Archive of Our Own

Ben doesn’t truly remember what exactly happened that day. He is about five and all he knows is that his father had refused to lend him or give him something for whatever reason and he doesn’t understand it.

Instead, he is sorely upset.

So upset that he shrieks and stamps his foot repeatedly against the marble flooring of his bedroom.

And in his mind, he reaches for something that has always been there. A presence or something that lights up in his brain. Curling his fingers around it, he directs it to the windows in his room.

Something unexpected happens; the windows shatter into millions of glassy shards, exploding around the room, pieces hurling outwards and Ben watches it all in amazement. Had he really done all of this?

Everything in the room is ruined and his father can only stare at him in disbelief and…something like fear washes across his face.

Ben can’t understand why his father would be afraid. After all, hadn’t he been someone who fought against the bad guys? Surely, someone who’d been brave and fearless wouldn’t be afraid of anything.

“Dadda?” He takes a step forward only to have his father move backwards.

“Don’t move. Just-I.. Just stay there, will you?”

His father has both of his hands stretched outwards, in an attempt to further distance himself from him and Ben can’t understand why. Had he done something wrong?

Ben doesn’t understand. “Dadda?” He tries again, taking another step forward, uncaring about the glass that litters around the room, not when his father is moving away from him.

“Don’t move! Kriff’s sake! Ben! Just stay there!” His father raises his voice, taking more steps back and as soon as he reaches the doorway, he shouts. “Leia!”

He has no idea what’s going on, but somehow he knows that he’d done something wrong.

“What’s wrong? Is Ben hurt?” His mother appears, running straight for him, hands around his shoulders as if to check for any injuries.

“Of course not!” His father snorts and gestures wildly around the room. “He did this! He used that mumbo jumbo thing!”

His mother whirls around, glaring. “So? What’s wrong with that? It’s a family thing, Luke’s a Jedi and I’m Force sensitive. Really, Han. He’s your son.”

Ben’s bottom lip starts to quiver when his father gives a frustrated yell. “The kid has it! I don’t know what you expect me to do!”

“He’s your son!”

Leia’s voice starts to get louder and Ben really wants them to stop arguing and he’ll do anything for that to happen. He’ll promise to be good and quiet and go outdoors and he won’t ever use that weird light in his head anymore.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t deal with this! I’m just going to get some air!”

“That’s great! Do what you do best! Leave! Just go!” His mother shrieks, pointing at the door.

A fat tear rolls down his cheek when Han growls and stomps out of the room, not once giving a second look back at him or at his mother.

Dadda, come back, please! He wants to shout but Han is already gone before the words form in his mouth.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” his mother says softly, running a hand through his hair gently, ruffling it in the manner that annoys him at times.

But now, all he wants is a hug. So, Ben sniffles and buries his face into the comforting embrace of his mother’s chest as he cries.

He just wishes that he hadn’t done any of that. He just wants his father to come back.

“It’s for the best,” his mother had said, a strained smile on her face. “You’d be able to control it better under Luke’s tutelage.”

So much for that.

As Ben stares at the destruction around him on Yavin IV—the destruction he’d caused, he can’t ever think why this is for the best.

With trembling hands, he drops the lightsaber, uncaring of where it landed as he takes in the crumbling buildings, the dancing flames that reach the sky and the bodies.

He knows some of them. Some of them had been fellow padawans like him; while others were Jedi in the making. The most disturbing fact is that some of the bodies had been no more than ten years old.

A swooping feeling enters his gut and he wants to do nothing but collapse to his knees
and retch.

What has he done?

He hadn’t used this particular energy that had overtaken his mind, albeit it being familiar. All he’d been focused on was the fact that his uncle had his lightsaber on him and the bitter taste of betrayal and hurt that had followed soon after.

What mattered most at that point was the need to survive.

So, without any hesitation, he too, draws his lightsaber and brings the walls of his stone hut down. The commotion that caused, results in the total annihilation of the new Jedi order that Luke Skywalker had started.

“What are we going to do now?”

He jumps and sees about five of his fellow padawans who had joined in.

Ben doesn’t know the answer to that question; in fact, he doesn’t even know what to do now. But the one thing he knows is that he can’t stay here. They can’t stay here. They can’t go anywhere.

Not after what they’ve done. Not after the crimson blood on their hands.

“I-“ he begins but cut himself off. “We can’t stay here. We have to go.”

“Go where? Where can we go? They’re going to hunt us down for what we’ve done.”

Suddenly, an image of a distant planet comes to mind and with it, comes the voice that has been with him since he was young. “Come to me, young Solo. You’ll be safe here.”

