Their final day seems rather anticlimactic. She wakes up this time with Ben in bed with her. He smiles, brushes the hair away from her face, and tells her he should get back to his room, get ready for the day. She kisses him and then he's dressed and out the door before she can call him back or say anything else.

Where is this going?

Is it going anywhere?

With a sigh, she gets up and gets ready to go. She's still reeling a bit from what she'd seen the day before. The tornado had moved away from them some five minutes after it had formed, and then dissipated, gone like it had never been there. But she knows it was. She has the pictures and the images won't leave her mind, like it's been burned into her retinas.

And then there was Ben. He had sat with their group at dinner, at her side, had celebrated with her. He'd even comforted Finn, who was still a little shaken up and kept muttering it had to be this trip, didn't it over and over again. When they'd left, they'd gone their separate ways, but Ben had given her that look, so she'd grabbed her toothbrush and a change of clothes and found herself in his room.

The second night was even better than the first, though they were both a little quieter. She had asked him, once, why they were hiding it, and he'd kissed her in response. She'd forgotten about the question then, as they'd frantically stripped their clothes and fucked like it was the last night of the entire world.

It was, she supposes, in a way. Or the last night in their little world at least.

The trip back to Oklahoma City feels like it takes forever. Ben is quiet for most of it, sometimes leaning over to talk to her, but mostly staring out the window. She doesn't know what to say to him. She wants to ask what they mean to each other, if there's anything there. They lead such different lives. She's going to return home to pick up the pieces of Maz's life, to her place as the owner of her pub, wondering what more there could be for her life.

And Ben? She supposes she doesn't know where he's going to go. He has more tours to run this summer, and then? He's never really given much information about his life before, his life outside of this. She knows he has a degree in meteorology, that he's helping out his father rather reluctantly after leaving his last job.

Maybe he has nowhere to go.

It's disconcerting, really. Rey is the one who never has a home, and she has a place to call her own, a place to return to. Ben, though? She's not sure he has anything. The way he speaks of his father, the way he avoids any conversation about his family at all, makes her wonder what the story is there. Maybe someday she'll find out. If he doesn't see this as some sort of summer tour fling. If she ever sees him again.

She watches him as they eat away the miles and finally falls into a fitful sleep, exhausted from their previous night's activities.

"Rey." Someone shakes her shoulder.

Her eyes open and it takes her a moment to settle on Rose's face. "Rose?"

"We're there."

There, she realizes, as she sits up fully and looks out the window, is the airport. "Fuck, really?" She'd slept through at least the last two hours of the trip, maybe more. Turning, she sees that Ben is not in his seat. "Ben?" she asks.

Rose gives her a sympathetic smile and a bit of a shrug. "He got off as soon as the van stopped."

Rey gets up, gathers her stuff, and rushes off the van. Chewie is standing there, leaning against it. She starts to ask, and he just shakes his head. There's this look in the big man's blue eyes, a little bit of sadness, a little bit of anger.

"He's gone?" Her voice is soft, hesitant.

"Yeah," Chewie says.

"But…" She doesn't know what else to say. Her mind goes numb, her limbs feeling suddenly very heavy, like she can't quite hold herself up anymore. She wants to sit down, go back to the van, something. He can't be gone. "He's coming back?"

"I don't think so," Chewie says, and claps her gently on the shoulder.

"Come on," Finn says. She turns to see him watching her with kind eyes. He's probably relieved that the whole thing is over.

"Did it work?" she asks him.

"Work?"

"Your fear of storms?" She cocks her head to the side as Finn's face scrunches up a little.

"I don't think so," he finally says.

"What was the point then?"

Finn shrugs. "I guess I had to try."

She nods and gathers up her stuff, looks over at Chewie, who seems like he wants to say something to her. "Yeah," she says. "I guess I had to, too."

She takes one final look at the van before shouldering her laptop and camera, and picking up her duffle bag. She walks off without so much as a backward glance.

He's a coward.

A fucking coward.

