15t's been six years.
Six years since his dreams for a better galaxy, a better future came burning down. Nothing left but the taste of ash and regret on his tongue.
Six years since he his first (and last) student betrayed him and everything he and the boy's mother stood for.
Six years since he turned his back on everyone and everything—his responsibilities as the galaxy's last Jedi master, his friends, his family, the galaxy, the Force itself, and all that it entailed.
Six long years stewing in a pot of horror and regret for a feast of one.
Six long years since he's felt so much at once, not since that night .
Grief/longing/joy/shame/anger/indignation all churn within him, each emotion clamoring for attention and tugging on his robes like his students had once done to him.
Luke breathes in deeply and closes his eyes, willing his mind to settle.
My mind and body are calm and tranquil. Luke repeats the mantra until his words begin to ring true.
His bearings gathered once more, he opens his eyes to Han staring him down, one brow quirked up and that familiar smirk of his playing on his lips more genuinely than before. The two teens from earlier linger behind him. The girl peers around Han, a mixture of curiosity and impatience on her face.
She's trouble. Luke just knows it.
He glances at the boy, very aware of the way the old smuggler's eyes burning holes in the side of his face and the not-at-all-subtle way he's avoiding them.
Stars! Luke thinks loudly, his breath catching as his gaze meets the boy's. The boy—he is a boy, can't be much older than when Leia sent—
Luke swallows. His eyes. They're looking right at him. Or rather through him, his gaze murky and distant but—
"You still here with us, kid?" Han teases. Luke blinks and breaks away from his impromptu staring contest with the mysterious kid.
He clears his throat and grumbles, "Unfortunately."
He glares at the trio, focusing more on Han and definitely not on the boy beside him.
"You mind explaining why you still are?" He says so gruffly, not unlike those first few days when he was just Luke Skywalker, moisture farmer, and Han Solo was a simple smuggler working under Jabba and keeping everybody at arm's length away, his heart closely guarded like Luke is doing to his own now.
Where once he'd worn his heart on his sleeve, something Han and Leia had teased him about, well, now he knows better.
Something like fear begins to creep up his chest at the thought of his sister. Because if Han knows where he is then that means Leia— oh how his heart aches —must know where he is. And if Leia knows where he is then the Resistance knows and by then it's only a matter of time before the First Order knows. And if the First Order knows then so too will Ben—
no, no, not Ben, Luke thinks desperately, Kylo Ren. Ben Solo is gone.
(and you made it so, a traitorous thoughts whispers)
Luke's glare hardens, " How are you here? There's no way you could have found me. I made sure of it."
He'd wiped every log record, switched ships dozens of times, hidden his very recognizable face, and used untraceable credits whenever he stopped to refuel. Because Luke is a child of the desert and like the desert wind, he knows how to scatter sand until no trace remains.
He looks at the two accompanying Han and his eyes narrow, blue eyes like chips of ice.
No one should have been able to find not unless...a certain powerful cosmic force decided to stick its nose where it's not wanted.
Han's face falls at Luke's admission, that he himself admitted that he'd purposefully hidden from them: his friends, his family .
"It was R2-D2." A voice rasps behind Han.
Artoo? What?
Luke looks past Han and to the speaker. It's the boy, his eyes clearer now and piercing, staring not through Luke this time, but into him , past flesh and bone, past carefully crafted shields and straight into his core, into what makes Luke Luke .
Luke has to physically stop himself from taking a step back, from closing his eyes and tucking his robes closer to himself as if it might shield him from those eyes .
"He had a partial map of your location. Coupled with the other partial map the Resistance retrieved from the First Order, we were led to this planet." The boy finishes.
Luke is too preoccupied trying to figure out where a map of his location could have come from and why Artoo of all people—and the astromech is people despite the age-old debate in regards to who's considered sentient or not—gave it away to catch the identical looks of confusion on Han and the girl.
How the hell—no, no, where the hell had they gotten such a map? No one should have known where he'd gone. He'd told no one. Given no hint or indication of his plans, much less where he was he was going. The Empire itself in the heyday of its prime, with all their resources—troops of inquisitors specially trained to hunt down Force-sensitives and with Darth Vader still in its ranks—would have been hardpressed to find him.
Oh.
Luke's eyes widen.
"San Tekka." he says aloud. The boy nods in confirmation.
"Who?" Han asks but Luke ignores him.
He lets loose a long breath. Of course! It had to have been him. The man always has been a little too good at finding lost Jedi relics. Relics that were better left undisturbed and not dragged into whatever mess the galaxy had managed to get itself into this time.
Well, now he knows how they got here but that still doesn't explain why they're here.
(You know why they're here, the Force his mind whispers, just as you know why he is here.)
Luke gulps forcefully and looks away from the boy and back to Han. Somehow facing his friend, his friend whose son he'd tried to murd—whose son he failed— is easier than continuing to look into those eyes .
Those sharp, wisened eyes, aged beyond their years by tragedy and who-knows-how-much loss. The same eyes of that lost, sad boy he'd been sent all those years to guide and nurture.
Luke gestures to the empty space beside Han, just in front of the girl, where his best friend's better half (well his other- other better half) normally resides, towering over all others.
"Where's Chewie?" He asks, genuinely curious and not in a desperate bid to talk about literally anything else. Going by the terse look Han shoots him he knows exactly what's he's doing but decides to play along.
"Grounded," Han says and jerks a thumb back at the boy. Luke follows the action but is careful to keep his eyes away from the other. "For losing the squirt and nearly giving me a heart attack." The boy doesn't show any outward reaction, not anything he can see, but Luke catches the way the girl subtly seeks his hand out and gives it a quick, reassuring squeeze.
"And by 'squirt' you mean…" Luke trails off, hoping Han will get a clue and introduce the two curious strangers. True, he hasn't shown much interest in them….but that was before one of them tore the door off his hut.
