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Chapter Text

Rey grabs the door to a coffee shop she's too coffee deprived to remember the edgy, trendy, hip, whatever name of.

Artemis and Apollo, seven years old, with a natural supply of something a hundred times stronger than caffeine, have been waylaid by petting the dog of a man sitting outside. He's patiently smiling at them as he chats on his cellphone, but Rey is worried they're going to be late.

"Come on, Loves," Rey says, holding the door open.

Apollo is the first to listen, as always.

"Mom can we get a dog?" Artemis asks, following her brother.

"Not right now," Rey answers, as she always has when asked this question.

"But other kids get to a have dog," Artemis argues.

"Lots of other kids don't get to have dogs. Or hot chocolate," Rey replies, fond of her daughter's ever present arguments, even if they can sometimes be inconvenient.

"If we did get a dog I would want a big golden retriever," Apollo says, as Rey follows them in and the door swings shut.

"I want a husky," Artemis immediately counters.

"But everyone says those dogs are mean. Everyone knows golden retrievers are nice."

"But they don't pull sleds!" Artemis authoritatively corrects him.

They stop with Rey in line, but she nudges them both gently on the shoulder and nods in the direction of the restrooms. "Go to the bathroom. There won't be real bathrooms on the hike."

"It doesn't snow here," Apollo rebuts, as they both walk off as per Rey's directions.

"Poe said we could go somewhere it snows for Christmas though," Rey hears her daughter hopefully explain before they disappear together behind a door with a unisex sign.

The bell to the shop dings. The song in the background switches. At the other end of the bar a guy with a huge beard calls out "Caramel Macchiato for Sara!"

She pulls out her phone and opens up her texts to find the address where they're supposed to be meeting, proud of herself for remembering to put it into her GPS before she's trying to pull out of the parking lot.

"What can I get for you?" A voice that is somehow both high pitched and rough asks.

"A white mocha latte with three shots of espresso and two kids hot chocolates, please," Rey answers the perfectly nice, normal, pink-haired, multi-pierced barista behind the counter.

The young woman--Rey thinks she's a young woman, but sometimes people don't see themselves as what their bodies look like, and she got yelled at for assuming once, so, yeah...Gah.

She glances at her phone. What was I doing? Oh GPS.

"Rey?"

Rey's spine jumps up like lightning just struck her. No. NO! Just--don't turn around. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

"Rey you just jumped like a mile out of your skin." Kylo deadpans behind her, almost like he's amused, except that even after seven years she still knows all of the little inflections of his voice, so she can hear all the other things too.

She pinches her lips, so easily and instantly annoyed… Like it hasn't been seven years since she's seen him and they're fresh from a fight and she's ready to scream at him everything she didn't before. Except... Fuck. She needs to get out of here.

She takes a deep breath and turns around. She wishes she didn't have to look at him. He's still tall, and his hair is still long and black and, well no lip ring now, and--she can't help but notice, she really really doesn't mean to notice, it just happens, but--he's more filled out--what were once lean muscles over a bony frame now seem to be very full muscles and--

I need to get out of here. I need to go now. I need to--

But her eyes are sucked to his like gravity and--

"Hi," says some voice. Some meaningless voice that Rey is able to latch onto and use as a lifeline away from Kylo and his big shocked ash-gray eyes.

The voice belongs to a girl, a bit shorter than her, blonde, with a big sort of smile and a pink dress and strappy sandals. She so so hates the part of her brain that automatically registers, Not his type.

"Hi," Rey squeaks back at her. "You guys order, don't want to hold up the line."

"You still need to pay," the barista tells Rey.

"Right." Rey says, and fumbles open her wallet. Please have cash please have cash please have cash.

"Why are you being so weird?" Kylo asks, his voice suspicious.

"Why are you?" the blond girl asks Kylo. He ignores her.

How fucking dare he act like he gets to--

No. The more rational part of her brain intercedes. We need to get out of here. That's it. Please twins, take long enough for me to get our drinks and for Kylo to go find a table and for me to have to come get you and be able to sneak you out the back. Please please please please.

She opens all the pockets and… There is no cash.

Fuck.

"Rey, I get that deciding to act like people don't exist is your thing, but I'm not going to do it, you could at least--"

"Well we haven't seen each other in years and you're on a date, that might have something to do with it," Rey quips back, trying to be as detached as possible, as she pulls out one of her two credit cards and slides it.

"Fine," he humps, and for one single tiny, glorious second she thinks she's getting out unscathed. But the credit card machine is the slowest thing in the entire world and a door slams and--

"--can't name a dog Spock. Spock is boring. Let’s name her Mal."

"But I don't like that book or the movie," Apollo complains as they draw ever nearer.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What am I going to do? How can I get out of here without--

"Well I was the one who asked so when she says yes I get to pick the name!" Artemis argues back.

"Mom, tell Artemis we have to agree!" Apollo says, slipping his hand into Rey's as Artemis falls into place right behind him, her arms crossed looking up at Rey expectantly.

"Mom," Artemis mimics, "tell Apollo that since getting a dog was my idea I--"

"Mom?" Kylo echos, his voice very, very low.

Her stomach drops and she thinks she's going to puke but her treacherous body turns around anyway.

God fucking damn it all. Just fuck. She can see his eyes skimming their faces… Taking in Artemis' black curls and big pouty lips and the slope of her eyes… and then Apollo's long nose and the hint in the shape in his chin and the way his eyebrows sink in frustration…

The twins look up at him, confused about why this stranger has any interest in their very banal addressing of their mother.

Kylo's eyes leave them and hone in on Rey's. All these years later and she can read them so easy. All these years later and they still swirl with war. And right now, the war is between shock and absolute, utter, betrayal-fueled rage.

"Hey kids," he asks, his voice deceptively calm. "How old are you guys?"

Apollo looks at Rey for permission, but Artemis proudly answers, "Seven--almost eight."

"Kylo…" Rey pleads, desperately glancing back and forth between him and the twins. "Kylo, you're on a date," she tries.

It's the wrong thing to say.

"Oh yeah, I'm on a date, so I should just fucking ignore the fact that I have two kids you never bothered to tell me about!"

Ah there it is--his rage. And, to her surprise, a rush she hasn’t felt in a long time rises to meet it--her own rage, dormant but, apparently, no less fresh, flaring to life to save her. It almost feels good, the way it instantly spills right out of her throat, like a weapon she'd forgotten she had. And now she gets to use it.

"And this is why, Ben !" she ferociously snarls at him. "You always always put your own feelings first without even thinking about it. You just go and say that without caring about the effect it's going to have on two seven year olds to hear it--and to cuss too! And you're on a date, what about her feelings? You don't think about anyone but yourself--"

"That's fucking rich coming from you! Who were you thinking about when you decided--"

"I was thinking about them !" Rey snarls, as she grabs the twins' hands and yanks them toward the door, drinks be damned.

She's holding them harder than she should, but they're struggling, looking back at him, confused, and she's about to start crying because her entire reality has just been uprooted and she just can't. She just can't .

So she pulls them despite their squeaks of protest, and she doesn't let go until they're at the car. When she sees Kylo is coming out of the coffee shop, trying to fight his date off of him, who seems to be trying to stop him, Rey loudly yells, "GET IN!" and the tears spill and the twins, thank heavens, are actually freaked out enough about her crying that they do. She manages to slam and lock her door about three feet before Kylo reaches her.

He bangs on her window and she glares at him hard, then puts the car in reverse. He seems to think she's bluffing. And so she pumps the gas, in warning, forcing his hands away. His lips curl up in an absolutely furious snarl. Then he steps away and she breathes with relief… But he's moving back and--

Oh fuck no! She thinks, realizing what he's doing.

She peels out far faster than safe, so he doesn't have time to get behind her and block her.

Artemis roles the window down and sticks her head out of it and Rey hears Kylo yelling "FUCK YOU REY!" As loud as he can. In her rear-view mirror, she sees him punch his fist into some innocent bystander's car.

This is why I left you, you fucking idiot. She viciously thinks, violently wiping her tears away.

"FUCK YOU!"

"Artemis roll up the window."

"Mom who is that?"

"Roll up the window, Artemis."

"But Mom--"

"Artemis," Apollo softly implores.

Artemis huffs, but finally does it. Rey still hears Kylo screaming after her though. The fact that it's in her memory instead of in her ears does nothing to keep the tears that she'd thought she'd cried out years ago from flooding, big, salty and free.  

--

Once Ben is done shaking his probably-broken hand out, he gets back in his car and drives away as fast as possible. He knows he's not going to catch Rey, but he's pretty sure that by now someone has called the cops.

The whole time he mutters over and over, "WDC319, WDC319, WDC319."

He doesn't remember until he's parked several blocks away about the girl that Hux set him up with--Brittany or Brianna, or something. Whatever, he reasons, she's a grown up. She should know how to get an Uber.

As soon as he pulls over he types WDC319 into a blank texts, minimizes that app, opens the dial pad, and punches in 911.

"What's your emergency?" The operator on the other end promptly asks.

"I need to report a kidnapping," he answers, "A silver Range Rover, license plate number WDC319."

"What is the child's name, and what is your relationship to the child?"

"Two children. Artemis and Apollo Solo." After he says it, he has this terrible realization that Solo might not be their last name. That she might have given them hers... Or someone else's.

Fresh fury rips through him at the thought--if she's been letting some other man raise his children… He clenches his fists and grits his teeth and resists the urge to punch his dashboard because he's still on the phone, and he doesn’t need his hand anymore broken than it probably already is.

"Please describe the assailant."