He's always known it. Snoke, his boss at the First Order, had told him that the day he walked out of the television studio for the last time. Hux had screamed it at him over and over again when he'd been packing up his stuff.

Coward.

Turncoat.

Who's going to have you now?

Crawl home to mama, traitor.

He probably will again. He hates himself for it, but he'll retreat to his parent's house, hide out in his room like some sullen teenager. His mother will know something is wrong. She always does. It's uncanny, really, like she has some sort of psychic force inside her that zeroes right in on his emotional state and then rips it the fuck open.

His phone rings.

He glances down.

Mom.

Of course. She's not even there, and she knows something's wrong. He doesn't know how she does it and he's not sure he wants to.

He stares at it for a moment before muting the ring and stuffing the phone in his pocket unanswered.

By the time he leaves the bathroom and returns to the van, everyone but his uncle is gone. The big man just gives him a look.

"What?" Ben asks.

"She wanted to wait for you," he says.

"I doubt that." Ben waves his hand around himself. "She's gone, isn't she?"

"Plane's leaving," Chewie points out,

"She could have…"

"Stayed?" Chewie shrugs. "You could have too." He turns then and gets back into the van, taking his customary seat at the wheel.

Ben doesn't move, eyes still downcast.

"You coming?" Chewie asks after a minute goes by.

Ben nods. "Yeah," he says as he grabs on the door frame and pulls himself up into the van. "Yeah, let's go. There's nothing here for us."

Chewie grunts once and then starts up the van. Ben watches out the window until the airport disappears in the distance, and then he closes his eyes, resting his head against the cool glass of the window.

[Rose: no word?]

Rey sighs as she reads the text. She and Rose have been keeping in touch ever since the tour ended. Rey had shared with her the photos that she'd gotten and they'd both gone crazy over them. In her redecorating of Maz's house, she'd ended up getting one printed on canvas and hung it proudly over her new living room couch.

She looks at it every day.

And every day it reminds her of him. Of Ben Solo. It's been nearly a month since the tour ended and no doubt Ben is running the next one for his father. Maybe he fucked one of the women on that tour too. The words are bitter inside her head and she's angry for even thinking them.

But she does.

A lot.

He hadn't regretted it. That's what he told her. But that was as far as the conversation went. They'd come together the next night, a tumultuous and exhausting night of some of the best sex of her life. But then…nothing.

[Rey: Same answer as yesterday. No. Nothing. I don't think he's gonna write.]

[Rose: Did you write to him?]

Rey cringes.

[…]

[…]

[Rose: You didn't did you?]

[Rey: No]

Her phone rings and she sighs. She almost doesn't pick it up, but she does.

She doesn't even get out the word hello before Rose speaks. "What do you mean you didn't write to him?"

"I…" Rey's not really sure how to answer that.

"Well?" She can almost envision Rose standing there, phone in one hand, other hand on her hip, dark eyes narrowed on her. She hasn't seen her since the tour, but Rose has become such a good friend since then. Sometimes Rey feels like she's known Rose her whole life.

"I don't have his cell number."

"E-mail," Rose points out.

"It's for the tour."

"It's still his. I seem to recall it was 'B Solo' so it's his."

"Yes, but I don't want to…"

"Disturb him at work," Rose interrupts with, her voice a really sad imitation of Rey's accent. "Just do it, Rey. You had a connection. Anyone with two eyes could see it. Just write to him. What's the worst that could happen?"

She's heard this one before. From Rose, from Finn. She'd even heard Poe shout it from wherever he was with Finn. Those two had become incredibly close and Rey is pretty sure that Poe has moved across the country to be with Finn. It's sweet, when she thinks about it. But heartbreaking at the same time. Ben had gone to complete radio silence ever since they got back to the airport. He'd disappeared, and that was it, the end of it.

She should be over him.

She's not.

She sighs. "I'll consider it," she mutters into the phone.

"That's all I ask, babe," Rose says. They hang up and Rey feels no better for having talked to Rose than she did before she had called.

He could e-mail her. He could. If he really wanted to.

You want to.

Or he could call her.

