"Come home, Rey," Jessa ordered. "Get yourself back on the train, and come back here. You can stay with me and Jack as long as you like, you know that."

Rey cradled the phone to her ear, watching as Artoo and Threepio loped in interlocking circles in the back field. They didn't care that it was overcast and drizzling. They were banished to Luke's barn as long as it was wet outside, anyway.

"I can't just… leave," Rey muttered, hoping no one could overhear her. "We're not really speaking at the moment - it wouldn't be right."

"Honey, I know it's awkward, but what Ben did isn't right, either. He let you walk in there without any warning about his horrid mother and this Evelyn person, and then he didn't even have the guts to reassure you it was over with her? That's ridiculous, and you know you deserve better."

"But he's my husband," Rey said again.

"He's acting like a child," Jessa spat, and Rey heard Jack mutter an agreement in the background. "Let him sort himself out, and come home to us already. You're missing the best weather we'll have all year."

"I'll let you know what I decide," Rey said noncommittally. She stood listlessly in front of the telephone for several minutes, trying to decide where best to sulk. The weather had them cooped up, and Ben had retreated to his office mid-morning. She couldn't bear the thought of being in so close a space with him at the moment, and it was bad enough that she had realized with annoyance the previous night that he had likely made love to Evelyn in the very same bed she was now relegated to sleeping in. She had yanked the blankets off the bed in a fit, and slept on the floor, staring up through the skylight until sleep had overtaken her.

She slipped out the backdoor onto the screen porch, which was damp and chilly after three days of rain. It was just cold enough for Rey to see her breath, and she sank down on the sagging couch and pulled her knees to her chest.

The tension in the house was gnawing at her. Han and Luke seemed to be on her side, but knew better than to get in between them. She and Ben had been cordial to one another since their fight in the woods, killing one another with kindness and pleasantries at each meal that were no deeper that polite requests to pass the salt and a little more, if you don't mind. It felt like a war where no weapons were drawn, but it was killing slowly her all the same. She simply didn't know how to be in this, this silent battle of manners and unspoken truths.

How would going back to San Francisco make it any better? If they couldn't even speak when they were face-to-face, what chance did they have of repairing the rift between them with thousands of miles separating them? Retreating to a place she knew, but one that neither of them was from, seemed an illogical step at best, but she didn't know what more she should be doing here, either.

Before she had a chance to overthink it, she propelled herself up and out of the porch, taking the stairs to the attic two at a time. She burst through the door and Ben turned quickly from his papers to her.

"I"m sorry to interrupt you," she said out of formality. "I'm just going to get my things, and I'm going back to San Francisco."

Ben merely raised an eyebrow at her and turned back to his desk. "Alright," he replied, shaking his head ever so slightly. "I'm happy to drive you to the train station."

"That would be helpful," she agreed, dragging her suitcase from underneath the bed. The sheets and covers sat in an unceremonious pile atop the bare mattress where she had flung them earlier in the morning.

"It'll have to be tomorrow, though."

Rey whirled back towards him, scowling at his back. "Oh?" she retorted. "Would going today keep you from your work?!"

Ben straightened up in his chair at this barb, but did not turn back to face her. "No," he said, and she could tell he was struggling to keep his voice even. "There's no westbound trains today - the next one comes tomorrow."

"Oh," she said, and turned back to her packing, feeling chastened. She folded her few things neatly into the suitcase, waiting for him to say something against her leaving, but no such admonishment came. Why did she want to hear it from him so badly? She was an independent creature, and he could not stop her from coming and going as she pleased.

"Where will you stay?" Ben didn't bother to turn around to ask.

Somewhere I'm wanted. It was on the tip of her tongue, but instead she replied, "Jessa and Jack offered to put me up, and I'm sure I could go back to Maz's if she has room."

"Mmmmm," Ben murmured as though he was distracted. "Alright."

She stared at his broad back, noting how his shoulderblades moved with each breath under his sweater. His hair was getting longer, just long enough now to curl at the edge of his shirt collar. Despite the hot ball of anger in her middle, she had the urge to smooth her hands over his back.

"I'm going downstairs," she huffed, turning slowly towards the door. "I would hate to keep you from working." She paused a moment, waiting for him to rise to the bait.

"Fine," he said, scribbling something on a paper before placing it in a folder. "I imagine I'll see you at supper."

Rey narrowed her eyes at him and could barely refrain from curling her lip into a sneer at his nonchalance. How could he be so calm? It infuriated her. Her parents hadn't fought often, but she recalled dishes being smashed, doors being slammed. Perhaps that was not how these dignified upper-class folks comported themselves, but Rey would've preferred to have this fight out in the open where she knew what to expect, as opposed to this creeping, passive freeze they were currently locked in.

