DESERVE

They laid in the afterglow, basking in the staggering peace it left behind. Rey laid half on top of him, face pressed into the crook of his neck, his large hands sprawled over her bare back, drawing slow circles into her flesh. This was part was still new to them. The bond connecting them was rarely kind enough to allow this much spare time to lay together afterwards. Ren indulged in it. He had naively thought for so long that it would be enough for him to finally taste her, slide himself into her, watch her fall apart under him. But each time after he came inside her with a jolt and the bond would fray and separate them again, he was left feeling emptier and more unsatisfied than before. The few lingering moments that they were allowed to waste recovering in each other's arms would be his downfall, he was quickly realizing. If only he could bring himself to care.

Rey slid her warm body off of his and moved to stand up. Embarrassment rose up within him as he had to bite back a whimper at the loss. He hoped she didn't notice. She turned her head back and shot him a smile as she pulled her own blanket around her. He stayed spread out on what he knew was his own bed in the Finalizer, black silk sheets pooling around his waist. Rey walked over to something in her room on the Falcon and reached up. He saw her grab something and make her way back to the bed, climbing back on, sitting cross legged facing him, letting the blanket fall back to the bed. He glanced down at her hand, and couldn't help the irritation that spread through his veins.

She was holding one of Luke's Sacred Jedi Texts in her small hands, turning the pages so carefully, eyes already lost in the meaningless droning of words he knew they held. He stiffened visibly, straightening up and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her read, jealousy rising in him as she paid far more attention to the stupid, useless book than him. If she noticed his sudden mood shift, she did nothing to show it.

"I suppose you haven't gotten to the part about celibacy then." he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "A True Jedi is supposed to shun all attachments and intimacy." He lingered on the last word a little too long, his eyes dragging down to her exposed chest, watching a soft blush form. "Is that what you really want, Rey? To give this up? Somehow I find that hard to believe." He couldn't help the smirk that tugged his lips, or the longing that swelled inside him as he recalled the way, just minutes ago, she had dug her heels into his back, nails clawing at his shoulders. He moved his dark eyes up from her naked breasts, over her neck and into her eyes as she blushed even deeper. But she looked him straight in the eyes, jutting her chin out defiantly.

"Maybe we wouldn't have to," she said, her own voice steady, but, just barely, tinged with insecurity. He wanted to scoff at her naivety, but, even days later, he couldn't get her words out of his head.

It was much easier than he expected to convince Rey to run away with him after the final battle. He saw to the swift end of the First Order himself, not for the sake of helping the Resistance by any means, but because he saw it as the only possible way to get the only outcome he wanted. Her. He meant it before, in Snoke's chambers, when he said he wanted to bring a new order to the galaxy with her by his side. Start something new, just the two of them, ruling together. But as the war went on, and their bond only got stronger, he realized exactly why she would never join him. They both shared a weakness of attachment. Hers was to the new family she had found in a ragtag group of traitors and misfits. His was to her.

It occurred to him he would never get her to join him in the Dark, and he was surprised to discover he didn't actually want her to. The Dark Side only brought him pain, and though he knew he deserved it, she didn't. He wasn't going to go to the Light, he knew that much. But, eventually, he began to think there could be something in the middle, a balance they could have, a shade of grey, if he just played his cards right. So he waited for the right moment. With a few choice strategies, he had the First Order hanging on by a thread, as he watched the Resistance grow stronger than ever. When it all finally came to a head, he made sure nothing but ash was left of his old command, so nothing or no one could ever again rise from its depths. He didn't particularly care what the remaining Resistance would make of the Galaxy, but he knew she would, so he expected more of a fight from her when he murmured out the words against her neck as she clung to him after the war ended, fire and smoke burning all around them.

"Come with me, Rey," he pleaded. His words were short, but his eyes said everything his voice wouldn't. It's finally over. We can leave, go anywhere we want. They don't need us for this part. We've given too much of our lives up for this war. People will rebuild, with or without us. They don't need you. Not the way I do.

She reached up, grabbed his face down to hers and kissed him softly. For a mad second he thought it was meant to be a goodbye and he reacted in kind, tugging her closer, mouth opening against hers desperately, not ready for it to end. But when she didn't pull away, only ran her fingers through his hair, he let a bit of hope swell into his chest. When they finally pulled apart, she looked him dead in the eye and nodded. He didn't waste another second, grasping her hand tightly in his and led to her to the Falcon, telling himself it's only because that was closest ship.

He picked a small planet he had remembered traveling to as a child with his parents. It was lush and green and covered in sparkling lakes and rolling hills. He hung back by the entrance of the ship, watching her as she took it in. He stood, arms crossed over his chest tightly, holding his breath as he waited for her approval. She walked past a small lake to a large open meadow, running her fingers through the tall wildflowers that bloomed there. She slowly turned around to look at him, a huge smile lighting up her face, and she nodded. He let out the breath he had been holding. This is where they would build their home.

