#lane texting me reminded me wire exists

[sharkeaten]

wire drop for the multi bc i am saur bored <3

[waypathfinder]

Crimson Lane - Chapter 24 - Waiting

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Chapter Text

"I always wanted you. Even when I did know what I wanted. Even before I knew you. It was you. You were the chapter that I didn't know the words to, but always knew it existed. and when I finally found it and began to read. I knew I was home."

Lightning charged through Rey's body. In the shadows, Ben's beaten form writhed forcing himself closer to her. He would never get close enough. He couldn't save her … not this time.

"Sorry." Those broken words choked out blood-stained and breathless.

Rey's eyelids flew open to see coloured lights and buttons, luminous green numbers ticking over with an unsteady blip: 147bpm, 148bpm, 149bpm.

Flashes of light speared through the window in sweeping curved patterns and beneath it all, the constant drone of rolling tyres on the road.

"Stop!"

She ripped at the wires hooked and stickers dotted around her chest until a gentle pressure at her waist made her pause.

"It's okay." The words were gentle as warm fingers coaxing her to lie down.

Rey slumped back into the gurney. "Leia…"

The older woman dabbed a warm washer at her brow.

"You passed out. But you're safe now."

"Ben!"

The heart rate monitors raced again. The last she had seen of him his head had been slammed into the pavement, police officers piling on top of him to secure him in cuffs — all the while, he'd never taken his eyes off her.

"Why—" she struggled to breathe, grief bearing down on her. "Why did he do that?"

"There was nothing you could do."

"No! We had the drive. Dom removed everything there was about him. He could have walked free and no one would have known who he was."

Leia's face paled. "Did he know this?"

"Yes! I told him—" Rey had to stop, each breath was catching in her chest, her stomach muscles clenched as she tried to hold back the tide of emotion threatening to bare down on her. "It was me—"

Rey's words were lost in a rush of heaving sobs, as she scrambled to wipe the tears and snot away from her face.

"He wanted this, Rey. He wanted to make it up to you, to me, to everyone."

"But he didn't need to. There was nothing to make up for!" She cried. "His sacrifice was pointless. I wanted him here with me, not—"

She tried to breathe, to slow, but it felt like her whole chest was caving in.

Leia pressed a hand onto Rey's stomach holding the bond between them, she didn't urge her to stop crying or soothe her. Instead, she just waited penitent and strong for the storm to pass.

Everything had been pent up inside of her for so long, and it was freeing to cry, and swear, to hate him for what he'd done—and love him.

Her tears emptied until there were none left to give. She grieved for everything: her parents, Plutt, Snoke, Kylo Ren...Ben. At some point in the night, she thought she heard Leia's cries too but when the squall had lulled, Leia looked just as resolved and strong, her only tell a small smear of mascara at the edge of her eyes.

Rey watched as Leia dabbed it away with a small mirror, her pose stoic and thoughtful.

You're always ready, Rey thought.

Leia stayed beside her as she fell in and out of consciousness, administering drips, adding blankets, checking monitors until at last Rey fell into an empty sleep.

Morning.

Sunlight filtered through sheer curtains. Rey blinked, once, twice, slowly waking into a warm, sunlit room. The smell of sea salt and wicker filled her, while from outside she heard the gentle hush of waves colliding on the sand, seagulls crying and quiet voices muttering as shadows passed along the bi-fold doors.

Through a crack in the curtains, she spotted a lighthouse on top of a rugged cliff, and beyond, the curved line of the horizon where the turquoise sea met a cloudless sky.

She pushed down on her hands, shuffling back against the headboard to get a better look. Every muscle in her body ached, the bruises raw and black from the night before.

The spacious but had a homely feel to it, with a white-glass desk, galley kitchen and tropical-style bathroom. There were suitcases by the door that did not belong to her. To the far right, a pair of wardrobe doors hung open, and inside was a line of summer dresses.

Did she have a vague memory of stumbling in here, last night? Of Leia sponging the blood from her face as she curled up naked on the bathroom floor with nothing but a towel slung over her shoulders.

She couldn't even remember climbing into bed…

"Good morning!"

Leia appeared, carrying a couple of tops, pants and wide-brimmed sun hats.

"You can have these and the ones in the wardrobe until yours arrives. They were my mother's. They may be old, but most of them are coming back into fashion now."

Leia held up a halter-neck dress with a low back, layered in pastel rainbow colours. "Beautiful, aren't they?"

Rey nodded, noticing for the first time how the nut-brown shade of Leia's eyes matched her son's and the way she walked with a sense of purpose and regality—it reminded her so much of Ben.

"Have you heard from him?"

"Nothing yet. His uncle will let us know as soon as there is any news."

"Luke is with him?"

She nodded. A senator's nod. It gave nothing away.

"Why not you?"

Rey regretted the words as soon as they left her lips. In response, Leia's back straightened and her smile dropped.

"I didn't mean anything by that. I just—you want to be with him, don't you? You shouldn't stay here on my behalf. Especially since—"

She stopped, unable to speak the truth—especially since I should be in there. Not him.

Whether the senator saw something in Rey or she believed her words, she came by the bed, indicating for Rey to shuffle over as she sat

"I do want to be with him. Of course, I do, after all these years I've gotten my son back." Leia smoothed her hands over the cotton blanket with a kind smile. "But Han and I are under strict orders."

Oh, no. Rey sat forward, feeling ill. Surely — surely — he wasn't making them stay for her.

He wouldn't.

She cringed, he really would.

Leia held up her hand in protest. "Before you say anything. We're happy to do this. The Knights of Ren are still out there, Armitage Hux, God knows who else."