“I know a place.” He swallows hard. “Let’s go.”

And as he and his five fellow padawans climb into a small space shuttle, he stares hard at the grounds that are now nothing but ash and bones.

No matter how hard it had been with the distrust and loneliness, it had been home.

And he’d destroyed it.

Ben hangs his head, covering his face with his hands as he screws his eyes shut and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

He should’ve just let Luke kill him.

He is now Kylo Ren.

Ben Solo no longer exists.

Jar’ek shifts, his face straining as he ducks, his lightsaber hanging loosely from his grasp.

“Move!” The deadly tone that his Master has taken chills him down to the bone. And Kylo knows that if he doesn’t obey, there will be consequences.

He grits his teeth, hand reaching out to use the Force, summoning the Dark energy that surrounds him and even as he does, he can still see the glimmering brightness that is the Light.

No! It has to go! Furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw, he pushes it out of his mind, focusing solely on the Dark like Snoke had taught him. After all, the Light is for the weak, a mere symbol to give hope to the downtrodden.

And he, Kylo Ren, is anything but weak.

“Yield!” He snaps, taking a step closer to his friend.

Jar’ek shakes his head, dropping his lightsaber, going on the defensive, both hands outreached as he too summons the Force.

Sweat drips down his temples from the effort that he’s using to deflect the energy that his friend is shoving at him.

Growling, he lets go, immediately rolling to the ground, ducking objects that his counterpart hurls at him and once Kylo is near; he picks at the defences and finding an opening, he strikes.

Immobilising him with the Force is easy.

“Yield!” He snaps once more, fingers clenching into a tight fist as Jar’ek struggles in the Force choke he’s trapped in.

“No!”

Please, Jar’ek, his mind begs and he wishes that his friend would give up. Because he is afraid. Afraid that his Master would push for more should he not concede.

“Jar’ek!” He hisses under his breath, hoping that he can be heard through the mask. “Yield!”

“If he does not, you know what to do.” Snoke circles around them and Kylo swallows hard.

“I-“

“Don’t you?” His Master tilts his head, but he can clearly see the threat in the words that were just spoken.

He nods and staring down at his friend, he pushes the Force a little, and that causes Jar’ek to clutch hard at his neck.

“More!” Snoke growls and Kylo does.

What happens next is a blur of events that he doesn’t think he will ever forget.

Jar’ek chokes, hands stilling around his neck before they hang limply at his sides and Kylo can hear the blood roaring in his ears and the sound of his friend’s body dropping to the ground that is accompanied by slow clapping. slow claps.

“Well done, my young apprentice.”

He stares at Jar’ek and then at his hands and he’s pretty sure that there should be blood coating the black leather gloves.

“He’s dead,” he points out stupidly, knees trembling as he looks up to Snoke.

“He was weak. He was unable to fend off an attack. But you’re not weak, are you now, Kylo Ren?”

He presses his lips into a thin line, eyes on his friend. His dead friend.

What has he done? Has he really killed his friend?

“N-no.”

“Good. Do not worry about him. Anyone that is weak is not worthy to be called a Knight of Ren.” Snoke stares in disdain and his lip curls and Kylo can’t do anything but remain numb.

All he wants to do is to drop to his knees and pick Jar’ek up and run. But he can’t. Jar’ek is gone and Kylo is stuck here. There is nowhere else he can go.

He is alone.

Alone with his regrets and the blood on his hands.

This is the awakening in the Force? A tiny scavenger who has the temperament of the hot sandy deserts in Jakku?

Kylo can hardly believe it.

She is short and lean but somehow, the fact that she has Han Solo’s trust and loyalty, makes him clench his jaw.

It gets worse when she starts spewing out things, that he’s a monster in a mask and refuses to give up Skywalker’s location.

Getting into her mind had been easy. But what greets him is the sheer loneliness that had shrouded her since she’d been nothing but a child. He sees an ocean, the traitor, FN2187, the Resistance pilot, and his father.

“You’re so lonely,” he utters and a twinge of guilt hits him in the chest when twin tracks of tears begin rolling down her face.

Guilt isn’t new to him, but it is rare, and the fact that this nobody from nowhere has evoked such feelings in him makes him swallow hard.

Uncertainty begins to bloom and Kylo withdraws from his position at her side.

“You will give me the map to Skywalker!” He states, a hand reaching out and rudely, he forces his way into her mind, barraging past useless things like how to fix a ship, circuits, an abandoned AT-AT, a slug-looking individual that goes by the name of Plutt.

