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Two years ago
She didn’t feel anything when she left him, if she had to be brutally honest. She hadn’t, not for him, not for some time now. Especially not when she had found out he was using (again), not when she found out he had hooked up with his ex the last time she was out of town touring with the band.
“Rey,” Seth had tried to plead with her, slurring and struggling, still half coked out of his mind.
“No.” She shoved him backward, away from her, relieved that the only things she could feel roiling in her gut were disgust and pity. “And don’t call me.”
She had left him sobbing in the doorway of his dingy apartment, feeling relieved that she had gone over to his place to end things. This way, she didn’t need to deal with the snivelling, drugged-up mess that was Seth Jameson and get Poe or Finn (most likely both, with much glee) to help her “take out the trash”.
“I mean it, Seth.” She called over her shoulder. “Get clean. And don’t fucking call me.”
The thud of her combat boots down the stairs had satisfyingly drowned out his wails as she headed for the nearest bar, ready to get good and steaming drunk, maybe hustle a few games of pool.
****
Now
It was as if The Resistance had gotten rid of an ill omen the moment she dumped Seth - they had gotten the call that very evening that Warner Records had signed them. They had gone to Unkar Plutt’s failing record company the next morning to tell him that they weren’t going to put up with his sorry, money cheating ass any longer, serving him the court papers they had prepared.
A month later, and they were returned what Plutt owed them, and then some, thankfully covering the lawyer’s fee that they had managed to scrape together from before. Rose, Finn, Poe, and herself had gone out for a celebration the next evening, and Rey had woken the following morning feeling lighter than she had in years.
Four months later, they had their first full album out (The Resistance: Fuck the Empire), having saved up on material as they had been unwilling to release anything else other than their EP under Plutt.
Another six and they were on tour, the “hottest punk band on earth since The J.E.D.I.”, which was high praise indeed to be put on the same pedestal as Anakin freaking Skywalker.
A year and a month later, and they had their second album out (The Resistance: Death to the Supremacy) and were once again on tour.
Rey still couldn’t believe how much their fan base had grown in such little time - they went from playing modest-sized gigs to selling out the same arenas that sold out for Metallica, The Clash, Iron Maiden… Not bad for a lowly British orphan, she liked to quip in interviews, not bad for some little nobody like me.
The press, they ate it up (it helped that their single “Nobody (Like Me)” on their latest album had peaked at number one on many charts over the world). They loved her, they loved the band, and for once in her life Rey felt like she had something that was hers.
Not to say that the press wasn’t a fickle lover; there was always some new rumour about her sleeping with Finn, or Rose, or Poe, or that her baggy shirt on her late night McDonalds run meant that she was pregnant. Three weeks ago they'd run a story about her and Marilyn Manson, and two weeks ago it was Steve Buscemi, for maker’s sake. She remembered Poe laughing so hard he cried, falling off the top of the luggage they were about to pack on to the tour bus, where he had been perched.
She always had reporters shoving into her space, asking her if she had a “new squeeze” or if she was fucking one of her bandmates. Her answer never wavered; no matter how much she wanted to shout at them to leave me alone, you bloody insufferable arseholes, her reply was always a standard “I’m riding solo”.
****
“Thank you for coming out tonight, Chandrila!” She shouted into the microphone, raising her other fist in the air to the rapturous, tumultuous cacophony from the crowd - the cheers were addictive, and Rey was drunk on the high. She turned to Poe who was on her left, grinning back at her and playing a little riff near the front of the stage where a gaggle of groupies screeched and waved around signs ( “Finger me like you do that guitar”, “#FinnPoe”, and “I’d let you play my G string” were some of the tamer ones).
“This is our second last song,” she said, smiling and shushing the crowd when there was a chorus of “aww”’s. “It’s a cover, one that we had on our latest album.” The crowd went wild at the mention of the only cover on their latest album, only quieting down when she put up both her hands, leaving only Finn playing the opening riff. She knew he’d repeat it until she found someone in the crowd to dedicate it to, as had been her habit with that song. Her eyes roved over the mass of bodies, smiling as she locked eyes with a striking blonde amazon in the front, towering over everyone in the vicinity.
