This story is going to rock back and forth between past and present for a bit. This chapter was originally written first and I was going to keep the story linear but I figured I would try something a little different and see how it plays out. Let me know what you think! cheers lovelies xo

The music is loud, heavy, and vicious, the bass thumping so hard that it causes her chest to flutter uncomfortably. The distinct lack of alcohol in her system makes it difficult to tolerate parties like these where bodies move and gyrate with little decency and the air is thick with drug-addled smoke. It makes her feel like a freshman all over again only far less tolerant. Frat parties are all the same she's come to realize over her three years of university. The music changes but the atmosphere stays the same. It's thick with pulsing need and a lack of inhibitions that Rey finds she often wants to avoid.

For some reason Finn loves these damned parties, maybe because at his first one he'd gotten obliterated and ended up going home with Poe Dameron a friend of one of the frat house seniors. That was the night their little due became a trio and Rey realized, truly realized that being a foster kid didn't make you broken. It simply gave you a more relaxed idea of what family really was or really could be.

So, here she is again, at another party that Finn decided was essential to his social standing. It's another evening where she has to watch her drinks too closely and tolerate being groped by drunk assholes who claim they thought she was someone else. God, she's starting to feel old. Finn asked though and it's hard to turn him down when he gives her the pouty lip and puppy dog stare. In reality he asks for so very little from her and gives so much that it's hard to begrudge him her company for a few short hours until Poe gets off work. When the two lovers are reunited Rey will skip away home, possibly take a long walk through campus or maybe just take a cab. Big parties like these usually encourage a level of foolishness and debauchery of a dangerous variety. When all Rey wants to do was settle in after a warm shower, possibly a bath if she were feeling adventurous, her cozy pajamas and her lovely warm bed.

How then is it now ten-thirty and Rey hasn't found herself on her way home yet?

Well funny story, Beaumont had fallen down the stairs, hitting his head on the love seat at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. That was where her evening really started. Rey had rushed to his aid only to find the Master's student laughing to himself pleased that he had somehow not managed to spill his drink. Then there was Rose, a fellow foster kid who had been taken in by Skywalker and his huge heart. She'd been hung up on Finn since their grade eleven year and often took to intense fits of tears whenever she found herself plied with too much alcohol. It wasn't a common thing but definitely an annual, maybe biannual occurrence and that was how Rey found herself sitting in the upstairs bathroom with her distraught friend. Rose lay in the bathtub while Rey sat on an old vanity and hollered at anyone who tried to venture into their sacred space looking to take a piss.

After that she'd stopped not one but two separate fist tights from escalating and saved Kaydel from a rather aggressive-looking fella who obviously hailed from Kashyyyk. He was a tall bearded man with broad shoulders and an inability to understand 'no means no'. That was likely more a result of his drunken spice induced stupor. She'd even helped roll a handful of joints for a group of stoners who were far too high and nowhere near dexterous enough to complete the task themselves.

By the end of all of that she is now sore, her hair reeks of marijuana and someone is doing spice in one of the upstairs bathrooms. The smoke is billowing out from under the door at a rather alarming rate filling the air around them with the thick sickly sweet scent of coal, cinnamon, and something that Rey can't quite place. Earth of some kind. It's at this point Rey doesn't know that she has it in her to care anymore. She's tired of these pointless parties and the lack of control that makes none of this seem worth it. What is the point, she often wondered, in getting so high you think pissing in the bushes is a good alternative to a bathroom. Or so drunk that giving some guy a blowjob while he finger fucks your best friend in a closet is a solid life choice?

That is how Rey has come to find herself out on the roof of the old victorian home weighing her potential options. The night air is cool and wondrously fresh. It makes her skin tingle and sweeps away the smell of vomit and Rylothian spice leaving the world raw and clean. The crisp scent of late autumn hangs in the air like an afterthought clearing her head of the doldrums of sober party life. On any other evening she may have been cold sitting out against the cool air in only a light long-sleeved sweater, a pair of tight skinny jeans and worn, old, converse sneakers. Her hair she's pulled back and out of her face in a sweeping braid to avoid having anyone pull it or grab her by it which she hates to admit happens a lot at these events.

Yes, the fall air is brisk but the heady warmth of the party is suffocating and Rey is in need of a break from it all. Her cheeks feel flushed and utterly wondrous as a breeze picks up and kisses against her flesh softly. Pulling her sleeves down and over her hands, set rests her elbows against her knees and closes her eyes allowing herself to simply take it all in.