Almost immediately, he expects the image of the map to appear, but…nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Gritting his teeth, he pushes forward and it doesn’t escape his notice that he’s using more effort than he’d ever used on anyone for a very long time.

The scavenger, in the chair clenches her jaw and straightens and a prickle of unease forms at the base of his spine when he feels the shield around his mind start to crack.

No, no, no!

Before he can do anything to stop it—to stop her, she’s in his mind.

“You,” she growls fiercely, hazel eyes boring into his and he feels terribly unnerved. It is as if she can see every bit and tear of his damaged blackened soul and Kylo can’t do anything but freeze. “You’re afraid, that you will never be as strong as Darth Vader!”

He jolts, hand falling to his side as she glares determinedly at him and Kylo presses his lips into a thin line, unable to take his eyes away from her, from this nobody.

This nobody who had managed to wield the Force to enter his mind.

Chest heaving from exertion, he clenches his jaw and sweeps out of the room.

Failure weighs down on his shoulders like lead. Somehow, he is unable to get the map out of her like he thought he could have.

Having his Master’s displeasure and Hux’s smarmy sneer makes his blood roar and when he stomps back to the interrogation room to wrench the map out of her head with brute force, he’s too late—she’s gone.

He doesn’t know why he’d made such an oversight to not grab that fucking droid but he hadn’t, and now, she’s off in Starkiller with the Force in her hands and the location of Skywalker in her head.

Kylo grits his teeth, igniting his lightsaber and begins exhaustively destroying everything in the room.

He should have never left her alone.

Hunting the scavenger should be easy. Kylo should be able to sense her in the Force; but when he does, he feels him.

His father.

The dreaded man who wanted anyone else to be his son but him.

How many years has it been since he’d laid eyes on Han Solo?

He watches with apprehension as his father begins walking towards him on the oscillator catwalk.

“Take off that mask! You don’t need it!” Han scowls, face lined with wrinkles and in that moment, it actually hits him how old and tired his father looks.

“What do you think you’ll see if I do?” he retorts stiffly, hands curled into fists at his sides.

No, this can’t actually be happening. His father can’t be here.

Han scowls, brows creasing. “The face of my son.”

After all these years, it is only now that he is Han Solo’s son.

He rips off the helmet and for the first time in a decade, he meets his father’s eyes. “Your son is gone. He was weak and foolish like his father.” Kylo swallows hard, thinking of all the things he’d done to kill Ben Solo. “So I destroyed him.”

Just the very sight of him standing a few metres away makes his heart hammer furiously in his chest. Why had he come? It is already too late. He isn’t going back. Not after all that he’s done—the blood on his hands. Nothing his father or anyone does would or could bring him back.

The walls are closing in and he squeezes his gloved hands until he can feel his fingernails digging into his palms. A big part of him feels years worth of bone-deep hurt surface up from the recesses of his mind. Han Solo, a man mostly worshipped for being the smuggler in the entire galaxy but never for being a father.

Words can never express how much he loathes the sight of him.

However, he can’t deny that deep down, a tiny part of him wishes that his father had never come in his misguided attempt to bring him back. Because now, there is no other way.

“That’s what Snoke wants you to believe,” his father counters gravely, taking slow steps towards him. “But it’s not true. My son is alive.”

“No. The Supreme Leader is wise,” he replies blandly, even though nothing about him right now is stable. He knows what he has to do—what is expected of him. And for the first time in a really long time, Kylo wonders if he’d gone down the right path after all.

His father glares. “Snoke is using you for your power. When he gets what he wants, he’ll crush you. You know it’s true.”

He might have heard the rumours, the stories about Snoke, but at this point, he’s too far in to come out alive. “It’s too late,” he forces out the words.

“No, it’s not,” Han argues, brown eyes imploring. “Leave here with me. Come home. We miss you.”

“I’m being torn apart,” he chokes out, hands trembling and his mind is screaming with disbelief and indecision. “I want to be free of this pain. I know what I have to do…” he pauses.

Every fibre of his being is torn into two and he doesn’t know which side he should listen to. His demons shriek incessantly in his mind, providing no relief and the stronghold that has taken over his heart while the good side of him begs and pleads.

“… But I don’t know if I have the strength to do it,” he finishes brokenly as his father reaches out for him. “Will you help me?”

He has to do it.

He has to burn the light out of him.

“Yes. Anything,” his father says, stepping forward, eyes soft, a hand touching the side of his face.

I’m sorry, his mind screams.