“This one’s dedicated to the sexy lady in the front, in the Arch Enemy shirt.” She called out, pointing to her and watching the woman scream in delight, squeezing what Rey presumed to be her amused, redheaded boyfriend next to her … as Rey’s attention was immediately pulled by the dark haired man to his left.
He was gorgeous. Aquiline nose and sensuous lips, he had longish hair that framed his face, sweat plastering some of it down to his forehead and cheeks but the most of it falling in loose waves.
I know him, was the first thought that came to her. I’ve seen him before. At another show? It wasn’t uncommon for loyal fans to come out and see them at multiple venues, but this man’s striking countenance and intense dark gaze spoke of something else, something from another lifetime, her mind called out unhelpfully.
Deal with it later, you muppet, you’re in front of a bloody crowd!
Thankfully, all of this had transpired within a split second and she was able to pull her attention back to the amazon, asking, “What’s your name, darling?”
“Gwen!” Came the call from the trio.
All friends then, Rey mused.
“Gwen Phasma!”
“This song’s dedicated to Gwen Phasma. This is “Sands” by The J.E.D.I.”
****
“Do we even have time to do this?” Poe called to Rey and Finn as he waltzed into the bathroom.
“We have to! We have to make time.” Rose exclaimed, walking out, towelling her hair dry. “The Falcon is the hottest, most exclusive bar in Coruscant. Hell, on this side of the fucking earth.” She draped herself over Finn and Rey who were lounging on the settee, with Rey’s hands absentmindedly taking the towel from Rose and blotting the rest of Rose's hair for her as Rose practically purred in her lap.
“Yeah, and that begs the question - why the hell would they want some punk band messing up the aesthetic in their place?” Finn scratched his nose as he peered down at invitation on his phone. “Acoustic set or not, we don’t really fit in with their vibe - maybe they mistook us for a jazz band with a really similar name?”
“That’s not possible,” Rey said, jabbing a finger at the bottom of the email. “They’ve specifically requested we do “Rogue One Two Three”, “Takodana Nights”, and our cover of “Sands”,” she pointed out, “I hardly think a jazz band would have songs with the exact same names.”
“I suppose,” Finn conceded, “but we were gonna use that spare night in Coruscant to go party! And this,” he looked back at the email, “Armitage Hux? Could have given us a little more than a three day notice.”
“Aw c’mon Finn,” came Poe’s pleading voice. “It’ll be good - I passed that place some years ago and wanted to go in but didn’t have the time, Wedge told me that it was one of the swankiest places.”
“Finn’s just being a wet blanket.” Rey concluded, laughing as her best friend swatted her on the shoulder. “Look, it says that all our drinks are on the house after the set. It’s one set, and we’re getting paid -” Rey squinted at the amount. How many zeroes is that?! “How much?” She croaked.
“Yeah, that’s the other reason.” Finn said, slightly incredulous. “I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or - ”
“Let’s do it,” Rose says, sitting up. “Like Rey said, it’s one set - we can just leave after, if we don’t like it. If we turn up, and it’s all a joke,” her eyes sparkled with mischief, “we fuck shit up.”
Rey laughed and draped an arm easily over her friend, drawing her in for a hug. “It’ll be like the old days.”
“We’re The motherfucking Resistance.” Rose added, nodding at Finn while she squeezed Rey in return, “if it’s some nasty joke we’ll trash the place -”
“And have the money to cover it.” Poe finished drily for her, walking out of the bathroom. “Incoming!”
They shrieked as he launched himself on top of them, knocking over the almost empty bottle of champagne on the coffee table that had come complimentary with the presidential suite of the Royal Alderaan Hotel.
****
It had been a rather smooth set, and Rey and the band were pleasantly surprised by how many people had seemed to be real fans of their material.
