Chapter Text
The evening sun filtered in through many-paned windows across stacks of cardboard boxes; Rey stood beside them, taking in the moment, tired but hopeful. The sound of a glass in the sink interrupted her thoughts and she turned toward the kitchen. “You sure you don’t want me to stay and help with unpacking?” Finn leaned on the counter, a concerned look on his face.
Rey smiled and returned to cleaning up their dirty plates and empty pizza box. “Yes, of course. I’ll be fine. I’m so thankful you helped me move my boxes in and set up my room. I’ll probably leave the rest for tomorrow and take my time.”
Finn nodded and grinned. “Happy to help. You know,” he paused and became more serious. “You don’t have much. I know you’ve been on the move for a long time--but you’ve got a good thing here. I think you can allow yourself to settle down a little. And I can’t wait until you start at The Resistance.”
Rey smiled softly. “Such a goofy nickname for The Office of the DA of Coruscant. But I still have two months of internship and a bar exam to pass--it could all fall apart.”
“It won’t and you know it. You’re too good for that.” Rey hesitated but smiled at the encouragement. “This is a good home for you,” Finn finished.
The two friends hugged and took their leave, and Rey went back to sighing in the middle of her new apartment. Life hadn’t been easy for her. Finn was right--she’d been on the move for so long, always ready to run if needed. She had made few personal connections and gathered few belongings. But right now she felt stable. She’d just graduated law school, had been offered a job in Coruscant’s DA office--her dream--and even had an amazing summer internship set up until she could start in August, when her predecessor retired. Tomorrow she would unpack her boxes and try to make this place feel like home--though she still wondered if it was possible for anywhere to feel that safe. For as long as she could remember, Rey had felt adrift—her homes had been at best temporary and at worst unstable and abusive. She was very young when she started analyzing every place for the safest, quickest route away in case the need arose. Even though she now had stability and a trusted friend in Finn, she struggled to feel she could be at rest. Maybe she would always have one eye on the escape, just in case.
Rey glanced at the door, sighed, and then perked up. She knew what she wanted to unpack first--the one thing she’d take out tonight. She made her way to the stack of boxes set by her bookshelves, the most substantial thing she owned, and ran her fingers over the labels until she found what she was looking for. Ripping into the box, she lifted the flaps and pulled out a worn set of 3 books. The Journal of the Whills trilogy: her favorites. These books--well, her older scavenged set and then this newer copy when those fell apart--had seen her through most of the major transitions of her life. She ran her hands over the spines and smiled, joy crinkling the corners of her eyes. These books, filled with adventure and heroism, the struggle between light and dark, characters grappling with hope in the midst of trial, felt like both an escape and the deepest roots she had. She set the box in a place of honor on the bookshelf, admired it, then reached back up to slide the first book out of the case.
Tomorrow she’d unpack the rest of her belongings and start reviewing for the bar exam. Tonight, she’d curl up with her fictional friends and try to think of these new rooms as home.