A/N: This is straight up wish fulfillment. Controversial opinion, Ben Solo had to die, but that doesn't mean he's got to stay that way. Reylo is officially canon. We might have lost the battle but we won the war. This might have a follow up chapter, it might not. I'm just taking an idea that hit me and I'm running with it. This post might give you diabetes, just saying. Unoriginal idea, I know. Just throwing my thoughts into the mix. This is for entertainment purposes only, I own nothing. Enjoy.

Ami knew she wasn't like most of the children in her village. She attended a local school consisting of all the children within a comfortable walking distance. This included the ones from a neighboring tribe, as that settlement was only half the size of Ami's. The general population chose to live a primitive life, only employing necessary technologies, and doing the most they could to live off the land. Most of their dwellings had been modest huts of sticks, twine and mud.

That had been one thing Ami knew set her apart. She lived down a winding forest path that followed the river. At the end of the path was a clearing where a large, ancient, disc shaped freighter had sat for as long as she could remember. A star ship was not a common sight where Ami grew up, and her unusual home made her both a novelty and an oddity to her fellow students. At the ripe old age of seven, she was more than happy to conduct guided tours of her home and regale her friends with the stories attached to it. Many of the young ones responded with excitement, but there were more than a few others who regarded her with outright contempt. It rarely bothered Ami. Early in her life her mama had taught Ami to search the feelings of others, to try to understand their side. She could feel it, feel that their cruel words were usually born of misunderstanding and fear.

Ami knew she was different because the people in the village thought it is just her and her mama who lived in the star ship.

In the days when Ami was still a mere infant, her mama had established herself as the go-to fixer in the village and surrounding areas. She was often found in the fields repairing a tiller or other such thing. Her mama had quickly become indispensable to the populous. Despite the respect she earned, the people pitied her. Ami could sense it in them every time she and her mama would walk in the market. Her mama was beautiful, and strong, and fierce, and so so kind. They'd whisper about the still mysterious woman who lived on the outskirts of the village with a fatherless daughter in a ship that could sail among the stars. Not a hermit - quite the opposite - but with no eye to a single one of the handsome men of the village who had all on more than one occasion tried to catch her interest.

Ami knew she was different because she knew that her and her mama didn't live in that star ship alone. Not really.

Her daddy was always there. He had been for as long as Ami could remember. Her mama told her that wasn't always the case but Ami simply didn't believe it. She had felt her daddy nearby since long before she'd been born.

The problem was no one seemed to see her daddy besides her and her mama. She remembered the first time she brought a friend home from school to show them her house and introduce them to her parents. When she casually pointed to the copilot seat and said innocently, "This is daddy's spot," the other child with her appeared downright scandalized.

"You don't have a daddy," he'd told her very matter-of-factly in the local dialect.

Ami remembered frowning up, way up, at the man in question. The smile her father had given her in that moment was tight, and he'd waved his hand to dismiss the subject until later. That evening, snuggled in her bunk, Ami's mama and daddy explained the complicated truth.

To say it was a lot for a five year old to take in would have been an understatement. However, as Ami drifted to sleep that night, she'd thought about how much she loved her daddy, and how much he loved her. She could still show the other kids in the village her house. She could still tell them stories. She and mama just had a secret she didn't mind keeping.

And so that was how the last two years of little Ami's life had gone. She knew she was different because she had a secret. She knew she was different because she knew when others do too. And she knew she was different because she had a daddy that no one could see.

Rey had only recently returned from her pilgrimage to Tatooine when she realized something was different. There was a shift in the force after she had claimed the name of Skywalker. It was all light and warmth, coursing through her and mending the broken pieces of her soul. It brought her the first true feeling of balance since she'd lost Ben.

Only the feeling didn't last.

The night after she had returned, she dreamed of him. She saw through his eyes her lifeless form. She felt his anguish as he realized she was gone. She felt the sting of tears in his eyes, the weight of her body in his arms. She felt his resignation, and then determination as he re-positioned her in his lap and placed his large hand across her abdomen. She felt his life leave him as it poured into her.

Rey awoke with a sob of despair. And then she felt what she could only describe in the moment as a twinge. It was fleeting but its implications were lasting.

One hand flew to her mouth while the other settled on her abdomen.

"No," she whispered to the dark.