The evening is clear, and bright, and beautiful. The stars, just barely visible beneath the hazy city lights beyond. It's the most vibrant she's ever seen them since moving to Chandrilla. Their twinkling luminance struggling against the light pollution from the city that never stops. She came from someplace smaller, someplace warmer, and far quieter than this but the University here in Chandrilla has one of the best nursing programs around.

She'd known from a young age that she wanted to do something with her hands. It had been quite early when she had learned how to tinker with electronics, taking them apart and putting them back together. It started with smaller items and then worked its way up to cars and motorbikes. She could take apart an engine and put it back together better than most of her male friends. One would have thought that being a mechanic of mechanical engineer would have been her calling but no.

Rey wanted to go into medicine.

When Rose's sister Paige got sick, the group of them spent a lot of time in the hospital. The doctors were always stone-faced and used big words never looking at the teens when they begrudgingly provided the group with any information. They came and went like shadows, checking stats and making odd "hmming' noises before they disappeared again not to be seen for hours at a time.

The nurses on the other hand were like angels. Paige had an incredible team of men and women who worked with her and watched her around the clock. They were always there to help with her breathing mask, they took their time helping her to eat, cleaning up her vomit rubbing her back when she was racked with another coughing fit. They welcomed the group with open arms, didn't balk at their overwhelming presence and always smiled despite the unimaginable difficulty they experienced day-in and day-out. They were there around the clock to answer any questions, hold any hands, or give hugs to those of them who needed it. And when Paige passed away late in the evening, it was a nurse who sat with her holding her hand as she struggled to breathe, her body weak and failing. It was a nurse who held Rose while a doctor explained to Luke what had happened and how Rose should get herself checked out as soon as possible.

The girls had come from Hayes Minor, a mining city to the far north. Its citizens were all getting sick now after the government had come through and stripped the area of its natural resources. They contaminated the water, they polluted the air, they made the ground unstable and unviable for crop growth and then they just left. Rose and Paige's parents died when they were young and with so many kids already in the Hayes Minor foster system the sisters were moved out to a larger city. They were in a foster center in Takodana when Luke had found them.

Their foster father, Luke, like many others had been shocked when Rey confessed that she wanted to apply to a nursing program after they found out about her scholarship. He'd assumed she would want to stay close to home and maybe go to the University of Corellia to take engineering or robotics. Still he was the picture of a supportive parent as he was with everything Rey choose to do in her life. She was the closest thing he was ever going to have to a daughter, his first foster and the beginning to a home full of kids who needed love and guidance. Often fondly referring to her as his foster fail, she was the kid he had the hardest time letting go of, the one he favored when he wasn't suppose to have favorites.

His is the voice in her head when she does something stupid and the encouraging smile she turns to when she needs a pep talk. Luke is like magic in her eyes and when he said he knew she would make a great nurse that was all she needed to hear. She threw herself into it with everything she had.

How then is it that she has come to find herself on the balcony of Hanna House, the Campus' largest fraternity?

It's a question she finds herself pondering when he turns up. She thought she was being smart when she picked this patch of safely hidden rooftop. The hallway window opened onto it's gentle slope and if you managed to balance yourself just right you could scoot back against the frame of the house and hideaway. Too well apparently as the tall form of a man dressed in a leather jacket forces himself through the small opening. He is long, all limbs and torso with dark hair swept back and away from his face.

They are up high enough that their position hovers over the street lights below but the bright glow casts his pale face in their soft light. His profile shows off a strong straight nose and full lips pouting around a cigarette which hangs lewdly from his lips. He doesn't notice her at first tucked away against the siding of the old home. He's utterly engrossed in his task at hand, digging through his pockets in search of something. A lighter she assumes as she watches him carefully. His jacket falls somewhere around his middle but his shirt sits just across his rear end. He has himself positioned, one leg partially bent, the other straight as he leans back for balance, giving her the impression of a movie star on break from set. He's relaxed, his form graceful as his eyes seem to stare out and over the three-story drop, hands still patting down his pockets before he seems to locate what he's looking for.

Rey catches the glint of silver as he extracts a zippo from his pocket, not one of the cheap toss aways but a real heavy-looking thing. He flicks the wick a few times before the flames spring to life and then die, spring to life and then die again. He's turning his head, cupping his hands around the white stick protruding from his mouth when his eyes fall upon her.

He jolts, "Sweet Jesus Fuck!" he cries dropping his cigarette from his lips in the process. They both watch as it rolls away down the shingled roof and into the eaves. "Shit," he mutters as he turns his attention on her. He's tall and imposing, eyes dark and wide shaped by a strong brow. His long legs are clad in what she realizes is dark denim which hugs tightly against what appears to be muscular legs. There are holes in the pants, ripped and frayed down the front in several places. It's the type of style many bought into but these look thoroughly worn. His shirt is a v neck of simple light color, a grey or light blue maybe. It's hard to tell in this light and under the shadow of his dark leather jacket. It hugs his torso in a way that makes Rey's eyes linger just a little longer than they probably should.

