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When people heard the term ‘witness protection,’ they assumed it meant black SUV’s with tinted windows, men with Kevlar vests, and dangerous criminals. Police cruisers, flashing lights, and high-profile trials were expected if the government was going to provide that level of security. At least, that’s what twenty years of watching prime-time dramas on TV said.
The morning his silver pick-up truck rolled into her driveway, not a single one of her neighbors thought it was odd. If any of them considered the towering man who exited the vehicle a threat, they didn’t care enough about her to take action. He walked into her house the way he’d come into her life— unannounced and uninvited.
Rey distinctively remembered locking her doors and windows before taking her morning shower. D.A. Dameron had advised her to stay indoors until they got her case sorted out. Rey expected it to take weeks, maybe even months, but when she exited her bathroom the cloud of steam wasn’t the only thing that followed her.
He moved like a shadow, deceptively close and utterly silent. It wasn’t until she undid her towel that he cleared his throat.
That was how she met U.S. Marshal Kylo Ren, brandishing her bedside lamp with one hand and clutching her towel to her chest with the other.
It was— if nothing else —a memorable moment.
His appearance started a chain reaction of events that transformed every facet of her life. Everything linking her to the Empire was removed. NSA-level hackers scrubbed away her digital footprint, field agents turned over her home, and a special team was dispatched to her office under the guise of a company-mandated fire drill.
In less than twenty-four hours, her identity was dismantled. Had anyone of her coworkers tried to find her, all they would have located was an empty house, a vacant parking spot, and a dying plant the government agents hadn’t bothered to water. She was stripped of anything that made her recognizable. Her hair was cut and dyed. She started wearing contacts, and her ankle tattoo was removed. In one day, Rey Niima was erased from existence.
When she woke the following morning, her name was Kira Ren.
Not long after, the media caught wind of her discovery. She’d known it was only a matter of time. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one. The day her name had changed, so had her address. Ren drove her across state lines, through the Mustafar Mountains, to Takodana.
For a moment, Rey thought they were only passing through the lake town. It was quaint, in a remote way. There wasn’t a single chain-store in over thirty miles. The closest gas station was back on the bypass and cell service was non-existent. She figured they would rest for the night before continuing north.
The Marshal had other plans.
Hidden down a dirt road, only accessible with four-wheel-drive, sat an old stone farmhouse, complete with free-range chickens and a private view of Lake Nymeve. It looked like a location from a travel blog, the type of place catering to city-dwellers who wanted a taste of country life. To add to the effect, there was an absence of phone lines and the only power came from a generator hook-up out back.
If Rey had thought she’d finally be able to catch up on her Netflix queue, she was sorely mistaken. The only list she’d be working through was the lengthy number of chores required by her new government-issued identity.
Ren explained each task to her, detailing how everything on the list would ensure they had enough food and water to sustain them. If being cut-off from society bothered him, he did not indicate it. To Rey, he appeared content with the decision.
When Ren finished reviewing the list, he glanced at her. “Any questions?”
“How long do I have to stay here?” she asked.
Rey expected him to give her an ambiguous answer; the way the leading men did in action movies. She waited to hear him respond with, “as long as it takes,” or, “until you’re ready,” or another sexually charged double entendre. By comparison, his real answer was anticlimactic.
“Once the trial has concluded and Palpatine is behind bars, there will be a cooling-off period, after which you’ll be transitioned to permanent housing,” he explained.
“And if they don’t find him guilty?”
He stiffened. “Then we go to Plan B.”
Ah, there it is, Rey thought with a satisfied grin.
She wondered who he’d pissed off at Arlington to get landed with her.
Corporate fraud and embezzlement were noteworthy crimes but her handler seemed wasted on a babysitting gig. Marshal Ren looked like the type to come walking out of burning carnage unscathed or jump into a dark cavern to rescue his partner. His physique was wasted on this assignment. His skin was reminiscent of a white marble statue and he was just as quiet.
They’d been living off the grid for a week. In that period, Rey could count the number of times he’d spoken to her on one hand.
She tried asking him about his career choice if it was hard to be away from his family,— did he have a family? —if he ever had to protect someone he didn’t believe deserved the service.
