Present day

Rey dressed herself in the spa's locker room as angrily as one could get – flinging the locker door open with ferocity, throwing the stupid robe on the floor, kicking off the oversized borrowed flip flops so hard they sailed across the room, and dressed with a general distaste for the world around her. She didn't even notice the pain in her arm nor the knots that were knitting themselves back together after a long massage. She was too pissed to care.

She ignored the receptionist's chipper inquiry as she stormed out, not even bothering to leave a tip, and headed straight to the elevator and went back to the shared suite. She thrust open the little suitcase that Leia brought for her and was relieved to find something other than yoga pants and a baggy shirt. Inside were some clean underwear, a pair of nice trousers, a skirt, two shirts, and some toiletries.

Rey's guilt knocked on the back of her mind just a little bit before it was overwhelmed with fury and hurt. She was pissed she saw Kelly, pissed that Leia tried to tap into her mind, just overall, really, really ticked off.

Rey hastily dressed into the skirt and the black shirt which were, of course, tailored. She wasn't sure if she'd ever truly get used to this lifestyle. It had been such a tremendous culture shock when she first joined HOTH. She had a hard time reconciling the money and more importantly, the access to everything, everyone, life in general.

She snatched the toiletries bag and went to the half-bathroom where she continued to angrily rip through her hair with the brush. She felt a little better as she wrestled her hair back into a couple of buns and assessed herself in the mirror. A brick wall hit her.

She suddenly felt herself transported back into the top floor of Solocorp's tower. The mirror was now the window, and she saw her image, blurred and semi-transparent. The rain drops peppered the glass, shimmering with the reflections of the lights of the city, a dazzling, blinding display of gold and red spots. And then, another figure appeared in the background.

Ben.

His words echoed in her head, as if he were right there, whispering in her ear:

Then perhaps, I should investigate this matter further.

A chill burst from the base of her spine and shot up it, tingling up behind her ears then flowing down her arms. Her skin bubbled into goosebumps as he drew closer. She could smell him. It was as if he were really there in that living moment.

His face drew closer to hers, but she could not recoil, she could not move. She was grounded in place, unable to budge a muscle. A clean, refreshing scent filled her nose. He had no offensive odor; in fact, she was titillated by the purity of it all. It was so unlike the monster she took him to be.

A hand reached toward her and cupped her chin. The feeling was electric. Rey was certain she would melt into a puddle there. She despised him but desired him. He tilted her head so she was looking at him. Dark eyes, smoldering and lined with thick eyebrows – a lean face with a clenched jaw – a lock of black hair that slipped away and framed his cheek – it was all too much. She wanted him, she needed him. His hand moved from her chin, down her neck, and to-

Rey.

A disruption. The feeling was shaken, interrupted.

"Rey, what are you doing?"

Rey's eyes snapped open and she saw not Ben but Leia standing behind her in the mirror. Rey dropped the hairbrush she had clutched so tightly that her knuckles were hurting.

"I—I was—it was nothing," Rey gasped, trying to mask her near-delirious panting. She felt like a teenager being caught by her parents doing something wrong and shuddered from a chill that shook her.

Leia's face showed that she wasn't entirely believing Rey. "I felt something," she said. "I wasn't prying. I just sensed it."

"Please." Rey said. "I need some time alone." She picked up the brush and threw it back in the toiletry bag, shouldered past Leia who reluctantly stepped out of her way, and headed toward the door.

"Be careful," Leia pleaded, knowing that was all she could say or do.

Rey nodded curtly, letting herself out of the room as Chuy quietly warbled a note of concern.

Downstairs in the casino, the night life was in full swing. The air was heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke and the deafening sounds of clamoring slot machines. Somewhere, a group was whooping excitedly at a poker table. Rey's feet navigated her through the maze around the machines, dodging cocktail waitresses and clusters of people clogging the paths as they gawked at someone hitting a jackpot.

She found herself approaching a circular bar in the midst of it all. It was nearly full, with only a couple seats belly-up. She squeezed in an empty seat situated between two chain smokers who were both occupied with sipping their drinks and feeding the hungry in-counter slot machines with a parade of twenty-dollar bills. The bar had half-a-dozen television screens hanging above it, showing a mixture of channels: some romance dating show, a sports game, a major cable news station broadcasting yet another claim of possible life found on Mars, and three different commercials for weight loss devices. Rey was reminded why she hated watching TV so much.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked, depositing a squat water bottle and napkin in front of Rey.

"Um, a beer, please. A hefeweizen, if you have it. With a lemon slice." Her order arrived within moments, a fresh lemon wedge hanging onto the edge of the frosty glass. She slid her credit card over to open her tab, glancing out of the corner of her eye to see that her neighbor on her right scored a virtual straight flush. The machine chiptune happily played a flat arpeggio that trilled up and down as the payout counter in the corner ticked the numbers up. The middle-aged man was completely disinterested and unexcited.