His chest is heaving slightly, she obviously startled him, "What the hell are you doing out here?" the sharpness in his tone confirms it. He almost sounds like he's accusing her of something.

Rey throws her hands up in mock defense, "Sorry!" she cries unsure whether she should shift onto her feet or tell his beautiful stranger to fuck right off.

When she shifts onto her hip to push herself up, the man standing before her raises his hand and says in a more neutral voice, "No, No. Stay." He sounds almost sorry but doesn't indicate it, "You just scared the shit out of me is all." He lowers himself down and scuttles along the shingled rooftop until he's crouching beside her. It's a safer way to approach as the fall is quite a substantial one. "Party not your thing?" He asks casually as he settles down next to her, a little closer then she anticipated he might.

His presence is warm and all-encompassing, like when you take your first short of Corellian fire whiskey. It soothes something in you, licking at your insides with a delicious burn before settling into the pit of your stomach. "No…," she says with a quiet smile, "Came with a friend, lost that friend."

The man laughs softly, a soft deep chuckle which Rey finds oddly confusing. "Your friends not big on the whole chicks before dicks code huh?" He's fiddling with the wrapper on a fresh pack of smokes, angling himself away to stuff the plastic into his pants pocket awkwardly.

She watches him as he taps the small square packet against his palm and then draws one out tucking it behind his ear, "Not so much," she says slowly, his easy movements fascinating her for some reason or another, "He really enjoys dicks… or well one in particular." She says with a light but a surprisingly sad laugh of her own.

There's a slow nod of understanding from her new acquaintance as he offers her a cigarette, lazily holding the open packed out to her. When she shakes her head he stuffs the small box into his coat and switches it out for his zippo. "Do you mind if I do?" he asks as he draws the little white stick from behind his ear. It's in his mouth before she can respond and her eyes fixate on his lips again.

Shaking her head, Rey pulls at the sleeves of her sweater, working the material down and over her fingertips a second time. "Go for it," She finds her voice filled with an odd sort of ease, "They're doing way worse in there"

"Fuck, tell me about it, I walked in on a devil's threesome trying to go to the bathroom. How is that even comfortable?" His words are mumbled slightly around the cigarette in his mouth and she isn't quite sure she's heard him correctly.

"A what?" She asks in disbelief, turning her head to gaze at him with a look of shock and curiosity.

He pauses, drawing the stick from his mouth as he half turns towards her, "You know, two guys on one chick. I mean, sure it's an adventure but a bed would be so much easier than that tiny upstairs bathroom." She could only assume that he's talking from personal experience as he pops the cigarette back into his mouth and sets to lighting the damn thing.

Guys like this make her nervous. They're unpredictable, unbelievably comfortable in their own skin, and way more knowledgable about things than she ever dreamed of being. He's also beautiful in a dark and utterly mysterious way that makes her want to know what his lips would feel like pressed anywhere and everywhere against her body "Is she ok?" Rey asks without thinking in an attempt to draw her thoughts away from his devilish mouth and those full lips that hold onto that cigarette like it was a lifeline.

He laughs again, louder this time. A booming sort of chuckle "Oh she seemed just fine," He says knowingly, "I didn't stop to ask, didn't want to be rude and interrupt but they all seemed very consenting.

Rey feels foolish and falls quiet. She watches him as he casts his eyes skyward and allows the shadows to swallow him in the eerie quiet. Her eyes trail the line of his profile as if committing it to memory. She's torn between wondering why she's still there and losing herself in his presence. She needs to get home, get away from this madness, the Rylothian spice, devil's threesomes, and his full kissable lips. It's all too much for her, over stimulating and stifling and she hasn't even been drinking. It's his mere presence that's causing her to react in a way that makes her feel stupid and giddy but utterly terrified at the same time.

Never in her life has she felt so drawn to a complete stranger. As a matter of fact she went out of her way to avoid interactions like this. With people like him. Men who sparked a dangerous curiosity and makes her want things she had no right wanting. It isn't that she's a prude or even overly cautious per-say. She is just far more aware than most. She takes in things around her that others miss. Like how he seems to lean into a sort of grunge bad boy look but his shirt despite its all too plain appearance is clearly brand name. His boots too are Doc Martens not thrift store army boots, their leather crisp and new. The way he holds his cigarette too is careful, as though he's trying to avoid tarnishing his nails with nicotine.

