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Chapter Text

Rey Halloran looks out of the ferry boat, feeling the wild Atlantic breeze tangle her mess of chocolate hair and rejoicing as she hears the crystalline waves clash against the metallic hull of their small ship in a jagged pattern. On the opposite side of the boat her best friend/fellow intern/ roommate Finn is throwing up everything his stomach ever ate. If he'd just listened to the nice old lady in the pantry who told them to save whatever rich and heavy Irish dish caught their attention for later instead of eating like a maniac then he'd fine but no, boys have to stuff their faces with butter sandwiches and fruit pies. Honestly, how on earth did anyone ever believe the first idiot who claimed masculine superiority was the best way to rule society?

She's probably being unfair to him. Finn grew up in the weathered, poverty-stricken slums of Uganda until a police officer forced him, at gunpoint, to join the tragically high amount of child soldiers on Algeria. When fate finally gave him the chance to desert he'd taken it, though the hows of it remain a mystery to Rey after five years of friendship. The only clue she has is that her childhood best friend Poe had played a part in it and almost gotten arrested in his Army years. One week Poe was writing about having tea with some lovely Iraqi family and the next he had frantically penned he wasn't a traitor and that he'd be 'bringing a friend' to stay over for a while. Circumstances like that would leave anyone with a strong aversion to the rules, PTSD therapist or no therapist. That in mind, she walks over to Finn and gives him a handkerchief to wipe the vomit off his face. 

"You know only old people carry handkerchiefs right?"


"You're welcome Finn. Hopefully you'll listen to the cafeteria lady the next time?"


"Oh don't worry, I learned my lesson Rey. But I am going to break the rules if some reason they tell we can't visit the monastery at Skellig Michael."


"The chances of that happening are one in a million."


"With my luck, I'll end up being the one."

Though recently famous because it was used in the last Star Wars, Skellig Michael had been a topic of interest to Rey long before 'The Last Jedi' premiered. Ever since she saw it on some old magazine while waiting on Social services to place on foster home yellow (she'd lost track of how many 'homes' they placed her when counting the orphanage returns so she started using colors to differentiate each new 'trip') the little girl, now woman, was instantly and irreversibly drawn to it and everything even remotely associated with Ireland. She'd picture the Islands in their original Celtic glory when every other six year old girl fawned over Disney Princesses, saw white sails with ancient runes reaching out to the heavens in her dreams, sea pixies prancing on the fabric for mischief's sake and winking at her as if they were truly allowing her to be complicit in their harmless joke. She had wanted to be like the women in those ships, fierce and bold and independent while they reigned mastery of their vessels. Rey likes to believes she's succeeded on the independent part on most matters, she pays her own rent and doesn't take anything for free. Works for her bread and butter, having never accepted a coupon after seeing how grubby foster parents used them for their own selfish benefits.  

Other times she dreamed when awake: though in this case her mind and soul were not captivated by playful images, rather entranced by a song, strong and mystic and beautiful. Her mystery tune almost came from the sea, harmonizing with waves crashing against the shore, a flourishing crescendo carried in the emerald-pearl foam seething on their crests. Of course her city surroundings limited the origin to documentaries from Animal Planet and whatnot but the melody was there nonetheless, giving her something to call 'special' and mentally rebuke all her bullies in school whose taunts were more or less resumed into 'worthless orphan brat'.

'But you heard the song at its source once before coming here', her mind treacherously says. Reminding her of a time and situation which she can never return to.

She had been to the ocean once, when escaping from a particularly nasty foster parent led her to hide in the back of a fish truck which took her across three states before they unloaded. Rey had been ten, the age of little orphan Annie in that 80s musical film when she ran away from the orphanage in the laundry basket. She'd figured that if a fictional character whose guardian was only drunk could escape then she could run away from a foster parent who snuffed out cigarettes with her skin. Obviously the truck driver who found her hiding between the trout and mackerel didn't hold the same idea and tried to feign he wasn't going to call Social Services but it hadn't mattered to Rey, she was too energized by the song finally laid bare in front of her, the one crescendo now a gravitational orbit of musical delight. The poor man was woefully ill-prepared for such enthusiasm, he never stood a chance in catching her.

