Alone in the temple's roof top gardens, Ben Solo meditated.

He inhaled slowly, eyes closed, and felt the Force flow through him, the familiar current of light that had always been there, as long as he could remember.

He exhaled, his mind perfectly clear. He certainly felt no sting of injustice at being here, at the temple, while Uncle Luke was on a mission elsewhere, no lingering resentment about being left behind with the children, again, while his master did more important things.

He was calm, he was at peace, and he was not sulking.

"Hey, Solo!"

The cheerful voice broke his tenuous concentration - just as he was about to reach true clarity, he was sure - and he opened his eyes to see his youngest cousin grinning up at him.

"Skywalker," he said, acknowledging his namesake. "What do you want?"

"Rey's working on her project with Jaina," the boy explained, referring to the landspeeder the girls had been attempting to build from spare parts. "And Jacen's teaching the younglings, and Anakin's trying to study," he continued with a roll of his eyes, "So he told me to come bother you instead."

If the elder Ben was annoyed that even his kid brother was using him as a babysitter, he would never do something so unbecoming of a Jedi as to frown at the thought.

"I'm meditating," he said curtly, then conceded, "You're welcome to join me."

The crestfallen look on the twelve-year-old's face left no doubt as to how exciting he found that suggestion, but he simply sighed resignedly, ran one hand through his ginger hair, and took up a position identical to his cousin's - feet shoulder-width apart, back straight, arms clasped loosely behind him.

Closing his eyes again, the young man resumed his meditation - inhale, feel the light, exhale, let go of his thoughts. Release his emotions, find peace.

It was actually easier with his cousin there. Their breathing synchronized, they slipped into the living Force together, like two leaves caught on the same breeze. The boy was a bright, soothing presence in the Force, much like his father.

But he was also an adolescent boy. Ben felt his concentration break again as his cousin checked his chrono.

"That was only twenty minutes?" the boy whined.

"Your father has at least an hour of uninterrupted meditation a day," Ben pointed out innocently.

"Well, my father isn't here," the younger Ben shot back. "Let's do something fun."

"Like what?" the elder Ben asked, and immediately regretted it.

Ben Solo disentangled his sleeve from one of the thorny bushes that grew in the forest around the temple, and wondered again what he was doing.

"This can't be worth it," he muttered, glancing at the increasingly orange glow in the western sky as they continued their trek up the steep ridge. The sun had been directly overhead when they set out. "There's plenty of fruit back at the temple."

"But not the shurra fruit that grows out here," Ben Skywalker insisted, cheery as ever. "And they're the best. I can't believe you've never tried them."

"Maybe because it's such a bother to get them that no one's ever done it?"

"Don't be ridiculous," the boy said with what might have been a scoff, or perhaps he was just short of breath. "Jacen comes out here all the time. He brought some of the shurra back last week. He says it's a really nice location, too."

"Jacen is a fool," the young man growled as yet another thorn bush caught hold of his leg. "And so are you for wanting to come here," he accused as his cousin stifled his laughter. "And so am I for following you."

"Maybe the forest would be nicer to you if you were in a better mood," the younger Ben suggested, continuing his hike with a renewed spring in his step as if to illustrate his point.

On cue, something brown and slimy landed on the boy's shoulder - one of the local birds offering its own opinion of his cheerful mood, no doubt. He recoiled first in surprise, then in horror, stumbling over a tree root and landing in an undignified heap.

The elder Ben, having successfully freed himself from the thorns again, found it was his turn to hold back laughter.

But his cousin was not to be deterred. "Well," he said philosophically, "at least I got you to smile." Carefully he brushed the mess off his shoulder with the cuff of his sleeve, which he then wiped on the ground.

Ben helped the boy to his feet. "Come on, Red," he said, tousling his cousin's hair and not bothering to keep the laughter out of his voice now. "Let's go get that shurra fruit."

The sky was nearly purple by the time they made it to the top of the ridge - the younger Ben had greatly underestimated the distance, it seemed. Sure enough, they found a grove of shurra trees there, and the fruit hanging from their branches looked perfectly ripe.

The hike had left both of them hungry, and each eagerly devoured their prize. The elder Ben had to admit that the fruit was sweeter than any shurra he'd tasted before.

