting all the while, but eventually she gives in and looks back at him.

Kylo pulls out his comms and, without breaking eye contact, gives the order for his private training to be prepped and ready, stressing he isn’t to be disturbed for anything short of a catastrophe or a summons from his master.

Bente’s brow wrinkles in confusion but she otherwise doesn’t speak up.

“Yes, sir, right away, sir.” the voice on the other end nervously confirms. “The room will be ready by the time you arrive.”

“See that it is.” He says and, without waiting for a reply, turns off his comms. Kylo walks past Bente, breaking their gazes, and into his room. He grabs her lightsaber, tucked under his pillow, which she takes when he hands it to her.

“Come. Follow.”

He exits his rooms, Bente trailing behind. He can feel her curiosity and only shoots her a stern look when she tactlessly pokes at his mental shields.

He can tell she’s bursting with questions but something about his expression or the situation mercifully keeps her silent. 

It’s not until they step into his private training room does Bente finally break her vow of silence.

“Woah...this place is,” she darts over to the wall of battle swords and axes propped on the wall, “awesome!”

Kylo allows her to explore the room for a moment, keeping a close eye on her.

“Bente. Come here,” he says once he’s confident she’s had her fill. Bente puts away the vibroblade she’d been admiring and bounds back to him, eyes bright and excited.

“We’ll be—”

“—sparring! Please tell me we’re going to spar.”

“—sparring…” Kylo trails off and raises an eyebrow at her. 

Bente makes a noise that indicates she’s registered his words but discarded them as unnecessary. It is a noise Kylo is becoming annoyingly familiar with.

“First, I’ll be laying some ground rules.” he ignores the groan he gets in response. “First, no using the Force. Secondly, anything but deadly force is permitted.” Bente sighs but agrees. “Thirdly...” 

Kylo blinks.

“...that’s it. Understood?”

Bente nods, face set in determination, and her lightsaber (powered off) already brandished in front her.

Okay, Bente might be ready to go but Kylo needs a moment. Stars, she makes him feel old. Kylo takes a moment and closes his eyes, centering himself and shaking his limbs loose. He opens his eyes to Bente watching him curiously.

“I won’t go easy on you,” he warns.

“Funny,” Bente smirks, something dangerous in the curl of her mouth. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

Kylo flicks his wrist, lightsaber crackling to life. Bente takes this as her cue and ignites hers. Kylo only has half a second to admire the blade, the same shade of purple as her brother’s, before Bente is upon him.

He raises his blade to block the attack and is surprised by the sheer strength behind it. Bente presses down on him, bringing her face closer to his. Bente grins when their eyes meet, a slow, feral spread of teeth, and Kylo wavers.

It’s only a moment but a moment is all Bente needs. 

She shoves him harshly and Kylo struggles to keep his footing as he’s forced back. Bente is his exact opposite, every step purposeful as she stalks towards him.

Bente's grin fades. A look of deep concentration replaces it before she charges Kylo, coming at him with a hard downward strike. Kylo’s blade rises to meet Bente’s and this time he’s the one pushing back. Instead of tumbling as he’d done, Bente controls it and spins away gracefully, her borrowed shirt flaring out like burnt flower, and though the bottom of her boots slide on the floor she never loses3 her balance, coming to a dignified stop, one arm arched above her head and the other extended out toward him in invitation like...a dancer.

Kylo snorts and, deciding to humor her, bends his waist in an elaborate bow, a gloved hand extended toward her in return.

Bente laughs as she runs at him. He has to admire her courage, very few are brave enough to meet him head-on. And she’s quick on her feet too, cataloging his preferred fighting style and using it to counter and even predict his next move with startling accuracy.

Impressive.

He decides to test her melee skills more extensively another day. 

He swings at her from the right. Bente parries his attack and quickly strikes back. Kylo arches his back and dodges, but her riposte comes so close to cutting him in half that it singes the hem of his tunic. The smell of burned fabric fills his nose and he allows himself a smile.

Neither of them hold back, though he can tell Bente is being careful to avoid his injured side. Most would have used it to their advantage so the sportmanship is surprising as it is nice. 

They lunge and strike and dodge and parry with all of the power they contain. Their screams and the violent humming and clashing of their blades slice through the quiet of the training room.

He really is impressed with her. When Kylo was her age, he’d been an awkward, gangly thing; unbalanced due to his ever-growing limbs. While Bente shares his lanky physique there is no awkwardness to her movements, executing each move fluidly one after another with a confidence that Kylo had keenly lacked at her age and one that had taken him many years to accrue.

Kylo manages to knock her legs out from under her. She goes down, her head cracking down on the floor. When she doesn’t move immediately, Kylo begins to worry and goes to check to see if she’s alright. And even as he does it he knows it's a mistake because apparently Bente can scent weakness like the great predator of the seas of Atla can sense a drop of blood in the water even from miles away. 

And sure enough, she goes in for the kill.

Bente mimics the move he’d just used on her and brings him down. Bente clambers over and he’s forced to extinguish his blade in such small fighting quarters lest he accidentally lops off his own arm. Bente straddles his waist and Kylo blanches at the wild look in her eyes, anger making her eyes fire-bright, her gaze burning a path down his face as she traces the line of bacta. It’s then he remembers the words Bente had spoken to him that first day.

The minute that heals up we’re going to spar.” Her teeth flash sharp and white under the overhead lights. “And I’m going to shatter your fucking nose.”

Kylo’s eyes widen and he grapples with Bente, each one struggling to remain on top, before he finally manages to pin her under his considerable weight. They're close enough that he can hear the almost inhuman growl coming from low in her throat. He registers the noise too late and before he can really process what’s about to happen, Bente thrusts her head forward and butts her head against his nose.