Rey was strangely insulted when she saw the man win what was essentially her rent – or what it used to be, when she was a broke, working stiff – and didn't even blink an eye. But she supposed she couldn't be too surprised. A couple of expensive rings were squeezed over his fingers and the face of a Patek Philippe peeked out from the cuff of his handsomely-tailored shirt. His name-brand sunglasses shielded his eyes from the smoke of the cigar he puffed on. He wasn't lavishly nor loudly dressed, but wore fine things. Rey hated him immediately.

She sipped at her beer then realized her own hypocrisy as she watched the tired bartender turn his attention to a gaggle of glamorously-dressed cougars a few seats away. Rey also wore tailored clothes and now had many fine things. The poker jackpot would be nice, sure, but she could certainly still appreciate its value even though she hadn't a need for the money now. And she wasn't wearing fancy jewelry or smoking Cuban cigars, even though she could afford it. She knew how to hide her fortunate status well; she reconciled this with herself. Still, she guiltily dropped some cash - the price of the drink - in the bartender's tip bowl because she could and because she remembered how terrible it was to constantly server ungrateful people.

"You can take the girl out of the waitressing, but not the waitress out of the girl," a familiar voice slurred.

Rey didn't even notice the other bar mate had departed; she was too engrossed in her own weltschmerz and her contemplation was interrupted by the appearance of Kelly in the vacated seat.

Kelly flopped on the bar stool with the gracefulness of a toddler. She was drunk, really drunk. Rey didn't know what to say, so she didn't say a thing.

"Too good for me, huh?" Kelly scoffed. She waved her arm to catch the bartender's attention. "Hey, hey, barkeep! Rum and coke!"

"Rum and coke, please?" Rey muttered.

"First, you're a fucking Jedi and now, you're the queen of manners, too?" Kelly snatched the ash tray near Rey and plunked it down in front of herself. She pulled out a pack of cheap cigarettes and lit one up just as the bartender delivered a squat glass full of ice and amber.

"Thank you," Kelly said loudly and sarcastically, wrinkling her nose at Rey as she said it.

"I didn't know you smoked," Rey said, quietly. She sipped prudently at her beer, hoping that her hand wasn't shaking too much that Kelly would notice.

"Well, I do." Kelly took a long drag and exhaled a cloud of noxious, foul-smelling smoke. The tendrils snaked up and around her face, which looked tired and a little haggard. There were a couple lines around her sharp, blue eyes that hadn't been there before, and her wavy blonde hair was limp and cut short.

"When'd you start?" Rey asked, taking another swig of her beer. Each sip made her feel braver.

Kelly laughed, as if that question was too stupid to be asked. "When do you think I did? Oh, thereabouts maybe six months ago? Can you think of anything major that happened back then that could maybe affect someone a bit?" She sucked on the filter of the cigarette, hard. The cherry at the end blossomed brightly and dropped a ball of ash just on the rim of the tray.

"That's a terrible reason to start smoking." Rey mused over her first few months at HOTH and how lonely, lost, confused, and upset she had felt, and she got through it without picking up any addictive vice. Well, except to Maz's cookies, but it's not like those would be giving her lung cancer.

"Smoking is the worst thing that's happened to me in the last few months," Kelly said, sharply. She chugged half of her drink and dropped her head, swirling her glass so that the remaining ice clinked. She wobbled a bit in her seat, the alcohol hitting her quite hard. "You don't know what mess you left behind, Rey-Rey."

Rey's heart clenched at the sweet nickname. On her first day at the restaurant, Rey nervously stuttered when she met the extroverted and bubbly blonde, and for a week, Kelly genuinely thought her name was "Rey-Rey," so it stuck.

"Kelly, I didn't mean to."

Kelly lifted her head. The whites of her eyes were tinged red and glossy. "I believe you. Maybe." She finished the rest of her drink, half-heartedly slammed it back on the counter, and indicated for the bartender to bring her another. "Maybe you didn't mean to, but you still did it."

Rey followed suit and finished her drink. "What did I do?"

"Where do I begin?" Kelly dramatically started ticking on her fingers. "Um, well, I think the big one is that you lied to me. You kept you a secret. That's two things. You then showed it off to the whole friggin' world. Then you left. Never came back. No notice, obviously, and I lost the deposit when I had to move out. And you didn't even come back for your shit." She took another greedy sip as soon as a fresh drink appeared in front of her. "And then they came looking for you."

The bartender put another beer in front of Rey and she gripped it tightly, her hands cold from the glass. She needed something to ground her as her anxiety suddenly skyrocketed and the world was threatening to tilt around her. "They? They who?"

Kelly stared off in the distance, her eyes glazed as she remembered what must have been something horrible. "I was home alone. It was a week or two after you'd gone. I had gotten fired. Or maybe I quit. I don't remember. But it wasn't good at that place anymore. I was called a Jedi sympathizer behind my back. I know they wouldn't outright let me go for that, because that would be discrimination or some crap. Whatever. That place was a hellhole anyway."

