Work Text:
Ben’s mother had been a constant in his life until she was not. When he was younger, he would tug at their bond in the Force when he was left with minders or his father while his mother worked. She would send back a small pulse of affection. Then, when she got back, she would gently tell him not to bother her during her meetings.
Even when Ben was sent to Luke, he had still felt her in the back of his mind, a presence distant yet almost comforting enough to forget that he had been sent away.
He had torn out the connection to his mother just like he’d ripped apart his bond with Luke in the aftermath of the Temple’s burning. It had been an open wound that had hurt as much as his uncle’s betrayal. But Kylo had eventually learned to bear it, eventually, just as he had learned to bear many things under his new Master’s tutelage.
But even a crumpled, torn thread leaves something behind in the Force, and even his shields slipped on occasion. At the beginning, Kylo felt his mother reaching out on occasion. Sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes while he was in the middle of a battle or sparring with the Knights. It would throw him off every time—sometimes he wondered if that was on purpose. He knew better than to trust her. What she sent was distant and hard to define—anger, grief, a sense of please-come-back—
—I will forgive you if you just come back to me—
Kylo never responded to her, just closed his shields tighter and hoped no one noticed his weakness. As the years went by, she did it less and less. And then, after Han Solo’s death, she never reached out again.