Han smirks, "Well, normally I mean you—" Luke rolls his eyes. "—but right now I mean Hanzo." He reaches behind him and pats the boy's—Hanzo's—shoulder, jostling him a little and causing the girl to send a nasty look at Han and pull Hanzo closer by their still intertwined hands.
Luke tests the name aloud, "Han-zo." he returns Han's smirk with a wry one of his own. "Nice name."
After the war, and in those few years that the galaxy knew peace, there'd been a lot of Luke's, Leia's, and Han's born. It was as embarrassing as it was humbling. Because people name their children after legends and heroes in hopes that their spirit will guide them. That's how it done on Tatooine, a place where slavery prospered and where sometimes your name was the only thing you ever truly owned.
Han rolls his eyes and looks back at the two and Luke does not miss the fond way he looks at the two of them.
Curious and wanting answers sooner rather than later, Luke clears his throat. Once he has their attention he pointedly looks between Hanzo and the girl.
"So...the girl—"
Han opens his mouth, most likely to introduce her, but the girl steps forward and beats him to it.
"Rey." She juts her chin up when the silence stretches. "Just Rey."
Luke nods, fighting the amused smile that wants to break out on his face at the brave front the girl's putting up.
"...so 'Just Rey'," Rey bristles at his tone but Luke plows through, curiosity driving him for the moment, "Hanzo is your—" he takes in their matching desert-planet clothes, identical hazel eyes (sans the intense, otherworldly gaze the younger one possesses), and shared facial features (what he can see of it, considering that half of Hanzo's face is obscured in bacta) and makes an educated guess, "—brother, I'm guessing?"
"Yes." "No." They both say at the same time. Rey snaps her head to the side and shoots the younger boy a heated glare, hissing under her breath, though Hanzo does not falter and merely blinks back at her. Han throws his head back and lets out a soft groan.
Luke raises an eyebrow. "...right."
It only goes higher when Rey clumsily attempts to salvage the obvious lie.
"Yes and no—that's right because he's my, uh, cousin...but he's, um, more like a brother... to me?"
Han mumbles something that sounds vaguely like, 'unbelievable' under his breath but doesn't otherwise try to intervene. Not that there's anything he can do to stop the utter railspeeder-wreck this conversation has turned into.
Rey takes a deep breath and nods, pursing her lips. "Yup. Like a brother. My brother." She looks at the Hanzo, her mouth a thin line and eyes narrowed in challenge. "Isn't that right, Hanzo?"
Hanzo blinks those wide eyes of his and when Rey's mouth begins to downturn into a scowl, dips his head and nods stiffly once then twice.
Luke catches Han's gaze and stares pointedly at him.
Really? He thinks at him.
"Alright, alright, that's enough out of you two." Han places his hands on two kid's shoulders—Luke notes he does so very carefully with Hanzo and it's then that he notices the bandages peeking out of the collar of his robes—and shoves them out of the hut.
Trepidation fills Luke as he realizes he's now alone with Han.
Han looks away from the doorway once he's sure the two have wandered away. Luke is very tempted to go out and drag them back in. Better yet, why doesn't he join them? He could use the fresh air. His hut gets awfully stuffy sometimes.
Luke makes to follow after the two not-quite-siblings but Han steps in front of him. Luke resists the instinctive urge to swallow as those hardened smuggler eyes land on him, pinning him down, all of that fondness and deep exasperation he'd shown before leached from his expression and replaced with something more befitting the general of a guerilla warfare-based rebellion.
"I think it's time we grown-ups had a talk." Han's lips twist in a smirk but it lacks the familiar warmth and charm. "Y'know. Parent to teacher."
This, Luke can't let help but think semi-hysterically, is going to be the worst parent-teacher conference ever.
Rey's a little miffed Han just shooed the two of them out like a pair of unruly children because they are not! Rey is nineteen sun cycles old (she thinks, her memory is kind of fuzzy on that but she is definitely that or older) and Hanzo is—!
Rey stops suddenly in her descent down the island side causing Hanzo to bump into her with how close he's walking behind her. She shoots out a steadying hand (aware, so very aware, of where he's hurting) to prevent him from sending the both of them tumbling off the island.
How old is Hanzo?
She looks up at him, the terrain giving him a height advantage, and tries to guess. Tries, being the keyword. There weren't very many children on Jakku, everybody seemingly born old and sun-weary. The few other children were closely guarded by their guardians and those without guardians...well it's hard to tell how little or big someone is supposed to be when they're starving, swollen bellies and gaunt, wrinkled faces the norm on Jakku.
But Hanzo isn't anything like the children she'd seen on Jakku. His clothes might be something a desert-dweller wore—loose and pieces of his light brown robes bleached white by the sun—but his eyes are bright, a little weighed by melancholy but nothing like the burnt lumps found on Jakku. Also his cheeks are full, his skin soft and naturally tanned by a tame sun, and his hair is a deep healthy brown and soft, so very soft.
That's it.
The biggest difference between Hanzo and the other youth on Jakku, one that fills her with a fierce sense of satisfaction and pride even if it's not really her own doing but a future version of herself, is that Hanzo is soft. And soft means he's fed .
Well-fed even, given the fat she'd see on him while helping him redress his wounds and the little snacks she'd spied (and eaten) in his utility belt.
Rey doesn't know how long they've just been staring at each other so she blurts out the first thing on her mind.
"How old are you?"
When Hanzo doesn't respond right away Rey begins to worry. And that worry turns to fear when that horrifyingly familiar empty look begins to creep back into his eyes.
"Hanzo?"
And just like Hanzo blinks, awareness flooding back into his expression. He tilts his head in question so Rey repeats herself, trying not to let her fear show through her voice.
"I asked how old you are?"
If Hanzo thinks the abrupt topic is weird, he doesn't let it show.
"Seventeen standard years."