"Female, caucasian, five foot seven, about a hundred and thirty pounds, brown hair, hazel eyes, freckles."

"Is the assailant related to the children, and do you believe she will be a physical danger to the children?"

Kylo takes a deep breath, and then lies with vindictive vengeance. "She's my ex-girlfriend. She is crazy. Jealous. Mad at me for leaving her years ago. She is absolutely a danger to them."

“Alright sir, stay on the line, we’re going to put out the Amber Alert right away.”

--

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Chapter Text

Rey drives and drives and never tells her GPS to actually set course. She just drives. She drives until the 210 becomes the 118 and the 118 becomes the 101 and then 101 becomes the edge of the ocean. For the first time since they were six months old, the twins don't make a peep. When her phone rings, she turns it off.

She parks at a beach she hasn't been too since before they were born, and is so grateful that it's just as abandoned now as it always was then. She leaves her shoes in the car and walks on the sand in her bare feet.

The twins follow her. They frolic and play in the sand, but they don't go too far, they've both got watchful eyes on her.

She feels guilty for making them worry. For undoubtedly, making Poe--who has probably tried to call at least ten more times--worry. For not being able to stop crying. For the fact that the reality she'd tried so hard to keep together has come undone by a single chance encounter in a coffee shop. That their reality has just shifted. That they just heard something life changing, and all she can do is cry and refuse to talk.

When she reaches the dark jagged line in the sand, marking the ebb and flow of the tide, she stands for a long time. Then she sits. Sometimes the waves make it all the way up, coating her in their cold gentle froth. Other times, it peaks several feet away and then recedes.

As she watches it, she realizes that life is just like that--you have reasons to think you can at least predict probabilities… but sometimes the tide will touch you five times in a row, and sometimes not at all. The probability of Kylo running into her within twenty miles of where he lived--assuming he still lived in Burbank--was both high and low. For some reason, after all these years, she'd started to assume nothing like that would ever happen.

Apollo is the first to come and sit next to her, but Artemis soon joins her on her other side. She puts her arms around their shoulders, and they both lean in to her. Their tiny arms, their soft skin, their fluffy wonderful smelling hair and the weight of their big perfect heads in the pocket where her arm and torso connect… This is the best feeling in the world, and then she's crying again. Fuck it all.

"Mom," Artemis starts, unusually soft and quiet, "Is that guy really our dad?"

Apollo stiffens on her other side. Rey exhales and squeezes their shoulders tighter.

"Yes," she admits.

The twins are silent for five, six, seven crashes of the waves.

Then Apollo shifts forward, not leaving her embrace, but enough to look up at her with his big, wondrous almost-black eyes, "So I might be as tall as him?"

"Uhh," Rey accidentally smiles, bemused--of all the questions, she wasn't expecting that. "Well, yes. Yes, you might be."

"Cool," Apollo grins, then leans further around her to look at his sister, "See, I won't be shorter than you forever. When we're grown up I'll be way bigger!"

"Can we play with him?" Artemis asks. This takes Rey's smile away.

"Hunny," she sighs, averting her eyes to the horizon, where the water meets the sky. "I… It's it's… There's a reason I decided it wasn't good for him to be in our lives and, the way he got mad today is one of those reasons. He—it looks like he hasn't changed and, and I don't think it would be good for you guys to know him right now."

"Well I do," Artemis stubbornly says, extracting herself from Rey's hug. "Everyone else gets to have a dad, and I want one too. You don't have to talk to him. We can just go play at his house."

"Artemis," Rey beseeches, "It's just not that simple. We… look, he…"

"Is his name Ben or Kylo?" Apollo interjects. "You called him both."

"His real name is Ben, and that's what you guys can call him when you talk about him." Rey sighs, realizing that there is no way that a whole lot of her conversations from now on, at least for several weeks, are not going to involve the twins talking about him.

"I want to call him Dad," Apollo decisively, albeit not aggressively, declares.

"Yeah," Artemis seconds. "So what's Kylo?"

"It was his… his stage name, and, at least when he and I were--well, it's what he usually introduces himself as. He doesn't like people knowing his real name."

"So why did he tell you?" Apollo asks, confused.

"Because they're in love and grown ups are weird when they're in love," Artemis tells her brother, with an authoritative eye roll. He squinches his nose in response.

"We're not in love," Rey whispers.

"Because you're in love with Poe?" Apollo asks.

Rey's throat swells terribly. She clenches her jaw and tries to unclench it. Tries to answer yes. All she manages is a quick jerk of her head that is accompanied by an ache behind her breastbone she is definitely not going to acknowledge.

"Now that we have a dad it's not fair if you don't let us play with him," Artemis pushes.

"Look, Artemis, I really don’t think he is someone who you should play with."

"But I want a dad!" She insists, standing up, her little fists clenched, her lips puffed out in defiance. So much like him.

"What about Poe?" Rey hopelessly tries.

"He's not our dad," Apollo answers, softly, sounding sad.

"But… but he could be. Don't you want him to be?" Rey asks, cringing at herself as she does.

The twins look at each other, having one of their eye contact conversations. Rey is so unpaired for this.

"I wouldn't mind Poe being our dad," Artemis finally says. "But if we have a real dad, I want to know him and then pick. We can pick, right?"

"No," Rey says.

"Maybe I'll just run away and live with him forever then!" Artemis declares, before dramatically storms off, stomping through the waves up to her knees.

"It will be okay, Mom," Apollo says, giving her a quick squeeze with his lanky little arms before he gets up to follow his sister.

Rey tries to smile back and nod. She's grateful Artemis has stomped off, because it grants her a temporary reprieve from the questions. She pulls her knees up and her head down, until they meet. Then she takes a really long slow breath.

She knew someday she'd have to talk to actually talk to them about Kylo, but she thought she'd have time to plan. She'd thought maybe around adolescence… And that she'd have Leia and Han to help her, and that… God, she's just fucking everything up.

—

They stay until sunset—long enough for everyone to get a burn, for Artemis to get board being angry, to start bargaining for ice cream, and for Rey to agree. She pulls out her phone to find that there is still a Cold Stone Creamery on closest thing Ventura has to a boardwalk, and they take off.

They make it two whole miles before red and blue lights start flashing in her rear-view.

“Are your seat belts on?” She asks the twins, taking as long as feasible to pull over.

“Yes,” Artemis answers right before Rey hears a click. She frowns, annoyed she’s going to have to have this talk again with her daughter, but, obviously, she will save it for later.

She rolls her window down as she pulls over on the side of the road. As soon as she’s got the car in park, she bends over to dig around in her glove compartment—she knows she wasn’t speeding, but she might have a tail light out or something. Hopefully the officer will be understanding and—

She sits back up to find a gun pointed at her. She instantly puts her hands in the air, showing she means no threat. Her mind and her throat struggle to work, to connect, to make sense of what is happening.

“Ma’am,” the officer, fairly young, with extremely hairy arms, and an unnecessarily serious voice, says, “My partner is going to open your door, and unbuckle your seat belt. Then I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle with your hands up.”

“Okay,” Rey breathes. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding though, I’m—“

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to remain silent in front of the children. Once you are out of the vehicle we will take down your statement.”

Rey glances back at Artemis and Apollo, who look in equal parts shocked and curious, like something exciting is happening, rather than something potentially terrible. “Guys,” says, as calmly and quietly as possible. “I need you to cooperate with the officers. This is serious, and you need to tell the truth and be respectful, okay?”

They nod, Apollo more appropriately concerned than Artemis, whose eyes are dancing all over the place, like they’re on a ride at Disneyland.

Rey steps out of the car, her heart hammering so loud she can hardly hear anything else. Peripherally, she watches the other officer, who, to her great relief does not have her gun drawn, walk over to the passenger side, pull out her wallet, and grab her ID.

“What is your name, Ma’am?” The other officer asks, his gun still on her.

“Rey Johnson,” she replies, exhaling shakily.

He leans into the walky-talky strapped to his chest, compresses a button, and says, “Confirmed.”

Her heart beat manages to pick up pace. What does that mean?

“Ma’am, can you please tell me what you are doing with two children in your vehicle?”

“What—? I—I’m their mother,” Rey replies, aghast.

He leans into he walky-talky again, “Suspect claims she is the mother.”

“Suspect?” Rey gasps, “Suspect for what?”

The office ignores her, apparently the garbled words feeding back through his walky-talky are understandable to him. When they end he nods, as if the person on the other end can see.

“Ma’am, I need you to turn around, and place your hands on the hood of your car. For the safety of everyone involved, I am going to handcuff you, do you understand?”

“What am I being arrested for? I have a right to know!” She insists—she means for it to come out calm and knowledgeable, but instead she squeaks as pathetically as a mouse in an eagles nest.

“You’re not being arrested yet ma’am. I need to confirm your identity and find out if your information is corroborated by the children. I can either do that with my firearm trained on you this entire time, or I can cuff you temporarily. Would you prefer the firearm route?”

“No,” Rey shakes her head.

She bites her lip hard to keep from crying as the metal hits her wrists. She squeezes her eyes and tells herself not to cry as she is placed in the back of the squad car, powerless to do anything at all. As she watches the officer sheath his gun, and join his partner to ask her babies questions, her mind races and turns to mush at the same time.

None of this makes sense. They must have run her plates wrong, or something—they must think she is someone else. There’s no other logical explanation.

She comforts herself with this, watching the two officers whisper with each other, a dozen feet away from her. As the torturous minutes tick by her heart and lungs actually do steady a bit. After all, a mistake is the only logical explanation. They will verify their info, realize they were wrong, apologize, and let her go. Then she will get a whole tub of ice-cream as opposed to the single-scope cone she was planning on, and she and the twins will go home and everything will be fine.

