"–and then we gave insult to injury by jumping to hyperspace," I finish summarizing the events on Jakku.
Finn reacted pretty hilariously when he found out who I am, I send, sharing the memory of him laughing like crazy.
"A fine story," Maz says with a smile, eyes still locked onto Finn. Who is a touch uncomfortable with the attention, but not that much. If it hadn't been Maz doing the staring, I'm betting the uncomfortableness would've been a lot worse.
Mostly Finn is incredulous, disbelieving, and positively delighted by my flippant description of the First Order.
BB-8, on the other hand, is deeply satisfied by it. Almost viciously so.
It doesn't explain why you brought them here.
He needs training, I explain, sharing the memory of our conversation about Kylo Ren. Maz returns compassionate understanding.
"Is there a reason you keep staring at me?" Finn asks, and while it can't be called hostile in any way, it is just a tad snappish.
"You have pretty eyes," Maz replies without missing a beat, her words backed by subtle sincerity as always. While she often keeps information to herself, Maz never lies. Combined with her reputation of neutrality, it's enough to make everyone trust her.
Not everyone should.
Maz's compliment actually makes Finn blush, his ears darkening with a hint of pink and startled pleasure flaring high. It's a shame the scarf prevents me from seeing if his cheeks have darkened as well.
His pleasure is quickly drowned out by instinctive denial of course, but that doesn't diminish the adorableness of his first reaction.
"It's true, your eyes are very pretty," I tease, backing it with my own sincerity. Finn's eyes really are beautiful. Deep and soulful, their color so dark it's like looking into space. The only thing missing are the stars.
"You're just saying that," Finn tries to convince himself.
"We're not," I say, but decide to stop teasing him as grows more uncomfortable. Maz can work on his self-esteem issues during training. If she takes him on as a pupil, that is.
Will you teach him? I ask while Emmie arrives with our order. Finn welcomes the distraction with open arms, turning towards her with a look as relieved as he feels.
"Two kavas, as ordered," Emmie says while putting the drinks down in front of me and Finn. "Anything else, Boss?"
"We're fine for now. Thank you, Emmie."
I will.
I send her a wave of gratitude. I don't know what I would've done if she'd refused. Not that I thought she would, but it's still a relief to hear.
Maz does the mental equivalent of ruffling my hair. I bask in the wonderful sensation. I've missed this.
"Roger, roger, Boss," Emmie says warmly, before flicking her optics towards me. "Brat," she finishes in a dismissive tone ruined by the affection she feels.
"Emmie," I return with a nod, amused at how she always pretends to be uncaring despite knowing exactly how useless that is. It has nothing to do with our audience either, she acts like this in private as well.
Emmie leaves. I pick up the cup of kava and pull down my scarf, causing a burst of surprise, confusion and nervousness from Finn. I inhale the rich aroma. I'm never cheap when it comes to kava, but prepackaged beans have nothing on freshly harvested ones.
He'll be easier to teach than you were, Maz sends as I take a sip, savoring the almost too hot beverage. Kava is the most wonderful drink to ever exist. It tastes like the most delicious of chocolate, and it has the invigorating effect of coffee. What more can anyone ask for?
Are you saying I was a difficult student?
Very.
"I thought we were supposed to stay in disguise?" Finn asks, a very reasonable concern.
"No one is paying us any attention." Courtesy of Maz. "You're safe here, Finn," I add when his nervousness doesn't abate. The use of his name catches his full attention as always, and he gives me a searching look, so intense I half expect his presence to reach for mine.
It doesn't, but Finn apparently still finds what he was searching for. He relaxes, lowers his scarf, and picks up his own cup of kava. After giving it a curious sniff, he takes a cautious sip.
Overwhelming pleasure and astonishment flare high, immediately joined by equally strong wonder and delight. His reaction is a lot stronger than the one he had when he tasted real food for the first time on my ship. Not that this is surprising. Kava tastes so much better than literally everything else.
Finn closes his eyes and swirls the kava around his mouth with rapture.
"This is amazing," he declares after he finally swallows. Yet another is converted by the miracle that is kava.
"Isn't it? Kava is the best drink in the entire galaxy, and you won't find a finer brew than Maz's," I say while saluting her with my cup. I take another sip. When it comes to kava, I like to savor every drop.
Finn has less patience than me, taking a large gulp with pure delight.
"The secret is in using brossaurus dung."
Finn spits out the kava, delight almost entirely replaced revulsion. Almost.
While part of me mourns the loss of liquid wonder, most of me is amused to the point where it takes an effort not to laugh. I don't want my kava to suffer the same fate his did.
BB-8 has no such trouble, letting out a laugh. Maz's smile is as satisfied as she feels. She grabs the towel hanging from her belt and leans forward to clean up the mess.
After swallowing, I elaborate on Maz's statement. "The dung is used to fertilize the trees that grow kava beans."
Relief crashes through his revulsion, and Finn lets out a truly impressive sigh. There's still a hint of worry, though.
"So there's no dung in the drink, right?" he asks me just to be sure.
"No, there isn't," I assure him, and it's enough to make him relax completely.
"Great." With that, he happily takes another gulp and swirls it around his mouth with pure rapture once more.
He is adorable, Maz practically coes. I share my complete agreement of this fact.
"What's your part in all of this, ska'lin?" Maz aims at BB-8, picking up the previous topic like we never left it all.
BB-8, who'd been following our conversation with curiosity, turns reluctant, before it aims its photoreceptor at Maz with interest. While the interest isn't false, it's deliberate in a way its previous curiosity wasn't.
[Query – what is the definition of Unknown Term; ska-lin?]
"It means little droid," I translate. I'm far from fluent in Maz's native language, but I have picked up a few terms over the years.