Rey gapes at him. "S—seventeen?" That's only two cycles younger than her!
A weary puff leaves Hanzo's nose.
"Yes. I don't know why…" Hanzo's eyebrows furrow in a frown and he takes a deep breath. Rey matches his frown. He really should be resting. Rey looks for a spot for them to do just that.
There, she thinks, spotting a jutting piece of rock overlooking the waters. It's flat and plenty big enough that she won't have to worry about either of them falling over the edge.
"...everyone always has that same…" Hanzo continues as he allows Rey to herd him onto the spot she's picked out. "...reaction." He makes his limbs go soft and pliant as Rey gently folds and prods him so he's sitting down next to her, the stone beneath them smooth from the constant exposure to water.
"It's because of these," Rey explains, pointing at his wide, doe-like eyes. He tilts his head curiously. Rey smiles at the adorable action and allows herself to reach up and pinch Hanzo's good cheek (so soft!). "And these." She finishes voice light and teasing.
"Oh," Is all Hanzo says, completely indifferent as Rey indulges herself and gently shakes her hand back and forth. A happy noise escapes her mouth before she can think to stop it when his cheek jiggles beneath her hand. She looks back at Hanzo and the mirth slowly ebbs away.
"Hanzo?"
Hanzo hums after a moment, prompting her. Rey takes in a deep breath and decides that Hanzo will appreciate a more direct line questioning than her probing him awkwardly for who-knows-how-long.
"What was that? Before—back when we first got here?" Rey takes another deep, making sure to keep her voice calm, "I know that—you told me that you...lost someone. Here, that is. Someone important to you?" She finishes awkwardly when Hanzo doesn't respond.
"Hanzo?" she asks a little too quickly, concerned he's drifted off again. He glances at her once before looking back out to the waters surrounding Ahch-To.
"I did."
Rey fidgets uneasily. She wants to ask who. Who did Hanzo lose that was so important he would shut down like that? But another part of her is wary of his answer. She knows from Hanzo's memories and from being around him this long that the boy is a very reserved person, preferring his own company to others. The people he considers precious are few and far in-between. And Hanzo told her her sister is here and alive so that leaves his uncles, the little droid she'd seen in his memories, and herself—
"Hanzo," Rey starts, dreading the answer but unable to stop herself from asking, "Who did you lose here?"
Hanzo's breath catches before he slowly turns to her. Rey's eyes flicker over his, taking in his expression and analyzing it, looking for any kind of clue. But she finds none. His face, while normally open and queerly expressive if you knew what to look for, is now closed off; unreadable and for first time, foreign to her.
Rey jumps when Hanzo abruptly announces, "I need to meditate."
She tries not to let her disappointment and frustration show on her face.
Damn it. She'd blown it.
Rey swallows around her tongue, "Oh, uh, okay." She makes to get up and give him some space (?) but Hanzo is quick to put a stop to that, reaching out to her faster than she'd ever seen the normally slow-paced boy move.
"No," he rasps, voice laced with a desperate fear, "you—I need—you can stay. Please."
"Okay." Rey says softly and slowly sits down, Hanzo's hold on her sleeve never letting up.
"Okay," she says again, "I'll stay. Right here. I promise."
Hanzo studies her a moment and when he senses no lies from her, he gives her a jerky nod before turning his head back forward and closing his eyes.
Rey sits beside him, feeling both frustrated and relieved at Hanzo's continued stubborn silence.
She fists the pants of her tunic. Is she...is she really ready to hear what he has to say? Truly?
Rey lets out a shaky breath.
No.
She isn't.
Rey's grip tightens, threatening to tear the material.
Her other self, that future version of herself who stood strong despite being so burdened, she would have been.
It's ridiculous, Rey knows, to be jealous of herself but she can't help it. She would have known what to do. She would know what is wrong with Hanzo, she would have known how to help her son.
But she's not here.
Rey is.
Rey's eases her grip, color flooding back into her bone-white knuckles.
And she might not have the most experience being, well, a mother to her time-traveling teenage son of all things. But she'll do her best. Rey nods to herself. Yes, she'll do her best because it's what he deserves.
And she'll start by making sure her son doesn't fall off this watery death trap of a planet.
Hanzo flinches next to her, hard enough to send him teetering off the side of the cliff ledge they're sitting on.
"HANZO!" Rey screams and makes a mad grab for him.
Hanzo feels...he feels...odd...to say the least.
But if he had to use more words, he'd use: bereft. Lost. And confused.
His mother's presence at his side is comforting and the light she gives off warms him and serves as a reminder that she is here, she is alive and not gone dead elsewhere. She is here within easy reach and not somewhere he can't hope to follow.
But his mother is not the only person he needs right now.
Hanzo reaches past star systems and through the entirety of space itself for that bright beacon.
Bente , he calls when he finds her.
Bente, he whines, scratching gently at her mind like a pet hoping to be let in the house.
And let in he is.
HANZO!Is the deafening cry he is greeted with, startling him, and nearly severing their connection.
Hanzo is vaguely aware of his body tipping over but he's quickly righted, his mother's light encasing him in a fiercely protective hold. He knows she won't let him fall and so he settles back into the bond.
Immediately he's swamped by Bente's concern and fear for him. Her presence swirls around him with all the destructive might of a cyclone, but anytime she nears his mind, she's slows down to a mere soft breeze, pushing lightly at his mind.
Hanzo allows her entrance with no compunctions and patiently tolerates the way she prods and pokes before soothing the area and then moving along his mind, checking him over with a single-minded determination that floods their bond with his affection for her.
Bente speaks, inspecting him carefully as she does so, Hanzo? Are you okay? What's going on? Bente's voice shakes. What was that back then? When you—when we... did whatever the kriff that was.
Hanzo is confused and Bente must sense it because she sends him a memory. A memory so deep and complex he nearly loses himself in it as he relives it.