Instead, another squad car shows up. Her children are lead into that squad car, while she is trapped, unable to say or do anything. She watches that car drive away, taking her babies from her.

The original officers reappear, and get into the car she is in.

“What is happening? Where are you taking my babies?” She demands, not caring at all for anything else, including her own safety—she watches the news, she knows about violent cops and abuses of powering all that—is that what is happening? Are these some crazy rogue cops? Is—

“Ma’am, we have an amber alert out, saying that a woman matching your description, driving a silver Range Rover with California license plate WDC319, is responsible for kidnapping two children, male and female, seven years old.”

“Kidnapping? I’m their mother!” She practically snarls, shocked and outraged and disgusted and—

“You may well be, Ma’am. Sometimes in domestic disputes one parent does make false accusations of this nature. If that is the case than your husband or ex-husband can be charged for libel and slander. However, we have to get that sorted out back at the station. The law states that until we can establish both sides of events, for the children’s safety, we have to keep them separate from both you and their father. You and the children are being taken to the same station, and we will get this matter sorted out as quickly as possible.”

The car starts, and the officers don’t say anything more. Apparently confirmation of her understanding is not required here. And there is nothing she can say, because they have to follow protocol. So she sits back, hear heart pounding, and anger quickly swirling to life in her guts:

“Their father,” He had said.

Well… Now she understands what has happened. Now she realizes exactly how truly magnificent a bastard Ben Solo/Kylo Ren/the-giant-unforgivable-fuck-wad really is.

“Officer?” She asks, doing her absolute best to keep her anger out of her voice. “I realize I am not being arrested, but do I still have the right to have my lawyer present?”

“Yes Ma’am,” the female officer responds.

“Thank you,” she replies. It is the last thing she says until they get to the station.

There, at the desk of the receiving officer, who has been handed her personal affects, she says, “I need the contact information on my phone for my lawyer.”

The officer, a middle aged woman, with a box-red dye job, a left-eyebrow that looks permanently arched, and disproportionately huge hips, purses her lips but takes Rey’s phone out of the little plastic bag. “Passcode?”

“Zero, seven, thirty-one, ten.” Rey answers, unable to help dryly adding, “My children’s birthday.”

The woman ignores her comment and pulls up her contact list. “Name?”

Rey’s own lips purse now, the first step on a curve into a vindictive smirk. “Leia Organa.”

--

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Chapter Text

The twins are taken to a vending machine by two officers, an older guy and a not-as-old woman. She’s kind of sour faced, but the guy seems nice. He tells them they can pick out any candy they want.

“Mom doesn’t let us eat this stuff,” Apollo says, eyeing it warily. “She says it has chemicals that will hurt our insides.”

“I want three,” Artemis tells the man officer, grinning naughtily.

The male officer, with a big belly and fluffy mustache, chuckles fondly and says, “Three it is.”

“But Mom says—“

“Apollo, we’re like never going to get to eat these things again, ever. Just live a little!”

The officer chuckles harder, and reaches out like he might ruffle Artemis’ messy black hair, but remembers himself at the last minute.

“I want that one!” Artemis points to a gold foil wrapper that says Twix.

The officer obliges all her demands, and soon they are seated at a table with not only four candy bars, but two cans of soda. Artemis can hardly even sip her Coke, due to its extreme fizz, but Apollo finds himself guilty guzzling orange pop, and wonders, for the first time ever, if mom could be wrong about some things.

“So kids, I’m going to need to ask you some questions, and all I need you to do is answer them. There are no right or wrong answers, we’re just trying to find out what’s true, okay?”

“Okay,” Artemis answers, ripping her Twix free. Apollo nods.

“First off, see that window over there?” He jets his thumb over his shoulder.

The twins nod. Apollo burps and covers his mouth apologetically, but Artemis giggles, and soon he is too.

“That’s a one-way mirror. That means that the people on the other side of the window can not see you, even though you can see them. So no one in that room is going to have any idea what happens in here. Do you understand?"

Again they nod. Artemis abandons her half eaten Twix, and starts tugging at a bag of something called Sour Patch Kids.

“When can we see Mom?” Apollo asks.

“We want to get you back with your parents as soon as possible, we’re just trying to figure out what’s going on here, son,” the officer kindly tells him. “Now, in a minute, when I let my other office friend know we’re ready, they’re going to turn the lights on in that room, and I need you to tell me if you recognize the people on the other side, can you do that?”

“Yes,” Apollo solemnly answers, before surreptitiously snatching a Sour Patch Kid that ricocheted over to his end of the table.

The officer pushes on his walkie-talkie. Apollo tentatively pokes the squishy candy with the tip of his tongue. His face squinches up at how sour it is, and yet, he’s compelled to pop it in his mouth anyway.

On the other side of the glass the lights turn on and they see two people, their mom, and that really tall guy from the coffee shop who, it turns out, is their dad. They can’t hear anything, but the two of them are obviously saying stuff to each other, even though they’re looking straight ahead. And the twins know that look on mom’s face. Whomever dad is—he is in major, major trouble.

“Do you know the name of the woman?” The officer asks.

“Rey Johnson,” Artemis proudly answers. “She’s our mom.”

The officer looks to Apollo, who with his cheeks packed to the brim with fizzy orange goodness, happily nods in agreement.

“And the man?”

“His name is Ben, but sometimes he tells people it’s Kylo,” Artemis answers.

“He’s our dad,” Apollo adds, his latest gulp of soda now safely in his belly. “He got mad at mom for not telling him about us. And he used to be on a stage.”

The officers look at each other, obviously unsure about what to make of this statement.

“Can I have another soda?”

—

On the other side of the glass, Rey is trying very, very hard to not yell and scream at Ben. Why they had to put them in the same room, she doesn’t know. But she can just feel his self-satisfaction. 

Unfortunately, the fact that they’re both staring into the same mirror makes it pretty hard for them to not interact—even when she’s not facing him, she is. His eyes are on hers and that cocky, self-righteous,  sexy, infuriating, smirk of his is plastered across his face, and she just can’t help but glare and seethe and hope that—

“Stop,” he says, his voice low, almost amused. “You’re not the one with a right to be mad.”

“You falsely accused me of kidnapping,” she viciously whispers back. “I’m pretty sure I’m definitely the one with a right to be mad.”

“As far as I’m concerned it’s not a false accusation,” he replies, calmer than she’d have expected. “If you don’t think I’m going to make sure I get joint custody, you’re insane. I’m not the kind of man who abandons his children Rey, and you made me miss out on the first seven years of their lives because—because why? You decided you didn’t like me anymore?”

“No Kylo, because you’re an angry drug addict ex-rocker turned near agoraphobe. No court is going to grant you any sort of custody.”

“We’ll see what a court has to say about that when Leia Organa is the one leading the case.”

Rey feels a sick wash of satisfaction course through her. She feels sort of guilty about it, but also completely not, and she can’t help but ask a question she already knows the answer to. “You’re in contact with your mother now?”

“Yes,” he lies. “And if you think she’s not going to be just as furious as I am—“

“Turn to your sides,” intones the officer behind the desk, who they’d nearly forgotten about.

“Are we being photographed?” Kylo asks.

“No, you’re being identified by witnesses,” the officer replies.

“What witnesses?” Rey asks.

“You’re not privy to that information, ma’am.” She answers.

“Anyway, she will make sure that I get at least partial custody of those kids, and don’t think for one second I won’t make it clear to them that you’re the reason all this has happened and—“

 “Big threats Kylo. Big threats. Even if your mom did try to help you, have you forgotten that courts don’t see know-how-to-stick-a-needle-into-the-veins-of-my-ankles as a parenting skill?”

 “I’ve been clean for years—which you’d know, if you hadn’t been off hiding my kids from me.”

 “Years? Do you mean weeks? Or maybe just since this morning? I’d love to believe you, but I’ve known you to be prone to exaggeration when it suits you.”

“You don’t know me at all anymore, if you ever did.”

She cannot help the rage that bubbles up in her at this statement, or the subsequent snarl that breaks free as she finally loses it and turns to face him. “Of course I knew you! I lived with you for three years! There was nothing we hid from each other. How could you possibly say I didn’t know you?“

 He turns to face her too, his eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back, all that rage and hurt and she feels it too and she might feel worse if he didn’t keep talking.

 “Well I thought I knew you too, Rey. But I never thought you were someone who wouldn’t tell me if she was pregnant, even if she broke up with me before she knew, so obviously I was wrong. I never thought—“

 “We’re done,” the female officer announces. “You both will be taken to separate holding cells until your lawyers arrive.”

"We don't have lawyers," Kylo says. 

Where there should only be the thrill of impending victory, a pang of guilt hits Rey. He did do something terrible, but… but she can kind of understand why he’s upset, even if she was right and…

“Ben. There’s… I—“

A big buzz sounds, and then two more officers come in; they take Kylo away, and Rey is left with the female officer, who clasps her elbow and shuffles her along. She bites her bottom lip, and looks at the ground. Maybe she shouldn’t have called Leia?

—

 As Kylo is taken to his cell, he scans the room, looking for any sign of the kids. He didn’t think they’d just let him walk with them or anything, but he was definitely hoping to see them.

He’s left alone for a long time. They must have a separate block for female detainees. Too bad, it seemed like whatever she was about to say might have been an apology. Not that he’s going to forgive her, but it would be nice for her to acknowledge she was wrong.