"That's another language? Then what does da'lin mean?" Finn asks with a surprising amount of curiosity.
"Little one," I translate with a grin. I love that nickname.
"That is a literal translation. Young one is more accurate," Maz corrects with a smile.
"I like the literal translation better." I really do. I've always been taller than Maz, but the bigger I get, the more hilarious the nickname becomes.
Finn remains oddly fascinated. Apparently he's interested in languages.
In that case, he's in for quite a treat. Maz knows as many languages as the average protocol droid. That's not even mentioning Emmie and her love for dead and obscure languages.
"You're a secretive one, aren't you?" Maz aims at BB-8. That's not the term I would've used to describe it, but looking back on our interactions, I can't deny that it's true.
BB-8 becomes what I can only describe as shifty. Another point in favor of it being secretive.
[This unit does not consider itself to be secretive,] it beeps in a deliberately cheerful way.
"Then why don't you tell us why you were on Jakku?" Maz counters.
[Classified data.]
"Because that isn't secretive at all," I tease. BB-8 moves its dome in an equivalent of a cheeky shrug, its shiftiness replaced by shameless acceptance.
"Apparently it's carrying a map that leads to Luke Skywalker."
My brain short circuits.
"Luke Skywalker?" a vague part of me realizes I say, my voice even more hushed than Finn's, but most of me can only stare at BB-8, now switching between annoyance and pride. It's carrying a map that leads to Luke Skywalker?
[Classified data.]
It's carrying a map that leads to Luke Skywalker.
It's carrying a map that leads to Luke Skywalker.
"Ma'shoni adja'rish," Maz says, half with reverence, half a curse. I have no idea what it means and I don't care either, my mind still stuck on the fact that BB-8 has a map that leads to Luke Skywalker.
Luke. Skywalker.
"How in the name of the Force did you get a map leading to Luke Skywalker?"
The crash of all consuming grief reboots my brain.
BB-8 was waiting for its friend. Its friend was a member of the Resistance.
The Resistance is led by Leia Organa.
[...This unit would prefer not to recall how it procured this classified data.]
I feel my expression soften at the statement that more than answers how it got the map. Poor BB-8.
This also more than explains why Kylo Ren was on Jakku. Though it doesn't explain how a map leading to Luke Skywalker ended up in Tuanul, of all places.
Given BB-8's soul cutting grief, I'm not going to ask. No matter how much I want to.
"This is certainly an unexpected turn of events," Maz understates. "It also explains why you're so secretive. Your dedication to your duty is admirable," she compliments with a smile, changing the subject for BB-8's sake.
It works, BB-8's sorrow is replaced by pride.
[This unit has Mission Failure Rate; 7,83%.]
That is indeed something to be proud of.
Unfortunately, BB-8 unending sorrow soon returns.
"Am I right in assuming this map must be delivered to the Resistance?" Maz asks without missing a beat. BB-8's sorrow disappears beneath a flash of gratitude, before it starts radiating unyielding determination.
[Affirmative.]
"Can you keep your voice down?" Finn demands while nervously looking around. Really, that's a far more conspicuous tell than Maz talking casually is. Not that either matters.
I still perform a quick check of our surroundings. I trust Maz of course, but given the subject, I want to verify for my own peace of mind that no one is paying us attention.
There's not a shred of interest aimed at us. Good.
On another note, I am so glad that BB-8 is disguised. Given that it's holding a map leading to Luke Skywalker, there's no way that the First Order isn't looking for it. As evidenced not just by Kylo Ren's presence on Jakku, but by the fact that Finn knew about the map leading to Luke Skywalker.
With the entrance I made, BB-8 most likely would've been recognized in an instant without the change in color.
"No one is paying us attention," Maz assures Finn, and while it erases most of his worry, it doesn't erase it all.
"She's right, no one is listening to us," I say, and the second confirmation is enough to make him relax completely.
"I have some contact with the Resistance," Maz understates while looking down at BB-8. BB-8 startles, before brightening with joy. "I can arrange for you to be brought to their base."
I assume you aren't interested in bringing it back?
No way in hell, I refuse without hesitation, as I do every time Maz "subtly" urges me to join the Resistance. The Resistance is dedicated to fighting the First Order. I'm dedicated to running away from it.
BB-8 brightens even further, but I'm more concerned with Finn's sudden fear, so great it can almost be called panic. Given our location, that's more than just unusual.
[Query – is Maz-Kanata an ally of Organization; The Resistance?]
"You know the location of the Resistance base?" Finn whispers at the same time, desperately hoping he misheard that.
"I am, and I do," Maz answers respectively, making BB⁻8 cheer with joy, while Finn pales with a kind of terror people almost never experience on Takodana.
[This unit is grateful for the assistance of Adjusted Designation; Ally-Maz.]
"You want me to stay with an ally of the Resistance? A close ally of the Resistance?" Finn demands, and while he keeps his voice down, he sounds just as panicked as he feels.
"This is literally the safest place for you to be," I answer with all the honesty I possess. The surge of incredulous disbelief lets me know exactly what Finn thinks of that. Really, it's almost insulting how easy he shrugs off my projections. He doesn't believe I'm lying of course, that's the whole point of projecting sincerity. He just doesn't believe me.
"Did you know about Maz before I mentioned her? No, you didn't," I answer the rhetorical question, continuing to infuse my words with my honesty, and holding Finn's gaze to emphasize my words even further. "You didn't know about her even though she's a known ally to the Resistance. She's been their ally since the very start, yet the First Order has never attacked this place. And this isn't a Core World, we're on the very edge of the Mid Rim, practically Outer Rim really. So why haven't they attacked?"