She didn't bother with a coat, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she made her way down the slightly muddy driveway to Luke's. Han had gone off to town earlier with Leia, so they were a miserable trio at home.

The barn was deserted, but she caught a flash of motion in the kitchen window inside the house. The glow of the lamplight beckoned her, and she went to the back door and knocked hesitantly.

"C'mon in," Luke called, "It's open."

Rey wiped her feet on the mat and stood hesitantly inside the door. She'd never been inside Luke's house.

"Hey Rey," Luke greeted her, "I figured it would be you. How're you doing today?"

Luke was the type of person Rey could never imagine lying to. He had an open honesty about his face that made her instantly blurt out whatever was on her heart.

"I'm going back to San Francisco," she announced. "I think it's for the best, for now…" She trailed off when she saw how Luke's face fell.

"Oh," he said softly, nodding. "And you told Ben?"

She huffed and toed the rug. "Yeah, I don't think he cares."

"Would you like to sit for awhile?" Luke motioned towards a threadbare couch next to a coffeetable overflowing with old newspapers and magazines. Rey perched delicately on the spot she could find that was least covered in dog hair. Threepio's long, golden strands carpeted the upholstery thickly. Luke switched on a lamp whose ceramic base was chipped in several spots and missing its shade before settling into an armchair that had seen decidedly better days.

"I'm sorry you feel like you have to leave," Luke began, but Rey waved him off.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I've got friends I can go back to, I lived there by myself for a few years, it's not as though I don't know the city."

Luke nodded and folded his hands in his lap. "What makes you think Ben doesn't care that you're going?"

Rey stared at Luke. Was this some kind of trick question?

"I mean…." Rey shrugged. "We've barely spoken in days, not since… I found out about them. And he didn't try to stop me when I told him I planned to go."

"Would you stay if he asked?" Luke narrowed one eye and a half-smile quirked his lips. "It seems like your mind is made up."

Rey looked at her hands and crossed her ankles. "I don't suppose so, no."

Luke sighed deeply and laced his fingers behind his head, staring up at his peeling ceiling. "Do you suppose maybe Ben hasn't said anything because he's really mad at himself, and he just doesn't know what to say?"

"But he should've just said something in the first place!" Rey retorted, immediately regretting how sharp her tone sounded. She knew Luke was trying to help, but she didn't want to hear an apology on Ben's behalf from him. It was well-intentioned, but completely the wrong channel for this.

"Well, sure," Luke nodded agreeably. "Ben's a lot like his dad, though, and Han tends to act first and think later. He's gotten into a lot of scrapes that way, but he also gets out of them, too."

"Am…. I the scrape that's to be gotten out of?" Rey's voice quavered as she voiced the nagging worry that she could not dismiss. "He said he'd made a mistake?"

"Rey, no." Luke was emphatic. "I'd give you my handkerchief, but I can't recall the last time I washed it." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "You're not the mistake."

"I just…." A sob caught her voice and she could only whisper, "It just hurts so bad, it's like it's changed everything, every memory I have of him? I can't stop going over it in my mind, and rethinking everything we said or did, wondering whether he ever really loved me, or if he was just running away from her? Or his future here, I don't even know."

"Sweetheart," Luke got up and moved next to her, oblivious to the doghair. He placed his hand awkwardly on her shoulder, patting her back as though he were trying to burp her rather than comfort her.

Rey chuckled at the gesture, thumbing the tears from her eyes but grinning at Luke. "Have you ever… been in love?"

Luke laughed. "Of course," he admitted shyly. "I wasn't always the messy recluse you see before you, surrounded only by machines and dogs."

"But no one… special?" Rey was overwhelmed with curiosity.

"Sure," Luke nodded and looked at the floor. "I was very much in love with a woman I still see around sometimes. But she… married someone else."

"And you still have to see them around? That sounds awful," Rey snorted. "What's her name?"

Luke raised an eyebrow. "I called her Mara, but her name is… Margaret."

Rey's smile slowly slid from her face as she recalled Leia's words at breakfast: Margaret is traveling at the moment and sends her regrets.

"Evelyn's mother?" she asked.

"I know, I know," Luke shook his head. "What are the chances, right? If we'd stayed together, our child and Ben would've been cousins, and we wouldn't be sitting here right now having this conversation."

Rey couldn't resist commenting, "I bet she was beautiful."

"Still is," Luke sighed. "She still is."