Snoke… Rey added in her mind.

A couple strolled past the room, laughing as a man tried to grab his partner. Leia turned her face towards the scene, they both did, and Rey wondered when she might feel light enough to laugh again.

"Ben wanted this, Rey. You are—" Leia's mouth twitched with a fleeting smile. She must have been so used to wearing a mask that, even now, when it was just the two of them, she held back.

Leia cleared her throat, and tried again, her eyes sparkling with emotion. "You must know how special you are to him." Leia reached her hand out covering Rey's, the gesture made her chest feel heavy. "And that makes you special to us."

Rey sat back, resting her head against the back of the bed with her eyes to the ceiling, blinking. She had a splitting headache, the tiredness was creeping back, but there was a thought blooming in her mind, and in her heart, like a star in the night growing brighter the more she focused on it. Ben had given her freedom, but far more than that, he had given her a family.

After all this time of being alone, fighting to survive on the scraps of rubbish Jakuu, sold and abused and hunted—it seemed they cared for her, Han, Leia and, above all, Ben.

Her voice choked a little at the realisation. "Thank you."

"Get some sleep." Leia squeezed her hand again before she returned to work, filling the wardrobe, lining the bin, adding towels, toilet paper, even a fresh vase of flowers on the coffee table.

Rey watched the most respected woman in the country fuss over her like she was her own daughter with a strange feeling in her heart. At last, she succumbed to the whole-body fatigue threatening to envelop her, slipping back between the sheets and staring out at the ocean beyond until exhaustion claimed her once more.

Afternoon

Rey sat in her bed, rubbing her eyes, feeling as though they had been glued shut for the past few hours. The sky was still light, though flecked with glowing embers of sunset, and the air was warm and humid.

Wrapping the bed sheet around her body, she went to the bathroom and stood before the green-glass basin, where she splashed her face with water a few times before catching her reflection in the mirror. There were bags under her eyes, and every part of her face was pale, from the faint blush of her lips to her sallow cheeks. Stepping back, she dropped the sheet to the ground.

What a sight. When had she become so skinny? Rey ran her hands over a bumpy ribcage, and down to her protruding hip bones. The bruises were everywhere, explosions of blue, yellow and brown blotches across her torso, legs and arms. She turned to see her back, marked with welts, like two wide-set fang bites. Her right eye socket sported a shiner of a black eye and along her neck was a faint red line where Phasma's knife had cut her.

In a way, she was grateful that he would never see her like this. That she was saved from his tortured expression as he blamed himself for each and every mark on her body like he'd dealt them himself.

Turning the shower on, she curled up beneath the water flow until the tiles were flooded and the water went from hot to lukewarm, to stone cold. She wasn't sure how long she lay there, gradually freezing as the cold water sprayed over her, mesmerized by the way the soap suds and clear swells funnelled into the drain. Once her lips turned blue and she was shivering, she turned the tap off, still staring at the black hole in the tiles, the one that swallowed everything.

She was free now. Free of debt, of the threat of Snoke's henchmen and their promises of pain, free of sex work, the brothel, and every nightmare she once had.

It should be enough.

It had to be.

For what Ben had done, it had to be enough.

Searching for her strength, she rose to her feet, squaring her shoulders, raising her chin and staring grimly at her reflection.

Breathe.

She forced herself to do it, just one breath in and one breath out.

It wasn't going to fall apart now.

Ben was gone, but he was not lost and damned if his sacrifice would be for nothing.

Evening

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Rey strolled the promenade, past retirees playing cards on Balinese-style furniture, weaving through the cafe that sat outside her bedroom door, dotted with white umbrellas and drinks served with miniature umbrellas and flamingo stirring sticks, eventually she neared the resort-style pool where blissful couples caught the last rays of the sun in their lazy honeymoon daze.

Leia and Han were up ahead, sitting at a round table, hunched over, their lips moving quickly. Rey breathed a sigh of relief as Han waved to her, his smuggler's smile beckoning her to join them.

As she came closer, she noticed another man sitting with them, he had dark skin and a smile so bright it looked like he belonged in a teeth whitening commercial. He was an older man, late 70s perhaps, but he certainly didn't dress like it. He wore canary yellow, with a lime-coloured cocktail in one hand, and a gold-handled cane in the other, and as she met his gaze, he let out a deep resonating laugh.

"Well, well, well, so this is Ben's girlfriend?"

"Lando!" Leia hissed, swatting him in the arm.

"Han's words, not mine."

"Don't blame me." Han quickly shoved his gin and tonic to his lips. "I'm only telling you what Ben told me."

"Honestly, the two of you! I'm sorry, Rey, these Solo men rarely think before they speak." Leia gestured to Lando. "This is an old friend, Lando Calrissian, Ben's uncle for all intents and purposes."

"Pleased to meet you," Lando reached out and took Rey's hand in his own, gently pressing it with a kiss.

"And complete cad, I'm afraid," Leia added.

Rey laughed, sitting down with them. Truth be told they had lost her at "girlfriend". She was amazed at how such a simple word could have such an effect on her. Despite everything, she sat there smiling sheepishly, holding onto the normalcy of it.

They watched her expectantly, as if waiting for her to perform or beguile them with her charm. Rey suspected this was the first time they'd ever had to deal with a "girlfriend", and she had no idea how she was supposed to act like the lover of a recently incarcerated son who had given his freedom up for her.

After a full minute of them watching her with smiles plastered on their faces. Rey stretched her arms out and pretended to relax. "This place is beautiful."