Looser robes and straight denial only covered the evidence for so long. By her fifth month carrying the accursed thing, she could no longer hide the truth of her condition. Finn was really the first one to figure it out. Only the morning after she'd discovered the truth herself did he seem to catch on. He had just run into her in a cramped hallway and was about to ask her a question when he had stopped dead and regarded her whole being suspiciously.

Rey wasn't fully able to conceal the unease in her voice when she asked, "What is it?"

Finn had snapped out of it right after. "Uh, nothing. Just a, uh, feeling. It's nothing." He had seemed to let it go in the moment so Rey had counted her blessings and moved on.

It was at the three month mark that he'd asked her without even a shred of hesitation, "It's his, isn't it?"

"I don't know wha-"

"Rey," he interjected, not unkindly, " you don't have to hide it from me."

Hot tears welled up in her eyes. This bloody thing was completely robbing her of any of her self-control. How could she be a proper Jedi when she was in such emotional agony?

Finn had gently tugged her forward and wrapped his arms around her. She'd let her head fall against his shoulder while her body shook with angry sobs. "It is," came her strangled reply. "It must have happened when he saved me. I don't understand. If there was that much life left in him, he should have stopped! He should have saved himself instead of leaving me alone with this thing! I don't know what I'm going to do, Finn. I don't -. But she had been unable to finish her words as she cried in earnest.

While Finn had been supportive and kind as he always was, the rumors that began to circulate about Rey's condition and who was responsible had caused an obvious change in the way others treated her. Rey had sensed their fear at the thought of what a child born of Kylo Ren and a Palpatine could be capable of, and while she understood their fears, living with the reality of them did nothing to improve her own feelings about her situation. So, at seven months, Rey packed up the Millennium Falcon and left the place she had called home for the last year and a half. To say her loved ones were hesitant to let her go would be an understatement, but in the end, they were unable to deny the soon to be new mother.

She spent the next month wandering the galaxy, letting the Force guide her to her next destination.

When she meditated it was always with a mind to balance. She would attempt to find the light between the loss and the resentment she felt. She rarely succeeded. In her time since discovering her condition, she had not been able to hear or see the voices of the Jedi that came before. That moment on Tatooine when she saw Luke and Leia had been the last. This had caused yet another deep wound on her soul.

One morning, on a lush planet, in a forest clearing where the river met a lake, Rey set down her ship. She had detected a settlement and had landed the ship nearby with the intent to trade and resupply her food stores.

As she stood from the pilot seat, a sharp and throbbing pain took her breath away. She leaned forward on the back of the chair trying to center herself. The feeling passed and she proceeded to the back hatch of the ship. The ramp was opening when the same feeling overtook her. She unsuccessfully tried to hold back an audible groan. "Damn it," she whispered as the feeling passed. Not two steps down the ramp it happened again followed by a sudden and undeniable wetness. "No!" she cried out in frustration. "Not now," she breathed, clutching her protruding stomach.

She maneuvered herself to the living quarters of the ship while another contraction had her gripping at the corridor walls. When she finally pulled herself onto the mattress of the captain's cabin, she lay there whimpering, tears sliding down the sides of her face. She was alone. She was already exhausted. How was she going to do this alone? Help was too far. There wasn't enough time. This was too soon. Too fast.

But then she steadied her breathing. She closed her eyes. She reached out with the Force, through the pain, through the fear. She felt another contraction come on and continued to breathe, to reach out. It was working. She was back in control. So she turned her search inward. Her soul touched the one within and her eyes flew open. She gasped and covered her mouth to suppress the elated sob that bubbled up in her throat. "A girl," she whispered in awe. So long had she repressed the child's attempts to reach out to her. She had purposely closed herself off from it, refusing to accept this life, when it should have belonged to another. But now she felt it. Felt light, and warmth.

And Ben.

A sudden and ineradicable love bloomed in Rey. She let her mind clear and allowed the force to flow through her, sharpening her instincts. All of her being told her that it was close, that she would have to start pushing soon. Sure enough, just as she finished removing her leggings, another contraction, this one more powerful than the last threatened to split her apart. Then another. And another.

The moment came and she began to push.

She pushed again.

She seemed to push endlessly and nothing

Something was horribly wrong.