The bond is quiet save for thrum of power flowing between as Bente smoothes out the wrinkles in his mind he hadn't even been aware of were there.
Finally, after giving it some thought and consulting that thrum of energy, he answers her.
I think...I think we simply returned to our natural state, if only for a moment.
Natural? What? How does that — wait. Does this have anything to do with—i s this because we're twins?
Yes.
Explain. Now, Hanzo.
Hanzo sighs.
Bente, we are twins and not only in the physical but we are twins in the Force. His words ring with truth, the Force lending them weight. Two halves of one whole.
Hanzo feels Bente go through a myriad of emotions, their connection open and true. He feels as she cycles through incredulitly and then a deep thoughtfulness as she thinks it through which leads to the sweet feeling of acceptance, and at the end of the cycle is a profound sense of wonder and intense satisfaction (yes yes yes) that results in feedback loop, the two of them getting caught up in the sensation for what seems like days before Bente gently breaks it.
"Are we..." Bente's presence quivers in awe; reverent "...are we like mum and dad?"
Hanzo doesn't know. He searches the Force for answers once again. The answer is dubious at best: a gleeful chorus yes yes yes and interspersed with reverberations of no no no .
( special. one of a kind. mine, the Force trills)
Yes...and no, Hanzo summarizes.
Bente's frustration is obvious, a gale of wind sweeping through his mind when she sighs haughtily.
You know what? Things would just be easier if the Force just told us what it kriffing means or better yet what it wants.
You know the Force doesn't work that way, Hanzo chides, having had this exact conversation many times before.
Well it should. Bente says petulantly. Silence descends on the two, both twins content to linger here. Hanzo is beginning drift deeper into the bond, relax and loose like one gets they go to a hot spring when Bente speaks up, voice quiet.
Will it...will it happen again?
Hanzo rouses to awareness and contemplates her question.
Yes.
If it is their natural state like the Force is singing telling him then it is very likely it will happen again. Although why this phenomenon hasn't happened before is a mystery. A mystery whose answers might be found in the unique circumstances Hanzo and his sister currently find themselves in.
Bente is quiet as she mulls over his answer. Fear/awe/longing/confusion flow from her end.
Hanzo doesn't understand her reservations. While, yes, it had all been terrifyingly chaotic there was those few precious moments where it had been beautiful, where it had been right.
( yes, the Force whisper-sings in his ears, yes)
I liked it. Hanzo finds himself saying.
Bente's shock plucks at their connection like a string instrument.
You — what?! Bente shouts. You liked it?!
Yes. Hanzo replies, trying not to let his hurt bleed through. He had thought his sister understood but maybe he was wrong.
But it was terrifying!
...okay she does have point.
Yes, it was, Hanzo concedes if only to calm her down before he develops a headache, but it was...nice too. He says for a better lack of words.
Bente sputters, her emotions spiking and overwhelming him briefly.
But—but! You think—you thought it was nice!?
…
….
…..yes.
Bente's presence spikes again and Hanzo has to retreat back a little bit to avoid the backlash. Though they have no need for air here in the shared space of their minds, Bente takes in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
I can't believe you, you little weirdo— Bente finally relents and Hanzo is relieved to know that she doesn't really find the idea so displeasing...just bizarre.
Another breath and then:
...I guess it was nice…
Hanzo preens.
...if you forget all of the scary crazy bits. Bente chuckles at the stream of amusement he sends her.
Yes. It was nice.
( yes yes yes.)
Rey pulls Hanzo's arm closer to herself, watching the little bird-like creatures as they waddle closer and closer to where she and Hanzo are sitting (far from any ledges this time). Her attention is so focused on the little animals that she almost doesn't hear the raised voices coming from the direction of Luke's hut.
Fearing the worst—did the First Order track them here? How?!—Rey is on her feet and marching over to where she can now hear Han clearly shouting. But before she can get any closer, Hanzo is in front of her, his lightsaber powered off but ready in front of him should he need it.
Rey frowns and is about protest because, really, Hanzo should be resting. In a medbay. Very far from here and any danger that might be present. But when she meets his eyes and sees her determination and fire reflected back at her she relents.
She knows if she told him to go back he'd refused and even if she made him, he'd just find some way to insert himself and get into trouble. Because it's what she would do. So better he stay with here where she can keep an eye on him.
Gods, motherhood is so stressful!
Rey has to put her foot down when Hanzo goes to take lead.
Nope. No way. She is barely tolerating him here as it is. No way is he going out front. No, he was better suited to the back, out of the line of fire, and where she could shove him behind her if there was a need for it.
Hanzo sighs when Rey slips on the unfamiliar terrain for the fourth time. He gives her a stern look that Rey does not falter under and hooks her elbow with his. Together they make their way back to Han and Luke.
Rey doesn't know what she was expecting. The white gleam of a stormtroopers armor or maybe even some type of fish-like predator native to the island wrecking havoc. Or maybe, just maybe the crackling red sheen of an unstable saber.
Rey is greeted with none of these.
Instead, she's met with the sight of Han Solo swinging an angry left hook into Luke Skywalker's scruffy face. The shorter man goes stumbling back.
Rey lets out a startled noise that lets them know they now have an audience of two.
Han whips around, his face twisted in a scowl, and stomps past them.
Rey reaches out to him, grabbing blindly for answers.
"Han? What on—what happened?"
Han dodges her hand with a rough yank of his shoulder.
"I'll be on the Falcon," he all but snarls.
Rey gapes after him not knowing if she should follow him or stay here and try and find out how everything went so wrong.
She closes her eyes and seeks out the Force, knowing it will guide as it always has. She opens her eyes. She knows what she has to do.
Rey untangles herself from Hanzo and goes after Han.
Hanzo stands there, feeling the bright light that is his mother walk away from him. It is only the knowledge that she is going after Han, who he knows will look after; won't let anything happen to her, that keeps him from racing after her and clinging to her possessively.