He doesn't actually remember asking her to marry him. It may have been something he blurted out as he watched her work herself over him while he sat in the captain's chair on the Falcon, flying them away from their old lives, hands grasping her thighs, jaw slack, lips swollen from her kisses. It could have been weeks later, when they finished building their tiny cottage and he brought home a bed, the first real one she's ever had. The way her eyes shined at him in that moment, he wouldn't have been surprised if he let the words slip out right then. It may not have even been said with words at all. The thought could have just flowed through the bond between them, lingering until it went from tiny brushes of an idea to something solid and real. Ben figures, it doesn't really matter when he asked her, or if he even asked her at all. It was inevitable.

So that brought them there, standing at the edge of a lake, sun setting softly in the background, hands clasped together while an Elder from the nearby village recited vows. Rey wore a longer version of her usual white tunic, and let her hair fall in soft waves around her shoulders. Ben stood in front of her in his black uniform, but he looked much brighter than Rey had ever seen him. Their eyes locked on each other as they repeated the Elder's words and exchanged simple rings. There was no one else here, just them and when the Elder pronounced them man and wife, they didn't waste a second before rushing back to their cottage. Ben picked Rey up and, as they crossed the threshold of their little home, an image flashed between them through the bond of the day they first met in the forest, when he took her captive. Rey let out a tiny giggle, pressing her hand to her mouth as she watched her husband's eyes flash with a dangerous glint. Her smile faded only slightly, as Ben dropped her onto their mattress and showed her what he had really wanted to do to her that day.

The weather is mild here, so Ben realizes quickly that he's going to need a new wardrobe. His heavy wool and thick black pants just aren't practical and he admits it makes him seem really out of place. He knows it's part of his past now, it doesn't really have a purpose here, so dark and harsh against their bright new home. His gloves were easy to get rid of, probably, he thinks, because he feels like every second not spent touching Rey is a second wasted. But the black is comforting. It's safe. The dark, heavy uniform has been a part of him for so long, and as much as he wants to let the past die, he finds this part hard to let go of. One day, Rey comes back from the village with a bag, demanding it's time to retire it for once and for all. She pulls out some soft looking grey thermals, white t-shirts, a pair of brown trousers, and a navy blue vest. His face hardens at the sight of the vest. It reminds him too much of a certain smuggler. She has the decency to look a little ashamed, and he remembers that she once saw Han as a father too. He figures she must have picked out the vest in some unconscious attempt at creating the family she's never had and he softens. He kisses her softly and tells her he likes the rest, and she can put the vest in the closet for now. Maybe it will grow on him.

He wears the new clothes daily now, and although he hates to admit it, he's never been more comfortable.

Their days are spent building their home and talking about the Force. He has a lot to teach her still, and she's more than eager to learn. It humbles him a bit to realize that he's also nowhere near as confident in his teachings as he once was. This balance they bring to each other makes more sense than anything else in his life, but it's also a daily reminder of all the things he had gotten wrong. And he knows it's not just him. Everyone had it wrong, Luke, Vader, Snoke, the Jedi, the Sith. Balance was sorely missing from every one of their philosophies. But as frustrating as it could be to have to start from scratch, he knew with absolute certainty that, as long as he had Rey by his side, they could do it. They could start a new generation of Jedi, something that would bring calm and balance for centuries to come. He wasn't naive either. He knew how crazy it sounded to have him, the former Kylo Ren, potentially training children on how to keep lasting peace in the Galaxy. The irony wasn't lost on him. But, still, he knew that if Rey was there, keeping him centered, helping him fight his demons, they wouldn't fail. Sometimes though, he doesn't care much either way. He was ready to let the Jedi die before, wasn't he? But it's important to Rey, and even though there's a part of him that wants to keep this piece of her to himself, to be the only one she can use the Force with, he knows that's not fair. Besides, the thought of Rey as a teacher, surrounded by eager children, ignites a part of his soul he never knew was there.

He helps her build a small temple on their property, a short walk from their house. Next to it, they build a training room to practice their forms. The work keeps their hands busy, and he catches glimpses of her scavenger past as she builds and fixes things, her face always set and determined, focusing on whatever task is at hand. He watches her one day, as she's fixing a faulty wire on one of their speeders, her hair frizzing at the edges, dirt covering her nose. He thinks she can't get anymore beautiful, but then she fixes whatever it was she was working on, and the speeder starts up with a hum. Her eyes shine brilliantly, and she looks up at him, cheeks pushed up by the biggest, brightest smile and he realizes he was wrong.

Their evenings are spent cooking dinner, a task he's recently discovered he rather enjoys, followed usually by an hour of training. They practice their forms with each other, moving in perfect harmony, never once feeling threatened or self-conscious by the other's strength. Fighting together feels as natural as breathing, and it's when their bond is nearly at its most powerful, sparking between them as they twist, turn and dance around each other effortlessly. Fighting side by side almost never fails to remind them of that first time, in Snoke's chamber so long ago, taking down the guards one by one. The first time they caught a glimpse of the completion that was waiting for them within the other. The beginning of an addiction. Most nights, their hour of training ends with his naked body pressing hers against a wall, lips tight against her neck and the bond pulses at its strongest, finally content.