She closed her eyes and tried to find the baby. It was there, but it was faint. Rey cried out in distress. She thrashed exhaustively. "No, no, no, no, please, no." Another contraction, another push with all her might, and nothing. "Please, please, I can't. I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone," she heard faintly.

She bolted up straighter, eyes wildly flying around the room, but nothing. Perhaps in her agony she'd become delirious.

"You're not alone. Hold on, Rey." It was clearer this time, unmistakable.

"I can't. I'm losing her! Please, Ben!" She cried, sobbed, rocked, in pain and misery and an intense fear she never knew herself capable of. "I'm losing her!"

And then she felt it. A presence at her back. A soft ripple of air, like a breath by her ear. "I'm here, Rey. I'm here. It will be okay."

Rey looked back to see him behind her, intangible and glowing blue, but it was him. It was Ben. More tears, this time equal parts relief and distress. "I'm losing her, Ben. Something is wrong. She's fading."

Ben shifted to kneel beside the bed. He pushed sweat soaked strands of hair from her eyes and held her face with glowing hands. "You're not going to lose her," he said reassuringly. He closed his eyes and reached out between them. He opened his eyes, nodding. "She's breech," he said confidently.

Rey shook her head in confusion. "What?" she cringed through another wave of pain.

"She isn't in the right position for birth. She's stuck. Normally, this would require surgery."

Rey moaned. "But there is no one here."

Ben squeezed her hand. Well, almost. "You can do this, Rey. Find her. Turn her around."

Realization dawned on her. She gave him a pleading stare. "I need help. I'm so tired, Ben."

If force ghosts could form lumps in their throats, then Ben supposed that's what was happening now. He swallowed hard in spite of himself and tentatively placed an illuminated hand on her belly. Hers came to rest on his. Almost solid. Together they reached out, searching inside, feeling the energy of the tiny being. She was there, faint but still fighting. She came by it honestly. Together, they worked and coaxed the infant into place, delicate but firm in the task, until, with heavy sighs of relief, she was where she was meant to be.

Rey began to push again and while the pain was excruciating, her fear had ceased and there was nothing left but bold determination. Ben stayed knelt on the floor, watching as the woman who owned his whole being brought their child into the world. He reassured her with calm and tender words as she wept.

"She's coming, you're almost there. Can you feel it?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"One more, sweetheart." He caught her eye and nodded up at Rey. His hands were outstretched between her legs.

"One more," she agreed.

And then, she was there. And Ben was holding her, with solid arms. They had lost their translucency, their subtle blue glow. The room dimmed because of it. So distracted by the crying infant in his arms, Ben never seemed to notice. So dizzying were Rey's emotions that she scarcely noticed either. Except when Ben sat beside her, she felt the weight of him, the movement of the mattress as he settled beside her. She felt the warmth of his hands as he placed the crying infant on her chest. But as she examined the baby for ten fingers, ten toes, two brown eyes and a shock of black hair, she truly saw the solid state of Ben's hand on her shoulder. "Ben," she gasped in astonishment. Ben's eyes were fixed on the baby, so he only hummed in acknowledgement as he looked upon the wriggling little being that was his daughter.

"Ben, look at yourself."

Ben frowned but did as he was told. His mouth dropped open slightly. His intangible, non-corporeal form was as solid and clear as Rey's vision of their future. He shook his head, unwilling to accept what was happening lest it was come cruel joke the force was playing on him. "I don't understand," he murmured as he stood back up to examine himself further.

"Are you really here?" Rey dared to ask, her voice barely finding volume.

"Yes?" Ben frowned. "No. I don't know."

Rey nodded, adjusting her grip on the baby, swallowing hard. "I understand. You feel real, but... not like you're fully here. Like a part of you is still a ghost."

Ben looked down at the baby then back at Rey. "It's her. I can feel it. She's holding more of me here than the force would normally allow."

Rey wiped away some of the afterbirth from the baby's eyes with one of the blankets. She examined the tiny face that now peered up at her silently. Suddenly overwhelmed by even more miraculous news, Rey choked on a sob. "She brought you back to me." Rey wept as she clutched the newborn to her chest reverently. "I'm so sorry, little one. I'm so sorry." Ben was back at her side immediately. He slid until his back hit the wall, then leaned forward to help Rey and the baby move back until they were rested against him. He rocked Rey gently, patiently, quietly in awe of all that was before him.