Finn opens his mouth, before closing it without saying anything. He's still disbelieving, but he's also unable to come up with a suitable answer to that question.
Maz answers it for him.
"I am just that good."
So modest, too, I tease. She is just that good of course, but it's always funny to see her brag like this.
If you've got it, flaunt it.
The irony that she's so good at hiding she can actually flaunt it isn't lost on me.
"That's not an answer," Finn says, but there's no true heat behind it. While his fear is still going strong, it's no longer the panic from before. He takes another gulp of kava with the intention to distract himself.
It doesn't work.
"Maz is the undisputed master of hiding in plain sight," I explain. "And she's going to teach you how to do the same."
Well, sort of the same. Finn would need centuries to even begin approaching her level of mastery. But she'll teach him the fundamentals.
Finn still isn't convinced. Time to bring out the big artillery.
"I stayed here for an entire year without him finding me."
Shock flares high, before his fear is finally buried beneath a wave of relief. Thought that might do the trick.
I spoke too soon. While his disbelief doesn't reappear, a little anxiety does start to return. There's also a hint of suspicion.
"If he can't find you here, then why did you leave?"
Smart question.
"He was getting too close," I admit, grimacing as I can't help but tap my prosthetic. "But in that one year, I learned enough to be able to hide from him on my own." Most of the time. "And unlike me, you don't share a connection with him." Not a significant one, at least.
"Unlike her, you also aren't shining like the sun," Maz says, drawing Finn's attention.
That's a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, I hadn't exactly been subtle, but I hadn't been that bad either.
Da'lin, you lit up the Force the instant you arrived in the system, Maz returns while sharing her memory of when I first came here.
You're just oversensitive. She really is. Compared to Maz, I'm both blind and deaf to the Force.
And you possessed all the subtlety of a brossaurus.
"So you'll help me?" Finn asks Maz with a hope fueled by desperation.
"I will. If you work hard, you should be able to hide on your own within... four months. Perhaps even three."
Now you're just insulting me.
Seriously, a year had barely been enough time for me, and I'd already been practicing with the Force for as long as I can remember. Yet Maz claims that Finn, with no experience whatsoever in consciously using the Force, can learn to hide on his own in a mere four months?
Da'lin, listen to him.
I raise a brow at her, but obligingly close my eyes and focus, ignoring Finn's relieved laughter and subsequent babbling. I wade through the symphony Maz is conducting all around us, focusing only on Finn, trying to figure out just what it is about him that Maz wants me to notice. Even examining him this thoroughly, I don't notice anything out of the ordinary. He basically feels like everyone else–
My eyes fly open with shock.
Finn feels like everyone else. Finn, a Force-sensitive, feels like everyone else. Almost like everyone else, but the difference is so subtle that it's practically unnoticeable. And I didn't find that unusual. At all.
In all my time, I've met but seven capable of blending with their surroundings with the same instinctive ease he does.
"–you looking at me like that?"
"I'm admiring your talent," I answer without thought, speaking nothing but the truth. Finn, with not a single shred of training, is better at basic hiding than I am.
"You mean my talent for repetitive word showers?" he quips with an smile.
"They're very impressive," I say with a grin.
Finn's smile grows, amused and adorably pleased with himself.
[Query – how much time will Ally-Maz need to procure a ride to Location; Classified for this unit?]
"Will I really be safe here?" Finn asks in a subdued voice while Maz gives BB-8 a rough estimate. She also sends a mental message to Emmie. I can't make out the specifics of course, but I'm guessing it's a request to contact the Resistance to inform them of BB-8 being here.
"There's no safer place for you to be, Finn," I say with all the honesty I possess.
Finn lets out a deep breath, the last of his fear fading away at long last. He takes another drink of his kava, closing his eyes as he savors the taste. With a smile, I do the same.
I open my eyes when Maz actually startles, falling silent halfway through her sentence and a burst of something rising high. The emotions are masked, but they're soon replaced by open wry resignation.
Maz gives me a mischievous look that never spells anything good, before she climbs onto the table. Her action startles Finn, and confuses BB-8 even further than her abrupt silence did. She turns to face the entrance and strikes a dramatic pose, hands on her hips and body language radiating false anger.
I take another sip while looking towards the entrance as well. The doors are open, and while the crowd is making it hard to see, I do spy a wookie standing in the entrance.
"Han Solo!"
I snort kava out my nose and cough harshly from the little I didn't eject through my nostrils but I don't care in the slightest, eyes locked onto the entrance as everyone moves out of Maz's line of sight, and consequently, out of my line of sight as well.
"Hey, Maz," Han Solo says with a wave.
"Your voice is lovely as ever," Chewbacca says.
A vague part of me is aware that Maz has jumped down the table and is marching towards Han Solo and Chewbacca. Another part of me realizes that Finn is saying something.
Most of me can only stare at Han Solo and Chewbacca. Han Solo and Chewbacca, who are here. Han Solo and Chewbacca are here. They're here and they're real and Hand Solo and Chewbacca are here.
Han Solo looks exactly like he does in the movies. Older of course, hair grey aside from a few streaks of brown, face lined with wrinkles. But he still looks exactly like him, in a way that's even more mind blowing to see in real life than on holofeeds.
An absent part of me wonders what I always do when seeing an image of him. Does Han Solo look like Harrison Ford, or does Harrison Ford look like Han Solo?
Chewbacca doesn't resemble my memories of the movies as strikingly as Han Solo does. A natural consequence of being a real life wookie instead of a man in a costume. He's wearing his utility belt the same way though, thrown over his shoulder instead of being attached around his hips. His eyes are also a startling blue, vivid in a way holofeeds just don't manage to capture.