He knows she's pregnant before she does. He guesses anyway. Something in the Force around her was different. It was subtle, easy to miss and Ben couldn't exactly put his finger on what it was. It just seemed…more.

Then, when they're eating breakfast in silence one day, she suddenly shoots up and runs to the fresher, barely making it in time. He follows her inside and holds her hair back. He knows for certain now, even if she's still confused, muttering something about how it must have been the eggs. The thought overwhelms him, he feels a sudden pull of fear racing up his gut into his throat. He needs to be alone. He turns on the shower for her, brings her a clean set of clothes, kisses her on the forehead, but he's just moving through the motions. He doesn't feel anything, just numb. He goes back to the kitchen, cleans up breakfast and walks outside to their small garden.

She finds him there, maybe an hour later, just sitting on a bench, staring at nothing. He looks up at her and he knows she knows now. She pretty much shines in radiance, the warmest glow cast about her like she's some sort of goddess. She's trying not to show her emotions though. He can feel the effort its taking her to put on a serious face for his sake. It half makes him want to smile, and half makes him want to sob that she has to hold back. But there's also a fear he senses off her. It's small, smaller than his own, but it's there and it runs deep. He looks closer into her eyes as she sits next to him and he sees they're wet.

"I thought you left," she murmured, pressing her face into his shoulder. "I came out of the shower and you were gone."

"I wouldn't do that, Rey," he insisted, his voice cracking but fierce. "I'm not going anywhere."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled even closer to him. "I didn't think so. But this is… big. I guess… I guess I just want to know what you're feeling," she finished.

He sighed, moving his arm over her shoulder. "I'm not really sure. I feel… unprepared. Scared."

She nodded, biting her lip slightly. "Me too, a little bit. But I'm also happy. Really happy," she looked up at his face, nervously. "And it's not as if we were really trying to prevent this. I suppose it shouldn't be that much of a surprise." The insecurity in her voice resolved something inside of him. She was worried he didn't want this. He might have laughed if he didn't feel so close to crying.

"Rey," he said firmly, pulling her away from him to look at her. He cupped her chin with his hand. "I do want this. I swear. But I don't know how…" he trailed off. His emotions were jumbling together, closing in on him. He knew she could feel the chaos in his mind, but she waited patiently. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"I killed my father, Rey." The topic wasn't new, but the ache it rose within him felt like it had just happened yesterday. He watched as her eyes filled with hurt, and he hated the reminder that it wasn't just his own parent he murdered. He had taken one from her too. She felt him start to close off again, and she laid her hand over his cheek.

"It's okay, Ben. I forgave you a long time ago." He didn't deserve her. He moved his face into her hand and kissed her palm.

"I know," He continued. "I loved my parents, but they did so much wrong. And my grandparents before them. How can I… How do I know I won't fail like they did? Or worse. I've done so much worse already."

"We won't fail. We'll do this together."

"But that's just it, Rey," he said unable to stop himself. "Your parents abandoned you too. They just sold you off as a slave in the Jakku desert. You don't know anymore than I do." His words sounded harsh, but he didn't mean them that way. He didn't doubt for one second the type of mother Rey would be. His heart ached at the image his mind formed of her holding a baby to her chest. What he didn't understand was how… How was she so sure of this? So sure they wouldn't fail so spectacularly, when neither of them had anything close to good examples. Her eternal optimism was one of the things he struggled most to understand about her. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We don't know what we're doing."

She stared at him, thoughtfully, as if taking in his words. She suddenly stood up in front of him, eyes flashing with fire and warmth. She grasped both of his hands in hers and placed them on her still flat stomach. He looked up at her, his own eyes dark, swimming with emotion, as his large hands moved softly over her skin. He loved her so fucking much.

"We don't know what we're doing," she admitted. "But we know a lot about what not to do. And we'll be here. I think that's enough."

His doubts didn't disappear after that first day. He still had so much of his own pain to sort out, so much hurt left over from his own parent's failures. So many of his own choices and mistakes he had to face. During the day, it was easy to put his fears aside as he watched his wife grow with their twins. The primal feeling of want that rose up in him as her body expanded grew as quickly as she did. He couldn't get enough of her. Knowing that it was his children growing inside of her, making her round and swollen, only caused his desire for her to grow. He spent every spare second worshipping her with his hands, his lips, his tongue. As he sat her on the kitchen counter one day, kneeling in front of her, her thighs pressed tightly against his ears, watching her full cheeks flush with color, he couldn't believe there was ever even a time he was afraid of becoming this man.