Like Narcissus, Rey had disregarded common sense and just plunged into the salty water. But unlike the mythological tragic figure she knew where to stop before drowning and stayed at the skirts of the ocean. A few fish passed by her, the child considered it a crowd come to greet her as they let her touch their soft scales. It was tranquility made real until she heard a cry out in the rocks. Thinking someone might be hurt Rey walked out of the shallows and into the rocks where she's definitely drown if a wave came too hard and fast. Someone had indeed been injured and was in need of help, but the somebody wasn't human. Her would be rescued person was a very beautiful seal with an ugly net wrapped around its body. Massive cerulean eyes pleading for aid only she could provide for the moment.

 Animal Planet had warned that seals were magnificent yet deadly creatures, not possessing the predominantly gentle nature of their cousin the manatee. But the poor thing had looked so lost and sad and frightened that Rey couldn't resist the urge to hug him the way she always wanted to be hugged. Contradicting every nature documentary she'd ever seen, the marine mammal hadn't tried to attack her as she got closer. When she hugged it, the seal had nuzzled its nose into her small chest like a babe and even moved in a more accessible position once it realized Rey was trying to break the nets. After that, all her plans of adventures transformed into taking care of her friend. (Yes, she was lonely enough to call a wild animal who could lunge at her in any moment her friend. Especially after her friend 'stood up' after she broke his netting and wrapped her in what her child mind had persistently called 'fish arms' to give her back the hug she had gifted him on their first day together.) Keeping out of sight from the authorities became even more paramount once she started 'borrowing' fish and antibiotics to help her friend's gash recover, who knew fish was watched more carefully than a first aid kit? 

Her friend would keep her warm at night, carefully pressing himself to Rey's side when the cold seaside breeze froze her from head to toe. Kept its body only partially submerged after feeling well enough to waddle back to the waters to stay nice and toasty for the little girl who had only the clothes she would trade in stores for the ones she was wearing. Poor but happy and wanted by somebody who smiled when she came back. The girl who had hoarded affection miserly grew used to nose kisses and laughing as her friend shook his head or made funny tricks for Rey's amusement.

A tourist's photo had brought an end to all that, on their second week together Social Services dragged her away from the friend she never thought to name since he hadn't really belonged to her. The ocean didn't answer to any given name, neither did the sky or the clouds which roam over it. Why should her friend then? She had known he was a boy after his astonishingly embarrassed look as she peeked at his belly while he napped. Her friend was a boy, he liked her and he was honest about it. The rest was not hers to say. But Rey'd wished she had bequeathed him some other title as the seal cried out for her, so she could call him something other than 'my friend' as he faded from sight, seal and waves and sand dwindling in the distance behind the car. 

"Rey? Rey, you all right?" She's brought back to the present by Finn softly shaking her shoulder.

 Slower than she would prefer, Rey detaches herself from the past. Attempts to step back from the grounds which none can walk after leaving, lest they swallow you whole. 

"Yes, I'm fine Finn. No need to be concerned.''

Finn's relieved smile is a good and happy thing to behold. It doesn't ease her guilt at how she is unable to fully repress a sorrow which should have been dealt with long ago.Before she knows it, a stray tear escapes her eyes hazel irises and falls unceremoniously to the tides. 

In a moment of childlike belief, Rey thinks of the old legends in the land they've soon to step in. Legends about sirens and sea sprites and other aquatic myths which could be summoned by a drop of blood in the ocean and a tear. 'The world always has a bit of magic left for a miracle, especially in Ireland' she heard once. Maybe it could spare some for her? Without further ado Miss Halloran takes off her earring and pricks her heart finger with it's tip. A small ruby drips from the finger, mingling with the waters just before Finn calls for her to come back inside. 

(Unbeknownst to Rey, the ocean grants her request and lets her old friend hear). 