He does his best to be patient, but the old ticking clock on the wall keeps taunting him. Twenty-seven minutes in, he finally can’t help but spring to his feet and call through the bars of his cell.

“Officer,” he addresses the nit-wit in the corner who startles and quickly tucks his hand behind his back, like it will hide the fact that he was just literally picking his nose.

The officer frowns at him and calls back, “What?”

“Can I at least see my kids, just to tell them everything is going to be okay. They’re probably pretty scared.”

The young, cocky, pimple-faced asshole actually has the nerve to snort at him. “From what I hear the kids are corroborating their mom’s story. I don’t think you’re going to get to see them at all.”

Kylo’s fists clench around the bars, and his teeth grit—there’s no way that pansy-ass scrawny little motherfucker would be talking to him like that if he weren’t behind bars! Still, he chokes down his rage and manages to calmly say, “I’d like to talk to the detective in charge.”

“Yeah, yeah,” The kid strolls past him leisurely, and out the door. Kylo isn’t sure whether that means he’s getting the detective or not. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea of his entire life. But what else was he going to do? If Rey’d gotten away he might never have found her.

To Kylo’s surprise, the young officer does eventually meander back in, followed by the guy who seemed to be the senior officer on the case—the big guy with a mustache. Kylo stops pacing and returns to the bars immediately.

“I hear you’re asking about the kids,” the officer says in greeting.

“Yeah. I want to make sure they’re okay.” 

“Well, here’s the thing, son. The kids say you are their dad. They also say they hadn’t met you until today.”

“Because she didn’t tell me they existed—“

The officer holds a hand up, shaking his head in this tired sort of way, like Kylo’s having a temper tantrum about his favorite sports team losing or some other bullshit.

“Now, we’ve called the coffee shop, and everyone on the morning shift has corroborated your ex-wife’s story. And we have a report about the car you dented at the scene. Do you understand that filing a false report is a penal code violation, and a chargeable offense?”

“Is not telling me about the existence of my children a chargeable offense?”

“I’m really not sure. You’ll have to discuss that with a lawyer. Between you and me, that’s a shitty thing to do, but from what the lady has said, she had good reason. So—“

What the lady has said? How dare she tell them anything at all! She knows nothing! That fucking bitch—how dare she!

“I want a lawyer now,” Ben growls.

The cop sighs again. “Sir, if you care about your kids, I recommend you make this whole thing as easy as possible. Lawyers mean dragging things out, and that’s going to make it harder on them.”

“If she leaves here with them, I might never see them again,” he responds, cold and sure. “I want a lawyer and I’m not cooperating further until I get one.”

“Fine,” the cop sighs. “Do you have a lawyer, or will you need a court appointed one?”

“Yes,” Ben says. “I know the phone number. I’d like to call her now.”

“Fine,” the cop sighs again. He shuffles through a set of keys, and opens the cell. He leads been over to the phone, standing just far enough away to give him his legally allotted amount of privacy.

Ben dials his parents’ landline from memory, and hopes that they haven’t decided to move into the twenty-first century any time in the last eight years.

Seven rings, and then, he hears the ever-easy grin of his father, all the way through the phone, “Solo Residence.”

“Dad,” Ben growls, “I need to talk to mom, now.”

“Shit,” Han says. “I’ll let her know.”

Ben is really surprised by this. He’d expected a bunch of “You haven’t called in eight years and you can’t even spend a few minutes talking to your old man?” Or a “ Finally in jail? How much is bail?” followed by a stupid chuckle at his rhyme.

He listens to his father yell for his mother a few times, and then the yelling stops, and his dad, starts to say, “Listen Ben, don’t say or do anything—“

But then he hears a tussling, and his mother’s voice takes over.

“What happened?” she asks, straight to business.

“Mom, this is a lot to take in, but I need you in lawyer mode, okay? I’m in jail, but I haven’t been arrested. I didn’t know until today but—“

“You’re in jail?” She cuts him off.

“Yes, but—“

“Which one?”

“Ventura County, but—“

“I’ll be there as soon as possible. Don’t say or do anything stupid between now and then.” Click.

Ben pulls the phone away and stares at it for half a second, furious, and then starts to redial.

“Nope,” the officer behind him says, reaching over his shoulder to pluck the phone away. “One call only.”

“She hung up on me!” Ben objects, trying to glare the older, shorter, and much rounder man down.

“Sorry,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “Rules.”

Ben glowers the entire short walk back to his cell.

—

Over an hour later, officer child-molestor-stache finally returns.

“You’re lawyer has just arrived,” he informs Ben. “Are you ready to talk to her?”

Ben is on his feet immediately. “Yes.”

“Alrighty,” The officer says, shaking his head, and pulling his keys out again.

—

“Ma’am, your lawyer has arrived,” a young female officer kindly tells Rey. “Are you ready to meet with her?”

“Yes,” Rey eagerly says, “I just want to take my babies home.”

The officer gives her a sympathetic sort of grimace, but doesn’t say anything, as she leads her from her cell and down the hall.

The door is opened, and Rey is deposited into a room that does not hold Leia Organa, but Ben Solo. She turns back to the door, but it is closing and—and she doesn’t really want to go back to that cell, but still…

“They told me I was being taken to see my lawyer,” Rey huffs as she reluctantly takes a seat at the table—the furthest one from him, of course.

“That’s what they told me too,” Ben snorts. “The morons obviously made a mistake.”

He gets up and moves over to the mirror, assuming there are officers on the other side like in the movies. “Hey! You made a mistake! We’re not supposed to be in the same room!”

If there are officers over there, they don’t seem to be listening, because the seconds turn into minutes and no one comes.

Ben and Rey avoid looking at each other for a while, but Rey holds her breath, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he cracks. She spends the silence debating whether or not to share her suspicions with him—that they did not make a mistake, and they put them in the same room because they both called the same lawyer. What if—

“Have they let you see them?” Kylo asks, breaking her line of thought.

“The twins?” Rey frowns, “No.”

“Those fuckers,” Kylo growls. “I told them that they need to see us so that they know everything’s okay—they’re probably scared.”

Fresh indignant fury rips right through Rey, “They’d know everything was okay—they’d be eating ice cream and watching Sherman and Peabody right now—if you hadn’t falsely accused me of kidnapping!”

“Well I wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t—“

The door opens and they both fall silent.

Rey bites her lip, because she’s expecting to see Leia and for all the shit to hit the fan, but it’s just the older officer with the mustache.  

“Is my lawyer here yet or not?” Kylo asks, rude and annoyed and obviously done even attempting to be civil.

“Your lawyer is being briefed on the situation, sir. I’m just here to let you know that the kids are fine. We’ve given them control of the remote in the break room, and they’ve got some Kit Kats and sodas and—“

“You gave them soda?” Rey gasps. “They’re not allowed to have soda! Why didn’t you ask me first?”

The officer’s eyes widen for surprise for the first time. “They’re seven, ma’am. I’ve never met a seven year old that didn’t love soda.”

“That stuff is so acidic it cleans toilets!” Kylo snarls. “Take it away from them before it does damage to their teeth and digestive tract!”

Rey blinks at him, utterly shocked. That is definitely not what she was expecting. But he’s exactly right, and she nods fervently in agreement. “Yes, exactly! They shouldn’t be drinking it, please take it away from them.”

“When social services gets here, they can decide—“

“Social services?” Rey practically shrieks, absolutely terrified, as every horror of her own childhood flashes before her eyes. “No—No don’t! Ben you need to tell them this was all a lie—We can’t let them be put in the system, we can’t—“

Kylo feels his heart clench as her big panicked eyes pierce his, and her pleas fill his ears. He knows… He knows what happened to her and no matter how mad he is at her, he’ll be damned if that happens to his kids. This is not what he’d intended.

“No,” he sighs. “She—don’t do that. She’s right. I—“

The door opens again. And Leia storms through.

“Benjamin Solo!”

He turns to the sound of the voice and cringes. It’s been eight years since he last saw his mother—her hairs got more grey in it, but she’s no less fierce, and her thunderous tone and her hands on her hips are as displeased and demanding as they’ve been his entire life.

“Why are you yelling at me?” He demands, instantly transported back to being fourteen and surly. “She’s the one who—“

“Leia,” Rey cuts him off as if—as if it hasn’t been eight years since she’s seen his mother, too. “They called social services, you can’t let them—“

“Don’t worry,” Leia smiles at her reassuringly, “I’ve already dealt with it. Han followed me in the Falcon. He’ll take them until we get this sorted out.”

Rey sighs and slumps forward, burying her head on her hands in relief.

Ben sits up straight. So, so straight. His hands go taut, razor rigid and then gradually curl as his mind quickly pieces together what this interaction means.

He stands up, and the officers in the room move forward but he looks past them at his mother, and then back at Rey, whose eyes swim with tears and guilt, and then again at his mother.

Feeling like a bear, trapped and wounded and shot and with absolutely nothing to lose he snarls, “You knew ?”

 --

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Han is led back to the break room by Officer Rudgers, who’s about his age, but has a bigger belly and mustache to show for it. He’s a car man too, and wants to know where he got the perfectly restored fenders for the Falcon. Artemis and Apollo are curled up at opposite ends of the couch, covered in the same big beige fleece or felt or whatever-the-hell kind of blanket. He figures they’ve got a few minutes to talk cars.

It lasts less than thirty-seconds though, because some young kid with curly hair and peach fuzz comes running in saying, “Sir—he’s yelling and screaming, are we supposed to intervene or—“

Rudgers sighs, and steps forward. “Sorry about my kid,” Han calls. “Hold him over night? Might knock some sense into him.”