"–just a quick stop, we'll be gone again before you know it," Han Solo says while he and Chewbacca halt in front of the table I'm sitting at. Han Solo raises a brow at me with vague annoyance.
"There a reason you're staring at me, kid?"
"You're Han Solo."
Both of Han Solo's brows rise with surprise, before he scrutinizes me intently, looking me over from head to toe.
Abruptly I become aware of the picture I'm presenting, sprawled across my chair like a Hutt, clothes stained from working on my ship, kava trailing from my nose, and gaping at Han Solo like an idiot. I snap upright and quickly wipe the kava away, completely mortified by the first impression I'm making.
Maz laughs in the Force, deliberately drawing my attention to her mirth.
This isn't funny, I hiss, feeling my cheeks burn with humiliation and unable to believe she would do this to me.
It really is.
"Do I know you?" Han Solo asks.
"No but I know you. Know of you I mean, I've never met you before, obviously, but I've been following you on holofeeds and watching documentaries about you since basically forever. Not in a creepy way!" I add with panic as Han Solo becomes deeply uncomfortable and I realize just how that sounded. "I'm not a stalker I swear, I'm just a fan, huge fan really because you're so amazing, you're a hero and you saved the entire galaxy and you did the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs." Okay yes, that might seem small in comparison to saving the galaxy but he did the Kessel Run in twelve parsecs.
Han Solo looks at me, flabbergasted and a chaotic mix of emotions. Among which are disbelief, wariness, suspicion, and a fair amount of self-consciousness.
Mostly he just feels incredibly flattered.
I bite down my lip to prevent another word vomit from breaking free. While I want to continue assuring him that I'm not a crazy stalker, I'm scared that I'll ruin the semi-decent recovery I've made if I do.
"...It's true, I am pretty amazing," Han Solo understates.
"At getting into trouble," Chewbacca adds without hesitation, just as amused as Maz is.
"I always get out of it as well," Han Solo returns without heat, still looking at me. I honestly want to fan myself, to cool down the blush still burning up my entire face. I manage to resist the urge. I'm acting enough like a swooning flower as it is.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Rey," I blurt without thought, feeling my blush grow even worse because Han Solo wants to know my name.
I startle when there's a flicker of recognition, but it's dismissed so quickly that it can't have been aimed at me. Han Solo must know someone who shares my name.
"Well, Rey, you've got good taste."
Han Solo thinks I have good taste.
"He's going to be insufferable for weeks now."
"And she is going to walking on clouds for at least twice that long."
Of course I am, Han Solo thinks I have good taste.
"So what's your story, kid?" Hans Solo asks while sitting down next to me. "You a smuggler? A mechanic?" he asks while looking at the stains on my sleeve. I can't help but pull my arm behind me, no matter how useless I know that is. My sleeve is far from the only stained part of my outfit. I usually don't mind that, it's not like the dirt can get through the undersuits I'm wearing, but right now I desperately wish I'd changed clothes before coming here.
"Gambler. I'm a gambler. That's how I make money, I gamble." I force myself to stop babbling, realize that I'm fidgeting with my tunic, and force myself to stop doing that as well. This is ridiculous, I'm acting like a kid with their first crush.
"Risky. I like it," Han Solo says with a roguish grin and it's not risky actually, more like cheating at its finest and Han Solo is grinning at me and he actually likes me.
"I cheat," I say in a dazed voice, unable to believe what I'm sensing, but it doesn't change, it actually grows and Han Solo really, truly, genuinely likes me!
This is the best day of my entire life.
"Even better."
"How did you do it?" I blurt, needing to know the answer. "The Kessel Run," I clarify when confusion rises.
Han Solo leans back in his chair, radiating pride. "A combination of pure skill and having the finest ship in the entire galaxy."
"No, you don't understand," I say while leaning towards him, an absent part of me taking note of the burst of grief and loss, but most of me focused on solving the mystery that's been haunting me for years. "I fly a Corellian YT-1300 light freighter as well, modified to the Outer Rim and back, and I have never been able to get under thirteen parsecs, yet you did it in twelve point one."
How the kriffing hell did he manage that? It took me surrendering to the Force completely in order to finish in thirteen point four parsecs, though I hadn't been able to do it more than once because surrendering to the Force like that is the equivalent of lighting a beacon for the asshole but that's not the point. The point is that I, cheating in the way only a Force-sensitive can, couldn't get below thirteen parsecs, yet Han Solo did it in twelve point one.
"You fly a Corellian YT-1300?" Han Solo returns with delight and underlying sadness. Why–
"Sheer dumb luck," Chewbacca says, and I abruptly become aware of the fact that he and Maz have sat down as well. Both of them are following our conversation with bemused fondness.
Finn, on the other hand, is watching Chewbacca with wariness. BB-8 is switching between interest and determination.
"You mean pure genius skill," Han Solo counters Chewbacca's claim, just a touch indignant.
"You made a blind jump."
"You did what," I hear myself say, staring with utter shock at the apparent lunatic besides me.
"You know Shyriiwook?" Han Solo asks with surprise and interest and that is really not important right now.
"You made a blind jump?" I demand, unable to believe I'm actually saying this.
"You did what? How the hell are you still alive?" Finn's incredulous demand takes the words right out of my mouth.
"Okay, so there was a little luck involved."
A little?
"You made a blind jump," I repeat, pointing out the absurdity of claiming there was a little luck involved. In fact, it can't be called luck at all. Surviving a blind jump means the Force was interfering in the most direct way possible.
"It was either that or get fried by Riktar's suns," Han Solo says with a faint scowl, defensive, indignant, and more than a little embarrassed.