You hate the phone.

He shudders at the mere thought.

Texting?

Your thumbs are too big.

He almost throws the phone across the room. It's not like it's not true or anything. He does hate the phone and he does have overly large thumbs. He hates texting. He hates phone calls.

You hate your life.

He cringes as the thought rolls around in his brain.

"Ben?" comes a voice from down the hall.

You definitely hate your life. He doesn't respond right away, and so the voice comes nearer, sounds a bit more annoyed. Why did he come back here?

You had nowhere else to go.

"Benjamin." She's clearly exasperated.

He looks up to see his mother standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and eyes slightly narrowed. "Yes mother?"

"Are you going to hide up here forever?"

He smirks. "Maybe."

"Your father is feeling better. He'd like to see you."

Those are, quite honestly, the last words he expected to hear. He's been home a few days now, hiding out during the small break between tours. It's not like he's had anywhere else to go during these times. He'd burned bridges so hard with the First Order when he'd left that Snoke had yanked his apartment out from under him. He'd been forced to salvage what he could from the curb where the movers had dumped it.

So he was home.

Not for long each time. Two tours starting a day apart, and then a couple weeks off when he'd return to his parent's house and hide out as best he could. The last time his father had still been at the hospital, mostly sedated from his operation. Now he's home.

Ben sighs.

"Alright, Mom. I'll be down in a minute." She disappears, thankfully, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

His father is staying in one of the guest rooms on the first floor. He's not up for stairs yet, and so they've put him up in a very comfortable room down there. He's grouchy about it, because of course he is. Ben's father has always been active, always had a devil may care attitude about everything in his life: health, relationships. He takes the punches as they come and rolls with them.

There are days Ben wishes he could do that. If he was more like his father, he would have called or texted Rey by now.

"Son," his father says as he enters the room.

"Han," he answers and his father rolls his eyes.

"Are we still on that one? I almost died and it's still 'Han'." His father levels his gaze on him. "Come on, kid. Sit down."

Ben watches him for a moment before finally taking the seat at his bedside. "Alright, Dad." The word sounds strange on his lips. He'd tried so hard to distance himself from his family, taking on a new name, a new identity, running away to join the First Order and chasing tornadoes their way. It was dangerous, getting too close, taking too many risks. Others had been lost along the way, but Snoke, the CEO of the First Order, hadn't cared. They'd been weak.

Ben was weak too.

Or so Snoke had shouted at him as he'd walked out on that last day. One of their drivers, a mousy, shy young man named Mitaka, had almost been killed in a stunt that Ben knew was bad. There are ways to face down Mother Nature's fury and Snoke had gotten them too close, had pushed them until Mitaka was facing down the tornado alone. He'd barely escaped with his life, and last Ben knew, he was still in a rehab facility trying to regain his ability to walk.

Ben had wanted out for what felt like forever.

It had been as good an excuse as any.

His father is watching him with that same sardonic half smirk Ben sometimes sees in the mirror. There aren't many times he feels like he looks like his father, but right now the resemblance is uncanny.

"So what happened, Ben?" Han asks him.

"What…"

"On the tour?"

"Which one?" Ben says, and he hates the way his voice cracks on the words. He's a terrible actor, never has been able to hide his feelings from his parents. He's buried them pretty deep inside himself and somehow managed to look unemotional and bored. But they're always there, roiling just below the surface.

Rey brings them out of him. And that terrifies him.

"You know the one, Ben." His father gives him a nod, one of those looks. "You've been a sullen mess since then."

Ben scoffs. "I'm always a sullen mess. Or have you forgotten that?"

"This is different," his father points out.

Of course he'd know. Or his mother did, at least. He'd seen the looks she'd given him. It's a girl, isn't it? Fuck her if she doesn't know him through and through. He's barely seen his parents for years and he comes home and his mother just knows.

"I met someone…"

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" There's a slight furrow between his brows.

"She was one of the women on the tour…"

"So?"

"So?" Ben repeats. "It's wrong."

"Not if she's the right one."