None of her questions yielded an answer. Ren didn’t even flinch. He continued chopping wood for their stove as if the only sound in the yard was him swinging his ax and the light spring breeze. Frustrated, Rey trudged over to the coop to feed the chickens. The flush across her face had everything to do with her anger and absolutely nothing to do with the fact Ren chose to complete his chores shirtless.
Still, it gave her an idea.
Rey started forgetting to take her clothes into the bathroom with her. Walking through the house in her towel, damp hair clinging to her neck became commonplace. Ren didn’t seem to notice. He barely glanced in her direction, too busy scribbling away in his pocket notebook.
She assumed it was where he kept his work log since they weren’t able to use any electronics. That was yet another thing that did not affect Ren.
His composure was unparalleled. Marshal Ren never complained about waking up before the sun to collect eggs. He didn’t yell when Rey couldn’t recognize what plants were edible and which were common weeds. He never commented on the length of her showers, even if she used up all the hot water. He remained unaffected as if she wasn’t even there.
Maybe he hated her, blamed her for causing him to end up in bum-fuck-nowhere with a target who wasn’t even of legal drinking age. Not that Rey would have cared if he drank on the job. It wasn’t as if she had someone she could report him to.
What really unsettled Rey— more than the constant silence, more than the inhumane level of restraint —was his sullen expression. She’d never seen the man smile. It bothered her more than it should have, so she took it upon herself to change that. And if she happened to get him to speak to her, well, that was just a bonus.
Topics related to their former lives were obviously off-limits so Rey focused her efforts on the new order. She decided day to day happenings were a safe bet.
“I’ve given the chickens all names,” she announced one morning while she watched him gathering eggs. “That tawny one on the end is Agnes, the rust-colored one on your left is Red, next to her is Butter Bean, then there is Junior, and Miss Queen Bee over here is Fluffybutt. I gave her the most ridiculous name on purpose.”
Ren stared at her and, for a split second, Rey thought he would speak. Then the moment passed. Wordlessly, he handed her the egg basket and walked away.
Rey added egg collection to her daily duties.
Not wanting to end up with all the work at the farmhouse, she changed tactics.
Deciding on a new approach was a challenge. Before she’d unearthed the truth about what was going on at Empire, Rey was devoted to the cause. Reflecting on how she’d come to work at the international corporation, Rey recognized why.
For years, she was shuffled between foster homes. No one wanted to adopt a scrawny six-year-old. With every year that she grew older, the chances of finding her forever home lessened. Rey had given up hope of ever finding her family when she was invited to apply for a co-op position at Empire by Alaster Snoke.
Rey had expected anything to come of it, so when a week later she’d been offered the position, she was stunned. Their onboarding process was extremely thorough, including a full background check, a drug test, and even a physical. It wasn’t until her bloodwork came back that she was asked to report to the head office.
When Rey reported to HR on her first day, she was confused by the woman’s formality. Then, she was led to the top floor for an audience with the CEO and Founder, Mr. Sheev Palpatine.
Intuition told her something was wrong. Looking back on that moment, Rey wished she would have listened to her gut instead of Palpatine’s words.
He informed her that the lab had discovered markers in her blood, markers which confirmed she was his granddaughter. From there on out, he groomed her.
Rey hadn’t seen the signs for months. She’d been so desperate for a place to belong that she didn’t notice what was going on right under her nose. By the time Rey figured it out, she knew the only way to make things right was to report her grandfather and his accomplices.
It had taken her twice as long to gather the proof required for a trial. The second Rey had everything she needed, she went to the best District Attorney in Chandrila: Poe Dameron.
Her first impression was that he was a lot of hot air. He seemed to like the sound of his own voice but at the end of the day, Dameron connected her with someone who could help, a man he referred to as a Big Deal: Finn Storm.
Mr. Storm worked for Supreme Court Justice Leia Organa. With his help, Dameron convinced Organa to take Rey’s case. Together, they brought the Empire down.
It should have felt good. The victory was supposed to leave a person feeling accomplished but Rey only felt empty. Her reaction wasn’t helped by the fact she had to give up her identity and be placed in the witness protection program.
And now she was living on a farm with a man who could barely look at her, let alone talk to her. If something didn’t change soon, Rey was going to go crazy.
“I was thinking I’d try my hand at making dinner tonight,” she offered, trying to strike up a conversation with Ren.
He didn’t reply.
Rey frowned. She’d expected a chuckle or at least a smirk. It was no secret she had no prowess in the kitchen.