With that, he presses the activation switch of his lightsaber, watching numbly as the crimson blade drives through his father’s chest.

And as he watches the sight of Han Solo’s body falling down the bridge, bile churns in his gut and Kylo wishes he’d never been born at all.

He’s on Crait and he’s reeling.

Kylo isn’t over the battle with his uncle. How he’d vanished, how he’d apologised for everything he had done. And that in the end, Luke himself had died.

However, the very realisation that he’d lost is a hard pill to swallow.

He’d lost everything and gained nothing.

The remaining members of the Resistance are gone, he’d killed Snoke, and most of all, he’d lost Rey.

Especially after he’d offered her everything. He’d bared his soul to her in quiet moments, he’d seen the stark resemblance of the depth of loneliness that haunt their souls, the abandonment issues they share and the ingrained desire to be needed—to be wanted.

He’d thought that she would understand.

She hadn’t.

Don’t do this. Don’t go this way, Ben.

A muscle under his left eye twitches and as he stands alone in one of the rooms of the abandoned crumbling base, the gravity of what he’d done sinks in like lead.

The Force visions couldn’t be wrong. He’d seen her in black, striding towards him in the Supremacy and he on a throne. She was supposed to be at his side, not scooting off to Kriff knows where.

Had it all been a figment of his imagination? Was his mind really that fucked up to give him false hope?

Maybe. Perhaps.

Dimly, he can hear the sound of the Stormtroopers marching in but he doesn’t care about that. Not when he sees a pair of golden dice that shouldn’t be here. The moment his gloved fingers enclose the metal objects, he is assaulted with the memory of Han.

His brain supplies him images of sitting in the Falcon with him, the golden dice dangling over the dashboard of the controls and distinctly, he can recall Han Solo’s voice as he instructs him carefully before taking off.

His throat squeezes uncomfortably with the knowledge of what he’d done a few weeks ago. No, he can’t think about that now. Or ever.

And again, at this moment, he feels that strange pull. Of course, the Force would connect them now because when had the Force been kind to him?

With a quick jerk of his head, he is met with the sight of Rey standing at the ramp of the Falcon, ushering the remaining members of the Resistance into the Corellian craft.

Has it really been mere hours since he’d last saw her?

To be fair, Rey is as startled to see him; lips parting a tad, eyes widening. He notes that she’s banged up from the battle with the Praetorian guards and exhaustion seems to hang over her like a dark cloud.

Kylo doesn’t know how long they’re staring at each other, he in the old fortress and she, on the Falcon.

Please, he wants to beg. Come back to me. Don’t leave.

Kriff, he’s already on his knees and all he has to do to become a lovesick fool was to let the words leave his mouth. But he knows that his pride has taken enough beatings for the day—the whole year, perhaps—and so he presses his lips together and waits.

It should comfort him that indecision and utter sorrow flashes across her face. Good, he thinks vindictively, he wasn’t alone with the chaos his heart and mind is going through.

That being said, all of that doesn’t matter when resignation settles onto her tired features and grim determination lines her eyes along with the press of her mouth as she slams the doors shut, accusation glaring at him from those hazel orbs.

And just like that, the Force bond sizzles, taking the vision of Rey away along with the dice and Kylo is once more reminded that he is irrevocably alone and it was all due to his own making.

The ache that is his loneliness threatens to swallow him whole and he hangs his head, mind whirling. Why hadn’t he gone with her? Why had he let her go?

And as the echoes of his troops resound around the steel walls, he can only live with his regret and unanswered questions.

He wonders if Rey knows that he’s there.

Or if she’s pretending that she can’t see him, with that adage claiming out of sight, out of mind and all that crap.

Unsurprisingly, Snoke had lied about the bond they shared. It hadn’t disappeared as seen from the image of Rey sitting on his bed.

She’s fiddling with that cursed lightsaber, or at least a half of it.

It’s been three standard months since he’d last seen her and it is only now that he realises how dead he’s been. Eagerly, like a desert weed absorbing as much water as it can in its harsh condition, he drinks in the sight of her, eyes lingering over her face, the longer length of her hair and the thicker clothing that she’d donned.

As much as he tries, Kylo can’t see her surroundings and it surprises him how much he wants to know her whereabouts.

Her face is streaked with smudges of oil and dirt and he guesses with some fondness that she must have been working on ships or whatever blasted resources that the Resistance has.

Suddenly, she stills, fingers tensing over the metallic handle of his grandfather’s lightsaber. “You shouldn’t be here.”

But he would be a fool to miss the way her lips part and how her breath hitches before she swallows hard—his eyes had been lingering on her throat, after all.