"Why, thank you." Lando gave a nod.

"It's yours?"

"Sure is. My own personal paradise."

"You're own personal tax haven, more like," Han scoffed.

"That too."

Rey poured herself a glass of orange juice from a carafe and sat back with her legs stretched out, allowing herself a rare moment to take it all in, the heat, the sound of the waves, the ocean breeze...

"Wait!" She bolted up. "Are we on Bespin?"

Surely not. Surely she would have noticed going on a plane or boat…

"We sure are," Lando replied with a wink.

"How do I not remember coming to an island?"

"You were well and truly out of it by that point," Han told her.

"Han flew you out here by private charter. We figured it was the safest way. Not that there's anything official about you leaving the mainland, mind you," Leia said.

"And she calls us the scoundrels," Han teased.

"You are," Leia quipped.

"I'm amazed." Rey slumped back in her chair, astounded and a little overwhelmed.

Leia signalled for the waiter, as she did Rey noticed a copy of the Hosnian Herald under Leia's palm.

"Can I look at that?"

Leia and Han exchanged glances, her hand still glued to the paper.

"What is it?"

"Don't look at me." Lando raised his palms in the air. "Ask no questions, hear no lies."

Han said. "Show her."

Rey took a deep breath. "Snoke's not dead."

"He is." Leia pushed the paper over to her. "Now."

Rey pulled the paper over to her end of the table and tried to swallow down the sick feeling climbing up her throat. Snoke's repugnant face looked back at her with that bald head, squinting eyes and a crooked smile. Next to the image: Respected CEO Alastair Snoke dead after medical emergency

"Medical emergency?"

"So far. Poe's managed to keep the original details under wraps. I'm not sure for how long."

"How is this even possible? He was dead."

"The paramedics stabilised him on site. They rushed him to hospital that night." Rey's memory flashed with the sight of his limp hand swaying beside the gurney.

"He never made it to the hospital," Leia continued.

"Stabbed thirty-seven times in the chest, and they found his ambulance wrapped around a tree about two blocks away from the general hospital," Han added almost scoffing. "Plus, the old raisin's cock was—"

"Han! Spare us."

Rey could barely believe her ears. "How?"

Leia shrugged. "No one knows."

Rey thought about Phasma slipping into the ambulance behind Snoke. Her cool, cruel wink to Rey. Something she'd assumed was a threat… Shit.

Phasma had finally gotten her revenge.

"So what does this mean for the case?" Rey asked, trying to reign in her hope.

"A reduced sentence possibly? Manslaughter, instead of murder. Perhaps even self-defence if we're lucky."

"It shouldn't even be a manslaughter charge, " Rey grumbled. "The man was a murdering psychopath, not a celebrated CEO."

"It will all come out in time. We must have hope," Leia said.

"When can I testify for him?"

Han choked on his gin and tonic, erupting in a coughing spree.

"You're not!" he said between coughs.

"Like hell I'm not, I was there!"

"It's not our decision, kid," he replied gruffly, folding his arms like he was secretly on Rey's side.

"Leia?" Rey asked.

The senator squirmed in her chair. "He thinks you'll do something foolish."

"He can't be serious!"

She wanted to scream, and cry, and kick him in the shins for putting her in this position. How dare he force her out of this? Rey folded her arms, grinding her teeth and glaring at the head waiter Threepio who was loitering around their table waiting to clear the used glasses.

"What does he think I'm going to do?"

"Rey," Leia almost laughed at the question. "He knows very well what you'll do. You've already proven that you're willing to throw your life away for him, hell, you've already done it."

Rey glowered, wishing Ben was here so she could yell and shout and call him a bloody-minded idiot for the position he was forcing her into. Accepting his charity, his family, while he was sacrificed.

"I'm going to kill him for this."

Leia almost choked on her wine, failing to hide her amused smile. "I'll let my brother know when I speak to him again."

Rey's heart clenched. "You've heard from Master Luke?"

"Master Luke? Now I've heard it all," Lando said with a chuckle.

Rey blushed, forgetting that to most adults he was plain old Luke. It made her feel like a child, and perhaps she still was, clinging onto old titles.

"He called this morning—"

"And?" Rey was deathly still. "Is he okay, is he—"

"He's fine. Recovering … he misses you."

The words hit her like a fresh blade to the wound; it was a real and living thing now that throbbed with pain in her heart, the muscles and arteries felt like they were being crushed in a vice.

Was this their relationship now, fleeting messages exchanged through Mas— Luke for everyone to speculate on.

Rey swallowed the bitterness of the situation.

It was better than nothing, she supposed.

"You can tell him that I miss him too."

One week ...

Not without argument, Rey surrendered her mobile phone in place of a new one, a better one. At least it didn't have a cracked screen and the microphone actually worked.

The first number she dialled was Finn's. Standing out the front of her room, watching the waves lull across the sand, she paced, waiting for him to answer.

It rang out.

She was about to hang up when there was a click, followed by a hurried, breathy voice on the other line.

"Finn?"

A child was laughing in the background, and then another female voice, excitable, familiar almost.

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on, Penny-Rose!"

Rey furrowed her brow in confusion. It sounded like him but — "Finn, is that you?"

"Rey!" he shouted, and then was Rose squealing: "Oh my God, is that her?"

Rey jerked the phone away from her ear as there was a loud crash like they had dropped the receiver.

"Finn? Rose? Are you still there?"

"Rey! We've been so worried about you! Are you okay? Where are you?" Rose said in a rush. "I'm so sorry, we thought you'd left the brothel. I can't believe we left you there. I can't—"

"It's okay. I'm fine. I'm just glad that you're okay. I was worried about you too," Rey said, and then paused before adding. "So, you're staying with Finn now?"