"That was definitely worth it," the younger Ben said triumphantly when he had finished his shurra as quickly as was to be expected with his voracious adolescent appetite. Wiping his mouth with one hand, he tossed the pit aside and reached for another.

A blood-curdling scream halted him abruptly, hand in midair.

Dropping his own fruit in surprise, the elder Ben looked up to see a pair of gleaming yellow eyes fixed on his cousin from the upper branches of the tree they stood under. "Screecher monkey," he whispered.

Screecher monkeys were nocturnal mammals. They were small - less than a meter when fully grown - but surprisingly strong. They were also fiercely territorial.

"Maybe it's just one?" the younger Ben whispered back hopefully.

In response, the animal screamed again, and this time its cry was met with a chorus of responses. At least two dozen additional pairs of yellow eyes blinked open in the trees around them. Apparently, this was their nest.

The boy's hand drifted instinctively towards his lightsaber, but his cousin grabbed his arm instead. "Run," he ordered, and they did.

The pack pursued them as they sprinted back down the slope, swinging nimbly through the trees while they crashed through thorn bushes.

"Jacen never mentioned this!" the younger Ben shouted.

"Must have slipped his mind!" the elder Ben shouted back.

But the animals were only interested in scaring them off, and the two humans had the Force to enhance their speed. Soon enough the screams faded as they left their pursuers behind.

Once he was sure they were a safe distance away, the elder Ben slowed to a halt, and his cousin followed suit. The boy was winded, bent double with his hands on his knees. The young man allowed himself to lean against a tree for a moment.

"That," he said emphatically, "was not worth it."

"Nope," his cousin agreed breathlessly. "What in the nine hells, Jacen…"

"Well, you know Jasa," he joked, "He probably made friends with the little sithspawn."

His cousin managed a chuckle. "Bet he told them all his best jokes," he said in agreement.

"Bet that's why they were so angry," the elder Ben shot back.

His cousin's shallow breathing dissolved into full-on laughter at that, and Ben found he couldn't help but join in.

When they finally made it back to the temple, they were both tired, hungry, and filthy, and yet in good spirits. It was late enough that the younglings would all be in bed, while the masters and older students would be finishing the evening meal in the dining hall.

They did not make an effort to avoid being seen, exactly, and they certainly were not sneaking like guilty children when they decided to bypass the dining hall and go straight to their own quarters to clean up.

Nevertheless, when a commanding voice called out, "Ben!" both of them halted in their tracks and exchanged nervous looks before turning around.

Mara Jade, arms crossed in front of her, one eyebrow raised, demanded an explanation without speaking another word.

"It was my fault," her son owned up immediately. "I wanted to go find the place with the shurra trees Jacen told us about, but I didn't realize how far it was and we wound up staying out later than we planned."

"I should have made him turn back sooner," the elder Ben admitted. "I'm sorry."

"I see," said Mara, glancing over their disheveled appearance. "And is there a reason you decided to get friendly with the thorn bushes along the way?"

"They probably met the screecher monkeys," said Jacen, coming out of the dining hall.

Traitor, Ben thought, shooting a glare in his brother's direction. His cousin seemed to feel the same way.

"You could have mentioned them before!" the boy said accusingly.

"They're perfectly harmless during the day," Jacen explained. "I didn't think anyone would have a shurra craving so bad they'd go hunting for them in the middle of the night."

Mara was shaking her head in exasperation. "Alright," she said, "I've heard enough. Go get cleaned up."

"And Ben Skywalker," she added, fixing her son with a stern look, "Tomorrow morning you and I will be meditating together on the values of patience and foresight, which you are clearly lacking."

The boy nodded somberly, then headed towards his room. Jacen accompanied him, asking questions about the screecher monkeys, which Ben answered enthusiastically.

The elder Ben hung back for a moment. "I am sorry, Aunt Mara," he apologized again. "I should have been more responsible, and not let him go."

His aunt laughed at that. "Honestly," she admitted, "he probably would have gone whether you'd let him or not - running off half-cocked seems to be a family trait." Ben couldn't really argue with her on that.

"But I'm glad he had you with him to look after him," she said sincerely.

And Ben had to agree that he was glad he had been there, too.