Rudgers chuckles, “If your wife lets me, I’ll hold him, but if she doesn’t, I doubt I’ll be able to. No one in the California legal system hasn’t heard about Senator Organa, only lawyer in the country who’s never lost a case—doubt I’ll be able to out argue her.”

Han nods, “Yeah, she’s a force of nature. Good luck.”

Rudgers nods in camaraderie and heads out, his junior officer quickly in tow.

Han turns back to the couch, eyeing his sleeping grandkids and the empty candy wrappers and soda cans that surround them. He’s pretty sure once he wakes them up they’re not going back to sleep. Might as well get on with it then.

“Hey kid,” he says, nudging Apollo in the shoulder more gently than his father ever would have, “time to get up.”

Apollo rubs his hazel eyes and blinks up at his smiling, scruffy faced grandfather. He stretches and kicks Artemis in the process.

“Hey!” She groans in protest. She rolls over and stretches too and kicks him back.

He scrambles up, afraid of where her feet are going to land, and immediately feels dizzy and gross.

“Grandpa, I don’t feel good,” he moans, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head.

“How long has it been since you two have had real food?”

“Breakfast,” Artemis answers through a yawn.

“Well, how about we go get some dinner? There used to be a burger joint up here open all night.”

“Okay,” Artemis yawns again. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s still talking to the cops, but Grandma’s here and everything will be fine.”

“Did you know we have a dad now?” Apollo asks.

Han grins wryly and tousles the kiddo’s hair. “Yeah, I have pictures of him from when he was a kid too. You guys want to see??”

Instantly the twins perk up, their eyes finding each others, before they eagerly turn their faces up to Han with identical title grins of conspiracy.

“Alright, I’ll show you once we’re at the diner and we’ve got some food coming.”

“Shotgun!” calls Apollo.

“That’s not how it works with the Falcon, fastest one there gets shotgun.”

And just like that, the twins are up and off, and Han is really glad he gets to do this part, rather than deal with Ben, Rey and the legal mumbo-jumbo.

—

Rudgers and Jimmy enter the viewing side of interrogation room three, which is packed with about half the officers in the station. As the senior officer on duty, Rudgers really should say something, but it’s a slow night and Jerry Springer Live is happening right now. Nothing this entertaining has happened on a shift since last Thanksgiving when they busted up a drug ring who’d been smuggling meth in turkey cavities.

“No one’s throwing any threats around?” Rudgers establishes.

“No, he’s just pissed off as hell,” Barnaby answers.

“What did I miss?” Jimmy asks.

“ Shhh! “ Judy with the dye-job hisses, “He’s laying into her about not telling him she was pregnant!”

“I thought she didn’t know she was pregnant when she left?”

“No, Jimmy, that’s why she left—pay attention!”

“Oh,” Jimmy scratches his head, and turns back to the window, like it’s a TV screen. Rudgers does too.

—

“—I should have been with them this whole time Rey,” Kylo angrily hisses. “I should have been watching them fall asleep every night for the last seven years. You took that from me. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“I was scared.”

“That doesn’t change shit!”

“It’s your fault I was scared,” she responds, forcing herself to be hard because she can’t afford to be soft.

“You knew I was fucked up—why’d you get pregnant if you couldn’t handle the idea of raising kids with me?”

She sputters at the sheer insanity of such a question.

“Obviously I didn’t mean to get pregnant! Accidents happen. And, and I’m glad it happened, but… Ben the last time I saw you—literally the last time I saw you before that coffee shop—you were passed out half hanging off the bed with a needle still jabbed behind your knee because you’d blown out all your easy access veins. I checked your pulse because I genuinely believed you might be dead, and then for an hour I tried to wake you up and you were so gone you couldn’t, and then—“

“Then she called me and I told her to leave,” Leia interjects, all calm and firm and lawyer-like. “I told her to come to us, and I called the ambulance and I made the call to send you to rehab, which you ran away from. If you’d stayed then—“

“Then you would have rewarded me for my good behavior by telling me I was going to be a father? Like it was a fucking surprise trip to Disneyland or something? What the fucking hell mom?” Kylo growls, rounding on her.

Even though he’s mad, a teeny-tiny part of him can at least understand that Rey was freaked out and panicked, but his Mom? There is no excuse for his mother’s complicity in this whole thing. And still, she stares him down with that hard holier-than-thou straight face of hers.

“You’re a grown man who’s made mistake after mistake despite all the privileges you’ve had in life and all the love your father and I have given you. I had to protect my grandchildren and their mother, so I did, and I’m not going to apologize for that. I will apologize for not telling you and giving you the chance to decide to change.”

That’s it. Now all he can see is red. He stands up, whirls around and kicks his chair as hard as he fucking can. It flies across the room and smashes into the wall and then tumbles back with a few good thuds, but it’s not enough. He spins around again, fists clenched and screams at his mother:

“What love? The kind where you fucking lie to me for seven fucking years! The kind where you just up and abandon me when I maybe needed you most because it was too hard to deal with me? Fuck you mom! FUCK YOU! I fucking hate you. I am never forgiving you for this! I am—“

The door opens and officer child-molestor-stache comes in, backed by two younger guys who look like they hope they get to draw a gun. Ben feels cornered—and he literally is. The only way out of this room is through those officers.

He spins away from them, meaning to stare at the wall, and breathe through his nose or some other calming shit he’s always sucked at, but he catches sight of Rey and the tears streaming down her face.

“God damn it,” he mutters. “Don’t cry. You don’t get to cry and make me feel bad. You’re the one in the wrong.”

“Maybe,” she whispers. “But even if I am, you’re dealing with it the wrong way Kylo. Don’t let my wrongs be a reason for yours.”

“You always get to say shit like that and come out all wise and mature beyond your years. It’s not fucking fair Rey,” he mutters back, but even to his own ears he sounds kind of pathetic.

She gives him a sort of grimace of sympathy, as his words bring back every resolution to every fight they ever had.

You’re always right, it’s not fucking fair Rey. I’m sorry I’m such a dickwad.

How do you see this stuff? It’s not fucking fair. I don’t know if you’re crazy smart or I’m just really fucking stupid.

I wish I wasn’t such an angry ass Rey, it’s not fair to you. You should just leave me. You see everything else so clearly, why can’t you see that?

Maybe he’s thinking about the same thing, because he doesn’t look away and the sharpness in his eyes dulls, giving way to a watery sort of gleam—not tears, just a softness, a sadness, a sort of admission.

“Officers, thank you but I think things will be fine,” Leia says, her voice breaking whatever was just maybe happening.

“Ma’am, I think it is best if we hold uh, Mr. Solo, overnight, just to give him a chance to calm down. We don’t want either you or Miss Johnson to be in danger.”

“I’m not going to fucking hurt them,” Kylo says through gritted teeth. “I’m just pissed off because my own mother hid my kids from me for seven years. I think I deserve to yell a little.”

“Yelling is fine, damaging station property is not,” Officer ‘Stache says. Kylo wants to kick him now. But he doesn’t. He sits down in another chair, his legs jumping, sitting on his hands, biting his inner cheeks, trying to calm down enough for these uniform-entitled fuckers to let him go. He’ll yell at his mom later.

—

Han follows the kids into the old Cafe 50’s tucked away off Vineyard where the farms meet the freeway. They burst through the neon-lit doors like this is the most exciting place they’ve ever been. The hostess lets them have their pick of booths, and sets them up with coloring menus and new personally wrapped crayons.

Han keeps the old photo album safely in his lap until the waitress comes to take their order because he wants the kids to know what they’re going to eat before he distracts them. Artemis wants to look at the adult menu, and Apollo takes over her coloring page when she loses patience with the word search.

Han watches the waitress wander across the mostly empty diner. She’s as old as him but with more eyeliner than all the guys in KISS combined, and she smells like cigarette smoke. It sure does take him back. Leia would never set foot in a place like this.

“What can I get you all tonight?” she asks, smiling at the kids.

“Do you have salad?” Apollo instantly asks.

Her pencil eyebrows jump up. “You want salad? Not a burger or shake or something?”

Apollo shakes his head fervently. “No, just a really really big salad. With goat cheese?”

Her eyebrows manage to make it one rung higher, and her whole forehead threatens to become naught but crinkles and wrinkles under the pressure. “Goat cheese?”

“They don’t have that fancy organic stuff your mom has you eat here,” Han gently explains, then turns to the waitress. “You got blue cheese?”

“Yeah we got some for the blue cheese burgers, but I don’t know if a kid would like it.”

“He’s—“

“Stop making fun of my brother,” Artemis snarls, getting up on her knees. The waitress steps back, startled.

“I’m not—“

“She’s not making fun of him, Arte,” Han says. “Most kids don’t eat goat cheese.”

“Maybe not when you were a kid Grandpa, but pretty much all my friends like goat cheese,” Apollo explains.

Han and the waitress exchange a look. “My wife’s got them in a fancy private school.”

This doesn’t do much to decrease the excited state of her eyebrows, but she turns to her pad and says, “Okay, big salad, blue cheese. What kinda dressing would you like, kiddo?”

“Vinaigrette?” Apollo asks, hopefully.

“I want a chicken burger and salad and French fries,” Artemis tells her, as she jots down Apollo’s request.

“Right,” the waitress nods. “Either of you want drinks? We’ve got Coke, Sprite, root beer, milkshakes—chocolate, strawberry and vanilla.”

“I never want sugar again,” Artemis fiercely declares, like their poor waitress has personally challenged her.

The waitress again looks at Han, he just shakes his head. “Just bring them waters, I’ll have a burger and a chocolate malt.”