"Oh, Finn! He's great, he is—" Rose laughed, her attention deviating to whatever was going on in Finn's apartment. There was clapping and even more hysterical laughing from Penny Rose. To Rey, it sounded as though someone was bounding around the room like a buffoon.

That would be Finn.

Rey's laughter subsided, feeling as though she was intruding on something intimate and special. She smiled at the picture in her mind, of Finn and Rose together, in their little found family. The thought filled her soul with happiness, but she couldn't help but feel the barb beneath it all. A pang of longing at the injustice that their happiness and companionship was so far away from her own reality.

"It's descended into madness here," Rose laughed. "I'll pass you over to Finn."

Rey waited as Rose tried to convince her daughter to walk to the park. In response, there was a shrill tantrum, followed by the sound of a door closing, and then, silence.

Finn cleared his throat. "Sorry about that. She's exuberant."

"Three-year-olds often are."

"I meant Rose."

Rey smirked. "So, you and Rose…"

"Oh, it's nothing. You know, she wasn't feeling safe where she was."

"Right." Rey twisted a strand of hair around her finger with a knowing smile.

"And I like kids..."

"You do?"

"Yeah, you know, at Maz's house, I thought they were kind of cool. And, well, Penny Rose's a good kid, and they needed a place to stay."

"So, she's your flatmate then?"

"Umm. Something like that. "You… you don't mind, do you?"

"Finn, I couldn't be happier. I love you both, I only wish I could have introduced you under better circumstances."

"Yeah, well—" he drifted off in thought. "Shit, Rey, if I had known—"

"Please, don't. I asked you to get Rose out. You did that."

Rey could hear Finn pacing. "When Poe told me what had happened—"

"You helped me, you helped Rose. That's all I care about."

"I don't think I'll ever forgive—"

"Will you stop? I don't care about that," Rey snapped. It was rude, but she didn't have time for his self-postulating "There's something I need to know—"

"Anything."

Rey's heart pounded. This was the one thing on which so much of her and Ben's future depended.

"The USB Drive. Dom was supposed to get it to Poe."

"He did."

Rey breathed a sigh of relief.

"Do you know if…" she bit her lip, hating the question. "Was there anything about Kylo Ren on there?"

Finn stopped pacing, even stopped breathing by the sound of it.

"Don't know. Poe has let no one else look at it yet. He's playing his cards very close to the chest."

Rey nodded, forgetting Finn wouldn't see it. She hoped that was a good sign, the less people who knew about Kylo Ren and what he had done the better.

"You… ah... really believe in this guy?"

A wave of anguish rose in Rey's chest. The world would always question and doubt Ben. He had earned that she supposed, but the truth of it still hurt.

"From what Poe says, he's been pretty messed up ever since he was a kid," Finn continued, encouraged by her silence. "Even if he didn't do some of that stuff, it still—"

"Stop it!" Rey snapped, and for a microsecond, she hated him for doubting something she knew to be so true in her heart. But Finn would be the first of many and that's something she had to accept. No one was on Kylo Ren's side.

"He's a good guy, Finn."

"But this case, these charges—"

She wished he'd shut his mouth. Whatever he was going to say, she'd already told herself.

"It could be a long time, and even then—"

"Then I'll wait."

Finn let out an exasperated sigh.

"It's not up for discussion. You don't know him, Finn, but I do. I do. He's... good. He's changed." Dear God, she was choking up again, her voice unstable and undulating, breaking just when she needed to be strong. "I don't want you to ever question me on this."

"Rey—"

"I mean it. Ben Solo made the right choice in the end. He deserves a life, even if the world doesn't think he does. Even if you don't think he does."

"Rey, wait, I didn't mean—"

"Just like you, and Rose, and everyone who has ever had life screw them. He deserves a chance!"

Her voice broke in a sob and she forced herself to stop before her emotions spilled out.

"Okay, peanut," came the voice on the other end, subdued and resolved. "Okay."

Ten days

Rey's bruises wilted into sallow smudges. Her clothes arrived along with a few trinkets from home: her travel posters, a couple of treasured CDs and her old university textbooks.

The latter had come with a note, written in a loose script, small indistinct letters, hurried and imperfect.

You'll make an amazing journalist.

B—

She breathed it in, hoping to catch hints of his spicy aftershave and citrus shampoo. Everything about Ben had smelt sharp and bold. But there was nothing; no memory she could cling to.

Beneath the note was an unsealed envelope containing a blank application form from the University of Coruscant.

Rey pressed it to her heart as she curled up on the small sofa, looking out to the ocean. She watched the rise and fall of the waves, tracing her finger over his writing…

He'd never planned to come back with her.

The thought washed over her and she found herself crying once more. They were silent tears, subtle, easily wiped away if someone came by. She allowed herself this much-the odd cry, away from prying eyes. It was the only way she could expel the hurt, just enough to keep going on.

It has been a week since she'd read the article about Snoke, and for the most part, she'd spent her time restlessly. In the mornings, she'd wander for a few hours, over the hills, along the beach, through the township, exploring the markets. The humidity and heat landed heavily after lunchtime and then she'd spend time with Leia and Han, catching up on proceedings from the mainland, as well as exchanging fleeting messages to be passed on via Master Luke, and receiving them in turn. She longed for a phone call, but he hadn't been allowed that privilege and Ben ensured there was a no letter policy between them while addresses could be traced back to her. There was rarely any meaningful news about his case: the Knights of Ren were still at large, as was Armitage Hux, and no word on the date of trial.