He watches as Luke gathers what little of his pride and self he has left and only when he is standing on semi-steady feet, does he allow their gazes to meet.
Luke breath catches and he can't stop himself this time from taking a step back when he meets Hanzo's eyes. His heart protests before beating harder than it has in years at the disappointed and knowing— oh gods, he knows doesn't he? He knows what I did —look he receives. Before he can fall any further into self-pity and despair, Hanzo turns, taking those powerful, all-seeing eyes with him. Luke finds himself falling to his knees, uncaring when the tiny pebbles beneath him dig into knees.
Because there is a far worse pain happening inside him. More painful than the throbbing in his cheek. It pours into the cracks of his weary heart, searing its way through until it becomes too great a pain to bear, and only then does his body fall numb, a deep shame rushing to blanket the havoc wrought upon him.
Luke slumps all the way down, hoping the universe might answer his prayers just this once and allow the island to swallow him whole once and for all. His head hangs heavy with defeat.
Oh gods, what have I done?
Luke watches as single drop splatters onto the moss-covered ground. Two more join the first and then another and then more until there's a steady stream of drops drip-dripping onto the cold floor.
But it's not raining, Luke thinks distractedly.
Somewhere in the distance, a porg lets loose a cry and Luke feels his very soul echo with it.
Han can't believe it. Doesn't want to believe because if he believes then it all becomes that much more complicated, that much more real.
He doesn't want to believe it but he does, oh stars, does he want to.
But that means his best friend tried to—
His son was—
The betrayal burns him. Burns every part of him. Makes his blood bubble and boil, nostrils flaring open like the Krayt dragons of legend, and his hands shake because of how tightly he has them clenched because if doesn't then he'd lash out far worse than he did moments before.
And—
And Luke would let him. He knows he would. And Han can't let himself do that, can't let himself go back there, back to the fear and hunger and anger that'd fueled and let him survive under that damned pirate Shrike's boot when he was young and more foolish.
But he doesn't need that anymore, doesn't want it anymore.
And so he stays, prowling through the Falcon and looking for something to keep his hands (and mind) busy.
Because if he let his thought loose for just one second he'll—
He'll do something crazy. Absolutely bantha-shit crazy. Something like take the Falcon right up to the blasted First Order and challenge that slimy, karking sleemo of a Supreme (ha!) Leader to a fight or something equally stupid and suicidal.
What Luke told him changed everything.
And also nothing.
Because his son had still left. Straight into the arms of that son of blaster.
Ben is still gone but maybe...maybe he's not as far as he once thought?
Because when he first learned the truth (is it really? What with the undisclosed lies and truths he's learned today) those six years ago he had refused to believe it. But then as Ben's, now Kylo Ren, exploits of terror and destruction became known to more and more people, Han had found himself desperately fighting against it.
That is until he saw that horrid holo-screenshot. It was of Kylo Ren, fully decked out in his dark robes and armor and that cursed red blade. He had looked nothing like his son—pale skin, snarky remarks, and big dark eyes—but that stance.
That stance.
He'd taught Ben that. Taught him how to fight because as a father he would always want to protect him but as a man, he knew it wasn't always possible.
And it was then he'd had to accept that truth.
The truth that his son is gone.
But now.
That small, stupidly stubborn part of himself. The part that remembered holding a small wrinkly baby, of placing his hands over a pair of much smaller ones as he helped guide the Falcon to a smooth landing, and of a teenage boy smiling and rolling his eyes at his father.
That part never stopped hoping, never stopped believing.
Han slumps in the cockpit of the Falcon, staring out the familiar viewport. It's there that, in that seat that holds so many memories, both good and bad, that that small part of himself begins to unfurl like a flower after a harsh winter, hope blossoming in his chest and spreading warmth throughout his body, chasing the chill of winter away.
Because it knows— he knows his son out there. Lost, so very lost, but there and alive.
"Han?" comes Rey's hesitant voice behind him.
Han swallows.
"I need—I need to be alone." He turns his head just enough for her to see the tired but genuine smile on his face. "Just for a little bit."
For a moment he thinks Rey is going to fight him on it like she fought everything else with tooth and nail, but to his surprise and relief, she surrenders.
"Okay," she says softly and retreats.
It's only when he sure Rey is far away enough that Han finally (how many years has it been? Since his mother died?) gives himself permission.
"Oh, Ben, why why didn't you come to us...to me?" Han squeezes the flight controls hard, pressing into the familiar mold, "Why? I could have—I would have—"
Shielded him, hidden him so far away in the outer reaches that not even Snoke and all his karking Force wizardry would have ever found him.
He would have if only Ben reached out. He would have listened—
A memory comes to him. The day he'd abandoned dropped his son off at Luke's fledgling Jedi Academy.
Ben looks up at him, face stricken and angry desperate tears flowing down his round face.
"Why can't I stay with you and mom? Why!?" He cries, stubbornly refusing to leave the ship despite Luke waiting for them patiently at the end of the ramp.
Han sighs and rubs his hand across his face.
"Ben, we've been over this. Me and your mom just want what's best for and right now this is it."
Ben takes a rebellious step forward. "Well, what about what I want?"
Han frowns and points a stern finger at his son, "Now listen here, junior—"
"No!"
"—you're going—" Han steps forward and grabs the boy's bag with one hand and his arm in the other.
"No! I want to—why can't I stay—"
"—and that is—"
Han practically drags the struggling, crying boy down the ramp.
Ben looks up at him and there's something in his eyes that makes Han falter.
"Why aren't you listening to me!? WHY!?" He screams and the Falcon groans as it shakes back and forth.
"—final." Han finishes, knowing his face is white as a sheet. He hands Ben off to Luke who he only spares a quick 'good luck, see you on Life Day' and he—
He left.
Just like that.
Han gasps from the strength of the memory.