Chapter Text

The boat which had rocked so ferociously against the tides as they left America reaches the Irish shores as graceful as Degas's ballerinas. Almost like it had internally rebelled to leave its sanctuary and was all too ready to come back home. Sweaters are a must, as everyone who's stayed inside the warm boat is quick to discover when stepping out into the bridge. Clear waters shrouded in mystery lap softly into the rocky terrain. The eras-old task of slowly ushering the mighty Goliaths to their submarine kingdom where no man can stay for too long ongoing. Rey smiles as she watches a few long-spine sea-scorpions swim along the borders of the 'New Cannon' (And really who names a ship after weaponry?) nary a care in the world. Their scale-less frames shimmering as the sunlight hits them just right. Unfortunately, they leave almost as quickly as they came. Waiting for Poe and Finn to walk outside with their luggage (really just Poe's luggage, both Rey and Finn learnt how to store everything in a single cardboard box much too early in life) the young lady takes out her 'Marine Biology' book, marks their page with a tiny star and goes briefly into the section on seals for no particular reason. Her fingers gloss over the familiar words, comfortable in the well-loved phrasing and tender as they touch the grey seal photo. The fluffy white angel and the mother who is everything and nothing like her bygone companion.

' A very large mammal, the grey seal spends most of its time out at sea where it feeds on fish. They are easily spotted at the surface close to shore or 'hauled out' onto rocks and beaches to rest or digest their food. Grey seals also come ashore to give birth, with large colonies breeding on sandy shores on the east coast of England and on remote beaches and islands-'

Suddenly, Rey feels somebody snatch her book out of grasp. 'There's only one man I know who'd do such a thing without fear of violent repercussion...….'

"Poe, give me my book back!!!" 

Mister Poe Dameron (aka really cool older brother most kids want growing up that still manages to piss you off) mock-bows in response to her yelling. He seems like one of those Al-Andalus prices as his olive features strike a sharp contrast to the fog-shrouded mountains behind. The old tome is promptly returned, Rey kisses the cover in relief. At her smile the Latin American man tips his 1950s fedora that's out of style for 99% of their generation. By no effort whatsoever the infuriating young man still manages to look handsome enough for a lady passing next to them to blush. Poe being Poe basks it in, shamelessly pleased at the reaction he gets out of women. 'And some of the boys too' she thinks as a fellow traveler asks to help carry that oversized cream suitcase full of traveling stickers. Perhaps she won't get bothered by silly local boys if Poe dazzles all the unwanted focus to his direction. 

Not wanting any further mishaps, Miss Halloran places the cherished item in her purse. Finn chooses that moment to come outside, balancing a cardboard box in each hand. The main difference being that his carries several suspiciously plump, jam scented napkins at the borders. Poe lights up and puts down the luggage a second so he can put his arms around them. He embarrasses Finn and Rey alike when he sings the opening number for Pocahontas loud enough for all Kenmare bay to hear. 

Finn stares at him once they've safely entered solid ground. "Did you have to?"

Poe flashes Finn a goofy smile that's also charming. "Why yes, I absolutely did."

Jestingly, Rey shakes her head at her best friends' chatter (okay so maybe 'only' but two friends who are actually loyal in high water is much more lasting than a crowd of fair weather friends) and tries to see if Ireland has any taxis. Poe moves on to do the same, only with an eye on his bags. Finn just puts his scone inside a pocket. Their hollering lasts for exactly two and a half minutes till a stranger stops to tell the newcomers the town is small enough that taxis are rare in the area. 'No wonder it was 125 euros cheaper to arrive here rather than landing on Dingle Bay where we booked. Lord, this is going to try my patience.'