Clearing her throat, she pressed on. “You’ve been doing all the cooking. I figure I owe you.”
Nothing.
“I was thinking of veggie burgers. Not that I’m not a fan of chicken but once I’ve met my dinner, it’s kind of hard to eat it, you know?”
Still no response.
She sighed dejectedly as she struck out a second time.
There was a way to get through to him. She knew there was. Rey just had to find the right words.
Her attempts went on for the next few weeks. Rey tried everything she could think of, making mental notes on the type of reactions she garnered. Reaction may have been a strong word. Ren’s responses varied from fleeting annoyance to complete indifference.
She’d tried a myriad of approaches: flirting, humor, cleverness, frustration, and pure shock value. None of it worked.
Rey opted for useless, random knowledge next.
“Before I went to the dark side,” —which was how she referred to the Empire —, "I wanted to invent things. I built my own droid at university. I named it BB-8 after my dormitory. The unit had a selenium drive and thermal—.”
Rey stopped. Ren was staring at her, notebook forgotten.
A thrill rushed through her and she continued. “But you probably don’t care about that. Anyway, I added an internal self-correcting gyroscopic propulsion system, which basically means he was able to move on his own without bumping into anyone or anything in the lab. Oh! And then I had the idea to upgrade his optics. The ones I got were garbage and needed correcting, so—.”
Ren rose abruptly from his seat. His thundering footsteps echoed in the house as he exited wordlessly.
She calculated the new score. Ren: 29. Me: 0
Rey wasn’t sure when it became a game to her.
It had been over a month. Time moved slower in Takodana. If it wasn’t for the tally she kept in her bedroom, Rey was sure she would have lost track of the days. Making the marks was painful for reasons she’d rather not confront but she did it, counting each one as another step closer to freedom.
A visit to a psychiatrist would probably confirm that she was a textbook compartmentalizer. Among other things. Of course, she’d have to be allowed to leave the property to receive a diagnosis and that wasn’t happening. Not on Mr. Tall and Brooding’s watch. What Marshal Ren lacked in verbal communication, he made up for in dedication.
Ren patrolled the border of the property multiple times throughout the day, always checking the hunting traps he’d set-up. Rey suspected that was where he’d run off to. Last week, she suggested he teach her how to check them, just in case something happened to him. The look he shot her gave her his answer.
Rey didn’t bring it up again.
The house had been silent all week. Rey, was out of ideas, had all but given up on her plan to make Ren smile. Evidently, the man hated her or didn’t care enough to participate in polite conversation. She accepted her defeat.
Chores kept her busy. Between keeping the house clean, teaching herself to cook, and maintaining the chickens, she didn’t have time to dwell on it.
In the absence of strategizing her next attempt, Rey started reading Little Women. It was one of the many novels on the living room shelf. Curled up on the armchair, she entered the world of the March sisters.
Just as Rey reached the passage where Jo and Amy quarrel, the front door banged open. She glanced up, startled to find Ren standing there, staring at her.
“I...,” he trailed off, skin flushed and sweat running down his face.
“Is everything alright?” Rey asked, closing the book as she stood.
“I need a shower,” he remarked gruffly.
She blinked. “Okay,” Rey drawled, confused.
Ren stomped off in the direction of the bathroom. A moment later she heard the door slam, followed by the sound of running water.
Rey remained where she was, frozen as she replayed their brief conversation over in her mind. They hadn’t spoken in days. The absence of sound had made his voice even more appealing. Rey wished she understood why he hated her. She wanted to hear him talk; it was addicting.
She slumped down in the chair, resuming from where the story paused. Rey followed the March sister’s actions against one another, wincing at their mistreatment. If she had been lucky enough to have a sibling, Rey would have been kinder.
Her grip on the book tightened as Amy fell through the ice. Rey unconsciously leaned closer to the novel, eyes speeding across the following paragraphs.
“Rey?”
She dropped the book into her lap, jumping. “What?”
Ren was hovering over her, his expression unreadable.
They watched each other for an unknown amount of time. Rey wasn’t sure what to say. He never sought her out. He never initiated a conversation. Something had to be wrong.
“Do you need something?” she finally asked.
He held out a pair of scissors. “Could you cut my hair?” She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Please.”