"I don't know if she's the right one!" Ben explodes with. He knows, though. He damn well knows, but he's too fucking scared to do anything about it. He has her address, her phone number. He could call, text, fucking show up at her address like the lovesick lead in a romantic comedy. But he's Ben and he's pretty sure she's happily moved on.

She probably doesn't even think about him anymore.

"Ben," his father says, the word harsh, sharper than before. He leans a little forward in his bed before slumping back down. "Do something about it." He points a finger at him. "I mean it. Don't waste your life wondering."

Ben makes another scoffing noise.

"Chewie says she feels the same."

Ben gets up then, slams his fist against the door frame, and stalks out of the room. Chewie, of course. He should have known his dad's best friend would have run right back to him and reported on everything that happened on that tour. It's not like he hid the fact that there was some involvement.

Everyone saw that kiss after the tornado.

And Chewie had given him one of those looks when they got back on the van after. Of course he went back to Han and shared everything with him. Ben's face heats as he storms back to his room.

Damn his father.

And damn Chewie.

He just wishes they weren't right.

Rey wipes down the bar and then turns, leans her hip against the side of the counter. She's been running the bar for a couple months now and she finds she likes it. She doesn't have to be there every day. Maz ran a tight ship and Rey just has to ride along on it.

She's made a few changes here and there. Removed some of the ugly paintings that Maz had insisted on keeping despite the fact that she hated them too. What would we replace them with? Well, Rey has that answer now. As soon as she'd gotten back and done some post-processing on her images, she'd sent them off to a lab and gotten back some lovely prints. They now hang proudly behind the bar and in a few select places in the pub.

It's her home away from home now, and she loves it. It's her life. She never imagined being the owner of a pub or of an old Victorian house that creaks when she walks up the stairs and has a long and varied history. Maz had loved the house, and so does Rey.

With a sigh, Rey nods at her handiwork and dumps the rag in a bucket behind the bar. It's lights out for the place. They'd closed over an hour ago, and she'd sent everyone home: bartenders, waitstaff, the guys in the back who take care of the dishes. She likes these moments she has alone in her pub. The music plays softly overhead and she dances as she cleans, wiping down tables, putting away dishes and sweeping floors. It's her time, her moment to just be.

She's humming softly to herself when there's a loud pounding on the front door.

It makes her jump and she snarls a little in irritation at it. "We're not open!" she shouts without so much as a glance at the door. It's not the first time some drunk has tried to come into the bar after hours. She doubts it will be the last.

They pound on the door again.

"I said we're closed! Go find some dive bar or something!"

Another loud knock.

Some people are so persistent. She turns to walk to the door. She won't open it, but maybe if they see her angry face and her finger pointing at the "Closed" sign, they'll just go away.

But then she hears her name, muffled through the glass of the door.

Another knock.

"Rey please, open up the door."

She freezes, one hand coming up to grip the nearest chair. Her eyes shut, her heart seems to stop and then suddenly speed up. When she gets to the door, she can see him through the clear glass.

Ben.

He looks tired. That's the first thing she notices. Dark circles mar the pale skin below his eyes, his hair askew. His clothes are wrinkled and his eyes a little wild.

She stares at him through the glass.

He stares back at her.

"Ben?" she finally manages to choke out. He looks terrible and wonderful all at the same time.

He offers up that half-smirk she forgot she loved so much. It pierces her right down to the bottom of her heart. Fuck. She had forgotten how much she missed him, how much she cared. For a moment she's back at the amusement park, back with that tornado in the distance, the view of a lifetime.

"Are you…" He waves a hand at the door. "You know?"

She blinks once and then shakes herself, like she's just come out of some sort of trance. "Right. I'm sorry." She reaches forward to fling the door open but it doesn't budge. "Fuck." She looks up to meet Ben's eyes. "Sorry. It's locked."

"You have the key I'm sure?"

"I do." She continues to stare at him for a moment and then – "Right. I do. It's right here." She pulls it out of her pocket, fumbles, drops it. "Fuck," she says again, and then laughs. She finally gets the key in the door and unlocks it, pulling it open.