No, Ben wouldn't have. Why would he? Their relationship was strained at the time, furthered pulled taut by whatever poison Snoke had been whispering into his son's mind for gods knows how long!
"Oh, Ben, I'm so sorry." He whispers and his shoulders shake with the strength of his regret and the weight of his failure.
Kylo knows that Bente has been...off...these past few days. Their talk had definitely helped, he knows and spares as much time as he can spare with her. But even so...he's poor replacement for his son. Not that he's looking to replace him, that is, no, even a blind man can see he holds a very special place in Bente's heart. One very different from him and Rey her mother.
He knows he can't replace Hanzo and that he can't begin to fathom what their separation is doing to Bente though he has his theories and suspicions if the lost, pained look in Bente's eyes is any clue.
But he can try.
That's all he can really do.
And he is trying but maybe he should have tried harder. Then they all could have avoided this mess.
Kylo just barely stops himself from killing his knight when catches him with his arm to Bente's throat, pinning her to the durasteel wall. Instead, he reaches out with the Force and grabs a hold of Kuruk's throat.
" Let her go, Kuruk . " Kylo orders, the dark side lending his voice power.
Not that it's needed. Kuruk, the most obedient of all his knights, immediately complies and Kylo makes himself let go. Bente is quick to jump back, shooting the knight a nasty look and rubbing at her throat. Kylo walks the rest of way over, putting himself between his daughter and the knight. Kuruk drops to one knee, head bowed subserviently.
"My Lord," he says reverently, voice hoarse.
While Kuruk is the most favored of his knights, he can't stand the sight of him right now, every fiber of him urging him to finish what he started and choke the life out of him.
" Go ."
Kuruk places his forearm over his chest where one of his many hearts reside and bows once from where he still kneels before jerkily standing up. He pauses before going, his helmeted head turning to look at Bente and then to him in question.
"Leave the girl to me. I will handle her." Kylo grabs Bente by the crook of her elbow and the girl ducks her head sheepishly.
Kuruk gives a jerky nod before turning around and disappearing into the belly of the ship.
Kylo doesn't spare the knight another thought once he's gone, knowing that Kuruk will not speak of what happened or ask about the girl again, discreet and prudent knight that he is. So unlike his other knights who are more prone to idle gossip when they can get away with it.
Once he's sure the knight's dark presence is far away enough, Kylo rounds on his daughter.
"What were you thinking?!" He hisses.
Bente frowns and opens her mouth but Kylo doesn't give her the chance to explain herself. He yanks her forward and marches her to his rooms like one does when escorting a prisoner to their cell.
Gods, does this girl have no common sense!? No shred of self-preservation!?
Apparently now she does, given the desperate babbling that is pouring from her mouth.
"I just wanted—I was only going to look around a bit. Get a bit of fresh air, you know? Well, I mean it's all recycled but whatever, that's not the point I'm trying to make. What I mean is that I was only going to go down the hall and—and then I was going to head right back, I swear I was, Dad! But then he—Ku...Kurok, was it? Well then Kurok showed up out of nowhere and—"
" Enough, Bente . "
"...okay…" she says quietly and plods along silently beside him.
Kylo doesn't let go of her until they're safely sealed back in his private quarters.
"What were you thinking!?" His vocoder crackles at the sudden explosive volume.
"I don't know!" Bente crosses her arms, hugging herself, a defensive gesture, he notes absently. "I was….bored?"
Force help him. His daughter is an idiot!
"Bored? You risked your safety, your life because you were bored?!" He's shouting by the end of it. Bente doesn't cower but she does shrink back, arms circling around her tighter.
She scoffs, "Oh, c'mon you're making it sound like I'm some reckless idiot-"
" Because you are! " !Kylo explodes. "Do you realize what could have happened to you if I hadn't been there? If Kuruk had looked at you any closer? Do you?!"
"Yes!" Bente yells back. Great now they're both yelling. Just what he needs. "I know ." Her voice goes hoarse and then quietly and more to herself she whispers, "Of course I know."
And she does know, doesn't she? She probably knows more than he ever could because unlike his daughter he hadn't spent his teens hunted and preyed on. Something that never fails to ignite something dark and savage inside him.
"Then why?" He asks, desperate to understand why she would risk her safety, her life (and his but his life is worth little to nothing in comparison to his daughter's) for a godsdamned stroll!?
Kylo swallows back an irritated growl when Bente shrugs sheepishly but at the very least she's trying so he tries and keeps his frustration to himself
"I—I don't know. I'm—it's— ARGH !" Bente huffs angrily and abruptly turns away from him, pacing the small area like a caged predator. "I'm not really good at this whole 'explaining' thing and using 'my words'" Kylo has to put effort into not letting his amusement bleed through when Bente begins miming, obviously repeating someone, "but it feels, I feel—" Bente stops and faces him. The entire line of her body is tense and rigid, hands fisted so tightly her knuckles bleed white and the sight makes his own ache in familiarity.
And then it clicks in his head, each piece falling neatly into place.
"You feel trapped." He remembers the way she'd held herself earlier. "And alone."
Bente's eyes widen and her posture slackens in surprise.
"Um, I, yeah," Bente confirms clumsily.
This—
This is something he can work with.
"And what do you normally do when...you're feeling this way?" He knows what he does. Finds an empty training room and beats the—
"—shit out of some training droids, mostly." Bente's eyes roll up in thought. "Or if there's none I usually spar with mum or Hanzo. Mostly with Hanzo. He doesn't like it when I 'murder' the practice droids." Her face falls. "Or sometimes we watch a holo-film, one of those cheesy ones with princesses and knights because Hanzo likes those or sometimes we play a game or I don't know…" she shrugs, voice trailing off. Kylo wants desperately to bring the natural fire in her back even if it only gets her in trouble because seeing her like this—so quiet and forlorn—hurts too much, it isn't right.