“You know I have no control over this,” he informs flatly, deciding to get this confrontation over with.

As much as it pains him to know that Rey, with all her gentleness and big heart absolutely despises him, the scant remnants of both his heart and soul soars at her acknowledgement.

Her eyes flick up to meet his and Kylo feels a tugging in his gut.

“How is life treating you, Supreme Leader?”

In the past, he’d thought that his current title would bring him nothing but pride and a sense of achievement. But that was before Rey.

Now, the sound of his honorific brings nothing but misery and regret, especially when it comes from her.

“It’s fine,” he says blandly. “What about you?”

“Fine.”

No matter the distance and the concept of time and space between them, he can acutely sense the hollowness that taint her response.

He bows his head, not wanting to reveal anything else. He doesn’t trust himself because he has a strong suspicion that if Rey pleads and begs him right here and now, there was a very high possibility that he would be the one shipping himself to her.

Silence reigns, and why the Kriff was the Force not disconnecting them?

“Why?”

At the sound of her voice, he darts his eyes up and the look on her face is like another dagger to his heart.

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you come back?” Rey fixes him with a blank expression but she’d always be expressive with her eyes and in them, he could see the hurt and disappointment that he’d caused. “Things would be different if you did,” she adds quietly.

“The Resistance isn’t the right way to do things. They can’t change-“

“No, I don’t mean that,” she interrupts and this time, her eyes become glassy once more. “Why didn’t you come back?” To me?

Kylo could actually hear the unspoken words and at this moment, all he wants to do is sink to his knees and tell her that yes, he does want to go back to her, to tell her that she’s all he’s ever truly wanted, that he regrets not leaving everything behind every damned day.

But he doesn’t.

It’s too late for regrets.

He’s made his bed and hence, he has to lie it in.

But before he can give another reason—another useless excuse, the Force interrupts and Rey fades away, leaving him alone in his room as though she’d never been there at all.

Alone once more, his impassive façade cracks and he buries his face into his hands, heart burning with all the things he should’ve said, but where instead, they sink to the bottom of his gut.

He’d done it.

He’d fled the First Order, destroyed whatever ships he could before becoming a turncoat.

And it was all because of her.

Rey.

Over the past six standard months, the Force had brought them closer than ever. They’d appeared in front of each other countless of times and each encounter has left him more shaken than ever.

The two halves of his soul had battled each other until his faith and beliefs in the First Order had wavered till they were nothing more than dust.

Even then, he’d been hesitant to the course of actions that he could take.

That is until today.

He doesn’t look back at the destruction that he’d caused; the distant booming sounds of ships exploding into millions of pieces, bound to drift around aimlessly in space or the people on board of those ships. Nor does he think about the more pressing fact that whatever parts of his soul he’d sacrificed in the years he’d served Snoke had all been in vain.

No.

Bright hazel eyes and tanned tawny skin that is adorned with smattering of freckles along the bridge of a button-shaped nose makes an appearance in the forefront of his mind once more.

After all that he’d done, she’d been the only one to never lose faith in him and he knows—Maker, he knows that everything he is now, the actions he’d taken—he owes it all to her.

As Kylo careens through space, hands guiding the controls of his TIE Silencer, his mind races, jumping from thought to thought. However, the one thing that stands out the most, or rather, the one person that never fails to come to his mind is his mother.

Unwittingly, he clenches his jaw.

What exactly is the reception he would receive upon arriving?

Would he be shot out of the sky the moment the Resistance’s sensors catches his signature? Would they immediately lead him away in cuffs and thrown into a jail cell before letting him stand trial? Or would they throw him onto some godforsaken planet and leave him there till his dying days?

He wouldn’t be surprised at any of the mentioned scenarios.

Not after everything.

So, it is to his surprise and shock that his mother stares at him with quivering lips and watery eyes before embracing him in one swift movement with a choked sob.

He feels stifled, strangled even from how the emotions that bubble perilously close to the surface or how Rey is staring at him with that look in her eyes.

A look he recognises and treasures. A look he wants to reciprocate with his entire being. But at the same time, it is one he doesn’t deserve. Not in this lifetime. Or ever. So he clenches his jaw hard until his molars grind painfully before fixing his eyes away.

“I knew you’d come back,” his mother murmurs softly, before pulling away to look up at him.

Seeing his mother after all these years, he has never once expected the unconditional love or the forgiveness that Leia Organa so readily offers.

Of course there was the hurt and sorrow for what he’d done to…Han, but nonetheless, his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. The emotions brimming in those knowing eyes makes him swallow hard and Kylo takes a step back.