But at night, its different. She always falls asleep long before he does, and something about that fills him with pride. A distant memory flashes in his eyes of a cold interrogation room and he remembers how desperate she used to be to find sleep. He thinks vaguely, if the only good deed he's ever done in his life was ridding her of that pain, he could die a happy man. But there's always a time, just as he's on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness, where his own doubts and pain are magnified, screaming out to him, jolting him awake. He's used to nightmares, but this is something different. The fears that won't leave him alone are more real than they've ever been, now that he's so close to becoming a father. He tries his best, every night to hide his anxiety from his sleeping wife, but every night, she reaches out in her sleep and wraps his strong arm around her, pressing his hands to her naked belly. He wants to resist sometimes, wants to be able to work through his emotions himself, to not rely on her for everything, but then he feels the movements of his children beneath his hand and he always gives in and lets her calmness wash over him like a wave of warm sunlight. Somehow it doesn't feel like a weakness.

He has never felt fear like he did the day Rey gave birth. Nothing, not being tortured by Snoke or waking up to Luke's green lightsaber hovering above his head, not even watching his father staring at him, hands outstretched while he gathered up the strength to push his saber through his chest, nothing was close to this. Never before had he ever felt a fraction of this level of blood-curdling, bone-chilling fear. He could feel her pain as if it his own and he wanted nothing more than to take it all from her, every last bit, but he was on strict orders from her doctor not to even try.

"There's too much risk in that," the doctor insisted, way too much calmness in his voice for Ben. "Sometimes pain is good, son. It can let us know if there's something wrong."

That didn't exactly make him feel better. He knew twins meant a high risk pregnancy, and he knew his own grandmother had died in childbirth. He had spent so much of the last nine months worrying about repeating his own families history, he hadn't even thought about this part. Every shriek Rey made, every sharp breath she took made him ache with worry. He felt utterly helpless. For the first time in more than a decade, he felt himself wishing his mother was here. She would know what to do.

And this doctor was infuriating him. He was entirely too calm and casual about this. He was so dismissive of Rey's pain. Acting like this was routine, and maybe it was to him but to Ben this was the only important thing in the galaxy. Telling Ben to relax, talking to him like a small child, a condescending look of patience on his face. It made Ben so angry. Didn't he realize how much was in his hands right now?

When it was finally time for Rey to push, he was wound as tight as a spring. As the nurses and the doctor started barking instructions moving around Rey quickly, he made no attempt to calm down. He knew he probably sounded like a madman as he demanded to know what was going on at every step. Every time a nurse looked a screen even a second too long or the doctor had an edge of something in his voice, Ben's panic increased tenfold. Why were there so many of them in here? Was the slow beeping coming out of the medical droid normal? Should it be faster? Was she supposed to be in this much pain?

"Perhaps you'd be more helpful in the waiting room," the irritating doctor said to Ben as he voiced these and more concerns for the millionth time, all former patience gone from his voice. "What your wife needs right now is-"

But the rest of his sentence was cut off as Ben reached out, hand outstretched and closed his fingers in a fist. He watched in pleasure as the doctor rose up off the ground clutching his neck with his hands. He squeezed a little tighter, walked up to the doctor, towering over the little man.

"I think I'll stay right here," Ben growled in a voice he hadn't heard himself use in years. "And if you don't start taking this more seriously, I can assure you that no droid in this hospital will be able to stitch you back together when I'm through with you." The doctor frantically nodded his head, the knuckles of his fingers going white as he tried pointlessly to release the death grip Ben had on him.

"Ben," his wife gritted out in annoyance, her face scrunched in pain. "Could you please stop force-choking my doctor and come hold my hand?"

He glanced at her, then back at man flailing his legs around madly. His anger at the doctor had barely abated and there was something so thrilling about choking someone so annoying within inches of their life. But he sighed loudly, and dropped his fist and the doctor crumpled to the floor in a heap. He walked over to Rey, grasped her hand in his, and placed a kiss to her forehead softly, a gentle gesture so starkly different from the towering, murderous figure he just projected. His eyes met the doctor's again as the nurses started frantically moving around the room. He made a silent vow to himself that if anything went wrong today, he would come back and finish the job.

Fortunately, the rest of the labor went relatively well. Rey was strong, a fact he had known since the day he met her. And other than a few difficult moments during which Ben fought the urge to run his saber through his own chest for causing her this pain, she pushed only a for a few minutes, before he heard his daughter's cries fill the room. His lips curled up in a soft smile. He had a feeling the girl would come first.

His son arrived moments later. The nurses moved both babies to lay on Rey's chest and he stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, taking in a sight so pure it should have burned his tortured soul to look at. His wife, tired, red-faced, sweaty, but so gorgeous, hugged both his children to her chest and looked up at him, tears pooling in her eyes, the smile on her face so brilliant he thought it might never come off. The emotions swirling across them were so strong and warm and, certainly not for the first time in his life, Ben stood there wondering how he possibly deserved this.