"We overestimated how close by we could drop out of hyperspace," Chewbacca explains, making Han Solo's embarrassment grow, and making me wince with sympathy. The Riktar system is made up out of a whopping five suns, all somehow stably orbiting one another. The gravity sink that results in is a death sentence for every ship dumb enough to fly too close, both in realspace and hyperspace. Everyone doing the Kessel Run has to drop out of hyperspace a healthy distance away from the system, add far too many microparsecs to their run going around it, and then jump back to hyperspace.
A lot of runners trying to shave off distance meet their end in that system.
On another note, Han Solo performing a successful blind jump while being assaulted by the gravity of five suns, is further proof of the heavy-handed interference of the Force.
"Everything worked out fine, and we shaved off four whole parsecs with that jump," Han Solo argues, as defensive as he is embarrassed, eyes flickering between me and Chewbacca.
"It made us lose our main shields," Chewbacca counters, radiating affection.
"A minor hitch," Han Solo waves off like losing your main shields isn't one of the worst nightmares possible for any pilot, sincerely flippant in a way I'm having real trouble wrapping my mind around.
"You're insane," I marvel. "I mean that as a compliment," I quickly add when Han Solo turns towards me with a scowl, insulted by my words.
Han Solo does not believe me.
"No really, I do! You lost your main shields, and you still finished the Kessel Run! No sane person would ever even think of doing that, but you not only did, you set an unbeatable record! If that isn't the best way to celebrate surviving a blind jump, I don't know what is."
Han Solo is still scowling a little, but he's no longer annoyed, just amused, proud, and very flattered.
"Is she always like this?"
"Never. It's enough to make me forgive your sidekick for keeping you from me for so long, hot stuff."
My head snaps towards Maz, certain I must've misheard that.
Did you just call Chewbacca, hot stuff?
I like this wookie.
"Sidekick?" Han Solo asks with false indignity.
"I've missed you too, sweet cheeks," Chewbacca says, making this entire thing even harder to process.
"Are you two flirting?" I have to ask, no matter how obvious the answer is. It's not that I haven't seen Maz flirt before, but this is Chewbacca. Seeing Maz flirt with him, and what's more, seeing himflirt back, has broken my brain a little.
"You know I have a thing for fur," Maz says with an actual leer at Chewbacca and it's true, she does have a thing for fur, but this is Chewbacca.
I glance at Finn as he turns uncomfortable, his eyes flickering up and down between Chewbacca and Maz with an expression as disquieted as he feels. Human purity brainwashing at its finest.
All right, that's unfair of me. The First Order are far from the only one who have a problem with interspecies romance. And credit where credit's due, Finn might be discomforted, but he's not disgusted in any way. There is a fair amount of incredulity and curiosity, though.
I understand the incredulity completely.
"Your smooth wrinkles excite me like nothing else can," Chewbacca actually leers back, breaking my brain a little more. Yes, it's clear that they're just having fun and nothing is going to come from this, but Maz and Chewbacca are flirting.
"And you wonder why I avoid coming here," Han Solo says with a grimace that's mostly faked, far more amused than discomforted. I'm pretty sure the discomfort has nothing to do with interspecies romance, and everything to do with seeing his best friend flirt with a woman older than dirt.
"What brought you back?" Maz asks with curiosity. Han Solo's discomfort grows, while Chewbacca turns completely exasperated.
"He got into trouble." The silent "obviously" couldn't have been louder.
"Hey, everything was going fine until those idiots showed up."
Chewbacca lets out the wookie equivalent of a derisive snort, his exasperation joined by affection.
"Now this I have to hear," Maz says with a grin, delighted by the promise of a good story.
Han Solo looks at Chewbacca, half a warning, half a plea. When Chewbacca keeps quiet with rising amusement, Han Solo lets out a reluctant sigh.
"We were hauling rathars–"
"Did you just say you were hauling rathars?"
"Why in the name of all that is holy would you be hauling rathars?" I wholeheartedly agree with Finn's incredulous demand. There's being insane, and then there's hauling bottomless pits of hunger existing out of ten percent eyes, twenty percent tentacles, and seventy percent mouth lined with uncountable razors to devour everything unfortunate enough to come within range of their tentacles.
"King Prana offered a very nice bounty for them," Han Solo says far less defensively than the transport of rathars should ever warrant.
"Oh, they're dead rathars," Finn says with relief, but can't take comfort in those words for even a single moment because Han Solo grows more defensive, while Chewbacca is a mix of wry amusement and tired exasperation.
The rathars weren't dead.
"Given that Prana wants to put them in a zoo, them being dead would lead to me not getting paid."
Finn gapes. I don't, but it's a close call. Not so much at Han Solo hauling live rathars, but at the almost flippant way he feels about it.
"You really are insane," Finn breathes out, more to himself than anyone else. While he definitely doesn't mean it as a compliment, I can't deny that it's true. Voluntarily hauling live rathars is completely different from making a blind jump out of necessity.
"So what happened?" I ask when Han Solo scowls at Finn with genuine annoyance, both to draw his attention away from Finn, and because I really want to know the answer.
I succeed in diverting Han Solo's attention. After a moment of debate, he leans back in his chair with purposeful casualness. The deliberateness of it doesn't make him look any less cool, though.
Chewbacca's affection grows.
"Everything started out fine."
The incredulous disbelief and following morbid humor from Chewbacca lets me know that everything didn't, in fact, start out fine.
"We got all three onboard–" Three? From the corner of my eyes, I see Finn mouth the number with the same incredulous fascination I'm feeling. "and we were on our way to King Prana to get paid. Everything was going great until our third check-up between jumps. That's when we got some unwelcome visitors."