"Kelly," Rey prodded, gently. "You were home alone and what happened?"

"I must have left the door unlocked. There was a knocking, a big loud pounding, and then the door flew open. There were at least five of them, all in black. They were wearing balaclavas. They had guns. But I tried to get away, anyway. I thought it was worth a shot. I couldn't run very far, of course. That stupid bedroom window with the bad hinges? I couldn't even get that open enough to crawl out onto the fire escape." She closed her eyes momentarily. "I can still feel his hands on my waist, pulling me away from the window." Kelly's second drink disappeared after that.

"They put a hood over my head. I tried to figure out where they were taking me, but I was so disoriented. I couldn't tell what direction we were going or for how long we drove." She rubbed at her forearm and Rey noticed a faint scar cut across Kelly's fair skin. "I didn't even have shoes on. It was cold outside. I remember walking across a parking lot and then I knew I was in a big space, because it echoed. It was a warehouse, maybe.

"It was like something out of the movies. They brought me into a windowless room with a concrete floor and walls. One lightbulb from a desk lamp they had on the floor aimed at me. They tied me up to a metal chair. I remember wishing that I had left my bra on because I'm sure they could see how cold I was." She laughed, sardonically, at the strange thought.

"I don't know how long I was there. Hours, maybe. It could have been a day. I'm certain it was night when I woke up in my bed later.

"They interrogated me. They wanted to know who you were, where you were from. If I knew what you were and why didn't I report it to anybody? Surely, immigration would like to know. Surely, the FBI would like to know. I begged them, told them I didn't know anything." She scowled at the memory. "The one guy, his breath. It was so bad. It was like something died. I think that was almost as worse."

Rey's interest was piqued. "Do you remember anything about him?"

Kelly pondered for a moment then frowned. "No, not really. I think he was a white guy. Maybe Latino. His eyes were brown, yes, I know for sure. Because I thought it was so strange that one of his pupils was malformed, like it was melted into two water drops. And he was the only one wearing something different. I mean, they were all in black but on his arm, there was a logo. It looked like a red sun. It kind of reminded me of the sun on the New Mexico state flag."

"Red, with four arms?" Rey inquired. "And each arm broken into three rays?"

Kelly regarded her suspiciously. "Yes. How the hell do you know that?"

Rey's tell of when she was hiding something was quite obvious, especially to someone like Kelly.

"I see how it is," Kelly frowned. "You know, a little apology would have been nice. Maybe some sort of communication to let me know you were okay. But you just dropped off the face of the planet, Rey. Not a word. Not a fucking word."

"I'm sorry," Rey whispered. "I couldn't.. I wasn't able to come back. I had nowhere else to go."

"You had a home." Kelly set her jaw tight and made a thin line with her lips. It was what she'd always do whenever she tried to keep herself from crying. "You had a home with me. And you left me."

Rey wrapped fingers around her glass even tighter. "Kelly, you know what they'd do to people like me. I couldn't come back."

"So, you admit it then," Kelly spat. "You are one of them!" Her voice was rising to a subdued hysteria. "Straight from the horse's mouth!"

"Kelly!" Rey hissed. A few people around the bar were glancing over in their direction. Rey hoped that the sounds of the clanging machines and general cacophony would drown out what Kelly was saying, but the drunken blonde was elevating her voice to combat the other noise.

"You think you could just – just drop it all! Leave me behind! And go frolic with your little magical freaks! You freaks of nature! You're abominations!" Kelly slurred, her tone sharpening and her eyes darkening. The bartender was calling someone, probably security, as Kelly sent her glass crashing over the bar with a drunken sweep of her arm. "You don't belong here! You never did! Rey, you're just another filthy J—Juhhh—"

"I'm sorry," Rey whispered, guarding herself against the tears that threatened to fall.

"Uurkkk—" The noise that crackled out of Kelly's mouth was inhuman and disturbing. She collapsed out of her chair and held herself up against the bar with one hand while the other clawed at her throat. A murmur of concern rose around them as the other patrons gawked and drew away. A couple of security guards were crossing the casino floor and hurrying to the bar.

"I think she's allergic to lemons," Rey calmly told the bartender, pushing her half-drunk glass aside. She loosened her mental grip on Kelly's throat and slipped away as the security descended on the scene.

She stumbled across the casino floor, struggling to maintain her composure. Once she got far away enough from the bar, no one took a look toward her, as she just looked like any other drunk, sad, young woman. She found her way to a restroom, where she locked herself in the farthest stall and sank to her knees.

Trembling, staring at her upturned hands, Rey couldn't find the will to cry; her strength was sapped and her heart, broken. She had no more tears to spare. But still, she felt great shame and whispered piteously to herself:

"What have I done?"