A while later, the new family sat in the hospital room peacefully, basking in the golden glow the Force weaved around them. Rey laid on the bed, holding their son to her breast, Ben sitting next to them in a chair, their daughter cradled carefully in his arms. The door opened slowly and the doctor peeked his head in hesitantly, asking if everything was alright. He was clearly afraid. Ben glared at him before turning his attention back to his daughter, while Rey enthusiastically described their first hour of parenthood. When he finally shut the door and they were alone again, Rey turned to Ben, a hitch of amusement in her voice.

"Do you think you overreacted a bit back there, with the choking?"

"No," He said, not bothering to take his eyes off his daughter. "He deserved it."

He looked up just in time to see Rey hide her smile by pressing her lips to the top of their son's head.

Ben's favorite thing about being a father is ironically the part he thinks his own parents cared about the least. He loves watching his children grow, their personalities changing every day. Loves just spending time getting to know them, listening to them babble about whatever new things they're interested in today. He can't get enough of watching their faces grow, always eager to see which parts they got from him, and which from Rey.

His daughter is the spitting image of Rey, but with his dark eyes. She's just as headstrong and independent as his wife is, but she has a temper like his. She's inherently good though. He knows this because the only time he sees her temper is when she standing up for something, whether it's protecting her brother from punishment she finds unnecessarily harsh or advocating for an injured animal she found while exploring. He knows she's going to be trouble, but he can't help the pride that bubbles inside him every time she lifts her face up at him defiantly, reminding him so much of a young scavenger girl he's only caught glimpses of.

His son is much softer, more sensitive than his twin. He has Ben's dark curls and pale skin, but his mother's hazel eyes and small nose, dotted with freckles. He sees a lot of himself in his son. He is always eager for his parent's affection, but also very much enjoys his alone time. He doesn't mind spending his time reading or collecting things, while his sister prefers to be outside, but is always happy to share his hobbies with his father. There's something Ben sees in his son that reminds him of the darkness that always loomed inside himself as a child. It's not nearly as pronounced, but sometimes there's a heaviness he sees in his eyes. Ben doesn't worry much about it, though. He's not always so confident in his parenting, but that's one mistake his parents made he knows he won't be repeating.

His daughter is fascinated with his scar. She loves sitting on his lap, reaching up to grasp his cheeks in her hands, inspecting it from its beginning just over his eyebrow, following it with her eyes as it disappears into his shirt.

On one of these occasions, they're laying on the floor and she climbs her way up to sit on his chest and starts tracing the scar lightly. He sees Rey walk by out of the corner of his eyes, carrying a load of laundry and something tumbles out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

"Have I ever told you who gave me this scar?" He asks his daughter, his eyes looking over her head to look at his wife. He sees her eyes narrow dangerously and has to work to suppress his grin as her hand juts out onto her hip.

The little girl shakes her head, eyes wide. "Who?" She asks in a whisper. He lifts her up, turns her around and points to Rey, whose glare is close to menacing now. The girl gasps, and whips around again to face him.

"Mommy gave you your scar? Why would she do that?" Ben shakes his head, feigning confusion.

"You'll have to ask her. And you know what else?"

"What?" He had his daughter hanging onto his every word.

"She's never even apologized." This time Ben didn't even try to hide the grin on his face as heard his wife huff out an indignant breath.

"Well I hope you don't think you'll be getting one now," she said sharply, but he caught her lips turning up in a smirk before she left the room. His daughter reached up again, grabbing his face between both of her hands.

"Well, I'm sorry, Daddy," she said softly as she leaned down and placed her tiny lips over the deepest part covering his cheek. He couldn't help but think that nothing in the galaxy could possibly feel better than this.

Later that night, his wife traces her tongue down from the top of the same scar, not bothering to stop at its end and he changes his mind.

One night, when his kids and wife are sound asleep, Ben feels a cold chill run down his spine. The Force flowing through him is buzzing with a dark energy. It's a warning, he knows. He bolts out of bed, summons his saber to his hands and runs outside. He can feel the intruder's presence somewhere in the forest that grows beyond his yard, but he's not close enough to sense exactly where he is. The fear and adrenaline pumping through his veins is loud is in ears. He moves silently to the edge of the forest, saber outstretched but not ignited.

If he's being honest with himself, he's a little surprised that it's taken this long for something like this to happen. He made a lot of enemies in his lifetime, and though most of them are already dead, at his own hand, he's not surprised that there are still people out there that would like nothing more than to inflict harm on him and the little bit in this world he loved. In fact, Ben was so aware of this potential problem that he paid a lot of money to this planet's law enforcement and justice system to help ensure the safety of his family. And yet, somehow this person snuck by. There would be hell to pay at the Council in the morning. No doubt this particular intruder is a stray First Order crony that managed to survive their bloody ending, bitter at the destruction of the only life he had probably ever known. Or it could be an old Resistance ally, not convinced Ben's final act as Supreme Leader was enough to clear him of his war crimes. It could be a thousand other things in between. Either way, Ben might not have been shocked, but he was angry.