They’d played at smaller venues back in the early days of the band, real back alley type dives that had needles strewn about the floor, dark and dank with shitty lighting and sub-par sound equipment. The Falcon, however, was a whole other ball game - the stage was much lower than what they were used to, and the soft amber hues of the ambiance lighting really brought a personal quality to it.
The sound equipment was state of the art, if not a little different from what they were used to, but it had worked out extremely well with the electric-acoustics that Finn and Poe had swapped their usual electrics for. The jazz drum set that Rose was using had been provided by Falcon and was of extremely good quality, and the theatre style stage mics positioned around them meant that for once, Rey didn’t have a mic stand or a mic to hide directly behind. She had felt exposed starting off, but it really added an honest, almost vulnerable edge to their pieces - she had gotten really into it and knew from her friend’s faces that this unconventional setting pleased them greatly as well.
“We usually play this cover as our second last piece,” Rey said to the enraptured audience, “But the invitation we received specifically said to save it for last. Besides,” she grinned impishly, “I hardly think you’d appreciate if we closed with “Starkiller” and I shouted at you to ‘open up the fucking pit’ (!)” The crowd laughed gamely and she was disproportionately relieved that the joke didn’t fall flat.
“Anyway, we’d like to thank you for being so gracious for hosting us tonight, we have a feeling we’re not the usual scene around here.” Rose played a “ba-dum-tss” on the drum set, drawing more laughs.
“This last song is “Sands” by The J.E.D.I,” Rey paused, holding up her phone, checking the note she made to make sure she wouldn’t get it wrong on stage and embarrass herself, “and it’s dedicated to Ms. Leia Organa - Happy Birthday, ma’am.”
There was polite, respectful applause then, with some patrons turning in their seats - to stage right where, five rows back, a regal woman with grey hair piled in an elegant up-do stood to receive the applause -
- and tugged up the man who had been sitting beside her, who looked embarrassed, who looked like -
- it’s him.
From the concert at Chandrila!
Rey forgot how to speak as the applause died away, completely taken aback. She stared into the man’s eyes, gaze pinning her the same way it had in Chandrila, and she had the same feeling of I know him from somewhere. Which was just as well -
“I’d like to thank my son for arranging this.” Leia spoke to the crowd, smiling.
Her son is Armitage Hux? Rey could now put a name to a face -
“Not many of you know, but Anakin Skywalker is - was - my father.”
Rey felt her jaw drop as she shared a look with her bandmates, an audible gasp going through the crowd. The lead singer of The J.E.D.I. was this woman’s father?! When she looked back at Armitage, she found him still looking at her. And that makes this man his grandson…
“My father wrote the song for my mother, and it’s always held a special place in my heart, and I may not look it but in my younger days I was a punk rocker, daddy’s perfect little girl.” She turned to smile directly at Rey. “My son is a very big fan of your band,” Armitage coloured and ducked his head, finally tearing his gaze from Rey’s, “and I fell in love with your cover when he showed it to me. It’s the first cover that I’ve ever felt has done my father’s song justice, so I’d like to thank you once again for humouring an old woman and taking this gig on such short notice.”
****
The band had finished their set and had taken drinks with Leia in the VIP area. She thanked them again and they had posed for pictures (“I can’t wait to show my husband when he gets back! He was supposed to be here, but he got caught up in Crait’s bad weather, should be reaching home tomorrow- ” ), and were about to leave. Rey was still dragging it out, looking around, reluctant to go to the next bar Finn wanted to scout, because Armitage had disappeared, which was a shame because Rey had desperately wanted to -
“May I have your autograph?” A low voice intoned as Rey spun quickly. Perhaps too quickly, because she found herself right in Armitage’s space, unable to back away as she looked into his eyes - and noted they weren’t as dark as she first perceived them to be, a viscous brandy that filled her with a warmth she couldn’t describe. She realised he was holding out a notebook and a pen.