Whatever his mother wants to offer, he can’t take it.

“You should execute me,” he says stiffly, hands curled into fists at his sides and not for the first time, he wishes he was anywhere but here.

“Ben.”

He refuses to look down at her.

“Ben.”

The pull his mother still has over him astounds him and he can’t help but obey her. His mother smiles, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I forgive you,” she says softly, a weathered hand reaching out for his face.

The moment her fingers make contact with his cheek, the guilt and sorrow and Maker, the regret is released like an overflowing dam, bursting out from the deep recesses of his heart and for Kriff’s sake, he can’t seem to breathe.

He can’t do this. Not here. Not when Rey is here despite trying her best to not pay attention to their burgeoning confrontation.

No, no, no!

“You can’t!” He shouts, staggering back, blinking through glassy eyes. “You can’t,” he repeats brokenly, shaking his head profusely.

He deserves anger, rage and most of all, unforgiveness for committing what is perhaps the most despicable thing—patricide.

He’d murdered his own father.

That alone was just the icing on the cake out of the hundred of crimes he must have committed.

Kriff, what the hell had he done?

“You’re my son.” His mother straightens defiantly, brown eyes blazing. “And you’ll always be my son…and Han did bring you back home.”

If only he’d been more of a son—a better son, he wouldn’t have put his mother through hell.

With that, whatever remaining dams in his heart breaks and Kylo Ren drops to his knees and weeps.

“Ben! Wait!”

He stops stiffly, fingers clenching together at his sides and all he wants to do is turn around and never let her go.

The lonely part of him screams for her. For those warm eyes to gaze upon him, for her slim but calloused fingers to cradle his face or run through his hair, for those lips to be on his once more.

But the tattered parts of his soul that lingers forces him to still. He can’t.

Rey doesn’t belong to him.

And she never will.

He swallows hard, fighting back the memory of her body pressed against his chest, the earthy fresh clean scent of her and how she’d sighed in content when he’d hesitantly kissed her back.

Feeling her Force signature approaching at a rapid speed, he straightens, the blank countenance that he wears like his former mask falling over his face as he waits.

“Ben!”

It should be a curse that his name sounds like the brightest part of heaven when it falls from her lips, he thinks mournfully.

A small hand brushes against his bicep and he knows that he will never get used to the way she looks at him.

Like he’s everything she’s ever wanted in her short life.

“Rey,” he greets neutrally and the wrinkling of her brows makes him want to flinch and drop to his knees and beg for her forgiveness for avoiding her for two weeks. Two weeks since the best thing in his miserable life had happened.

“You were avoiding me.”

He almost winces at how blunt she is, but a part of him realises that she’d never experienced court politics and hence, has the subtlety of a Rancor.

“I was busy,” he replies shortly and the moment those words leave his lips, he cringes. Even the excuse sounds ridiculous to his ears.

“With what? Skulking around base like a dark cloud? Hiding in your quarters?”

The anger and hurt that leaks from her words causes the guilt to surface once more, and if he was Ben Solo and not Kylo Ren, he would’ve apologised and kissed her right here and now. But the darkness that stains his very being results in him staring impassively at her.

He is doing this for her own good.

Giving into the urge and desire for her had been a moment of weakness on his part.

They’d been sparring. Rey had managed to mend Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber and being the only Force user around, he’d agreed to practise, seeing that he was on the Light side and all.

Somehow, it’d led to playful goading and he’d managed to corner her against a pillar of the room. Rey was flushed, cheeks pink, eyes sparkling and she’d been laughing that tinkling laughter that caused his heart to skip a beat.

He hadn’t even realised that he’d been blatantly staring at the perfect image of her until she’d fidgeted uncomfortably and licked her lips.

That had been his undoing.

With one swift movement, he’d ducked his head and pressed his lips against hers, hands curling around her waist. Rey had let out a squeak before she’d kissed him back, hands dropping the lightsaber in favour of running her fingers through his mane.

The feel of her fingernails scraping against his scalp had sent shivers prickling along his spine and he’d uttered a growl against her mouth. From the soft tender kiss comes a fiery demanding one that devours his heart and Kylo doesn’t know what he was doing.

Forget the Force visions that he’d received. None of them would come to fruition. Rey deserved someone good, someone totally deserving of her love and her heart.

And that someone wasn’t him.

His silence was the only answer he could give and Kylo hates himself for the way her face falls, eyes dimming as she presses her mouth into a thin line. “I see.”

