Work Text:
***
In the summer of nineteen forty-eight, sixteen-year-old Rey Palpatine moved to the City of Angels. A smile danced on her lips, and in her right hand she held a threadbare, dilapidated brown suitcase that contained only an extra wool skirt, torn stockings, and a faded photo. She left Wyoming with ten dollars, of which she had two left. And while her little suitcase didn't weigh much, it was full of dreams.
Observing from the side, you had the impression that you were seeing a frame from the movie and you knew that she was the main character. A star. Young and beautiful, smiling trustingly and hopefully at the huge billboards. By looking at her, you realized the difference between being poor and being sloppy. Medium-length, shiny hair, a shade of dark chocolate, tied with hairpins, flowed gracefully over her shoulders, encircling her face. The best years of a yellow blouse with a collar and A-line black skirt reaching her mid-calf were definitely behind them, but they were thoroughly ironed. The old, a bit too big heels showed no trace of travel.
The girl checked into the Lu Fran Motel, which was a long, green, two-story apartment complex. It was in a dingy part of town, but relatively cheap. Rey didn't care. She knew it was a temporary solution. A few months, maybe a year, and someone will notice her. She wanted to become a famous dancer and knew that this room was just another stop on her way to the stars. On the bedside table she placed a photograph of an elderly man standing between a young couple.
Rey didn't remember her parents, they went missing when she was still a little girl. She knew that as soon as she became famous, she would get enough money to find them. She didn't know her grandfather at all. Sheev Palpatine was a respected senator of California for many years, but initially infamous, after a financial and political scandal, he fell into oblivion. It was many years before Rey was born.
***
In the late summer of nineteen fifty-four, Rey left Lu Fran Motel for her evening shift at Maz's. The dinner was the epitome of its era. Round, mint-colored building with a pink neon sign above the entrance. The tiles were arranged in a black and white checkerboard pattern. Red leather sofas and bar stools contrasted with the mint light of following neon lights hidden under the ceiling and the long countertop. The bar was new, clean and crowded. Rey struggled to park behind the restaurant. Her '40s Dogde D17 was a disgusting shade of bottle green that looked even worse when paired with her pink uniform and white apron. Rey thought that the color of her outfit was great for enhancing the rust on the car. But with her paycheck, even with the loan from her boss, she could afford nothing more than a crumbling wreckage, Sometimes it felt like her life was one crumbling wrack. That was until she met Snap Wexley. Three months later, she agreed to become his wife. Then her life went straight to the bottom.
***
Have you ever cried so much that heaven cried with you? Rey couldn't remember. It was two in the morning and it felt like summer. She was standing in a wall of rain, trying to shield herself with the latest Los Angels Daily News she'd picked up from the diner that night.
"Girls like you should beware," Luke, an older, bearded Maz's regular visitor, spoke to her, tapping a newspaper with his finger.
She poured coffee into his mug, cocking her head to peer at the headline, though she knew what to expect. The newspapers haven’t written about anything else for several months. Another young woman has gone missing without a trace. Another body found by the road.
"People keep disappearing all the time. Believe me, I know something about that."
"Well, hopefully not you."
"Easy. Certainly not me," she smiled radiantly, showing all her teeth as only she could, as if she had just not mentioned the tragedy played out on the boards of her own life. "You read it yourself. Hollywood, Vine and Black Rabbit are far away."
Luke left his change and newspaper on the counter for her to read in the apartment, as he always did.
***
She finished her shift late at night that day. After closing in, she left the car in the parking lot as usual, heading towards Snap's apartment. Soon their apartment. And during these moments together, she regained her peace of mind for a while, thinking that this whole wild trip made sense, because at the end of it he was waiting, and she had never been so in love. In the distance she heard rumbling thunder.
As she turned the key in the door, she heard an equally soft laugh in addition to a soft click. She frowned as she headed for the bedroom. Seeing two bodies tangled in the sheets, the girl thought about one thing - had she ever screamed so much? Rey couldn't remember. She grabbed the bottle on the dresser and swung it. She looked at the cheap rum label and put it down, next to her feet, then grabbed the vase beside her. The engagement ring followed. She didn't wait for an explanation. She picked up the bottle again and slammed the door. The last thing that made sense of her poor existence turned out to be a lie. A family she's been craving all her life. Everything was a lie.
***
She wasn't even halfway to the car when she had emptied almost half of the square bottle, even though she wasn’t a type who loved to pull a cork. She wondered at what point she had made a mistake. She was in a strange city, though she couldn't call any of them home, had no education, no family, no money, didn't even have anyone to turn to and cry now. Just this shitty job, shitty room, and shitty prospects. It was then that she felt the first drops of rain on her cheek. They quickly mingled with tears. In a second there was a cloudburst. The thud of high heels echoed more and more often as the girl dashed towards her parking space. Above her head she was clutching a folded newspaper, which she took from her purse on the run. She tried to remove the keys from her purse with one hand, but to no avail. She hadn't seen such a weather breakdown in a long time, and she remembered snow falling in January of nineteen forty-nine. She felt as if heaven was crying with her. She really believed it. When she finally found the keys, another thunder scared her so much that she dropped them onto the wet concrete.
"Shit," she cursed.
She let go of the lame attempt to cover herself with the newspaper and put it on the roof of the car. She ducked as lightning slashed across the sky, bright enough to illuminate the entire street. Rey was grateful to it, because otherwise she’d have had great difficulty spotting the keys on the ground. Staring at the ground, she couldn't see that the glow illuminated the figure behind her.
"Excuse me..." She felt a large hand on her shoulder.
She jumped up, her back clinging to the car behind her. The air quivered with a terrible scream.