Bente hiccups. "I miss him, gods," She drops her face in her hands and gasps for breath, "I miss him. I miss him! "
Kylo doesn't know what to do but thankfully his daughter does. She crashes against his chest and latches onto him, strong fingers seeking purchase. Kylo winces, his wounds still tender, but envelops her in his arms and allows her to burrow into him.
Kylo sighs and, carefully because he still has his helmet on, places his cheek atop Bente's head and ignores the wetness he feels on his neck. Only when her hiccups finally stop and the death-grip Bente has on him lessens, does he dare to move her.
Gently, so as not to come off as rejection, Kylo pulls her away and, copying something his uncle Lando had once done to him when he hurt himself and was a crying mess, uses the edge off his cape to wipe at her face. Bente looks at him in confusion when he holds the cloth over her nose and waits.
"Blow," he explains, his mask making it sound more menacing than it ought to. Bente recoils and looks at him, aghast.
"What—no!"
Kylo rolls his eyes. It would be hardly the most unpleasant thing to get on his cloak. He places the cloth over her nose again but this time he squeezes, forcing her hand. Bente lets out a muffled squawk of protest before begrudgingly blowing her nose. Bente grumbles and fidgets as he finishes cleaning her face.
Kylo lets his cape fall back to his side and removes his helmet before looking at Bente. She stubbornly refuses to meet his eyes, pouting all the while, but eventually she gives in and looks back at him.
Kylo pulls out his comms and, without breaking eye contact, gives the order for his private training to be prepped and ready, stressing he isn't to be disturbed for anything short of a catastrophe or a summons from his master.
Bente's brow wrinkles in confusion but she otherwise doesn't speak up.
"Yes, sir, right away, sir." the voice on the other end nervously confirms. "The room will be ready by the time you arrive."
"See that it is." He says and, without waiting for a reply, turns off his comms. Kylo walks past Bente, breaking their gazes, and into his room. He grabs her lightsaber, tucked under his pillow, which she takes when he hands it to her.
"Come. Follow."
He exits his rooms, Bente trailing behind. He can feel her curiosity and only shoots her a stern look when she tactlessly pokes at his mental shields.
He can tell she's bursting with questions but something about his expression or the situation mercifully keeps her silent.
It's not until they step into his private training room does Bente finally break her vow of silence.
"Woah...this place is," she darts over to the wall of battle swords and axes propped on the wall, "awesome!"
Kylo allows her to explore the room for a moment, keeping a close eye on her.
"Bente. Come here," he says once he's confident she's had her fill. Bente puts away the vibroblade she'd been admiring and bounds back to him, eyes bright and excited.
"We'll be—"
"—sparring! Please tell me we're going to spar."
"—sparring…" Kylo trails off and raises an eyebrow at her.
Bente makes a noise that indicates she's registered his words but discarded them as unnecessary. It is a noise Kylo is becoming annoyingly familiar with.
"First, I'll be laying some ground rules." he ignores the groan he gets in response. "First, no using the Force. Secondly, anything but deadly force is permitted." Bente sighs but agrees. "Thirdly..."
Kylo blinks.
"...that's it. Understood?"
Bente nods, face set in determination, and her lightsaber (powered off) already brandished in front her.
Okay, Bente might be ready to go but Kylo needs a moment. Stars, she makes him feel old. Kylo takes a moment and closes his eyes, centering himself and shaking his limbs loose. He opens his eyes to Bente watching him curiously.
"I won't go easy on you," he warns.
"Funny," Bente smirks, something dangerous in the curl of her mouth. "I was just about to say the same thing."
Kylo flicks his wrist, lightsaber crackling to life. Bente takes this as her cue and ignites hers. Kylo only has half a second to admire the blade, the same shade of purple as her brother's, before Bente is upon him.
He raises his blade to block the attack and is surprised by the sheer strength behind it. Bente presses down on him, bringing her face closer to his. Bente grins when their eyes meet, a slow, feral spread of teeth, and Kylo wavers.
It's only a moment but a moment is all Bente needs.
She shoves him harshly and Kylo struggles to keep his footing as he's forced back. Bente is his exact opposite, every step purposeful as she stalks towards him.
Bente's grin fades. A look of deep concentration replaces it before she charges Kylo, coming at him with a hard downward strike. Kylo's blade rises to meet Bente's and this time he's the one pushing back. Instead of tumbling as he'd done, Bente controls it and spins away gracefully, her borrowed shirt flaring out like burnt flower, and though the bottom of her boots slide on the floor she never loses3 her balance, coming to a dignified stop, one arm arched above her head and the other extended out toward him in invitation like...a dancer.
Kylo snorts and, deciding to humor her, bends his waist in an elaborate bow, a gloved hand extended toward her in return.
Bente laughs as she runs at him. He has to admire her courage, very few are brave enough to meet him head-on. And she's quick on her feet too, cataloging his preferred fighting style and using it to counter and even predict his next move with startling accuracy.
Impressive.
He decides to test her melee skills more extensively another day.
He swings at her from the right. Bente parries his attack and quickly strikes back. Kylo arches his back and dodges, but her riposte comes so close to cutting him in half that it singes the hem of his tunic. The smell of burned fabric fills his nose and he allows himself a smile.
Neither of them hold back, though he can tell Bente is being careful to avoid his injured side. Most would have used it to their advantage so the sportmanship is surprising as it is nice.
They lunge and strike and dodge and parry with all of the power they contain. Their screams and the violent humming and clashing of their blades slice through the quiet of the training room.
He really is impressed with her. When Kylo was her age, he'd been an awkward, gangly thing; unbalanced due to his ever-growing limbs. While Bente shares his lanky physique there is no awkwardness to her movements, executing each move fluidly one after another with a confidence that Kylo had keenly lacked at her age and one that had taken him many years to accrue.