She calmed eventually, and they lay there for a time, enjoying the cocoon of peace that wrapped around them.

"She needs to feed," Rey said finally. "I can tell."

His soft chuckle behind her warmed Rey in a way she never knew she could be. She had only seen him smile one beautiful, heartrendingly brief time. To hear him laugh was almost transcendent. "What?" she dared to ask as she guided the baby to her breast. The feeling was strange but the relief was instantaneous for both mother and daughter.

"So could I," he replied, kissing her hair. "That's going to take some getting used to." He felt the hope swell in Rey.

"So, you're not leaving?"

He chuckled again and stroked the cheek of his feeding daughter. "Never. Besides, I don't think I have a choice."

They bathed the baby, and Ben helped to clean Rey up before settling them all back onto a freshly made bed. Ben's back was against the wall, and Rey lay back between his legs, the infant in her arms.

"What should we call her? Leia?"

She felt Ben shake his head, rather than see it. "No," came his gentle reply, sadness evident in his low tone. "No, I want that to stay hers." Rey took his hand from where it rested by her side and raised it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles and nodded. "From the stories I've heard," he continued after a beat, "my grandmother was a lot like you." Rey glanced over her shoulder at him, an inquisitive eyebrow raised. "Anakin Skywalker's wife. She was fearless, passionate, always believed in the right thing, fought for it."

Rey smiled, partly flattered, partly intrigued. "What was her name?"

"Padme Amidala."

Rey mulled the names over in her mind and nodded softly. He knew what she was going to say before she even said it, but it made his chest and throat tighten when she did. "Ami?"

He swallowed hard then pulled them both closer to his chest. "Ami," he agreed.

They watched as Ami's eyelids began to droop. For a brief moment, Rey felt a new fear rise up in her chest. Fear than Ben would begin to disappear. But despite the baby's lack of consciousness, Ben remained at her back, solid as ever, but not fully whole. It made her stomach clench. He sensed her unease and kissed her hair again. "Do you think-" she started but couldn't bring herself to continue.

He absentmindedly rubbed her upper arms. "What?"

"Do you think anyone else can see you?"

Ben considered this for a moment and she felt him shrug. "Does it matter?"

"If I'm going mad it does."

"You aren't going mad."

She knew he was right. About all of it. But she had been alone for so long, so afraid to hope. Now she had Ben at her side, and their daughter in her arms. What if it all was just the force playing tricks on her vulnerable and anguished mind? She took a shuddering breath and leaned out of his arms to twist herself around slightly. "Here," she said, holding Ami out to him. He smiled softly, grateful, and took the baby in both hands. She was so small and his hands so large she almost disappeared in his grasp. Seeing the baby in his arms gave her more reassurance. Maybe other people wouldn't be able to see him, but they could live with that if it meant they could stay this way.

She watched as he brought Ami close to his face, kissing the space between her nose and eyebrows and smelling her head.

"She smells amazing," he sighed. Rey frowned and Ben held Ami out to her. "Don't believe me? Take a whiff."

Rey obeyed, feeling slightly foolish as she sniffed her daughter's head. That awkwardness quickly melted away as Rey caught the sweet, honey scent of the baby. "How did you know?" Rey asked in awe.

Ben's lips came together in a grim smile. "My mom used to smell my head. Sometimes, when she was really worried about me, her memories of me as a young child got really, I don't know, loud, vivid. I get it now."

Maybe it was his words. Maybe it was the way he looked holding their baby. Maybe it was both. Whatever it was, Rey was powerless to resist. Mindful of where her daughter was, she closed the gap between herself and the man before her. Her lips came to rest against his, slower, softer than the last time she had done this, but no less honest or real. Real enough she could taste him. He returned the gesture in kind, one hand coming up to the back of her neck. She braced her hand against his chest to avoid crushing Ami. Then she pulled back slightly, eyes locked on his, waiting. He smiled and it set her soul alight. He didn't fade. She thought she was finally out of tears but then she felt them on her cheeks. He was crying too. She wiped them away with her thumbs, cradling his face in her hands.

"I love you."

A secretive half-smile tugged at the corner of his lip. He began to say something then paused and thought better of it. "I love you," he murmured instead.

Rey grinned back cheekily. "I know."

Please, no flames. I'm sensitive and I'd like to stay that way.