This was likely the most angry he had ever been in his life. The only other time even coming close was when he was forced to kneel in front of Snoke and watch while he tortured Rey and gave Ben the order to kill her. But this was worse. He had children now. Two beautiful children and a perfect wife and an entire life he didn't deserve, but would do anything to protect. He knew that he and Rey would have been extremely lucky to not have to face the darker parts of their past at times, but this was different. His son and daughter didn't have anything to do with the world their parents left behind. They were innocent in all of this, and the very thought of someone trying to disrupt their peaceful lives was enough to send him into a murderous rage.

He was finally close enough to the edge of forest to sense where the intruder hid, waiting to sneak up to the cottage. He reached out with the Force and knew that his own presence had not been sensed yet. Without wasting another second he reached his arm out and the intruder flew into the air and smashed into a tree, knocking him unconscious instantly.

Ben walked over to the man, kicking his slumped body over to see his face. He didn't recognize him, but it didn't matter. He raised his arm again, lifting the man up again as he watched his body flail limply. He stood there for a second, deciding his next move.

He wanted to wait for the man to regain consciousness so he could ensure this death would be painful and long. But he didn't really have that kind of time. He wanted this taken care of before his family realized he was gone. He also had a reputation he had to worry about now. No one would be surprised that Kylo Ren killed yet another person, but he was Ben Solo now. A father, a husband, a teacher of the Force. Violently killing a man in the front yard of his home and Jedi training temple would be hard to explain, but he could do it. His father hadn't taught him much, but talking his way out of things was always Han's specialty.

There was also one other thing holding him back from running his lightsaber through this man's chest. He thought back to the very first night he and Rey had ever spent together. It was right after the final battle, when they had run away together and landed on the little planet they now called home. They were laying on a cot in the Falcon, naked, finally exhausted after hours of exploring each other and making love without the confines of the bond. The conversation turned serious quickly, both of them finally ready to talk about all of the topics they had spent the past year avoiding. One thing Rey asked him, quietly, a hint of worry in her voice, was if he could ever promise her he wouldn't kill again. She sounded so worried that he would say no, that it was a part of him she would just have to accept. His answer surprised her more than he thought it would. Killing was more of a necessity. It was never something he really ever enjoyed. Except for Hux. Killing Hux had been fun. She laughed at that, but when he cupped her face in his hands and whispered his promise against her lips that that part of their lives was behind them, he felt the relief wash over her and he knew that wasn't a promise he would ever break.

He was fairly certain that this wouldn't count. He knew Rey. He knew she had killed too, always out of necessity. He believed with his whole being that she wouldn't be even a little phased by the death of this man that wanted so badly to destroy their happy home. But still, breaking a promise to his wife wasn't something he had ever done before and he didn't really want to start now. But he knew he had hesitated for long enough now, it was time to make a decision.

Just as he was about to close his hand in a fist and crush the intruder's windpipe, he heard a loud crack as the man's neck snapped and he felt to the ground in a heap. Ben whipped around, hand nearly reaching for his saber, but he stilled when he saw his wife standing behind him in her nightclothes, hand outstretched. Her eyes were blazing as she looked at him with confusion. He knew she was wondering what he was waiting for, why it took him so long to kill this man. His words were jumbling in his throat so he let them spill over the bond, and watched her face as understanding dawned on her.

"This is our family, Ben. If he was here to hurt our family then I want him dead any way possible. Don't ever worry about breaking that promise if you're protecting us."

There was a lump sitting in his throat that he couldn't push down, so he just nodded, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulled her to him and kissed her temple. They walked back to their house hand in hand. Once inside, he led her to the twin's room and cracked the door open slightly. They were both there, sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the night's events. He knew they would be here, safe and sound, but he let out a sigh of relief anyway. Rey's hand traveled slowly up his back, and she leaned her head against his chest, murmuring, "They're okay."

Ben quietly closed the door, grasped Rey's hand tightly in his and led them to their bedroom. She had barely shut the door behind them before he lifted her up, pressing her against it, kissing her with urgency. Something about what had just transpired had set him ablaze. His entire world had come dangerously close to falling apart tonight. He could have lost everything. But he didn't. His children were safe. And his wife, his amazing, incredible wife who had just killed someone to protect their family, was here in his arms, warm and alive. A desperation ran through his core as he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and knelt them to the bedroom floor. He ached to show her how much he loved her, how much he needed her. The way her eyes glistened with tears and she lifted a gentle hand to stroke his cheek as he slid inside her, whispering his love and devotion against her neck, he knew she understood.

When they finally crawled back into their bed, Rey fell asleep quickly, snuggling into his body. But Ben stayed up, the only thing on his mind was how he could ensure the protection of his family more effectively. He wondered it might be time to make amends with a certain Wookie.