“So a scavenger isn’t good enough for you, then. I get it.”

His nostrils flare and he narrows his eyes. “That’s not it.”

The fact that Rey thought so lowly of herself chafed and he clenches his jaw, ready to protest but Rey beats him to the punch.

“You didn’t have to shy away and run off every time you see me coming. You could have just told me,” she says, eyes getting suspiciously wet. “I would rather have that than the pussyfooting you’ve been doing.”

Pussyfoot-

“I was not,” he grits through his teeth, “pussyfooting.”

“Really,” she scoffs, crossing her arms before glancing away. “Forget it. Forget I said anything—”

“Staying away from you is for your own good,” he snaps, interjecting harshly. “No one would look on you kindly if you’re seen with me. Already, people give you certain stares when we train. You’ll be a social pariah if anything goes further.”

She stares at him, flabbergasted, brows creasing and an errant curl tumbles to her left temple and he fights the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

“Ben-“ she starts, eyes softening as she takes a step closer.

“No,” he cuts her off roughly, squeezing his hands so tightly that his fingernails cut into his palms. “Leave it. Just forget it ever happened.”

Rey frowns, lower lip beginning to quiver and it takes everything within him to ignore this very sight of her near to tears.

Not for the first time, Kylo wishes that he has the ability to turn back time because no matter how much he wants her, or how she soothes his tortured soul, he’ll never deserve her.

“You deserve better,” he adds quietly, all the fight leaving him as a self-deprecating smile makes an appearance on his face.

Without giving her a chance to respond, he stalks off briskly, resisting the desire to turn around where he knows she’s watching him because he knows that if he does, he’ll never leave her side.

Rey is crying, tears falling down her cheeks, lips trembling as she looks at him—really looks at him and for a brief moment, he wonders if she’s finally seeing him as the monster people say he is.

“I told you this would happen,” he repeats in a flat tone, his heart dropping to his gut with each second that passes.

They were fools to think it could’ve worked. But most of the blame was on him. He was the fool for letting her talk him over. And now, Rey is paying the price for their stupidity and naivety.

It wasn’t him that had gotten the brunt of the disapproval. No, they’ve gone after Rey like he suspected they would.

“Ben, don’t-“

“We shouldn’t be together anymore,” he says quietly but firmly even though it’s killing him to suggest this. But ultimately, he know it’s for the best.

“Ben,” she protests, stepping closer, hazel eyes peering up at him. “I love you and I don’t care,” she stresses on the last word vehemently, eyes glassy and Kylo absolutely hates the way her cheeks are wet from the tears she’d shed earlier.

He will never get tired of her saying that.

That somehow, in this twisted reality, Rey had fallen in love with him like he’d fallen for her. The very idea unthinkable—Rey, the last Jedi had fallen in love with him, the Jedi Killer. The irony was certainly not lost on him.

But of course, the universe had never been kind to him, and really, he should’ve expected that nothing good will ever befall on him. And if there ever was, it’ll be snatched out of his hands.

“But I do.”

He straightens and takes a step back. Rey is staring at him with wounded eyes, hands falling to her sides where they’ve been cradling his cheeks. “You don’t deserve being treated like you’ve committed a crime. Like you’ve contracted some deadly disease all because we’re together.”

“I said I don’t care-“

“For Kriff’s sake,” he snarls as he slams his fist into the wall on his left. “They called you my whore! They avoid going near you when you walk past them! Fuck, no one else besides your friends speak to you!”

Rey shakes her head. “I don’t care,” she repeats but a tear rolls down her cheek. “Why are you letting them win? As long I have you, I can deal with this!”

“No,” he declares, jaw shifting as he paces around the small constraints of his room like a rabid animal caught in a trap. “No, I’m not allowing this to continue any longer.”

“You’re taking away my choice,” she hisses, eyes narrowing as she jabs her index finger into his chest repeatedly.

The sting of the tip of her finger pressing into his chest hurts but it can never compare to the absolute agony his heart experiences at the mere thought of them being apart.

“It’s my decision if I want to be with you! You don’t get to decide what’s best for me!”

Why couldn’t she understand that this was for the best, that he was protecting her? Being treated like scum was bad enough. What if some foolhardy idiot tried to hurt her to get revenge on him?

Kylo isn’t exactly stupid. He knows that at least ninety-nine percent of everyone on base hates his guts and it wouldn’t exactly be a surprise if someone tried to kill the one person that meant the most to him.

“I can when it concerns your safety.” He swallows hard.