"I mean," Rey said slyly, "Evelyn obviously got her looks from her mother, she's gorgeous."

"So are you," Luke squeezed his hand over hers. "I hope it's not strange to remind you of that. Keep your chin up, and don't give up on him, alright? He's acting like an idiot right now, but I think he'll come around."

Rey was as embarrassed as she always was when someone commented on her looks, but she smiled wistfully at Luke. "Thank you for being kind to me," she said softly. "It means a lot, and I hope…. We see each other again."

"We will," Luke said confidently. "We will."

Rey lay awake late into the night, the storm front's clouds obscuring her view of the stars. The floor was hard, but she had managed to fold the blankets over enough times to pad her joints from the self-inflicted insult of sleeping on the wooden planks. She rolled over and over, becoming just uncomfortable enough in each new position to necessitate moving again.

Shifting onto her back for the umpteenth time, she noticed with mild irritation that she could not stop thinking about Ben. Not just thinking about him in a general way, either; no, she felt acutely aware exactly how many days and nearly how many hours it had been since they had last…

Rey frowned, scrunching her eyes closed against the sensation. No, no, no, she mouthed silently.

It was undeniable, though. Her body seemed to have divorced itself from logic, from everything in her mind telling her it was wrong, that she was weak, that he was not worthy of her anymore. The more she tried to stop thinking about it, the sharper her need grew until she practically shuddered at the thought of his hands on her. She threw back the covers in a huff, willing herself to lay still and keep her hands at her sides. She tried to relax her face, to count sheep, to think of being rocked gently in a boat, but none of these caused the ache in her middle to subside.

Rey sat up, folded the blanket to the side and went to the door. She turned back once before opening it slowly, taking care to avoid the squeak in the hinge by opening it too wide. As silently as she could, she crept down the stairs to the landing where Ben's room was, and tested the door knob.

It was locked. Rey stood in the darkened hallway feeling very foolish, tucking her hands under her elbows. Her legs began to goosepimple in the chilly air, and she finally worked up her nerve to knock gently twice.

Before her knuckles could touch the door a second time, it opened a crack and Ben peered out at her.

"Rey?" he said softly. "What are you doing?"

"I…. I can't sleep," she whispered, and she could hear how hoarse even her whisper sounded.

His suspicious glance raked slowly down and back up before he replied, "Neither can I."

She shifted uneasily and it was then he reached for her, cupping the base of her skull in his warm hand and drawing her into the room with him. Each of his fingers connecting with her scalp felt like a hot poker, she was so sensitive to his touch.

He closed the door behind her and stepped towards her, releasing her head to stroke his fingers along her jaw. He loomed over her and pressed her back, up against the door.

"I'm still going tomorrow," she whispered, tilting her face up to meet his.

"Of course," he breathed against her, and the sensation of his lips meeting hers made her knees weak. They swayed against one another, him leaning against the door heavily with one arm above her, the other still cupping her chin and her bracing her hands gently against his chest even as her hips bucked forwards towards him.

She let her head fall back against the door as he deftly slipped her underwear down to her knees and his hand found her aching sex, the flat of his palm pressed firmly against her as he teased her with his fingertips and found her wanting.

"Fuck," he huffed, "You're dripping."

"Just-please?" Rey pleaded. "With your fingers?"

He nodded but took her wrist and drew her hand against his erection where it strained against the material of his underwear, and she took pity on him as he slipped one teasing digit deep inside her. She stifled a moan by biting her lip and concentrating on the rhythm of her hand on his cock, and he mirrored her motions as best he could between her legs.

Rey felt she could scarcely breathe with the pressure that was mounting between her legs and she longed both for a quick climax and for this torturous pleasure to last all night. He undulated his hand against her as she stroked him up and down the length of his shaft, and when she gave his head a firm squeeze, he slipped another finger into her and pressed his fingers against her front wall. She stood up on her tiptoes at the bolt of pleasure that shot through her, twisting her hand around his slippery tip.

"Yes, right there!" he whispered, and she could hear the desperation in his tone. The heel of his hand was already pressing against her just so, and when she let herself relax back onto her heels, she ground her hips against the cradle of this obscene embrace. He fluttered his fingers against her front and just like that, she was undone. Any errant thought she had harbored about the nobility of wanting to be left unsatisfied immediately flew from her mind as she squirmed and twisted between him and the door, furiously working her hand around the slippery junction of his head and shaft.

He broke a moment later with a suppressed groan, bucking into her fist and his spend oozing out over her fingers, sliding around her wrist and a drop making its way onto her toe below.