Rey's old friends came by often. It didn't bother Ben. He was always polite to them, even the traitor. He didn't harbor any ill feelings toward any of them, but he also didn't really care to spend a great deal of time socializing. He was always happy to use the visits to catch up on some training, or take his kids out to explore. He loved to see her happy, and maybe there was a time, long ago, when Ben would have wondered why he wasn't enough to fulfill that part of her life, but he's older now. He knows she craves those relationships, having been starved for them for most of her life. He couldn't take that from her, he would never want to. Besides, there were no sides anymore. They weren't standing on opposite ends of a war. There was no reason his wife should have to chose between him and the first family she'd ever made for herself. He would never ask her to again, but he knew if he did, this time Rey would chose him, without question. She never pushed Ben to develop deeper friendships with them, and for that he was grateful. She might need companionship from others, but the only thing he needed was her and the kids.

He can admit, though, he likes having Chewie back. They made him his own small cabin at the edge of the woods, a short walk from their cottage. Ben feels comfortable knowing he's there. He knows Chewie takes his family's safety very seriously, but that's not the only reason he's glad to have him back in his life. When he watches his children climb all over the furry giant, poking him and telling him all about their day, it reminds Ben of one of the few parts of his own childhood he actually liked. While his own parents were too busy running galaxies, or smuggling stolen goods, Ben had spent a majority of his childhood talking to Chewie, showing him new things he discovered he could do with the Force, reading to him out loud from books his Uncle Luke would give him. While the memories still stung, Ben knew that Chewie had cared for him in a way that the other adults in his life had failed. There was something comforting about him, Ben couldn't deny. He was glad his own children had him around. Many times Ben wanted to apologize to him for killing his best friend, a few times he came really close. But each time, as Ben worked to gather the right words, Chewie pulled him into a uncomfortably tight hug with a deafening roar, one of his huge arms crushing into the old bowcaster wound on Ben's side, a little too tightly to be accidental.

One of his favorite things to do with his son is to take the Falcon somewhere and go exploring. The young boy shares his mother's penchant for collecting things, and he loves bringing home new things for them to tinker with together. Today, it's just Ben and his son, his wife and daughter having gone into town to pick up some new robes for the children at the Jedi Temple. It's good timing because his son has some kind of idea up his sleeve for a birthday present for his mother. He hasn't told Ben what it is, only that it has to be a surprise. Rey never knew the day she was born, nor had ever had need for a birthday, but the kids kept pestering her about it one year and she decided it would be the day that Finn crashed into her little desert planet and took her away from the miserable life she knew. She looked up at Ben cautiously that day, as if he would be disappointed that was the moment she chose. If it weren't for that day, I'd still be on Jakku and we'd never have met, she insisted. He smiled softly and kissed the top of her head. He knows that's not true. Their fates were connected so tightly before either of them could ever know. If it wasn't that day, it would have been some other. But he lets her celebrate the day she felt her new life began. If he could choose his own birthday, there's no doubt in his mind it would be the moment the war ended and they stepped onto his father's old ship, hand in hand.

His son is talking excitedly about whatever his plans are as they walk up a grassy hill to a crumbling Jedi temple. The boy picked up a small, stone statue that was cracked down the middle. He eyed it thoughtfully, then lifted it up to his father's face.

"Dad! Do you think she would like this? Can we fix it somehow?" His enthusiasm was as infectious as his mother's and it made Ben smile. He picked up the figure from his son's hand and turned it over, careful not to break it further.

"I think she would. We should definitely take it with us," he grinned down at his boy and ruffled a hand through his soft hair. The act was one Ben did often, but it never failed to send a sharp pain through his chest. It was a gesture he knew all too well. Every single time Ben ran his large hand through his son's curls with a gentle shake, memories of his own youth, of Han, would scream into his mind. The ache never lessened over time, but Ben had learned to embrace it. Much like the way, a lifetime ago, focusing on his battle wounds made him a stronger, more powerful fighter, Ben figured that leaning into the pain of Han's abandonment made him a better father. Yes, it hurt to repeat the gesture that caused his young self so much pain, but Ben did it anyway, as often as he could. Maybe if he did, his own son would never have to associate it with a packed bag and the closing of a ship door.

His son beamed up at him, and ran up ahead. Ben slipped the small figurine into a pocket in his blue vest. He smiled to himself, thinking of how long he had avoided wearing it, afraid it would make him too much like his father. He was like Han, in many ways. But he also knew now that he wasn't. Not in the ways it mattered. The vest didn't scare him anymore. There wasn't a lot that did. Besides, all the extra pockets were pretty useful.

The twins are around seven when they first ask why they don't have any grandparents. All our friends at school have them, his daughter informs him. Some of them even have four of them! His son nods in agreement.

"And we don't have any!" he exclaims. "Why don't you and mommy have any parents?"

The kids miss the look their parents give each other across the table. Ben feels trapped. He doesn't really know what to do here. He and Rey had talked about how they would disclose their family histories to their kids someday, but he can't help feel that the topic came up too soon. He had hoped for a few more years at least to get a good answer down. But the twins are waiting, impatiently, for any piece of information they can get.