Truer mental commentaries were never spoken. Less than an hour later, the trio saw the news lady tell everyone floods in Killarney would slow down public transportation. Still, it wasn't that bad. After all the new buses extended unto the borders in the nearby National Park so at most they'd take a few hours and if not there was the train. Turned out that was a jinx, heavy October 'rare long of bout of rain' (8 bloody inches!!) has all the trains to Dingle cancelled. But the straw breaking the Camel's back was definitely the phone call from Professor Abrahams saying their marine biologist meeting was cancelled since their hotel closed cause of the nasty weather. Which also means they have nowhere to stay, so now they're stuck in some quaint little pub Rey's too pissed to like even if the beer does taste loads better than at home. Their current luck has left her with no hope that Poe will actually find someplace before the day ends. Her box's top is soggy from the leak she missed while napping so now she's resorted to duct tape and trying not to let anything else get wet.

If not for the small plush seal toy and her books then Rey would smash her box to the ground in frustration. Alas, she never really outgrew Pixar's Toy Story so the thought of harming the only plushy she wasn't forced to leave behind or saw get torn up cause foster parents hid drugs in it is horrible to say the least. Nevertheless, Finn notices her grip around the thin material's gotten just a bit tighter. A warm chocolate hand traces calming circles around her shoulders, relieving the young lady's tension. 

 Finn stops his massage. "You calm yet Rey?"

She turns to meet eyes with him. "Thank you Finn, I'm fine now."

He cups his hand in hers. "Things are going to get better, you'll see. In the meantime try not sneering at the beer."

Holding back a laugh as Finn goes to the bathroom for emergency paper toilet, Rey rubs her hands so the warmth spreads through her fingers. Noticing that her plush toy's whiskers are poking out she stops rubbing to place him inside her coat. Still following the Toy Story supervision she makes sure the little fellow's face is still able to breathe. 

"What a lovely little selch you have there."

Rey looks up to find out where the voice came from. It sounded like a woman, older. Perhaps a smoker for many years judging from the slight trill in her pronunciation-

"Down here Miss."

True to word, there is indeed a short heighted woman standing before her. Remembering her courtesies Rey waves hello at the older woman who glimpsed at her old toy. Maybe other people would offer her to see it but really she's had enough possessions taken by people she knows so letting strangers touch anything that belongs to her is inconceivable. Thankfully, the lady doesn't seem to mind her reluctance towards sharing. Instead she takes a pen out of her prehistoric carpet bag that has 'Maz' engraved on the top and begins to write on the nearest napkin. Curiosity overwhelms Rey's common sense as she picks up the napkin. It says 'People of the Sea Bed and Breakfast' though Rey can't read the Gaelic? part at the end.

"If you want a ride I can take you. They'll take you and your friends in for the week."

The young woman suppresses a squeal for joy. "Really?"

She nods. "Yes, it's no trouble for me and besides it's actually a favor to the owners. Busy season ends in August."

Unlike her Finn whoops in delight at the good news. Poe just shivers, muttering about how 70 degrees Fahrenheit is considered a cold winter back home in Puerto Rico. The ride is relatively short, yet the house they've been brought to is worlds apart from the modern buildings less than 10 miles ago. A charming stone-built farmhouse with ivy coating two of its walls, straight from a 19th century watercolor. The lady that steps outside from outside furthers the image, her intricate braid and impeccable posture as she holds a kriffing parasol of all things easily fitting into Georgian period films. Like a princess or a young Queen Victoria, her mind decides. Agreeing with all those other little girls ten years too late. It's not until she swears (very loudly) at the sight of poor Poe's still shivering form that Rey sees her as a modern woman. Though the young lady's subconscious keeps calling her 'silver Princess' as the aforementioned grey haired matron brings her a cup of spiced rum. It warms her up quicker than most remedies she's ever tried. Nutmeg and fruit calming the way her teeth have chattered involuntarily. This, combined with the house's innate coziness lets Miss Halloran drift off to sleep. Hearing the rain sprinkle the countryside. 

It is a very pleasant sleep, the kind without dreams. Just a calm rest that washes stress away. At least till she's woken up sometime around late noon by the older (whom Rey immediately tries NOT to think of as sinfully attractive cause of how his dripping wet clothes betray he's very much in shape) man with the blonde-grey, salt crusted beard that crankily kicks open the door shouting "All right, who summoned me!!"