Evenings were the worst time for her. It wasn't the grief, or anger that got to her, but more of an overwhelming feeling of malaise.

It usually hit after dinner, when she stared at the dirty dishes trying to find the motivation to move, from then she slumped from the couch, to the bed, to the kitchen table feeling useless and drained of purpose.

Rey eased into bed, wearing nothing but her underpants and a singlet top. She munched on a bag of chips as she flicked through the television channels.

Leia encouraged her to make friends in the resort and do what the "young people" do. She was terrible at it. Rose, Finn, Jess, they all had their little quirks, they were all different to her but they fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

God, she missed them.

And Ben—

Don't think of him…

Suddenly, the shrill ring of her mobile phone came at her like a sledgehammer.

She grabbed it with lightning speed.

"Ben?"

There was laughter on the other end.

"Rey, I'm going to hazard a guess and say you were waiting by the phone."

"Oh, Poe. I thought—"

"Yeah, not him. Sorry."

A cool breeze blew in from the ocean, bringing a hint of rain in the air. It buffeted the curtains and swished her papers onto the floor as Rey scrambled to get them.

"Is there any news?" she asked, trying to hide the disappointment from her voice.

"A shitload. Not much regarding your boy though."

She swallowed down a lump in her throat. "Yeah, I figured as much. How are you doing?"

Poe grunted as though he were kicking back and putting his feet up for the day. "Yeah, okay, still got this damned cast on. Itches like hell. How about you?"

"Finn said you got the drive. Have you had a chance to go through it yet?"

"There's my girl. Straight to the point," Poe said. "Yeah, I've got it. Dom dropped it over that night although part of it seems corrupted and some files seem to be missing—"

Poe went silent, no doubt baiting her to slip up.

Rey met his silence with her own. Another gust of wind-battered through the doors, and a whoosh of raindrops pattered the tile floor.

"What do you expect me to say?" Rey grabbed a white bath towel and ran it along the floor where the rain had come in.

"Specifically, I thought there would be some evidence that pointed towards Kylo Ren's involvement in all this."

Rey stilled her hand pressed firmly on the towel.

"Are you going to pursue it?"

She waited a beat for him to answer.

"No, Rey. I'm not."

She breathed again.

"It's still an uphill battle though. There's a couple of years' worth of correspondence and images to go through on this drive, meanwhile, the paper isn't going to write itself."

"I know, you're already doing so much. I saw some of your pieces in the paper."

With the rain mopped up, Rey stood by the doors, loathe to close them again. There was a full moon ahead; she wondered if Ben was looking at the same moon and thinking of her as she was thinking of him.

She wondered if he could even see the sky.

"So, when are you coming back to work?"

"Work?" Rey asked, genuinely confused. "Do I have a job?"

"I already told you, help me crack this case and there will be a job for you at the end of it. As far as I see it, the case is cracked, we just need to tie up some loose ends."

"You're offering me a job?" Rey asked, gob-smacked. "I don't even have my degree yet!"

"I expect you to get it still. It's just a part-time gig and it doesn't pay much."

"But I'm on Bespin and you're—"

"I'm not sure if you've heard, there's this thing called the internet—"

"Very funny," Rey quipped.

"You wouldn't be the first off-shore writer I've hired. I'll send you the files tonight and you can begin combing through to see what you can find. We're looking for everything you can get on that bastard Snoke to bring him down. By the end of this, I want Snoke and the First Order to be a smokey hole in the ground, okay?"

"You got it," she beamed.

"This is our chance, Rey. We can show the world who Snoke really was, and maybe you can help your boy in the meantime."

Two Weeks

Rey's chin fell to her chest, her fingers pressing down on the keys half asleep: Oijqewfpjiasjf

"Look back."

Her eyes fluttered, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. Her mind waded between dreams and thoughts. Snoke's ring of deception, blackmail, murder, extortion, torture... She left no speck of data untouched as she tied the information together, finding how far his influence had spread and how many pockets he'd lined to get there, and of whom. Between the work she, Finn and Poe had done, that criminal and his legacy would be destroyed.

She had spent most of her days researching loose ends, tugging on them, following where they led her and after dinner, after she had said good night to Leia and Han, she returned once more to her laptop, combing the information again with fresh eyes, looking for everything they could use to help Ben, to prove he too had been a pawn like so many others.

She worked until her wrists ached and her eyes were blurry, falling asleep slumped over her laptop.

"Look back at me."

Rey was jarred awake by the sound of his voice.

The television was blindingly white against the darkness of the room, her eyes strained and squinted as snowflakes floated around the tragic hero. She had opted to let North & South play in the background while she worked. It seemed fitting; sadness, romance and, above all, hope.

That's what she needed most now.

They hadn't heard anything from Ben or Master Luke for the past three days now, and to be quite frank, that worried her. Leia had called her brother, Han had even sent an email. But there was no response. It was strange, disconcerting. Rey had tried to push her worry away, it had been part of the reason why she'd stayed up watching movies as she worked.

Rey spread her fingers over the bed covers trying to find the remote. Unable to find it she hung over the side of the bed, searching through piles of clothes on the floor, takeaway boxes and used tissues.

There. She grabbed it, half-hidden beneath the tissue box and pressed the sticky power button over and over again until the screen turned black.

Rolling back into bed, the fluorescent numbers of the alarm clock glared back at her. 1.30 am. She grimaced, huddling down between the bedsheets when there was an urgent knock at the door.