“Yes sir-ry!” And with that she walks off, shooting Artemis one last look, like she’s worried Artemis might transform into a Chihuahua and come chasing after her, nipping at her heels.

“Can we see pictures of our dad now?” Apollo asks, pushing the coloring pages and crayons aside.

“Yeah!” Artemis seconds, still on her knees, peering over the table like she might come wrestle the book from Han.

He gives them a big grin and pulls it right out. Their little hands reach for it, and in perfect synchronicity Apollo holds it down, while Artemis turns to the first page. Pictures of Ben as a newborn. Han looks at them from upside down and, damn does he feel old.

“Eww!” Artemis squeals, “he’s all pink and gross!”

“That’s what all babies look like when they’re born,” Han says, “you looked just like that too.”

“Did not!” Artemis objects. “I wasn’t that squishy looking.”

She flips forward several pages, and stops when they reach Ben at around their age. He’s got a mop of curls cropped to his neck, a lot like Apollo’s, but, of course, they’re black like Artemis’. In this picture Ben is glaring at the camera with his arms crossed, surly as ever.

“Why’s he mad?” Apollo asks.

“I don’t remember,” Han answers. “I actually wasn’t there that day, I was on a trip.”

A few pages later, and Ben is nine, maybe ten, in these pictures. He’s holding a training guitar and looking at it, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration.

“I do that too!” Apollo notes, pointing to it.

On the next page, there’s Ben sitting at his drum kit. There’s a sequence of pictures here, in the first two he’s got the sticks flying all blurred, his head down. In the third he looks up startled. In the forth the sticks are down and he’s glaring.

“He’s mad in this one too,” Artemis says.

“Yeah, I wasn’t there then either, actually, so I don’t know the specifics. But your dad’s always been a sourpuss. He didn’t like it when people surprised him or walked in on him doing stuff, especially his music.”

“He can play two instruments?” Apollo asks in awe.

“He can play six now,” Han says. “Grandma had him learn piano as a kid, just like you guys. And he got into guitar and drums, and then bass, and as a teenager he picked up the flute and saxophone, although I think that last one was just because it drove me crazy to hear him practice it. Not that he wasn’t good at it—he’s always been good at music. He’s got the ear.”

“Do I have the ear Grandpa?” Artemis asks.

“I think you sound good at your piano recitals, but the truth is, I’m not the person to ask. I don’t have the ear, myself.”

“Do you think our dad would want to come to our next piano recital?” Apollo asks hopefully.

Han smiles. “Yeah kid, I think he would.”

—

Once Kylo calms down, it doesn’t take Leia long to convince the police to let them all go. Ben is going to be fined for making a false report and will probably have to appear in court, but, all in all, he’s pretty much getting off consequence free. Rey plans to be pissed about that tomorrow, but tonight she’s just too exhausted. So exhausted, that she doesn’t even realize until she’s half-way back to Leia’s that Kylo is following her in his car.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t already know where his parents live, she reasons. Still, when she pulls into the driveway behind Leia, who parks in the garage, of course, and Kylo turns off his car right behind hers, she hesitates… She knows she’s got to get out of the car and she can’t tell if Leia realizes Kylo has followed them or not, but probably not because she’s disappeared into the house and… Damn it.

Rey gets out of her car and he’s already standing there, outside of his, looking at her, just waiting.

“Look,” she immediately says, “I will talk to your mom about us… about us talking again, but tonight I’m just too tired and—“

“I just want to say goodnight to them,” he says. It’s a simple statement, neither quiet nor loud, not angry… just steady and factual and sure.

Rey bites her bottom lip, determined to not elicit another screaming fit. “I will work out a time for us all to meet, but I don’t think this is the best—“

“Please Rey,” he interrupts, his voice so soft that it startles her more than yelling ever could. “I just… I don’t want their only impression of me to be the way I acted at the coffee shop. I promise to keep it short and not say anything shitty, okay. Just please?”

Rey’s guts clench and melt all at once. She crosses her arms over her ribs, like she could squeeze them into not reacting to the sadness in the press of his lips, the earnest anticipation for her answer… Of course, she cannot stop any of it. And she really, really is too tired for this.

“Fine,” she sighs in defeat. “But just five minutes, and if they ask for more, you back me up about it being way past bedtime and just tell them that they’ll get to see you again this weekend.”

He stares at her hard, those eyes of his churning and burning and earnest. “Thank you.”

“Yeah well, at least I know you won’t be sneaking them junk food, so…” She trails off, shaking her head, partially at herself and partially just because she’s got to stop looking at him. Looking at him is how she got herself into this whole mess in the first place. A big, giant ten year mess that all began with and, as this moment shows, lead up to looking at Ben Solo.

“I won’t. No candy or fast food either,” he promises her, and walks forward.

His motion springs her own. They fall into step on their way up the path to the front door. Coming around the bend of the shrubs, she almost makes the mistake of saying something just because somehow the silence is harder but—

Poe, all five foot nine inches of him, his chest puffed up, and his arms crossed, is standing at the top of the porch, glaring down the steps.

--

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Poe stands on the porch, glaring down at Ben. Rey knows she shouldn’t be mad at him for being here, but he’s just another complication in an already insanely complicated and exhausting day.

“Did my parents get a security guard?” Kylo asks, and Rey honestly can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

“I’m Poe,” Poe announces, his arms remaining firmly crossed. “You must be Kylo.”

“Yeah,” Kylo drawls, “And?”

“And,” Poe’s back straightens and his chest puffs even more. “I heard my girlfriend got arrested because her psycho-ex made a false police report.”

“Girlfriend?” Kylo echoes, looking at Rey like she’s sprouted an extra head.

“That’s right,” Poe nods. “I think you and I need to have a serious talk.”

Kylo scoffs, rolls his eyes, and walks past Rey, right up the steps.

Rey jumps to follow, afraid she’s going to have to have to get in the middle of some stupid male territorial display of aggression… But Kylo just walks past Poe, and twists the knob on the front door.

“Kylo, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to say goodnight to my kids,” he answers, his voice unusually quiet, and maybe even a little bit in awe, or something.

He then steps into the house, and lets the door fall shut behind him.

Poe is at her elbow instantly, ready to push in after, but she twists to face him, planting a hand firmly on his chest. “I cannot handle any more confrontation tonight.”

His gaze instantly softens, and his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against him. “I’m sorry babe, I was just so worried, and I hated that I couldn’t help.”

“I know,” Rey says, hugging him back. “I’m okay though. And now I just want to get the kids and get home.”

“Are you sure it’s okay that they see him?” Poe asks, pulling back a little, all concerned and caring.

Rey’s lips form a grimace and she nods, “Yeah. I… I’ll tell you the whole story later, but I don’t think… They’re almost eight. It’s okay for them to, to at least meet him. And after today I don’t think I have much of a choice. We’ll take it one day at a time though.”

“Okay,” Poe says, although his frown suggests he’s not really a fan of anything she’s just said. He’s quick to change it into that ever-good-natured, supportive smile of his though. “The kids are in the theater room with Han.”

Rey shakes her head fondly, “Of course they are.”

She steps out of Poe’s embrace, to open the door, and he grabs her hand, swinging her in for a kiss. She’s definitely not in the mood for the sort of passionate kiss he seems to be trying to create, but she does her best to indulge him, rather than counting the seconds and wondering what Kylo is saying to the kids—What if he’s already fighting with Han? What if—

Poe breaks away, his calloused boxy hands cup her face, and brush some stray hair behind her ear. She grabs it, and pulls it to her lips for a quick kiss, trying to ward off any feelings that might accidentally be hurt by her haste. “Let’s go check on them?”

—

Han is in the hallway outside the theater room, when they get there. “Leia’s with them,” He quickly tells Rey.

“Poe!” He grins, “Let’s give the drama squad here a minute, and you come pop a cold one with me and tell me all about what they’re doing with the F1.”

“All I can say is you don’t ever want to be on the other side of one,” Poe grins. "But I should stay with Rey, just in case--"

“Go grab a beer, Honey,” Rey smiles encouragingly. “It will probably make things go faster and smoother.”

Poe frowns. “You sure you don’t need me?”

Rey gives his hand a squeeze, “I promise to yell for you if I do. I just want to get Kylo out of here as fast as possible, and you’re more likely to hinder that than help it, regardless of your intentions.”

“Okay, babe,” Poe says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

As he and Han make their way down the corridor, Rey hears him ask, “How can you stand having your daughter’s abusive druggie ex in your house?”

She cringes. She’d been meaning to have that conversation with him for a long time… Looks like that time is probably going to have to be tomorrow.

--

Once Poe and Han are up the stairs and can’t be heard anymore. Rey super-quietly inches the door open. More than a foot in, and she slides inside a bit, not really hiding but definitely not announcing herself. No one looks her way, or even pauses in conversation, so she’s pretty sure she’s thus-far unnoticed.

Kylo is sitting in one of the theater chairs, and the twins are standing in front of him, 3D glasses in hand, looking at him with a sort of nervous, giddy awe.

“—don’t know any other seven-year olds,” he’s telling them, sounding so… so soft and patient, apologetic really. “So I’m not sure what kinds of things I’m not supposed to say to you, but I always hated grown-ups treating me like a kid, so I’m not going to do that. Besides, if you’re smart like your mom—which is pretty smart—I bet you’re way smarter than me already anyway.”

Rey blushes a bit involuntarily—she’s definitely smarter than Ben Solo in some ways, but of course, he’s definitely smarter than her in a few really impressive categories—which is the only reason it makes some part of her tingle to hear him say that. Really, it’s just because he does happen to be pretty smart—for someone who is so utterly stupid, of course.