She sees through the veil that most people surrounded themselves in and so never really had much of an interest in relationships outside of those she curated with her friends. It's hard to date when you see people for who they were through who they pretended to be. If people could simply be honest with themselves as well as all those around them, life would be a lot simpler.

Still, this man with his eye to the sky drew her in, in a way she can't explain. It's unsettling. She has to get away from him as quickly as possible. Promptly making up her mind, she moves to stand, shuffling her feet against the rooftop as she suddenly stumbles arching her back in order to catch her balance. To her surprise a warm ring of fingers finds itself wrapped around her wrist and this man, this beautiful stranger is at the other end, "Careful little mouse," he says with a strangely affectionate softness.

Staring down at the place where his flesh meets hers she feels her cheeks flush in the odd realization that he's been paying close attention to her, "T-thanks" she bites out with an awkward smile, trying now to shift around him while he keeps his grasp trained of her wrist.

He watches her with curious amusement before he asks, "Where are you going?" His fingers are broad and the grip on her wrist is warm, firm, and as unrelenting as his stare. In the dark, with her back to the light his eyes look like two black pieces of pitch set against his pale pallor. She can feel herself falling into those deep pools of darkness, following the arch of his brow down along the length of his nose and back to those deliciously full lips. All roads lead to those lips, balancing a cigarette against them carelessly.

"Home," Rey tells him carefully not wanting him to let her go but desperate for the freedom of escape. Her heartbeat flutters against her chest like the steady soft beating of a hummingbirds wings. The heat of her curious attraction creeping up along her neck to settle into her cheeks and she forces herself to turn away.

If he notices he's kind enough to play dumb, "Do you have a ride? Will your friend escort you?" he asks instead. When he finally let's go he draws himself up onto his feet and begins to pat off his backside carelessly. He's gesturing for her to slip back through the window and into the house as he waits for an answer she isn't sure how to give. His reasons are lost on her. It might be the mere quandaries of a stranger, or perhaps he has a more nefarious reason for asking.

She purses her lips and chooses not to answer, turning to walk away after slipping back into the hazy warmth of the house. She catches sight of him pulling himself through after her with the grace and ease of a cat. It's miraculous how a person of his size can fit through such a small opening with so little effort.

When she turns and starts to make her way down the stairs, weaving through the crowds of people he's butting his cigarette out on the windowsill, his eyes trailing after her sweeping form.

Her plan is to get to the main floor and slip out into the front courtyard where the music isn't too loud and she could call for a cab. As her feet slip over the stairs she realizes there was one small problem with her plan. She's left her wallet at home to avoid forgetting it or losing it at the party. Finn had been so adamant that he would get her home safely one way or another and now Finn is nowhere to be found. She could text him, she thinks absently as she winds through a group of bodies grinding and thrusting against one another on the stairs. There were lips and tongues and hands everywhere. Rey, cautious not to touch or be touched, scoots along cursing this godforsaken night.

As she descends into the chaos the music grows louder, more insistent. Her mind is a jumble of thoughts and half-formed plans as she draws herself along the edge of the makeshift dance floor. She's weaving through the gyrating bodies when someone grabs her ass. She chooses to ignore the groping hand, her feet quickening their pace towards the door when her thoughts are interrupted by a loud crash and a scream. The group of bodies are spreading themselves wider, fleeing the presence of the man in leather who has grabbed some unwitting drunk boy and is pulling his up in a menacingly dangerous way by the front of his shirt.

The young man is screaming a loud, "What the hell!?" and Rey, tired of this party and all its stupidity is ready to ignore the show of neanderthal pride when she hears the man speak.

"What gives you the right to touch people like that?" he growls over the heavy tenor of the music. Turning, she watches as he then rears his fist back and slams it into the jaw of the belligerently drunk boy. Rey watches as his head jerks back, arching to the side in a way that is painful even to watch. It all seems to go down in an odd sort of slow-motion at first until her mislead knight in shining armor drew back and hits the boy again and again and again. His hold on the young man's shirt preventing the now very bloody creature from getting away until the man in the leather jacket drops his target unceremoniously to the ground.

As he stands over the bloody form of the man he's just beat, her tall beautiful stranger draws in a few ragged breaths. The air has changed, the room around them electric with alcohol-fuelled rage. She sees it all and yet only focuses upon him, the way his shoulders are set in a hard line preparing for another attack and without thinking she throws herself at him. "Stop it!" she growls, trying to end this barbaric display of testosterone which has been misplaced by way of avenging her honor. She claws at the leather of his forearm, pulling him back and away from his injured prey.