Rey watches him with the exact same look from that day on the Supremacy when she’d begged him to come with her to the Resistance. And the very image tears at his heart. “Shouldn’t love be enough?” she asks quietly, piercing hazel eyes never leaving his.

He doesn’t have a response for that, because really, what can he say?

With all his heart, he does wish that love would be enough. But how can he just stand by and watch the woman he loves get treated like the dirt on his shoes due to the fact that they’re together?

No, this is for the best. Rey’s safety and well-being taking the topmost priority.

At least, he can love her from afar.

Something like acceptance settles onto her features as she swipes at her eyes angrily. “I see. Well, have a fantastic life,” she snaps, brushing past him and he turns to watch her retreating form.

Don’t leave, he wants to say and maybe, Rey must have heard his internal plea for she stops at the doorway, giving him one last look over her shoulder.

Of course, him being who he is, he remains silent and meets her gaze squarely.

Kylo can never describe the look that washes over her and his gut churns uncomfortably at the resigned expression that her face adopts.

But the moment the door to his quarters slide shut leaving him alone, the reality of what he’s done sinks in.

Had he really let go of the one thing that he treasures the most? The best thing that has happened to him? Yes, apparently, he had.

Maker, he had to fix this.

Hastily, he stumbles towards the door, eyes scanning the deserted hallway for Rey.

But with his luck, it isn’t a surprise that she’s gone by now.

With trembling fingers, he runs a hand through his hair and squeezes his eyes shut. Already, his lungs feel too tight and drawing an unsteady breath, he staggers back, resting against the wall, the gravity of his actions weighing his shoulders down.

Fuck, he should have never let her go.

“I HATE YOU, BEN!”

He winces at the shrillness her voice adopts but he forces himself not to react visibly. It had been ages since Rey had yelled at him using that tone.

The First Order had been obliterated about three years ago and a new Republic has finally been formed and for the first time in centuries, there was finally peace. Hence, Rey hadn’t really had the opportunity to shriek at him for whatever he’d done.

This is a predicament he can’t say anything in. After all, it had been his fault. It is his fault that Rey would be carrying out the most excruciating action known to humans.

Childbirth.

He shudders, feeling the echoing waves of pain that floats through the bond from his wife’s end. Who knew that having a child would be this much agony?

“Ben Solo, I’m going to kill you!”

He hastily squeezes her hand, narrowly missing the teeth that are about to clamp onto his wrist. Kriff’s sake. You could take the girl out of Jakku but you couldn’t take Jakku out of her.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, cringing when Rey sobs, gnashing her teeth together as she squirms on the bed.

“It hurts! Ben, it hurts so bad! If only you kept it in your pants!”

Colour rushes to his cheeks when he recalls the rather…enthusiastic play that has led them to this. The knowing look his mother shoots him doesn’t help one bit either.

Carefully, he avoids the snickers that resound in the room as he focuses on Rey. “You can do it, just a bit more. Don’t you want to see Casyr?”

Rey whimpers, face scrunched up, as she nods, tears and snot streaking down her face as perspiration beads over her forehead. “I do. I’m just so tired. Ben, please.”

He’d never been good at encouragement or being positive in general but if that is what Rey needs, he would do it.

“You can do this,” he murmurs softly, squeezing her hand before grabbing the towel on his right to dab away her sweat. “You’re so close.”

She jerks her head into shaky nods and clamps her eyes shut as she draws a ragged breath and continues to push.

It isn’t ten minutes later when a mewling cry echoes around the room and a further five that passes when Rey is cleaned up with their son in her arms.

Ten years ago, the idea of him being free, of having a life, a future with a woman he adores and loves with every fibre of his being and that she’d given him a son was impossible. For Kriff’s sake, he actually had suspected he wouldn’t even live pass the age of thirty-five.

But now, he can feel his emotions clogging up his throat and the familiar sting of tears in the back of his eyes as he watches Rey and Casyr who are being fussed about by his mother—his family.

“Love you, Ben.” Rey beams up tiredly at him and he can only stare mutely at her as a tear rolls down his cheek.

When Rey hands him his son and he cuddles Casyr into his chest, and he spots the ears that he’d hated about himself on his son, his throat finally works. “I love you too,” he chokes out, tearing his eyes away from his son to look at his wife with watery eyes.

She offers him a wide grin and he leans over to press a kiss onto her temple but a sharp cry interrupts them as Casyr protests being squished by his parents.

He watches in adoration as Rey laughs as she coos and plays gently with one of Casyr’s fingers while his mother stands at his side and squeezes his shoulder gently.

Ben Solo may regret quite a lot of things, but this? Never.