Kylo manages to knock her legs out from under her. She goes down, her head cracking down on the floor. When she doesn't move immediately, Kylo begins to worry and goes to check to see if she's alright. And even as he does it he knows it's a mistake because apparently Bente can scent weakness like the great predator of the seas of Atla can sense a drop of blood in the water even from miles away.
And sure enough, she goes in for the kill.
Bente mimics the move he'd just used on her and brings him down. Bente clambers over and he's forced to extinguish his blade in such small fighting quarters lest he accidentally lops off his own arm. Bente straddles his waist and Kylo blanches at the wild look in her eyes, anger making her eyes fire-bright, her gaze burning a path down his face as she traces the line of bacta. It's then he remembers the words Bente had spoken to him that first day.
The minute that heals up we're going to spar." Her teeth flash sharp and white under the overhead lights. "And I'm going to shatter your fucking nose."
Kylo's eyes widen and he grapples with Bente, each one struggling to remain on top, before he finally manages to pin her under his considerable weight. They're close enough that he can hear the almost inhuman growl coming from low in her throat. He registers the noise too late and before he can really process what's about to happen, Bente thrusts her head forward and butts her head against his nose.
Kylo curses and leans back, cradling his (definitely broken) nose. Blood flows past his fingers and down his chin and onto the floor beneath him. He flinches when he catches Bente's hands nearing him.
"Calm down, you big baby, it's just a broken nose." Bente places her hands over his. The blood is sticky in the space between them. "Now let me see."
Kylo lowers his hand.
Bente whistles, "Damn, I got you good. " He gives her a Look and Bente grins, a self-satisfied curl of her lips.
Bente lifts her hands again and the hair on the back of his neck prickles. He looks at her hands, at the power he senses gathering there.
"Okay, now don't move. " She orders and Kylo finds himself obeying, stilling his body completely, his chest barely rising and falling. Bente's hands cover his broken nose and the instinctive hiss dies a short death. Warmth radiates from her and into him and it is glorious. He's almost forgotten how good the light—
Kylo rears back at the same time Bente pulls away. She doesn't notice, getting up to fetch a small towel and water bottle. She dowses the towel in water and, in an imitation of what'd he done with her earlier, gently wipes his face clean.
She holds the towel over his nose.
"Blow." She says with a smile.
And so he does.
"Ew! Gross" Bente squeals in a peal of laughter when blood shoots out his nose and onto the towel. She looks back at him and laughs again. "I was joking!"
Kylo blinks, embarrassment creeping into his cheeks.
"Oh."
Bente giggles. She reaches up with slightly bloodied hands and prods his nose.
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
Bente grabs his nose between her thumb and forefinger and tweaks it.
"Yes," he says with a wince.
Bente apologizes sheepishly.
"I'm, uh, not as good as Hanzo is at this whole 'healing stuff' but I can still do small things like, um, that," She points at his nose and then gently cups cheek, "and this."
Love/affection/pride/yearning flow into him and the aches he'd begun to develop since the spar ended fade away to a dull thrum.
Bente lets her hand drop and rolls back on her heels. She fidgets with the hem of her shirt, waiting for his response.
Kylo tries to think of something to say, how to articulate the pride he feels practically bursting from his chest.
The ghost of a long-forgotten memory drifts up to the forefront shore of his mind.
Kylo places a heavy hand on Bente's shoulder.
"Good work...kid." The words feel foreign on his tongue, having only been heard by him and never actually spoken out loud.
"You're so weird." Bente laughs, the corner of her eyes crinkling in a very familiar manner. Her face softens and Kylo's chest feels tight at the fondness he can feel radiating from his daughter.
His daughter who is kind and caring and good .
Kylo looks down at her bloodied hands clasped in her lap and that tightening sensation travels up his throat.
He doesn't deserve her. Doesn't deserve her kindness, her lo—
"I'm hungry." He says and the only indication he gets to Bente's feelings on the abrupt subject is an amused quirk of her lips.
"Let's clean up and then we can eat. Together."
Bente lets out a cheer and quickly scrambles over to the door, waiting for him.
"Ready?" she asks him.
Yes. He knows what he has to do now.
Outwardly he nods and together they go back to his rooms.
Finn is a stormtrooper.
Or he was a stormtrooper. Whatever. His point is he knows war. Been groomed for it for his whole life. And so he knows he a losing fight when he sees one.
The First Order will be upon them at any moment, bringing down the alliance and everyone involved with it.
( Poe , his mind mourns)
And Rey? With her Jedi mind powers? She'll be the second on the execution block (after Skywalker), her death to be broadcasted throughout the galaxy as a warning: This is what we do to those who defy the First Order. Death to the Jedi!
And Hanzo? He's young and soft-hearted enough to be broken down and molded into something different, something deadly and wholly loyal to the First order.
Finn won't let that happen.
Because while Hanzo's story sounded like total bantha poodoo there is also a certain ring of truth to it. It echoes inside Finn and there is a—a feeling telling him that no matter how wild and outlandish it is, it's the truth.
Adn the truth is that, in some far off future him and that little scarred boy are family.
Finn's never had a family before. He's had comrades and colleagues and something like friendship (or the closest you can get in a place like the First Order) with some of his fellow stormtroopers but never family.
And he is determined to do whatever it takes to keep it. Even if it means stealing an escape pod and leaving everyone else behind.
( Poe, I'm so sorry.)
Finn spares a moment before boarding the pod to take in the absolute shitshow that is his life. And to think he'd just been mopping floor a standard month ago!
Finn is about to make his escape, hoping he'll get far enough away when he's stopped by a short, human woman.
It's not until she introduces herself as Rose does Finn find himself hoping again.
Hanzo and had mentioned a woman named Rose, his aunt, and someone he should keep an eye out for because she would be a good friend and ally someday.
"Wait! Did you say your name is Rose? That's great! You can—"
Finn is cut short when the woman reaches out and tazes him.