“Oh! Oh, yes, of course.” She didn’t bother asking him for his name since she already knew it from the email. Rey took the pad with trembling hands - maker, get a grip, Rey! Don’t get thrown by a pretty pair of eyes -
Except Armitage wasn’t just that, was he? She knew him from - from somewhere, even before Chandrila. But it was such a strange name, surely she’d have remembered it if she had met him before -
The thoughts coursed through her as she wrote out, ‘To Armitage, with love xxx REY’, and handed it back, slightly taken aback when he frowned.
“Um… That’s - that’s not my name.”
“It - it’s not?” She said, confused. “It was on the email.”
Realisation dawned on his face. “Ah, no, that’s - that’s the manager,” he said quietly. “I own the place.”
“Oh. Right, sorry,” she said, laughing and taking the book back from him, ripping off the page and uncapping the pen once more, poised to sign on a fresh page. “To whom am I dedicating this to?”
“To Ben,” he said softly, reaching up to brush several wayward strands of his obsidian locks out of his eyes, “Ben Solo.”
Ben Solo.
Ben Solo.
Ben Solo.
And suddenly, she knew where she had met him from before.
****
Two years Ago
It was good she wasn’t crying. She was drunk, and still not crying over Seth, and that’s how she knew she was already a hundred percent over him. I have been for a while now, was the truth she finally allowed herself. She threw back another shot of tequila.
“Come here often, honey?” A voice had spoken, far too close to her ear for her liking. She sighed and turned to see a balding man with bloodshot eyes practically nose to nose with her. She was inebriated, but she could definitely hold her ground in a fight if it came down to that. Jakku had taught her plenty.
“Not really, no.” She smiled stiffly, narrowing her eyes.
“I’ve never banged a British chick before.” He slurred, advancing on her as she slid out of the high bar stool, standing in case of an altercation.
“I’ve never banged an arsewipe before, and I’m not about to start now.” She retorted sharply.
“You fucking bitch - ” He lunged -
She sidestepped easily and jabbed her elbow into his cheek. He bellowed in rage, spinning once more to face her - as he turned, she grabbed one of the abandoned pool cues from the table beside her (she had beaten all of the people stupid enough to challenge her that night and they had paid her in drinks, how do you think she got that inebriated in the first place?) and spun it above her head so that when it came down, it hit him square on the same cheekbone she had elbowed. A sickening crunch filled the air. She swung the stick once more, hitting him in the family jewels as he howled in pain.
He went down unceremoniously and he went down hard, crying on the floor. She threw down the cue on top of him and it rolled off with an unceremonious clatter.
“Right, no fighting in this bar - ”
Rey looked up and realised the whole bar had stilled and was watching her, silent except for the pathetic, sobbing whelp on the floor and the heavy footfalls of the barkeep, who had come out from behind the bar and was now doing his best to herd her towards the door.
Rey rounded on him angrily, trying to stay upright, shoving his hands off her - fuck, shouldn’t have taken that last shot - “But he started it! He tried to - ”
“I don’t care, he’s a regular, you can’t be doing that to paying folk - ” The barkeep stilled as a shadow was cast over his face.
“Don’t touch her.”
“Y-you’re going to defend her?” The barkeep tried bravely, head craning back to look at the man who had materialised behind Rey. She tried to get a good look at him, but he was wearing a hood and it was dark in the bar.
He was tall, plenty taller than her, and she wasn’t a short woman. Pale, from what she could see. She could make out a set of almost sensual lips, made cruel by the grimace twisting them down in the corners, a harsh set to the stranger’s jaw.
“You didn’t see anything.” The man didn’t answer the barkeep, throwing him two hundred. Rey’s eyes bulged as she tried to determine if she was imagining things. How much had she drank?
“You never saw her, you understand? This idiot,” the man kicked the still quietly sobbing man on the floor, raising his voice so that the whole bar could hear, “fell. And broke his own fucking idiot face. Anyone who says differently will answer to Ben Solo.”
****
Now
Rey gasped as she took a step back from the man who stood before her, the man who had helped her out of a sticky situation two years ago when she had gone to get “good and steaming drunk” after Seth.
“You… You sent me home.” Rey breathed.