Kylo curses and leans back, cradling his (definitely broken) nose. Blood flows past his fingers and down his chin and onto the floor beneath him. He flinches when he catches Bente’s hands nearing him.

“Calm down, you big baby, it’s just a broken nose.” Bente places her hands over his. The blood is sticky in the space between them. “Now let me see.”

Kylo lowers his hand. 

Bente whistles, “Damn, I got you good. ” He gives her a Look and Bente grins, a self-satisfied curl of her lips.

Bente lifts her hands again and the hair on the back of his neck prickles. He looks at her hands, at the power he senses gathering there.

“Okay, now don’t move. ” She orders and Kylo finds himself obeying, stilling his body completely, his chest barely rising and falling. Bente’s hands cover his broken nose and the instinctive hiss dies a short death. Warmth radiates from her and into him and it is glorious. He’s almost forgotten how good the light—

Kylo rears back at the same time Bente pulls away. She doesn’t notice, getting up to fetch a small towel and water bottle. She dowses the towel in water and, in an imitation of what’d he done with her earlier, gently wipes his face clean. 

She holds the towel over his nose.

“Blow.” She says with a smile.

And so he does.

“Ew! Gross” Bente squeals in a peal of laughter when blood shoots out his nose and onto the towel. She looks back at him and laughs again. “I was joking!”

Kylo blinks, embarrassment creeping into his cheeks.

“Oh.”

Bente giggles. She reaches up with slightly bloodied hands and prods his nose.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Bente grabs his nose between her thumb and forefinger and tweaks it.

“Yes,” he says with a wince. 

Bente apologizes sheepishly.

“I’m, uh, not as good as Hanzo is at this whole ‘healing stuff’ but I can still do small things like, um, that,” She points at his nose and then gently cups cheek, “and this.”

Love/affection/pride/yearning flow into him and the aches he’d begun to develop since the spar ended fade away to a dull thrum. 

Bente lets her hand drop and rolls back on her heels. She fidgets with the hem of her shirt, waiting for his response. 

Kylo tries to think of something to say, how to articulate the pride he feels practically bursting from his chest.

The ghost of a long-forgotten memory drifts up to the forefront shore of his mind.

Kylo places a heavy hand on Bente’s shoulder.

“Good work...kid.” The words feel foreign on his tongue, having only been heard by him and never actually spoken out loud.

“You’re so weird.” Bente laughs, the corner of her eyes crinkling in a very familiar manner. Her face softens and Kylo’s chest feels tight at the fondness he can feel radiating from his daughter. 

His daughter who is kind and caring and good . 

Kylo looks down at her bloodied hands clasped in her lap and that tightening sensation travels up his throat.

He doesn’t deserve her. Doesn’t deserve her kindness, her lo—

“I’m hungry.” He says and the only indication he gets to Bente’s feelings on the abrupt subject is an amused quirk of her lips.

“Let’s clean up and then we can eat. Together.”

Bente lets out a cheer and quickly scrambles over to the door, waiting for him.

“Ready?” she asks him.

Yes. He knows what he has to do now.

Outwardly he nods and together they go back to his rooms.

Finn is a stormtrooper.

Or he was a stormtrooper. Whatever. His point is he knows war. Been groomed for it for his whole life. And so he knows he a losing fight when he sees one. 

The First Order will be upon them at any moment, bringing down the alliance and everyone involved with it.

( Poe , his mind mourns)

And Rey? With her Jedi mind powers? She’ll be the second on the execution block (after Skywalker), her death to be broadcasted throughout the galaxy as a warning: This is what we do to those who defy the First Order. Death to the Jedi!

And Hanzo? He’s young and soft-hearted enough to be broken down and molded into something different, something deadly and wholly loyal to the First order.

Finn won’t let that happen.

Because while Hanzo’s story sounded like total bantha poodoo there is also a certain ring of truth to it. It echoes inside Finn and there is a—a feeling telling him that no matter how wild and outlandish it is, it’s the truth.

Adn the truth is that, in some far off future him and that little scarred boy are family.

Finn’s never had a family before. He’s had comrades and colleagues and something like friendship (or the closest you can get in a place like the First Order) with some of his fellow stormtroopers but never family.

And he is determined to do whatever it takes to keep it. Even if it means stealing an escape pod and leaving everyone else behind.

( Poe, I’m so sorry.)

Finn spares a moment before boarding the pod to take in the absolute shitshow that is his life. And to think he’d just been mopping floor a standard month ago!

Finn is about to make his escape, hoping he’ll get far enough away when he’s stopped by a short, human woman.

It’s not until she introduces herself as Rose does Finn find himself hoping again.

Hanzo and had mentioned a woman named Rose, his aunt, and someone he should keep an eye out for because she would be a good friend and ally someday.

“Wait! Did you say your name is Rose? That’s great! You can—”

Finn is cut short when the woman reaches out and tazes him.

Chapter Text

This is not an update, it is the exact opposite of an update

because I am here to tell you that I no longer am continuing this story.

I've tried countless times to start writing this fic

and each time has failed.

I remember feeling disappointed and angry over how the sequel trilogy concluded

and that is what originally inspired me to write this fic

that and my bestie is a horrible (affectionate) influence.

And now I'm just kinda in the acceptance stage of my grief.

So I have decided to leave this fic where it is.

At least for the time being.

Before you panic, I do indeed plan to publish all of my notes.

That way you're not left like 'WTF!? What happens next then!?!'

Hopefully, it will provide closure.

(If you can understand them lol)

Your Truly,

Quirky

(ಥ﹏ಥ)