“So, here’s the thing,” Ben continues, looking up at the twins. “The way I acted in that coffee shop, wasn’t okay. I was really mad at your mom for not telling me about you guys, because I wish I’d known you your whole lives. It wasn’t right of her not to tell me about you, but it also wasn’t right of me to deal with it by yelling and screaming. I promise, I don’t usually act that way. Did I scare you?”

His eyes dart between the twins, all big and watery and concerned, and the part of Rey that puffed up about him telling them that she was wrong quickly deflates.

“No,” Artemis instantly answers.

“A little bit,” Apollo admits. “But that’s just cause I’ve never heard anyone yell like that—except Artemis, but she’s not as scary.”

“Is that right?” Kylo asks, chuckling a bit. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve got some lung power, Artemis, but you know not to act the way I did, right?”

Artemis rolls her eyes and does a little twist, swinging her skirt out.  "Obviously."

Kylo gives her a conspiratorial smile, and then turns back to Apollo, his eyes softening. “I’m really sorry I scared you Apollo. I can’t promise I’ll never get mad again, but I can promise I will never ever yell at either of you like that.”

“I don’t want you to yell at Mom either,” Apollo says. "She cried a lot and that scared me more.”

Rey’s esophagus swells, threatening to choke her. Anger and guilt swirl to life in her stomach, anger at Kylo for making her cry, guilt for letting herself get so emotional—Of course it scared them! How could I have been so selfish? What—

“I don’t want to yell at Mom like that again either,” Kylo agrees. “From now on your mom and I will talk things through. And we already did a bit down at the police station. I’d really like to get to know you both, and if you guys want to get to know me too, Mom says that’s okay.”

He pauses for a moment, and Rey sees his shoulders tense with worry, or maybe she’s just projecting, because hers are.

“Would you like to?” He tentatively asks, his voice just the tiniest bit shaky—so tiny that she’s probably the only one who can detect it. She’s honestly not sure what she wants their answer to be.

“Yeah,” Apollo says.

Rey decides this is a good time to step into the room.

“Hi,” she softly says, like she might spook the moment away.

“Hi,” Ben softly replies, glancing at her. “What’s a good day for us to get together?”

“How about—“

The sound of Han and Poe laughing, invades the room. A second later their actual bodies follow, both holding beers that leak condensation down their fingers.

Kylo instantly stiffens, but, to Rey’s relief, turns back to the twins, rather than getting up and doing anything confrontational.

“Can Poe come play with us too?” Artemis asks, grinning across the room to Poe.

“I don’t think—“ Rey starts, but—

“Of course I can be there sweetheart,” Poe answers, cutting her off.

Ben bristles. Rey literally steps into the middle, half way between each dark-haired male. “Hunny, Poe and—“

She stumbles. It feels wrong to call him Ben or Kylo. It feels weird to call him Dad. Or maybe it just makes her feel guilty. She isn’t sure. This isn’t the time to unpack it though. So she’s got to just—

“Dad. You guys can call me Dad.” Kylo interjects, obviously having deduced the source of her struggle.

Rey takes a quick breath and just skips over it, letting his word fall into place without either corroborating or rejecting it. “They don’t know each other, and they might not want to just jump in to—“

“I want it to be with just Dad,” Apollo pipes up looking a little scared, like he might be in trouble for it.

Rey’s eyes dart from the crestfallen shock on Poe’s face, to the huge involuntary grin on Ben’s. She sees a little twinkle in both Leia and Han’s eyes and—

“I want Poe,” Artemis insists. “I mean Dad seems great and all, but I know Poe and I don’t want him to go away just because we have a Dad now.”

She turns to Ben, craning her neck, “Can’t you be friends with him too?”

Rey’s heart—already put through the wringer—full on stops working this time. She’s looking at Kylo in panic, because if he doesn’t handle this well she’s not sure whether she’s going to cry or go grab one of Leia’s Japanese chef’s knives and stab her ex-lover. Probably both.

Ben’s smile dims a bit, but he leans forward, so Artemis is looking down at him, putting her in a position of power. “I want you to have what you need, and if you need Poe to hang out with us the first time, then sure—“ he glances up at Poe, challenge flashing in his eyes, “—Poe can be there. And if you change your mind between now and then, that’s fine too. I’m going to need you to think really really hard about what you want us to do, though.”

“Can we see you play guitar?” Apollo asks.

“I showed them the pictures,” Han confesses.

“Sure,” Ben agrees, not batting an eyelash—which Rey is really really shocked by, because the Kylo she knows hated people seeing pictures of him so much that he burned all the ones from his childhood he could get his hands on. She would have expected him to at least shoot Han a dirty look, but nope, nothing.

“I play piano!” Artemis declares, rocking back and forth, a little bit closer to him. “Want to hear?”

Ben breaks into that easy, genuine smile again and Rey—Rey can feel Poe stiffen. She goes to him, and tucks herself into his side as best she can, to give him a reassuring hug. The problem is, he holds on, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and he’s really too short, or she’s too tall, so staying this way forces her spine to curve at this uncomfortable angle. But… But he needs the support right now.

And, besides, this makes it so he can’t see her face. Which matters quite a lot right now, because she’s trying really really hard not to smile at the way both of her kids are smiling at Ben, and Ben is smiling at them and… And she’s also trying not to cry because if he screws this up she will kill him. She will absolutely kill him for breaking their hearts, and hers, because, for some stupid stupid stupid reason—not a reason, there is no reason, it’s just there—she sort of has hope that maybe he won’t.

“I’d love to,” Kylo tells Artemis, his eyes all lit up with delight. She spins on her heel and dashes off toward the foyer.

Rey opens her mouth, but Ben beats her too it, “Not tonight though, Artemis! I hear it’s way past your bedtime. Besides, I have a better piano than Grandma at my house anyway.”

Artemis pops back around the corner, her eyes bright, “What do you mean better?”

“Grandma’s piano is a baby grand. I have a full grand piano. And it’s white, which is way less common, and therefore way more cool.”

Leia huffs and rolls her eyes, but delight and fondness radiate off of her.

“Great,” Poe jumps in, startling Rey. “We’ll plan for next Saturday then?”

“We’ve got soccer on Saturday,” Rey gently reminds him. “How about Sunday?”

“Sunday is fine,” Ben says, his eyes still on the kids. “Is soccer on Saturday a match?”

“Yeah,” Artemis answers proudly. “Want to come to that too?”

Ben smiles and Rey cringes and then, to her utter surprise, he says, “I do, but we’ve got to make sure that things are okay with your mom too. It’s been a while since she and I have seen each other, and it might take us a little while to get used to spending time together again.”

“Because you don’t love each other anymore?” Artemis asks.

Ben looks as shocked as Rey feels, but opens his mouth like he’s determined to figure out what to say. Rey doesn’t know what he might say and she isn’t sure she wants to but—

“Exactly,” Poe answers for them both. “Besides, soccer is our thing. You can learn music with Ben and soccer from me. It’ll be more fun that way.”

Ben’s jaw clenches, and Rey’s does too, but she snuggles into Poe’s side with fierce determination, even though the weird bent angle is seriously making her neck hurt.

Ben stands up, his hand reaching for the kid’s heads automatically, so much like Han, but he pulls it back. “I’ll see you guys on Sunday then. We can go to lunch too, if that’s okay with your mom, anywhere you want.”

Apollo steps forward, and wraps his arms around Ben’s waist, his head falling briefly onto Ben’s stomach. Ben’s eyes go wide with shock and then, he dips his head down, so his ever-wild locks fall over his eyes. He places his hand on Apollo’s upper back, pulling him in. Ben’s hand looks huge, or maybe Apollo looks so much smaller with Ben there.

Then Ben drops down, so he’s crouching in front of Apollo, his hands hesitant, like he doesn't want to force anything. But he doesn't have to. Apollo instantly wraps his arms all the way around Ben’s neck. “I’m really glad we met you Dad.”

Artemis leans in too, and Ben is quick to wrap her in his other arm, hugging both of them to him close. Rey can see his eyes, and how they close and his face softens and his nostrils expand, breathing them in, with the sort of concentration like he’s got to remember this for the rest of his life.

Leia leans into Han. Rey tries really really really hard to ignore how twisted and contorted her neck is, but her spine is begging her to step away from Poe. She tries to inch just a little.

Apollo pulls back from Ben, just far enough to look at him, and says, “I’m really glad we met you Dad.”

Rey knows this isn’t the right moment but a little isn’t enough. She steps away fully, and Poe looks at her, but she’s still looking at her kids—not at Ben. She does take Poe’s hand though. She makes sure she does that.

“I’m really glad I met you too,” Ben softly responds, his gaze shifting from Artemis to Apollo and back. “I’m really happy I get to know you.”

Artemis breaks away now, twitching her nose like she this whole thing is just getting too touchy-feely-sappy for her. “You promise we will play music on Sunday?”

“I promise,” Ben solemnly tells her.

Poe squeezes Rey’s hand. “I’ll follow you back?”

Rey’s guts cringe. She knows that she basically needs to say yes.. But… But…

“I’m just too tired tonight,” she whispers softly, imploringly, “and the kids need my attention. Come over tomorrow after work though?”

“Sure, no problem Babe,” Poe nods, with a smile that would be so so sweet if only it reached his eyes. “Tomorrow.”

--

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Chapter Text

Almost two years ago, Rey and Han finished fully restoring the Falcon. It had been their project for years, but what gave them the final push through was the 100th annual Southern California Automotive Association Car Show and Competition. Only cars that were 100% original to their manufacturing specs could even enter.