There is a stunned silence, the crowd around them is still and primed to explode. Someone turns the music down, the obnoxious hammering base has been making her teeth hurt so the loss is not mourned but it means someone is sober enough to be paying attention. The young man who'd grabbed her is on his hands and knees on the floor now, spitting blood viciously onto the hardwood. His face is a mangled mess, all around his eyes a mottled array of black and blotchy blood stained red.

"Apologize to the lady," Her associate demands as the boy on the floor stars up at them with a dangerous look of fear and pure unbridled rage.

"Fuck. You." he bites out, his voice coming across nasally as his passageways filled with blood. "Fuck you and your whore girlfriend."

Well now that wasn't a smart choice was it?

Before Rey can react, the man in her grasp swings his foot in a wide arc connecting with the boys face in harsh and jarring impact. The kid is obviously on drugs because he has no real reaction to the pain of it. His head whips back as a girl somewhere screams and his friends surge forward, crowding around him defensively. This is about to get very messy, very quickly. She can feel as the muscles of her captives forearms contract beneath the supple leather. His knuckles clenching and unclenching readying himself for a fight.

"Jesus, stop it already." she cries, striking him hard against his shoulder in a frenzied attempt at getting his attention. His dark eyes are wide as he reels around ready for another attack, "You gonna hit me too?" She challenges, her words crashing into him causing him to back down and draw away.

People are crowding around the young man now as he sobs and clutches at his jaw. The air seems to crackle like someone has lit a match ready to blow this powder keg of a situation wide open. The rage in the room is spilling over catching like wildfire and there's no way this is going to end well. They need to leave and they need to leave fast, "Come on," she grunts, tugging on his arm in an attempt to drag him along after her. When he doesn't budge, she slides her hand down along his forearm until her palm meets with the heat of his and she wind their fingers together. The sensation of her hand in his seems to stir him from his revere and he stumbles along after her.

They are through the front door and down the steps, the cool air spilling over them, ripping through her lungs in a torrent of icy daggers before she realizes she has been holding her breath. She sucks in the air, inhaling sharply as she turns her ire onto her strange companion only to find he hasn't let go of her hand yet and to her surprise, she doesn't really mind.

"What!" she hollers when the air in her lungs tapers into pinpricks, "Was that?"

There's a shrug and he replies, "He was a jack ass," as if that excuses the vicious beating he has just doled out.

Frustration bleeds into fear as Rey's eyes take in their surroundings, "We need to get you out of here before they decide revenge or retribution is the answer," The streets around them are eerily quiet and surprisingly empty which does not work in their favor. She has to come up with a plan that is more than just 'run' and she needs to do so quickly, "Do you live close to here?"

He worries his hand awkwardly through his shaggy dark hair, pulling it back and away from his face as he too seems to take a survey of their surroundings. "Not from around here," comes his easy reply, as though that doesn't really matter, "I'm visiting friends"

"And they are…?" Rey prods, she needs a location, a name, anything that might spark an idea before they found themselves surrounded by an angry mob.

"Not here, or maybe they are, I don't really know."

Rey lets out a wild cry of frustration, "Are you trying to be obtuse?" she begs the question but doesn't wait for an answer. She doesn't know why she has expected this to go easily, of course it could never go easily for her.

Raised voices can be heard from behind the open door as a woman is now historically crying for someone to call an ambulance. Rey knows the chances of that happening are slim. There are enough drugs on the primacies that someone or many someones will find themselves in a heap of trouble. The Rylothian spice is one thing, that's a slap on the wrist or maybe community service at worst. The Corellian tar and the Lothian hepsa on the other hand, come with serious jail time. Hanna House can't handle the poor publicity and the frat boys who live there were almost cult-like in their belief in secrecy and taking care of problems themselves.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place Rey makes the snap decision to take him someplace safe. The only place unfortunately she can think of is her apartment and the idea of spending more time alone with him is both tantalizing and terrifying. Can she trust him?

As much as she can trust anyone she supposes but there is an underlying tug from somewhere in the back of her mind. It winds around her logic and through her core in a way a gut decision settles in before you really lean into it.

Worst care scenario, he'll kill her and hide her body somewhere no one would find it.

"Fuck it, ok." she growls, "Come on." and she's moving with quick desperation. She needs to put as much space between them and the angry drunks as humanly possible. "You can let go of my hand you know," she tells him, irritation bubbling over but not from the fact that he's touching her. It's an annoyance in the evening and her own stupidity for going out in the first place.

He on the other hand seems quite unfazed by the action. Instead, he looks down at where their hands joined, giving hers a gentle squeeze, "That's ok, I like the way your hand feels in mine." He tells her sincerely, throwing her off guard as they set off down one of the side streets leading away from Hanna House.