Ben nodded.
“You…” Rey stilled, jaw dropping. “You wrote your number on my palm! With your name!”
Ben nodded again.
“I… I washed the number off in the shower when I got home, I was too drunk to think.” It was all coming back to her now, a rush of guilt and relief, “I woke the next morning and I wanted to call you,” she swallowed, “to thank you for getting me home safe, but I - I realised I hadn’t saved your number in my phone. And for the life of me, I couldn’t remember your name.”
Ben smiled at her. “It’s alright. I wasn’t looking for anything in return - ”
“Rey! We’re leaving, we’re - oh, hi.” Poe came to a standstill next to her as the other two followed. He flashed Ben a good natured grin.
“Guys… this is Ben, he owns the place. Leia’s son?”
“Hey, yeah man, thanks for having us.”
“Thank you for agreeing to play on such short notice. It’s an honour to meet you all.” He said simply. "Before you go, may I have your autographs?” Ben asked, suddenly reserved, smile gone from his face.
A smile that Rey desperately wanted to see again.
“Yeah, sure of course - ”
The book made its rounds, and when it got passed from Rose to Rey she paused. “Um. You guys go on without me. I’m just, catching up with Ben.”
“Catching up?” Finn frowned. “You guys know each other?”
“Sort of.” She supplied vaguely, beseeching her friends with her eyes. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. “Don’t worry, peanut,” Finn softened and nodded at her use of their shared nickname, “I’m safe with him.”
“Alright. We’re going down the road to Rebel Rebel, just text when you’re coming over, we’ll keep you updated if we move.” Poe said, clapping her on the arm.
Rose gave her a squeeze. “Thanks for having us, Ben!” She chirped, linking her arm through Poe’s and Finn’s, dragging them away before Finn could ask anymore questions.
A twin chorus of “Hey!” came from the boys.
“Can’t you two knuckleheads see that he wants her alone?” Came Rose’s withering reply as they trio walked away.
Ben chuckled. “That obvious, am I?” Rey’s eyes flicked back to Ben, feeling her face heat up.
“Er.”
“I meant what I said,” Ben continued mercifully, as she was at a total loss, drowning in the sea of his burning umber gaze, “I never wanted anything in return. Just to know that you got home safe.”
“I did.”
“I know,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as that gorgeous, slightly lopsided smile made it’s way back on to his face. Sweet maker yes, he’s gorgeous. “There was news the next day about how my favourite band had just signed with Warner, and told Unkar Plutt to go fuck himself.”
She looked at him, astonished. “You’ve followed our music for… for that long?”
“Since the first EP.” He paused, as if uncertain he should continue. “I… my father, he has an indie music shop in downtown Coruscant, and I’ve played your first EP in there so many times that I still catch the old man humming “Grey” to himself from time to time.
“I… Thank you. For your support, and for getting me home.” It sounded empty, even to her. She wanted to say so much more, but… how? She was out of practise after not dating for two years after Seth, and, and she wanted -
“Can I take you out?” He hurried on, “Please don’t say yes because you think you owe me, I wouldn’t -”
She shook her head. “I… I’m based out of Chandrila, and I would love to, I was trying to find a way to ask you, but… I don’t live in Coruscant or anywhere near, I can’t, I’m sorry.”
Ben grinned at her. “I’m based out of Chandrila too. There’s a reason I hired Hux, he’s in charge while I’m gone, managing my other businesses in Chandrila-”
“Then yes.” She breathed, drawn in ever closer into his orbit. “I… I don’t know how to explain this but… seeing you at the concert. Something clicked, something that hasn’t clicked with anyone else.”
“I felt it, too.”
If the stage was addictive, then Ben Solo’s smile would be the death of her. She’d do anything, anything, for him to keep smiling at her that way.
****
The next time a reporter asked her about her relationship status as she was walking out of the recording studio to the sleek black Audi parked outside, a certain debonair gentleman waiting for her in it, she had laughed and given them the same answer she always had:
“I’m riding Solo.”