I listen with wonder as Han Solo recounts how they were boarded by both The Guavian Death Gang and Kanjiklub, two of the three crime syndicates that control basically the whole of the Outer Rim. Normally, they stay out of each other's way except for when making a grab for each other's territories.
But then, normally people aren't crazy enough to loan a significant amount of money from them both at the same time.
My wonder keeps growing as Han Solo recounts how how, after the rathars were set loose by accident and provided an excellent distraction just when he and Chewbacca needed it most, they hijacked the ship belonging to Kanjiklub, and got the hell out of dodge as fast they could. The reason they came to Takodana is because their ship is hot and they need to ditch it before Kanjiklub tracks it down. Given Takodana's location, they should have about half a day before either The Guavian Death Gang or Kanjiklub show up.
"Which reminds me," Han Solo says with false nonchalance, his underlying worry becoming dominant. "You wouldn't happen to have a ship we could use? You can scrap the one we came in as payment," he finishes with a deliberately charming smile that makes me feel like a swooning flower once more, despite it not being aimed at me.
"And incur the wrath of Kanjiklub? I think not."
Han Solo's smile falters and his worry grows, but the oddest part is without a doubt the underlying sense of bitter resignation. He shrugs with false nonchalance.
"Worth a try."
"You're really going to leave us hanging like this, gorgeous? " Chewbacca asks, and while his growls are light, the look he gives Maz is pointed, inspired by faint disapproval and a whole lot of protectiveness.
Given that he feels not a shred of worry, I'm guessing the disapproval is aimed at Maz's sense of humor.
"Procuring a ride for you isn't a problem, but I'm not scrapping that ship," Maz clarifies, dropping her teasing with uncommon swiftness. She really does have a soft spot for Chewbacca. A big one.
Han Solo relaxes, and he gives Maz another charming smile. This time it's a genuine one.
"Knew we could count on you," Han Solo lies, which is truly amazing. Most people are incapable of even entertaining the thought that Maz might refuse to help them, let alone expect it to happen.
Just what kind of past do he and Maz have?
"How could I refuse after being gifted a story as wonderful as this?" Maz says with an answering smile, speaking nothing but the truth. She loves a good story even more than I do.
Yet while her smile is real, she is a bit distracted. I'm not surprised when she gets off her chair.
"If you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to. We'll discuss the details of your ride in a bit, lover boy."
Does she have to make that sound so suggestive?
"And you might want to have a talk with BB-8," she aims at Han Solo, before disappearing into the crowd that parts for her like water.
"BB-8?" Han Solo asks with confusion.
[This unit is present,] BB-8 answers cheekily, pleased when its beeps make Han Solo startle. Chewbacca looks down at BB-8 with surprise, and even Finn startles a little. Really, did everyone forget that it was here as well?
Han Solo's confusion grows.
"She wants me to talk to a ball?"
"That's rude," I say, because it really is.
"It's a ball," Han Solo repeats, genuinely uncaring about the way he's talking about BB-8.
It raises my hackles. Nicknames, no problem, but treating someone like they're a thing is another matter entirely. The fact that BB-8 is a droid only makes things worse.
"And you're a bag of meat, but you don't see me calling you that," I retort sharply.
Is this something I get worked up about? Yes it is.
Finn laughs, but it cuts off the instant Chewbacca joins in. He gives a nervous look to Chewbacca's very big and very pointy teeth, now on full display.
"I thought you were a fan?" Han Solo returns with a raised brow, more amused than anything else. I feel my blush return as I realize that I just called Han Solo a bag of meat, but I don't take back the words. This is important.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter what it's called."
My blush disappears and I give Han Solo an unimpressed look. It does matter.
"I don't speak droid," he finished, ignoring my look completely.
He doesn't speak droid? That's like saying you don't speak human.
"Neither does Chewie."
"I can translate for you," I offer, before looking down with surprise as BB-8 turns reluctant. Why wouldn't it want me to translate?
"Unless you have a problem with that?" I ask.
[This unit would like to speak with The-General's-Husband in private.]
I startle at BB-8's name for Han Solo, before I feel a bemused grin grow. Never mind that Han Solo holds the rank of general as well, never mind all the amazing things he's done, to members of the Resistance, he is Leia Organa's husband first, everything else second.
"The language barrier might make that a little difficult," I point out.
[This unit is creative.]
It's also rather proud of this fact.
"Your call." If BB-8 wants to hold a conversation by miming, I won't stand in its way.
"I'm not exaggerating about not speaking droid," Han Solo tells BB-8.
BB-8 responds by sliding out its torch and lighting it up in a clear imitation of a thumbs up, wordlessly saying that this will not be an issue. I laugh. It really is creative.
Finn chuckles, before he downs the last of his kava. Which is how I remember my own.
I take another sip, savoring the taste. It's cooled down by now, but it's still delicious.
"Did that ball– did BB-8," Han Solo corrects at my warning glare, the exasperation he shows much more magnified than what he's actually feeling, "just flip you off?"
"Of course not." That would require two torches.
"You might want to have your sight checked out."
"Are you calling me old?" Han Solo demands with genuine offense, full attention now on Chewbacca.
Chewbacca bares his teeth with unrepentant mirth, but my attention is more on Finn as he shifts in his seat.
"The refresher is in the back, to the left of the bar," I answer the unspoken question.
"I'm fine," Finn says. Oddly enough, he means it as well.
"I'll come with you," I say, taking a guess at the source of his reluctance.
My guess is correct, Finn's reluctance is replaced by relief.
"That'd be nice."
Han Solo raises an incredulous brow at me and Finn, but he doesn't make a comment.
"I'm not old," he tells Chewbacca instead. Chewbacca responds with a patronizing look. I chuckle, before pulling up my scarf and getting off my chair.