The twins had just turned six and were eager to help. They were old enough to understand instructions and the purpose of caution, but young enough that their tiny fingers could twist into places Han’s and even Rey’s never could. All in all, the timing was perfect to finally complete the Falcon.

The car show was in Santa Barbara, maybe a mile from the beach. It was warm but breezy. The sky was blue, the feeling of summer at its start—hope and promise—permeated the air.

They rolled up to the show, grinning like proud idiots. Rey wore a sunhat and big bubble glasses that Leia had picked out for her. Her shorts were not completely mom-ish and she’d even shaved her legs. She hadn’t felt so fancy in a long time.

While Han checked in and got all their paperwork and slot assignment business figured out, the twins stood up in the back seat waving at everyone who walked by. Mostly other guys Han’s age—some with grandkids, some with wives, some in groups, some alone. Sometimes stoner surfer dudes in wetsuits would stop and nod and say things like “sweet rims,” or “sweet fender” or “sweet lights”—everything was sweet.

Then Poe appeared.

He wore khaki shorts and a polo shirt and flip flops. He was clean shaven and his hair was clipped short, just the tiniest hint of curl allowed to show. His sunglasses were aviator style, and they matched his big sparkling white grin perfectly. He came up to the drivers side of the car and called to the twins, “So which one of you drove here in this beauty?”

“Grandpa!” The twins declared. Then Artemis added, “I pumped the brakes!”

“I screwed on the vacuum booster!” Apollo chimed up.

“That’s mighty impressive,” Poe chuckled, then he turned to Rey, “You and the littles did a great job with this car.”

Rey was so stunned that he assumed she had anything to do with it, that it took her a whole thirty seconds to dumbly nod and say, “Thank you.”

“Want to see the battery?” Artemis asked, leaping over into the driver's seat.

“You bet I do!” Poe was quick to answer.

The twins clambered over the doors, leaping onto the asphalt below. By the time Rey was out of the car to follow, they were already trying to wrestle the hood open. Poe turned to Rey, with that charming grin, like there was always a chuckle at the edge of his throat, and asked, “May I?”

“Sure,” Rey answered, although she slid over and lifted the hood herself. She wiggled the newly-oiled support rod into place, and watched the twins excitedly point out to Poe every single part they could remember the names of. Poe listened attentively, nodded enthusiastically, and even asked questions that had both twins beaming with pride every time they answered them.

Rey couldn’t help but smile at how good he was with them. She also couldn’t help but think about how in an alternate reality where she’d stayed with Ben, there’s no way Ben would have agreed to come to something like this—in fact, in an alternate reality where she’d stayed with Ben, there’s probably no way she and Han ever would have finished the Falcon. Ben would still be busy hating his father and struggling not to take it personally that Rey didn’t hate him too. Maybe.

She shook her head and went back to focusing on the kids, and how excited they were to be telling this stranger with a good smile all about the car.

Han returned with all the paperwork they needed and handed it off to Rey.

Poe was quick to stick his hand out.

“Poe Dameron,” he said, as Han squeezed his hand firmly. “Your grandkids and daughter were giving me a blow by blow on this restoration. She’s a real beauty.”

“I think so,” Han agreed. “I think I saw you pulling up—You got an early seventies Aston Martin?”

“Yes Sir,” Poe nodded. “Inherited it from my grandfather.”

Rey had one eye on the twins, who’d become distracted by the swarm of ants currently dismantling a wasp carcass, and one eye on Han, spreading his feet and sizing Poe up.

“Sir?” Han commented. “I’m gonna have to assume you’re up to no good throwing around words like Sir.”

“Sorry,” Poe laughed, his little curl bouncing as he shook his head. “No, I’m just a Navy man—it’s a habit.”

Here we go, Rey thought, rolling her eyes.

“Out of Hueneme?”

“Pt. Mugu. I’m a pilot.”

“A pilot! In the Navy? Why Navy, not Air Force?”

“Well Sir,” Poe grinned devilishly, “I wanted to serve, not join the country club.”

Han kept a straight face, waiting for Poe to do something. But Poe just held his gaze, his confident, easy smile not in the least bit diminished. Han waited and waited and waited, almost long enough for Rey to call this whole stupid thing off, but then Han broke into a big charming grin of his own, and clapped Poe on the back.

“I was a pilot in the Navy too. Most of it’s still classified, but I can tell you I flew in Operation Frequent Wind—got more people out of the fall of Saigon than any other pilot in any branch!”

“Well, I’d love to hear more about that, Sir. And the car too. Can I come find you once you get this beauty parked?”

“You sure can!” Han said, taking that as his cue to hop back into the Falcon.

Poe didn’t head right back to his own car though. He bent down near the twins, still examining the insect death ritual, and said something Rey couldn’t hear. But the twins were quick to pop up and into the car.

As they were pulling away, and Poe, who, Rey had to admit, did cut a nice figure, was heading back to his car, she asked them, “What did he say to you?”

“He said he’s going to play with us after Grandpa got his car spot!” Artemis grinned.

“He said he’d bring us a surprise too,” Apollo added.

Rey hummed thoughtfully. On the one hand, he seemed perfectly nice and normal—except what normal man has any interest in six-year-olds who aren’t his? And if he was interested in her—not that she assumed he was, just it was slightly more logical and far less creepy than him being mostly interested in her kids—he certainly wasn’t making any show of trying to get her attention.

Maybe he really just wants to hear Han’s old war stories?  Years of spending weekends with the twins and Han has taught her that military guys just love to swap stories—usually the older ones, but, well, no reason to assume the younger ones wouldn’t too.

Han slid the Falcon into place between two other ’67s, and Rey decided now, before Han wanders off to start talking to the owners of the cars around them, is the best time to make for the Porta-Potties—she’d remembered to make the twins go when they’d stopped for breakfast, she’d just forgotten to herself.

“Don’t run off, stay where Grandpa can see you, okay?” she instructed the twins.

“Okay, Mommy,” Apollo diligently nodded. Artemis was already inching toward an unsuspecting seagull.

“Artemis?”

“Okay,” Artemis echoed. Rey wasn’t sure she’d actually heard her.

“I’ll make sure,” Apollo promised Rey.

“Thanks sweetie,” Rey sighed, giving him a quick hug. Artemis took this has her cue to make for the seagull with full speed.

When Rey returned from the Porta-Potties some twenty minutes later, both of the twins were happily sitting in the grass, holding something—stuffed animals?

No! Rey mentally gasped, quickening her pace.

“Where did you get that?” Rey frantically asked, dropping to her knees beside the twins and the huge bags of pink, fluffy, cotton candy they were currently emptying handful by handful into their mouths.

The twins simultaneously glanced up and to the left. Rey turned and looked behind her. Poe sheepishly grinned down at her, coming to crouch beside her.

“Sorry,” he told her, “I didn’t know they couldn’t have it.”

Rey took a long deep breath. Behave like a reasonable human, she instructed herself.

“It was a nice thought,” she said, doing her best to smile, “I just don’t let them eat junk food.”

“Ah, but cotton candy’s one of those things about childhood that gives you the warm fuzzy memories when you get older. It's big and fun to look at and play with, there's no other taste like it--plus its a real accomplishment to eat a whole one!"

Rey frowned. "It's just sugar and food dye. It totally lacks substance. All it does is create a temporary high that results in an awful crash and maybe some tooth decay.

"Ah, well. I didn't think of it like that. My dad died when I wasn’t much older than them, and carnival kinda foods always bring me back to stuff like this with him, being this age. It's what I think of when I think of being a kid. But I see your point too, and I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Rey sighs, “I know you were just trying to do something nice. Thank you. Really, I just—“

“You don’t have a dad?” Artemis cuts her off, wiping her sticky fingers on the grass.

“Not anymore,” Poe answers.

“We don’t either,” Artemis tells him.

Poe’s eyes, barely visible behind those sunglasses, again slide from the twins to Rey, “I’m sorry for your loss. I know how big it is.”

“Oh, no,” Rey quickly corrects— Why? Why did you do that? You should have just let him assume. Now there will be questions! “I… It wasn’t a death.”

“I see,” Poe says, still smiling, but his tone serious. For the first time Rey can really really feel his eyes on her. Her cheeks heat up a bit, even as her stomach swirls with nausea—she wasn’t expecting to have to have a conversation even vaguely resembling this today.

Poe, thank goodness, turns back to the twins though, who are more interested in sneaking more cotton candy while Rey is distracted, than in following the decidedly adult turn to this conversation.

“Well, are you guys allowed to have kettle corn? Or maybe just some good-old fashioned corn on the cob? I saw a booth pulling some straight out of the farmer’s truck.”

Rey grimaces, feeling bad for killing his buzz. Her brain starts to go off about GMOs and the pesticides they’re smothered in and—

“I like corn,” says Apollo.

“Have you ever had it raw, straight off the cob?” Poe asks. “It’s the best, and—“ he winks at Rey, “it’s the healthiest too.”

Rey bites the inside of her bottom lip. Just this one time, she tells herself.

For Rey’s efforts at suppressing her better instincts, she gets a lovely walk to and from the corn stand, during which Artemis holds Poe’s hand and an old lady in a Grateful Dead tee-shirt stops and tells them they’re a lovely family.

She feels a little queasy the whole time. But Poe is nice, and he makes her laugh more than once. And the twins beg him not to leave when the day is done. And Han invites him to dinner. And… and so, maybe just that one time, wasn’t so bad. Maybe, just this one time, it was okay.