Chapter Text
“So it’s complete mush up there, huh?”
Rey resents the description of her brain, but she has to admit that it’s apt. She nods.
“Finn left about a week ago.” Ben scratches his jaw and frowns. “He got that job doing mineral testing for his environmental geo professor, do you remember that?”
“No.” Rey looks down and fiddles with a hangnail. She hadn’t noticed them before, but her nails are glossy and unchipped despite her accident, blue gel polish adorns them. Weird. She never pays for manicures. If her nails are done, they’re usually done badly with streaky dollar-store fare. “I think I might remember him talking about the position though. I can’t tell for sure,” she gestures broadly to her head and winces when her ribs ache at the disruption.
“Oh, well yeah, he’s up north in the mountains doing that. His service is really in and out which is why it took so long for the hospital to reach him. He couldn’t get here obviously, so he sent the next best thing.”
Rey huffs a laugh, “No offence, but I think Rose or Poe would’ve been the next best thing.”
“Offence taken,” Ben deadpans. He runs a distracted hand through his hair, sighing. “Rose went home for the summer, flew back right after her exams, and Poe decided to go on a cross country road trip. Self-discovery or something. Actually, I haven’t heard from that one in a while, I hope he’s not dead in a ditch somewhere,” Ben glances over at Rey, “Or dead in a street.”
“Very nice.”
The corner of Ben’s mouth ticks up and he shrugs.
“So, they’re all gone.” The words are hard for Rey to say and even harder for her to accept.
“They’ll be back before September.”
“Assuming they’re not dead in ditches.”
“Well yes, assuming that.”
“Then,” Rey pauses, “Thanks for being here.”
“Come on, I wouldn’t leave my least favourite drinking buddy hanging.”
Rey isn’t sure that this makes sense, she can’t recall a time that the two of them had gone out drinking together, but the operant word here is recall.
“Can I ask you something?”
Rey nods again.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“There was slush on the ground,” Rey considers. “It must’ve been late February. It was just a regular day. I went to class, I bought a peppermint tea, I went home. It’s like, it’s just yesterday, except so obviously not. It couldn’t have been because I didn’t have my nails painted yesterday.” Emotion rises at the back of her throat and she swallows it. “I was looking forward to reading week.”
“I think you had a good one.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Guess you’ll have to,” Ben laughs, “What if I’m lying and you actually had the worst of your life?”
Rey gives him a blank look and rolls her eyes, “Then I appreciate the optimistic reconstruction, at the very least.”
“Fuck, February though?” Ben scrubs his face with both hands. “Unbelievable.”
“The doctor said the rest would come back,” Rey says, suddenly self-conscious.
“Here’s hoping,” he mutters, buckling his seatbelt. “Let’s get you home. You must be exhausted.”
She is exhausted, but Ben doesn’t wait for an affirmative before he puts the car in reverse and starts backing out of the parking space.
They’re quiet for the rest of the drive and Rey takes the time to consider their conversation as she looks out the window, unseeing. So, everyone’s gone. It’s June and that’s normal, their university’s campus is usually dead over the summer, but it makes Rey want to cry. She knows that abandonment is her oldest wound but rationalizing the pain does little to soothe it. She feels vulnerable and raw, like a tree split in two after a lightning strike—its pale insides tender and exposed.
“Your humble abode,” Ben flourishes, parking on the street in front of a stout building.
It’s four floors tall, and white with dentil moulding wrapped around the top. It’s also a building that Rey has never seen before in her life.
“Oh shit, yeah,” Ben says, reading her face, “You moved in probably a month ago, now. Everyone helped. Even I was there,” he adds as an afterthought.
Rey feels her bottom lip wobble and she tries unsuccessfully to flatten it. Letting the muscles in the back of her neck go slack, she burst into tears. Her whole body trembles as cries into the plastic pharmacy bag.
It’s just that everything is already so confusing, and wrong, and terrible. And now the home that Rey considered home isn’t even her home anymore.
Ben clears his throat and reaches out with a tentative hand to pat her on the shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he tries, “You like this place. Hell of a lot better than living in residence. You said that.”
Rey is sure that she had said that. In favour of paying rent, she had been working as an RA for a first-year dorm. A job that she was pretty poorly suited to. She hated planning the floor bonding nights that no one came to, and writing people up for things that she did herself, and biting her tongue when the obvious thing to say to the upset girl at her door was ‘Just break up with him’.
“If it’s about how nice the building is don’t worry, your rent is subsidized because of your teaching position.”
At this, Rey cries harder. Somehow being dumped in that alien desert from her hospital dream seems easier than being here, where everything familiar is also untrue. She can’t breathe enough through her tears to ask what fucking teaching position Ben is talking about, instead she lets out pathetic little wails that make her hate herself.