Rey set Little Women aside. “Sure.” His face relaxed. She took that as a positive sign and tentatively removed the scissors from his hand. “But we should probably do it on the porch. I just cleaned.”
Ren nodded. He carried a chair from the kitchen outside.
She waited for him to sit down so she could reach him. Their height difference made trimming his hair impossible if he wasn’t seated. He situated himself with his back to her. Rey assessed his head of dark hair. She’d fantasized about running her fingers through it more times than she was willing to count. Now, with an acceptable excuse, she did just that.
There was a low growl, almost like a purr. Ren leaned into her touch.
“How much do you want to be taken off?” Rey asked.
“Just an inch or two. Whatever you think is best.”
For someone who was insanely specific about everything from how the cabinets were arranged to the proper way to cut carrots, Rey was surprised by his answer.
“You know I’ve never done this before, right?”
Ren shrugged.
Biting her lip, Rey pinched several strands between two fingers the way she’d seen hairstylists do and snipped off an inch. The black tresses floated to the porch, landing by her feet. She breathed a sigh of relief and continued.
Ren stayed quiet as Rey worked, though she thought she caught a moan or two.
When she brushed her fingertips across the shell of his ear, he jolted.
“Oh! Did I nick you? I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly.
“No, I’m fine,” Ren assured her. His voice was strained. After a moment’s pause, he added, “I don’t like it when my ears show. They’re…too big, ugly. It’s better if I keep them covered.”
“I don’t find them ugly. I think they’re cute,” Rey told him honestly.
There was a strangled noise. She patted his back, wondering how he managed to choke on nothing. Then, Rey saw the tips of his ears poking out from under his raven-colored hair. They were bright red.
“Wait; are you blushing?”
Ren turned away. “No.”
“Oh my God, you are! I can’t believe I got hard-ass, ever-stoic, married to his job, U.S. Marshal Ren to blush!”
“It’s the cold.”
Rey arched a brow skeptically. “The cold? It’s seventy and beautiful.” She scoffed. “The cold. Are you sure it’s not because I called your ears adorable?”
“N-no,” he replied, still facing away from her.
Smiling, Rey continued to push. “No, you’re not sure or no, you are?”
“No, I am....not...no. Just no.”
“Ren: 29, Rey: 1.”
“What is that? Are you keeping score?”
“Yep,” she answered proudly.
“Of what, exactly?”
“I’ve been trying to get a smile out of you,” Rey explained as she resumed trimming his hair. “You’re not the easiest guy to break.”
“You’re not much better. You’ve been shutting me out all week.”
“Me,” she cried incredulously. She came around to jab a finger into his torso, wincing when she hit solid muscle. Damn him. “You’re one to talk. Or not talk, as it were. It’s not much fun when you’re having a conversation with yourself.”
“I….I like listening to you talk,” he admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t want to ruin it by making things awkward.”
“Why would things be awkward?”
Ren reached up to run a hand through his hair. “I’m not great with people.”
Rey gaped at him. “You’re a U.S. Marshal.”
“I thought I’d be shielding people as they went from place to place in transport, like a bodyguard. I never was assigned to a long-term contract before,” he informed her.
“Don’t worry. At this rate, I’m giving you a one-star review, my friend,” she teased, nudging him.
He chuckled. Rey smiled, circling around him as she inspected her work. “Ren: 29, Rey: 2.”
His face fell. “You shouldn’t refer to yourself that way. That isn’t your name anymore.”
She laughed. Ren was back to being overprotective. “Who’s going to hear me way out here. It’s just us now.”
He didn’t speak again until she finished. Rey left him to grab the broom. When she returned to the porch to sweep up his discarded locks, he was standing next to the chair, waiting for her.
“Ben.”
“Huh?”
“My real name,” he informed her. “It’s Ben. Ben Solo.”
She extended her hand. “I’m Rey.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rey.”
“Likewise.”
“So...about that game of yours. Do you think you could alter it for two-player mode?” he asked.
She beamed. “Oh, I think we can figure something out.”
He somehow managed to turn her game around on her. Over the next two months, they battled in their own way in their own little bubble. Each day became a competition of who could make the other laugh more. The stakes were raised when Ben discovered she was ticklish but Rey got him back after she found out he was too, right under his adorable ears.
When it was time for her to rejoin society in her new permanent residence, Ben went with her.
Witness protection hadn’t just saved Rey’s life; it gave her one.