"Just a minute." Rey switched on the lamp beside her bed and checked that her black camisole and pyjama pants were clean enough to answer the door.

This time the door rattled and the knocking came again more furtive and urgent.

"Threepio, if this is about the broken spa filter again—"

She unlocked the door, pushing it open.

But something wasn't right.

The air was sharp out here, a few degrees cooler than her own room, smelling of wool carpet, disinfectant and something else — something familiar that she couldn't place, an old memory locked away. The fluorescent hallway lights were off and without any windows, the room was pitch black.

If there was someone out there, she couldn't make them out in this darkness.

It wasn't right.

Rey's heart raced as she yanked the door closed but it jarred on something, a strong hand gripped around the edge.

"Wait!" The voice was low and gravelly. She opened it just enough for the light from her room to illuminate the man beyond.

"Hey, kid."

"Master Luke!"

Rey threw her arms around him and squeezed like he was the closest thing to hugging Ben.

"Easy there," He let out a pained groan at the fury of her embrace.

From somewhere in the shadows, there came a low chuckle. Rey's heart lurched and she pulled back from Luke. Straining her eyes to find the source.

She knew that voice. She knew that voice.

"Where is he?" Her words were desperate as she peered past Luke like she was searching for air to breathe.

There was a shift in the darkness and Rey's eyes pricked with tears as he came forward, like a ghost emerging from the underworld.

Warm light splintered across his face and body in warped patterns, tracing his outline with an unsteady but radiant glow. With each step, parts of him came into focus: the wavy hair, broad shoulders, eyes, full of intensity and yearning.

Rey gasped, every breath felt like it was burning in her chest. He was here, in the flesh, within reach.

As Ben towered above her, his lips parted and with a slow inhale, he smiled.

"Hello, Rey."

[reinmeka]

um so here’s a thing. a solomon/tyler thing. (3207 words of BS)

references to this fic here.

--

It’s not surprising that he’s spending another day in the dark.

He blinks his eyes over and over again to get some sense of clarity in his vision—with the blinds closed and curtains folded over, it’s incredibly difficult to tell whether it’s day or night or if they’re bleeding into each other altogether. Sure, Solomon has clocks around his place—mostly analog—can’t be bothered to go see; can’t be bothered to reach for the phone long-sullied by fruitless, mischievous endeavors in the name of whom he just can’t seem to get out of his head.

Despite that inner turmoil, Solomon keeps his TV on the same channel every Tuesday night for just a hint or a glimpse, and it’s pathetic he’s well-aware, unnecessary to tell him twice about it.

Tyler isn’t on again, hasn’t been since last week or the week before. Solomon leans back into the office chair he usually has his ass plastered against— uses his legs to push himself across the floor back to his set-up of mismatched towers and monitors. It’s pretty much a picture one would imagine at the word ‘hacker’, but these wires strewn about mean nothing besides act as proof of Solomon’s growing laziness ever since his departure from NXT. He hasn’t really done anything near that capacity, the last time being his conversation with Tyler that should have never happened.

It was stupid to think he would get anything out of it besides heartbreak, yet here he is, downloading some sketchy torrent of Main Event and watching like he has nothing else better to do. There are some packages he needs to send out, maybe go grocery shopping, but he can’t really get himself to do any of that in favor of moping over just how good Tyler looks—even in silly costumes and odd gimmicks he thinks Tyler has no real interest for.

But what does he know.

He thought Tyler might have liked him back in the slightest what with their weird teasing, flirting dynamic—wasn’t any true at all when all he was told was to get lost, in the end. That, coupled with the lies brought up about missing him, well …

“S’dumb.” Is tired of seeing Tyler parade around with this other guy, more of a joke than the competitor Solomon knows Tyler can be.

Again, he reminds himself, what does he know.

Eventually Solomon forces himself to shut everything down, pull the curtains back and open the blinds to let whatever is outside in, and it appears to be daytime—afternoon-ish. He doesn’t bother to check the weather, focuses more on slipping on an old faded band t-shirt and gathering the packages he needs to ship off. Life has gotten a lot more complacent outside of wrestling, but it’s not like his injuries can just magically go away—wouldn’t be safe to try again even after he was all healed up. There’s no doubt there wouldn’t be any call for any Solomon Crowe anyway.

After stuffing the boxes into his backpack to the best of his ability, he slings it on and makes a grab for his helmet. It’s a bit cloudy but the sun is out—a slight chill on his arm to raise goosebumps but nothing to run back inside to grab a jacket over. The ride to the postal office yielded to little complications—though he had almost gotten hit by a car changing lanes and nearly knocking into him and his motorcycle.

“Hey Sol, more mail this week?” Greeted by the mail jockey he’s known for years since moving here to begin with.

“Yeah, just a few Craigslist things. Fixed some messed up smart-phones for a small fee.”

“You’re really good at that tech stuff, aren’t ya?”

“Pretty much the only thing I’m good for.” And the following laughter isn’t genuine at all—can’t keep it from slipping out but he ends up making himself feel shittier about things. He pays the shipping and waits for the tracking labels, his eyes wandering to the small TV screen in the corner playing some channel for news and gossip. He’s about to roll his eyes until they catch slight of a familiar face and goddamn it, almost curses out loud; it’s like he can’t get away when he’s actively trying to ignore the man’s existence outside of his sad, little apartment in private.

“I think I’m goin’ crazy,” Doesn’t even realize he’s said it out loud when the person behind the counter asks if anything is wrong and it takes everything in his power to not shout ‘YES! YES, EVERYTHING IS WRONG!’, shrugging his shoulders and taking the labels when they’re offered to him. “Thanks for everything man, I’ll probably see you again next week,” Waves goodbye and already out the door by the time the man tries to ask again.