“Jesus Christ. You can't scare people like that.” She gripped her chest with her hand, trying to calm her pounding heart.
The man in front of her was almost two meters tall. A perfectly white, almost completely soaked shirt clung to his broad shoulders. He might be ten years older than she was. Anyone in this situation could get a heart attack.
“I'm so sorry. I wasn't going to scare you, Ms. I was just returning from a dinner with friends. Mary and Chewie Kanata. Maybe you know them? They live two streets from here, on 5th Avenue.” The girl shook her head.
"Anyway, I was going back to my apartment," the man continued. His finger pointed at the small building half vanishing behind the tree. “It's that window. On the left. A curtain with red flowers hangs in the window.”
“Yes. Yes, I can see.” The girl answered quickly, then thought for a moment. “Is there any chance that your friend Mary is called Maz?”
The man's gaze followed her thumb, which pointed to the large, already extinguished neon sign. Brunet nodded involuntarily.
"Then I work for Mary." She grimaced, calling her boss that way.
“As I mentioned, I was coming home... You have to forgive me, I'm a terrible chatterbox. I'll always tell five different stories before I get to the point…” He paused for a moment. “I'm doing it again, don’t I?”
The girl nodded, a choked but sincere laugh left her lips. She still had a lump in her throat from her recent sob.
"As I recall for the fourth time, I was coming home and I saw you Ms., walking with a bottle in her hand," Rey looked at the glass, now standing next to her legs. “You are probably able to take care of yourself Ms., which I have no doubts about...”
“My name is Rey. Ms. makes me feel like I'm forty.” She paused.
"Let me call you a taxi," he finished finally. “My father died driving while drunk. I can't let you get in that car.”
“Well, Mr...”
“Solo. My name is Ben Solo” He interrupted.
“Well, Mr. Solo. As you can see, I can take care of myself very well.” She was calm enough to turn around to unlock the car door with her keys, as if suddenly realizing that they were standing in a wall of rain.
“You can come home. Everything's fine.” At the end of that short sentence, her voice broke and she began to sob again, as even the lock on the car wouldn't let go of her that day. She began to tug on the door handle.
Everything was wrong.
“May I...?” He asked, stretching his hand towards the handle.
At the same time he held out a cotton handkerchief, embroidered with a monogram, which was soaked, but she appreciated the gesture, accepting it. The man calmly turned the key and the door opened at the first attempt. Rey sat down in the backseat, hiding her face in her hands. Man allowed himself to sit in the driver's seat.
“Well...” Ben had no idea how to start. “I have allowed myself to notice that everything seems not to be perfectly alright.”
“Happiness is a butterfly. I try to catch it like every night, but it escapes from my hands into the moonlight,” she said suddenly, picking up the bottle from the ground. She took another long sip from it.
He wasn't sure what to say to that.
“Every day is a lullaby. At least that's what my mother says. I guess you'd get along.” He laughed nervously.
“I just wanted to dance.”
“So you're a dancer?”
“Apparently not good enough.” Another sip.
She was overwhelmed by the realization of how unsuccessful her life had been. She had no chance for a career anymore, she had no money to find her parents, God only knew if they were still alive, she had no fiancé. She had nothing.
“My life is over...”
“You're young and beautiful. Much is ahead of you. In a few years you'll be laughing at it.” He spoke with such fervor that she was ready to believe him, really.
“I just wanted to dance,” she repeated hollowly.
“Let's dance then.”
He stood up, stretching hand to her. She looked at him for a moment, wondering, before agreeing to take it. She felt as if an electric current passed through her body. He waited patiently for her move, as if afraid he’d scare her off. That he’d break her completely. Nobody could pick up so many pieces. She stood unsteadily feeling dizzy. She wasn’t used to alcohol. But she knew that now it was exactly what she needed most. Tomorrow she won’t regret it. Even if it was supposed to make her sick in the morning. She put her other hand on his shoulder. Delicate like a brush of wings. She wasn't out of practice. She still had it. They began to sway slowly to the beat of the non-existent music. All movements were calm and measured. Soothing.
"You are a good dancer Benjamin," she said softly, her face pressed against his torso.
“Just Ben. I must express my appreciation to my mother. She will be proud that her lessons were not in vain.”
The wet newspaper slipped off the car roof with a loud slap, landing next to their feet. She glanced at the headline. Even if he's a serial killer, then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt, she thought. If he's as bad as they say, then I guess I'm cursed. She was too tired and too drunk to worry about the old newspaper.
"I live at the Lu Fran Motel," she whispered. "It's on the south. On Fifty-fourth Street...”
Her tongue was slightly twisted, but her movements were impeccable. Rey never mixed up steps. Ben nodded, then stopped. He helped her over to the car and onto the back seat. Rey wasn't sure if she fell asleep while driving. She remembered the beams of streetlight blinding her rhythmically. But it seemed to her that the car had stopped way too soon, so she had to sleep part of the way. The door creaked slowly as he opened it. She was exhausted. She didn't even have the strength to open her eyes. She guessed that tomorrow she would regret getting carried away by a bottle of cheap alcohol after all. She felt the man slide his large hand under the curve of her knees. He put the other one on her lower back.
“May I?” A soft murmur answered him.
He picked her up, pressing her against his chest. Her feet swayed to the rhythm of his footsteps, as he headed toward the building. She cuddled even more. For the first time in a long time, Rey felt like someone was taking care of her. She felt safe.
***
The following day, the front page of the Los Angels Daily News reported that a massacred, halved body of a young woman in a pink uniform was found in Leimert Park, with a dahlia stuck in her hair. Rey gained the fame she had always dreamed of.