"Our parent's died. All of them. A long time ago." He winces at his own tone. He was hoping his discomfort wouldn't be so obvious. The children look sad, but not surprised. It's his son that speaks next, softly, carefully.

"Can you tell us about them? What were they like, Daddy?"

Ben faltered. He looked at his wife and he knew she could feel his plea across their bond. She smiled at him softly, then turned to the kids.

"Daddy's parents were heroes," she told them kindly. "His mom was a general and a princess too! And his father was one of the best people I have ever met in my whole life. There was one time…"

Ben tuned out the words she said, lost in his own thoughts. He could see the kids hanging on their mother's every word. She was a gifted story teller. But listening to her talk about his parents as heroes, as such incredible people, as parents anyone would have been lucky to have, was… difficult. He stood up and walked to the kitchen, busying himself with cleaning up dinner. Rey continued her stories, but every once in a while, she would lift her gaze to his, making sure he was okay. He was. He didn't want to take this away from his children, and certainly not from her. But it still hurt him deeply. It was a wound that wouldn't go away. He didn't know if it would ever not tear him apart inside to think of the father he had killed and the mother who died believing her son could not be saved.

His attention snaps back to the table, when he hears his daughter ask, in a small voice, how her grandfather died. His eyes shot to Rey's, and he swallowed hard, gripping the plate he was holding so tightly it shook. Rey paused, but didn't take her eyes off her husband's. He could feel her emotions running through the bond, and he knows his were just as strong. He had no idea what she was going to say next and a part of him didn't want to know. But he couldn't look away. She took a deep breath and said "Han died trying to save someone he loved."

The ringing in Ben's ears was so loud he almost didn't hear the words she spoke. But a wave of love and relief poured over him as he looked at his wife, tears reflected in her own eyes. He couldn't speak even if he wanted to, his throat so caught with emotion. He sent her a silent thank you, through the bond and she nodded, smiling. His kids seemed satisfied with the answer, however, it wasn't long before they returned to the topic.

"What about you, Mommy?" he heard his son ask gently. "What happened to your family?"

Rey hesitated. It was only for a split second, but Ben didn't miss it. He straightened his back and strolled back over to the table.

"My parents…" Rey began, quietly. "They…"

Ben walked behind her seat, running his hand up her arm, and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"Mommy is lucky. She got to choose her own family," he said, squeezing her shoulder lightly. The look of gratitude and love she beamed up at him filled the deepest cracks in his soul.

Ben had been telling his wife for weeks now that she was pregnant again. She denied it each time, insisting that it was just exhaustion, or she must be coming down with something. Ben lets her believe what she wants, lets her have time to get used to the idea, but he knows. It might have been nearly eight years since he last felt the Force around her glow like this, but it was unmistakable. One day, they're in their training room, teaching groups of younglings various forms, when Rey suddenly stops and rushes to the nearest fresher. Ben smirks to himself, asks one of the older students to take over for him, and follows her in. She's in a stall with the door shut, and she flushes and stands up, just as he closes the door behind him. She opens the stall and walks out to see him leaning against the doorway, arms across his chest, a smug grin on his face.

"Oh, shut up," she says, rolling her eyes. He laughed, pulling her body against his.

"Let's go home," he whispered against her neck. "They'll be fine here for a little while." She looked like she wanted to argue, but he pulls her through the fresher door before she can. He grasps her waist and they walk to their empty cottage together silently. When they get inside, Ben begins to draw a bath in their large tub. He helps her remove her clothes, doing the same to himself and pulls them both in, settling her between his legs. She hums out a soft sigh as his hands reach out to thread through her hair, leaning her head back on his bare shoulder.

"Are you happy?" she asks him softly.

"Yes," he responds, not taking his lips off her earlobe. "Are you?" She nods against his chest.

"I can't believe we're going to do this all over again. Are you sure you're ready for it?" Her tone is teasing, but he senses a small hint of uncertainty.

It's true that they're older now, not as energized as they once were. And their lives are busier than ever. A third kid certainly isn't going to slow things down. Ben's hair is streaked with more grey than he would prefer, and his joints occasionally hurt from decades of intense physical training and Rey…, well, Rey is just as perfect as ever. Ben smiles against her neck. He's not worried. They're good parents, he knows it. The children they made together are the best things about both of them and he knows this new one won't be any different. How could they not be with her as a mother? Ben would give her as many children as she wanted, all she had to do was ask. He'd give her absolutely anything.

He placed a soft kiss on her wet shoulder and she moaned softly. She grabbed his large hand in his, and placed it on her stomach. He trailed his fingers over her, feeling the soft swell there and the Force around them hummed in contentment. This life was more than Ben could have ever hoped for. He certainly knew it was more than he deserved, but if the woman laying in his arms, and the children she gave him didn't seem to care, he couldn't bring himself to either.