When Solomon looks up, the clouds are shifting, blue transitioning into grey and it’s as good a hint as any that the day should probably just come to an end. Move on from another Tuesday like it hadn’t been a problem for him, try to erase that image of Tyler he saw on the screen just a few moments ago.

The fridge back home is a little bare and despite having little desire to go on doing this—days upon days upon days—Solomon makes the grocery store down the street his next destination. The postal office is well out of his neighborhood,, dabbling somewhat in the upper crust, but he’s grown used to the condescending stares—had gotten enough of it when Tyler was back in NXT and—

“Ugh, will you stop?” Mumbles to himself angrily as he snags a basket from the stack, hangs it off his forearm and frustratingly grabbing at random limes to throw in … only to gently take them back out for reexamination. It’s not fair—to himself or the limes—to be hung over a guy he knew he had no real chance with to begin with, doesn’t know how long he plans on being depressed about it.

After a good selection of fruits and vegetables, Solomon heads into the closest aisle and almost chokes on the air he can’t seem to breathe in when he sees Tyler bending over to pick up a case of bottled water. Of all the times he’s been here, this is probably the first time he’s ever seen Tyler—should have expected as much being in this part of town—but now he’s standing no more than a few feet from the guy he’s been agonizing over for weeks and not even wearing a hoodie to hide himself this time around.

Solomon thinks if he’s quick enough, he could turn around and leave with what he has. Actually turns on his heels to do just that until he can hear a thump on the ground—like a bunch of bottled waters hitting the floor—followed by rapid footsteps and he doesn’t know why this is happening, what Tyler could possibly do or say to him now that wouldn’t make him feel more like the dirt beneath his feet.

And he knows he already is, just doesn’t want to be reminded of it in the most scathing way possible. Knows Tyler is capable of much.

“You--!” Tyler putting a hand on his shoulder and immediately whipping him around. Solomon is in no way prepared for the look on his face, however, eyes narrowed and lip trembling—“You left me!”

That’s not really fair to say, Solomon thinks frustrated, when Tyler was the one who decided to leave and think nothing bad would come of it—because here Solomon is—had been for the entire time he was gone—near dying at the thought that everything was just some nightmare he couldn’t wake up from all because Tyler didn’t fucking like him back.

“You left me. Texted me, then left me again, because you’re a spineless coward who—who—“Tyler grabs him by the shirt, teeth grit as he buries his face in his chest to muffle what he thinks he’s hearing as small sobs. He’s speechless, all things considered, and maybe he is a coward because he can’t get himself to move or touch Tyler or say anything in response to all of this. It’s too much too fast—too many thoughts and possibilities rushing through his head at what the fuck this could all mean.

Solomon finally thinks he can open his mouth to say something until a crowd starts forming—or at least, a few nosy people poking their heads down into the aisle they’re more or less standing in the middle of. Without any other thought, Solomon encourages Tyler to look back up—can see the traces of tears threatening the corner of his eyes—and grabs his hand. He abandons his basket of carefully picked produce in favor of Tyler, leading them out of the store. It’s starting to sprinkle, the first droplets of rain hitting him in the face when he looks up at the sky again.

“We can go to my place,” Tyler pipes up—can feel his hand squeezing his tighter, “Please.” It’s not even a question, not that Solomon is looking to decline, even if his brain is screaming at him about how bad of an idea this is.

After Tyler rattles off simple directions to his penthouse, Solomon gets on his bike and looks at Tyler expectantly, “You gonna hop on?”

“I—what?”

“Oh yeah, you probably have your own ride, huh?” Doesn’t expect the slight flush crossing Tyler’s cheeks as he rubs at his own arms, seemingly trying to look away.

“I was going to have my driver pick me up after I was done shopping. I … is it okay to ride? With you?” He asks while looking at the bike warily, like it might eat him alive or quite possibly explode—Solomon thinks he might be the same way when Tyler finally looks back at him for confirmation.

“F’course.” Solomon grabs his helmet and shoves it onto Tyler’s head despite the muffled protests from under the visor, “C’mon pretty boy, you need to have this on. I gotta thick head myself so no worries for me. S’not that far anyway.” He can hear Tyler go silent at that, can’t really see his facial expression from under the helmet so he takes any argument as done—brings up the stand and heads out.

As mentioned previously, it’s supposed to be a short ride, though in that small amount of time—Tyler wrapping his arms tight around his back and perhaps Tyler can feel the way Solomon’s heart is thudding hard in his chest. Solomon isn’t quite sure what this is all supposed to mean—the slight breakdown in the grocery store not leaving much for discussion—can’t tell if this is Tyler admitting to something Solomon really, really hopes deep down that it’s something he wants.

When they pull up, Solomon isn’t surprised by the sheer height of the building—intimidated by the gate and the buzzer and everything. Tyler has a card to slide in the slot hidden behind a brick jutting out from its space and the gates slide open for him to park inside. The rain has started to pick up then, Tyler hopping off and running as fast as he can with the helmet under his arm to get under the awning. Solomon on the other hand, takes much more time—digging the tarp out from his backpack and draping it over the bike Tyler is standing there looking a bit impatient. By the time Solomon gets to the overhang, he’s completely soaked through his shirt and his hair all flat as opposed to its usual haphazard ways.