"Let's go, Finn," I say while marching towards the refresher.
Finn hurries after me while pulling up his own scarf.
"I can do this on my own," he says when he catches up, full of determination.
"I have no doubt that you can," I say truthfully. "But just this once, I'm coming with you."
Finn's relief is as great as his shame, though there's really no need for that. It hasn't even been a day since he left the First Order, of course everything is strange and scary. Even something as simple as going to the refresher.
It's also clear that going to refresher isn't what has him so uncomfortable. It's the many people he has to pass to get there.
Arriving at our destination, I open the door, but Finn grabs my hand before I can enter.
"I can do this on my own," he repeats, needing to prove this to himself.
"Alright." I was planning to go myself as well, but it's not like it's urgent, and it's clear that doing this on his own will do wonders for Finn's peace of mind.
Finn marches into the refresher like he's marching into battle. It's more than a little amusing to see, despite knowing the awful cause behind it.
I lean against the wall, my amusement growing when Finn startles, becoming confused and uncertain, before it's replaced by rising curiosity and intrigue. Toilets can't be that different with the First Order.
Then again, the First Order only needs to accommodate humans, while Maz needs to accommodate basically every sentient species in the galaxy.
I keep an absent eye on him so I can intervene in the unlikely event that something goes wrong, but I let most of my attention drift towards the crowd. It takes an effort not to focus on Han Solo and Chewbacca, but I manage. It would be rude to listen in after BB-8 so clearly stated that it wants to have a private conversation.
The band is a good one, something that's never guaranteed here. Maz adores art of any kind, and she lets traveling artists pay their stay by performing their craft for her. No matter how bad they might be at that craft.
Maz herself is talking to three barabels, two males and a female. Their insignia identifies them as mercenaries from The Shattered Shells. The three are roaring with laughter at something she said, completely unaware of the fact that Maz despises slavers with all her heart. They're in for a very rough time, given the personal attention Maz is giving them.
I close my eyes so I can better admire Maz's work. I don't really understand how she can weave the Force like this, and even when focusing, I can't do more than catch the most rudimentary view of what she's doing. The details are simply too fine for me to detect. I also have no idea how these subtle changes can have such drastic effects, but I can't deny the results.
It's almost funny how terrifying Maz is. People from every walk of life come here, lured by the promise of entertainment and safety. Those promises aren't a lie, this places is always merry. Even when the music is bad, it's more amusing than anything else. All are also welcome here, no matter their past, current affiliations, or personal ideals. And no one is allowed to fight here. Ever.
Because of this, people think that Maz is a neutral party.
She isn't.
People have no idea they change their fortune forever by coming here. For the good if Maz thinks your cause is just, or if she simply likes you, and for the bad if she considers you to be evil. And her definition of evil is one I wholeheartedly agree with.
People never link their change in future back to Maz. It takes months, years, sometimes even decades for her manipulations to bear fruit. Admittedly, I only know this because Maz told me, but I do believe her claims. Not just because it's impossible to fake sincerity in the Force, but because she's shown the effects to me in person. On a much smaller scale than what she does here, but the results had been undeniable.
She had plucked at the Force around both me and Emmie, the adjustments noticeable in a way they never are with her patrons. A week later, I had a day in which every little thing that could go wrong, did go wrong, while Emmie had a day in which everything went so smoothly it was genuinely insulting to witness. Maz herself had watched her work with satisfaction and pride, and in my case, with a great amount of entertainment as well.
The same basic principle applies to the people visiting her castle. It's just blown up to a much grander scale.
Maz doesn't know just what her manipulations will cause. She can control whether they will be beneficial or disadvantageous, but she doesn't know how they will manifest. She can't, the very nature of her manipulations prevents it.
Maz causes ripples. How big those ripples will grow and where they will end up, is a mystery for all involved.
Sometimes I wonder how those ripples influenced the events of the movies.
My attention is abruptly yanked to Han Solo, Chewbacca and BB-8, my eyes flying open. They're still sitting at the same table, but now they're talking to the people sitting nearest to them. Judging from Han Solo's and BB-8's frustration, the miming hasn't gone as well as BB-8 thought it would.
Of the people they're talking to, a dowutin male and a human female, the woman is noticeably interested in whatever BB-8 is saying. She's also incredibly pleased. That's not what drew my attention, though.
The Force just pulsed, in a way far too forceful to have been caused by Maz. The symphony she conducts is subtle. This was the equivalent of a klaxon going off.
Maz is looking at the group with resignation. She didn't cause the pulse, but she does know what...
No!
What...
Come back!
I realize that I'm moving when my feet start taking me down the stairs leading to the vaults. Part of me is aware that something is wrong. Part of me realizes that I'm not moving under my own power.
Most of me doesn't care. Something is calling me.
Something needs me.
Please don't leave me.
I walk towards the vault I need to be in and mentally open the lock. The mechanism gives way with an ease part of my knows it shouldn't, but then my eyes fall onto a wooden chest and everything else ceases to exist.
I have to open that chest.
There's a lightsaber inside.
My lightsaber is inside.
I grab my lightsaber– it activates except it doesn't and it's not mine, it belongs to the fire all around me, a fire I don't know except I do, I know that breathing, know this place and the memories are crumbling and trying to crush me and I need to– drown in weeping heavens except the heavens are a man consumed by pain and grief and despair and I know this man, know that hand, that droid, I know– that fire, that unbridled joy and passion and he can't be here, can't drag me under in the pain and horror and death all trapped by the weeping heavens that are a man and I need to– cry and feel my heart shatter all over again because I know that child, that ship, I know who's on there, know that I'll never see them again, never again see– the sun dying in ways it never should, a gaping wound that almost manages to distract me from him except nothing can distract me from him, from his joy and passion and desire and I need to run, hide, get away and I need to let go–
I fall down solid stone, the lightsaber clattering on the floor, a voiceless whisper fading away.