And then Ben is there.

And she has no idea what to say.

"Hi," he says, and runs his hand through his hair.

"Yeah um…hi."

"Can I come in?"

She blinks once, twice. "Right, sure, of course." How many times does she say that before she starts sounding like a complete idiot? She steps back and he walks into the pub. Her pub. Ben Solo is standing in her pub and she's locking the door behind him.

They're alone in her pub.

In the middle of the night.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asks.

"So funny thing," he says.

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to see you." He shrugs with the words, like they're no big deal.

She feels her heart melt a little, feels tears prick at the corner of her eyes. "Really? It's been like, two months, Ben. Two months."

"I know."

"Why now?" She can't quite decide if she wants to throw herself into his arms or scream at him. She's excited. She's angry. She doesn't know how to react or even what to do. She misses him, has missed him terribly since they parted ways. She dreamed of this moment and dreaded it at the same time.

He looks away from her, shoves his hands into his pockets. "I don't know."

"You…"

"No, that's not quite right. I can't stop thinking about you." He can't meet her eyes and she sees color high up on his cheeks. "And you know, my dad…"

"He's okay?"

"Yeah. He's a tough old bastard. He'll be fine. A little heart surgery won't get him down."

She nods. "Good."

"Yeah."

They both fall silent. Their eyes meet, flit away.

Rey laughs. Just a light, awkward little thing.

Ben makes a huffing noise in the back of his throat.

Their eyes meet again, for just a moment.

"This is…" Rey starts to say, just as Ben moves forward. One of his arms snakes around her waist and hauls her in close to him. Their eyes meet, and this time they don't look away. Ben's lips are parted, his eyes dark, earnest. He searches her eyes, his moving back and forth rapidly as he tries to discern something.

She wants to look away from the intensity of his gaze. She can't, though, not until one of his hands comes up and cups the back of her head and he kisses her. Soft, slow, deepening the kiss only after she lets out a small gasp.

She loves his mouth, soft and plush against hers. She kisses him for a few more moments before putting her hands up on his shoulders and pushing away from him. "Ben," she murmurs. "What are we doing?"

"I know I haven't done it that much, but I'm pretty sure that's what they call 'kissing.'" That half-smile is back again and she groans.

"You know that's not what I mean."

He sighs and releases her, one hand coming up to run through his hair. "I know," he starts, and then turns away. She watches him as he breathes hard, starts to speak, stops, tries again. "I know this whole thing is probably crazy. It was what? One week of our entire lives. But I have never felt this connected to someone. I can't get you out of my mind. Every night I fall asleep and I remember the feel of you in my arms and I wake up remembering seeing your face on the pillow near mine. And I want it again." He takes a deep breath. "I want you. If you'll have me."

Rey sucks in a breath. Then another.

"Why did it take so long?" she blurts out and clamps her hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean that," she mumbles into her hands before removing them. "I could have contacted you, too. I know."

"Why didn't you?"

"I…"

"You were afraid." The words are not unkind, and she finds that they make her shiver a little.

"Yes," she whispers.

He moves back toward her again, reaches out to take her hands in his. "I was afraid too," he admits. "Terrified, even. I…I thought if I just disappeared it would be the best thing."

"For you?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "For you. But I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried."

"And so you…." She lets the words trail off.

"I want to try," he says, the words simple, but holding such a weight of meaning.

She doesn't say anything for a moment, isn't sure what to say. A few moments ago she was alone, getting her life in order as best she could. And now Ben is here, rushing in like the chaos of a tornado bearing down on her life. She loves tornadoes. She thinks she could love Ben too, may already be halfway there. "I'd like to try, too," she says quietly.

He smiles, no half about it this time, a full wide smile, showing slightly crooked teeth and a sort of shy dorkiness that makes her insides melt. And then he kisses her again. Kisses her like this is the beginning and not the end.

And it is, she realizes, as she takes his hand in hers and offers to drive him back to her place. It's the beginning of something wonderful.