“Let’s get inside, I can get you a towel and we can throw your shirt into the wash.” Tyler grabs his hand again and it’s accepted without question, Solomon wanting to memorize the feeling. By the time they get up to the top floor and into Tyler’s place, he’s off toward another room, not so much as explaining before he’s back with a towel and offering it to Solomon. “Here.”

This whole situation seems so surreal, Solomon humorously thinking it’s a continuation of the nightmare he thinks he’s been having, what with the way Tyler has gone from screaming at him to being so kind and near-doting. It’s so uncharacteristic, but … what does he know.

Solomon uses the towel to dry off his hair, though he tosses it over the arm of a nearby loveseat in order to get his shirt off—sopping wet and dripping all over, “So where’s the laundry?” Looks back up at Tyler and realizes he’s staring—a bit of a flush to his own face—once he realizes that he’s staring at him while shirtless— Solomon feeling a bit vulnerable. He coughs, just to get Tyler spurred into action and just as quick as he was gone, he’s back.

“So,” Solomon speaks up, awkwardly picks up the towel again to wrap around his neck—somehow is more covered up that way, “Something about me bein’ a coward and …”

“You left, Solomon. You left without even telling anybody, without telling me that you were—“

Solomon doesn’t even try to acknowledge the shift from last name to first, “You’re the one who left!” He spits out. Can take as much verbal beatings as much as the next guy, though these particular words sting all the more, especially coming from Tyler, “We talked about that shit when I was texting you the one day at the coffee shop. How you’re having such a great fuckin’ time on the main roster, giving out tickets and having fun and whatever else,” Waves his hands around for emphasis, “You told me to get lost, we both agreed on that and so I did. Why’s that my fucking fault?”

“It’s like you didn’t even read what I wrote!” Tyler sucks in a breath, darts his head around anxiously, picking up one of two phones on the coffee table between them. He’s furiously tapping the screen prior to shoving the whole device in Solomon’s face, familiar blue text, “I said I missed you, that I wanted to see you again, and you still decided to go!” And the proof lies within the texts, Solomon taking the phone in hand as well as the time to scroll through the whole conversation, reading in between the lines he so desperately tried to write off as fakes or flukes.

Solomon is about to say something in response when Tyler’s suddenly on him—lips pressing against his own in a desperate kiss that he breathes in—his legs buckling and ends up falling onto the couch with Tyler straddling him. It takes time for his brain to catch up, hands ultimately dropping the phone and moving to wrap around Tyler’s waist—lets out a small moan at the way he runs his hands through his hair while deepening the kiss.

He’s breathless by the time he pulls away, staring up at Tyler wide-eyed and in question of what had just happened.

“You always were the only one to ever treat me different. Even when I’d acted the way I did, said some of the things I’ve said, you were still there, joking and smiling like it hadn’t even phased you. After you left, after denying myself of what I really wanted and coming to terms with it … that last conversation we had really put things into perspective.” Tyler traces the lines of his face with a finger as he’s leaning in for a chaste kiss, “Maybe it’s a little unfair, but I don’t think I could have gone on without seeing you in person. To think that today of all days when I least expected it, as elusive as you are …” Trails off into a whisper as Solomon sits there trying to process this information, “I wanted to confess. Wanted to tell you how much I … like you. Without any of the misinterpretation. And I hope I’m not too late, because this whole time I’ve been thinking that you like me too.”

It’s an understatement, Solomon thinks, but he tests the waters and leans up for another kiss—can barely suppress the grin when Tyler surges into it like he’s starving.

“’Course I like you, pretty boy. Hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I didn’t think of you at least once or twice,” And again, perhaps that is understatement but it’s nothing to bring up now, liking the idea of Tyler in his lap and his lips against his.

They spend the most of that time together wrapped up in each other until the buzzer of the dryer sounds off. Tyler almost looks disappointed and it’s endearing to the point that Solomon wraps his arms around him all over again.

“I should probably get goin’, I have some things to work on that are due tomorrow.”

“You’re not wrestling anymore?”

“Nah, don’t think I can. Besides, I get my fill of it watching you on TV.”

Tyler’s cheeks flare up, red as can be, “Y-You … please don’t tell me you actually watch that …”

Solomon laughs, pinches his cheeks a little, “Oh c’mon, it’s cute! You look like you’re havin’ fun, I don’t judge.” And there isn’t much conversation to be had on that particular topic, Tyler dropping it immediately as he sees Solomon on the way out.

“Can we exchange numbers?” Tyler asks while he has a foot out the door and yeah, that sounds like a smart thing to do. Are they dating now? Are they a thing? Solomon wants to ask but settles for this for now, saving Tyler’s name along with some hearts and even makes the effort to show him—reveling in that smile he gets when he sees. Tyler goes and does the same and for some reason it means a lot more to Solomon than it probably should.

“I’ll text you in the morning?” And Tyler nods in agreement, is sort of hiding behind his door as Solomon is walking backwards facing him, making his way down the hall.

“I’ll get up extra early to see.”

--

The next morning, Solomon had forgotten to close the blinds from the day before—gets woken up by the stream of sunlight shining through the windows. Odd to even think that yesterday it had rained. After blinking himself awake, he pads around for his phone—finally emerges from under the covers with it only to see a text waiting from Tyler already.

When he opens it, Solomon is greeted with a cute selfie from bed, Tyler’s hair all messy and eyes barely open. A curl of heat goes through his stomach too, seeing that he’s shirtless with his blankets riding dangerously low around his hips.

“First thing in the morning and he tries to kill me.” Grumbles as he shoots off a response that gets replied to as quickly as he had sent it, makes a smile spread wide across his face. Solomon looks up and out the window, for once appreciates the sun shining through.