These are your first steps.
What was that?
A gentle caress makes me snap my head to the side.
Maz meets my gaze, full of compassion and sorrow.
"What was that?" I hear myself whisper, and saying the words out loud helps clear the chaos from my mind. I realize that I already know the answer.
That was a Force vision. That was the Force speaking to me in the most direct, most vehement, most infuriating way possible. Clear and concise messages, oh no, that privilege is reserved for Chosen Ones only. I just get this kriffing bullshit of fragmented symbolism I can't make heads or tails of, because why should the Force bother to give me even a single straightforward hint of what it wants me to do when it can screw with my mind instead.
Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I'd never learned how to reach for the Force.
If I hadn't learned how to reach for the Force, the Force wouldn't have learned how to reach back.
I yank off my goggles and wipe away my tears, too worked up to even begin analysing the vision. I don't want to analyse it either, not when it included him, why does it always have to include him?
Why can't he stop haunting me?
I sense Maz coming closer. After forcing my erratic breathing back under control, I open my eyes.
Maz is picking up the lightsaber. The lightsaber she kept in one of her vaults.
"I thought you didn't like lightsabers," I snap, my frayed nerves not allowing for anything else.
"I don't," Maz says, taking no offense at my reaction. "But this one is special."
It's a lightsaber. Being special is the basis of its entire definition.
I rub my eyes, still trying and failing to calm down.
Maz comes to stand besides me and lays her hand on my shoulder, offering her own presence as an anchor. I latch onto the vast harmonies, using them as a shield against the emotions threatening to pull me under.
Neither of us speaks.
Eventually, I let out a harsh breath, having managed to find at least a semblance of calm.
Maz holds out the lightsaber for me to take.
"No," I refuse without hesitation, the thought alone threatening to break the tentative control I've gained.
"It's yours," Maz says with a kindness that only makes everything worse.
"It belongs to some dead Jedi, not to me," I snap, rejecting the pull I still feel towards it with everything I have.
"It belonged to Luke Skywalker."
My blood turns to ice.
"It belonged to his father before him. Now it belongs to you."
"No." I'm barely aware of the denial falling from my lips, panic clawing at my mind because it can't me mine, not if it belonged to Luke Skywalker, if it belonged to Luke Skywalker than it can't be mine!
I scramble to my feet to put more distance between myself and the lightsaber I can't tear my eyes away from, needing to get away from the call I still feel because it isn't be mine, it isn't mine!
It can't be mine.
And suddenly I'm laughing hysterically because didn't I just ask for a straightforward hint of what the Force wants me to do? Looks like I got my wish and I got it more clearly than I ever could've expected and how could I have missed this, how did I not realize? His presence on Jakku, finding BB-8 and Finn, meeting Han Solo and Chewbacca, the kriffing map to Luke Skywalker. The Force is telling me what it wants me to do with all the subtlety of a Death Star.
The Force can go screw itself.
"It's not mine," I bite out, refusing to play along with this cruelty, this sick and twisted game and I'm not doing this, not now, not ever.
Maz looks at me with a compassion that grates on my nerves in the worst of ways. She's acting like I don't have choice in this.
"You know it is."
"It's not mine!" My voice thunders unnaturally and brutal fractures rip apart stone, everything around me shaking violently. I close my eyes and take deep breaths, trying to even out my presence and failing spectacularly.
Maz, completely unfazed by my outburst, moves closer and gently takes hold of my hand. I clutch back too harshly, grasping at her presence in a way I haven't needed to do in years, diving into the harmonies headfirst, wrapping them around me as a shield.
I manage to regain enough control to stop everything from shaking.
"How did you get this?" I ask roughly, more to distract myself than anything else.
"The Force led me to it," Maz says, answering exactly nothing at all. "I didn't know it was yours."
My eyes fly open with instinctive denial. It isn't mine.
"I knew it was important, I knew I had to keep it safe. But I didn't know it was yours," Maz says like it's a confession, like she would do all in her power to change these facts if only she could. "Not until now."
"I'm not doing this," I say harshly, meaning it from the bottom of my heart. I don't care what the Force thinks about that, I am not doing this.
"I wish you didn't have to," Maz says and it makes my panic break free again because she's resigned, sorrowful, she is accepting.
She doesn't think I can avoid this.
"I've done all I can to protect you from your destiny. But, Rey,"
Don't say it. Don't give speak the words, don't make this real.
"I can't protect you anymore."
I yank my hand away, needing to get away from her, from that lightsaber, from the truth I refuse to accept.
"It is not my lightsaber," I whisper, barely able to speak the words through the terror choking me, the panic and denial and I refuse to do this, I won't do this.
Destiny can get spaced for all I care.
I spin around and march towards the stairs, barely able to keep myself from running, refusing to let the Force control me like that.
Maz doesn't try to stop me, and it's the worst thing she could've done. If she'd tried to stop me, it would've meant she still thought I had a choice. It would've meant she believed I still stood a chance of escape.
She doesn't think I still do.
I shiver violently, refusing to look back at her or the lightsaber still calling me.
The calling grows stronger the further away I get.
I don't care. I won't give in to this bullshit. This isn't a movie, isn't all part of a preordained script. This is real life, and that means I have a choice.
It's a choice I made long ago.
I'm not the hero of this story.
AN: I have no idea how this chapter turned into such a monster. It was very fun to write, though.
So, did you like? Think I did a good job with Han Solo meeting Rey? Enjoy my gratuitous headcanon about Maz? Every thought is welcome :)