“Fuck,” Ben mutters, and she can only agree with him.
Fuck.
She hears Ben’s seat belt unbuckle and then feels hers to do the same. For a moment she goes blind with panic thinking that Ben is going to shove her out of the car and onto the street, but then she feels a hand sliding across her shoulders and pulling her in. Her left cheek rests against the rough corduroy of his jacket as Ben holds her. Beyond embarrassment now, she leans into the embrace. The pain from her ribs at the way they’re twisted stabs, but the need to be held overrides any inclination she has to pull away. Ben is warm, and solid, and smells faintly of laundry detergent. One of his hands strokes the back of her head and Rey wonders if he can feel the knots in her hair.
“You’re alright,” Ben repeats intermittently as Rey goes from sobbing to crying to reluctantly pulling away and wiping her face with a sleeve.
“Thanks,” it’s all she can manage, Rey can’t even bear to look at him, not after that display. Instead, she appraises the apartment building through the windscreen while blinking away stray tears. The lawn in front of it is neatly trimmed and framed with bouncy green hedges.
“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour,” Ben says, nodding towards the building.
“Okay,” Rey sucks in deep breaths, trying to get ahold of herself.
The cold pavement burns her though her thin grey hospital socks as she steps out of the car. She feels strange and out of place as she shuffles towards the sidewalk, pharmacy bag looped around a wrist and hospital bag tucked under an arm. It’s as if the air is lighter than normal and the angle of sunlight is off by just a few degrees. Ben offers her an arm when she reaches him, but she doesn’t take it. Instead, she grits her teeth and trails him up to the front door.
“Fob?”
“Oh, right.”
She digs her purse out of the hospital bag and almost sighs in relief when her fingers graze her keyring. This at least is familiar. The star shaped carabiner has new keys on it, but her old peeling gym tag and a laminated flower pressing she’d made a few years ago are also there. She holds an unfamiliar grey fob up to the sensor and the light goes green as the door unlatches. Ben yanks it open, and she thanks him as she limps past him into the foyer. Black and white tiles cover the floor and bronze mailboxes line the cubby that branches off to the left.
“You’re on the fourth floor,” Ben says, sweeping past her and up the carpeted staircase.
He waits for her on the first landing and Rey can feel beads of sweat form in her hairline as she pushes up the first few steps. She leans heavily on the railing as she continues to climb. It takes her more effort than she thinks she’s ever put into anything to reach Ben.
“Ready to let me help you yet?”
“No,” Rey pants, leaning against the wall with her eyes pressed tightly shut. Her leg is throbbing, and she can feel a drop of sweat escape her hair and trickle down the side of her face.
“Come on, we don’t have all year.”
Rey opens her eyes to glower at Ben, but he only shakes his head and laughs. He then turns his back to her and crouches down.
“Get on.”
“What?”
“Get on,” he’s looking at her over a shoulder now, eyebrows raised.
Rey didn't think it could get more humiliating than crying in front of him but getting a piggyback ride might just qualify. In no real position to object though, she reluctantly wraps her arms around his neck and legs around his torso, slotting the hospital bag between his back and her front as her cheeks warm. He tucks his hands under her thighs and stands.
“Good?”
“Uh huh,” Rey tightens her legs instinctively. The urge to tuck her nose into his hair is overwhelming but she refrains, resting her chin on his shoulder instead as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “Show off.”
“Was that a challenge?”
“Stop.”
“Because I think I can do three.”
“Do not.”
Rey feels his shoulders shrug under her arms as he begins taking the stairs three at a time.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I could probably do four.”
“Don’t.”
“Fine,” Ben laughs, “I don’t think I could do four anyways. Not with you on my back.”
“Tragedy.”
“Enjoying the view from up there? It must be a nice change of pace for you.”
“I’m not actually that short, you know,” Rey grumbles half-heartedly, “Besides, the view is just a head full of dandruff, it’s no hot air balloon ride.”
Ben snorts, “Yeah right, you can just admit you like riding me. No harm in it.”
“Fine, I love riding you, highlight of my life, really,” the words are out of her mouth before she has time to consider the trap she’s just walked into.
“It’s funny, girls are always saying that to me. I just never imagined that you’d be one of them.”
“Shut up.” Rey swats him on the side of the head laughing, the plastic bag on her wrist swings. At least when Ben is being vexing and off colour, he’s familiar.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Rey asks after he’s set her down in front of what is ostensibly her door. Apartment number 405. She searches the keyring for one that looks like it might fit into the lock. The first doesn't work.
“What do you mean?” Ben is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his broad chest.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Rey glances up, before checking a second key. It slides in easily and she twists it, displacing the deadbolt.
“Is it really so hard to believe that I-” Ben cuts himself off, “You know what, it doesn’t matter.” He pushes the door open and holds it for her as he steps inside of the apartment. “Look, you were just bulldozed in the street and nearly pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. Being nice is something of a social requirement right now, sweetheart.”
Rey follows him into the apartment, her apartment.
“I’m not ungrateful,” Rey says, shutting the door and then leaning back against it. She drops her bags next to the small entrance way table. “You just have to understand that it's weird.” She’s never seen the dish that sits on top of the table before, but she knows to set her keys down in it. “Is it not weird for you too?”
“No,” Ben looks at her intently, searching her eyes for something that Rey doesn’t think he finds. “It is.”
“Okay,” Rey chews the inside of her cheek, “Good. Great.”
“Truce?”
Rey looks down at his proffered hand, there’s no real reason for her to shake it. In an hour or so he’ll be gone and they’ll be back to interacting only a handful of times a year. He will go back to being loud, and insensitive, and politically reprehensible, and she will go back to glaring, and avoiding, and arguing depending on her mood.
In the spirit of not being a complete asshole after all he’s done for her today though she takes it. “Truce.”
“Excellent,” Ben doesn’t shake her hand, just squeezes it once before dropping it. The gesture sends a rush of sensation through Rey’s body and it’s like someone’s injected her with warm molasses. The feeling courses slowly through her veins, sticky and sweet. She doesn’t think that Ben notices as she shakes her head to usher out the unsettling feeling, he just turns and heads down the hallway. “Kitchen, bathroom, living room, your room,” Ben points as he walks. They’re somewhat obvious, but Rey doesn’t mind, distracted by looking at the way she’s organized the space.
There’s a lot of unfamiliar furniture, but her old trinkets and various belongings are scattered throughout as well. The apartment is small, but comparatively gargantuan to her old single dorm. Rey marvels at the large windows lined with potted plants. There’s more green and light in this apartment than she’s ever gotten to live with before. She pauses in front of the bookcase in the living room, running her finger across the bottom of a framed picture of her and Finn. He had given it to her as a Christmas present one year. She suddenly feels like crying again, what she wouldn’t give to be tucked under his arm right now as she is in the picture, the easy intimacy of their friendship cocooning her. A dull headache begins to pulse at her temples.
“Ben?” Rey asks, turning to face him. He’s watching her from where he’s half-sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.
“Hm?”
“What’s my teaching position?”
“Oh,” Rey thinks she sees relief cross his face at the question but can’t be sure. She doesn’t know him well enough to say. “You’re TA-ing a couple of classes for the summer semester, actually maybe it’s just one, I’m not sure.”
“Thanks,” Rey says. She supposes this makes sense; she’ll have to check her email.
“Hopefully you won’t have missed much, since it’s still Sunday.”
“Yeah,” Rey agrees, even though she knows she’s much farther behind than two days. She can’t remember any of the training, content, or even the course codes. And on the off chance that the days she’s been out haven't affected this job, she knows that she’s surely missed at least one shift sitting at the campus information desk where she points out landmarks to visiting teenagers. The rhythmic pounding of her heart suggests that these are problems she should start trying to solve right now, but her sudden lightheadedness suggests otherwise. She stumbles towards the couch and sits.
“You good?”
“Yes, yeah, fine,” Rey shades her eyes with a hand. The sunlight coming in through the generous windows is suddenly too bright and her headache intensifies, concentrating behind her eye sockets. “Just a headache.”
“I think that was on your symptom list.” Ben crosses the room to stand in front of her. “Come on, lets get you to bed,” he offers her a hand and this time Rey takes it without hesitation, letting him pull her up. He supports her to the bedroom and pulls the duvet back with his free hand so that she can crawl in.
“Don’t fall asleep just yet,” Ben instructs, leaving the room, but her eyelids are already drooping. The familiar feeling of her duvet cover is so comforting that she almost sighs. “Here,” he’s back already, pressing a pill into one hand and a bottle into the other.
Rey washes the pill down with the yellow Powerade before he takes the bottle away and sets it on the nightstand. She watches blearily as he adjusts the curtains, they’re already shut, but he moves the fabric around to cover some of the cracks of light.
She knows that when she wakes up he’ll be gone and she’ll be alone again and she wants to reach out and say thank you and please don’t go and stay, but she’s not brave enough. Instead, she tries to memorize the shape of his back as he leaves the room so that she can remember that someone came for her when she thought she had no one. That someone cared enough about her to look after her, even just for a day. And that that someone was Ben Solo.