"Something's up with you."
Rey glances up at Finn and then back down at her food, shrugging.
Finn narrows his eyes and bumps Poe's shoulder. "You ever seen her not eat food?"
"No, not really."
"Not ever," Finn affirms, leaning forwards in his chair. He fixes her with investigative eyes, takes in the dishevelled hair and the dark circles. "Did you even sleep last night?"
Rey stabs a piece of chicken with her plastic fork. "Not really."
His lips purse. "Another visit from your dream boyfriend?"
A dark flush spreads across her chest, crawls up her neck. There is no doubt in her mind that if Ren knew she called him her 'dream boyfriend', she'd never hear the end of it. "He's not my boyfriend," she mutters.
"Anyway, not that it matters, but Poe and I were going to see the Jedi exhibition tonight. We've got an extra ticket if you wanna come."
The words catch her attention, and Rey finally glances between her two friends. She doesn't miss the way Poe is angled towards the larger man, or how close they're sitting. Rey stares a moment longer and wonders if they've realised it yet. "Yeah, sure. How much is it?"
Poe wriggles his eyebrows at her, and fishes around in his jacket pocket before pulling a flimsy piece of paper out. "Free," he chuckles, "as long as no one else scans the same barcode."
"I've heard the artwork is amazing, nothing compares to the Jedi technique… I mean, that sounds like a night well spent to me. Plus, free drinks, free finger food. Just need a suit and, well—a dress."
Rey snaps a glare to Finn. A dress? No chance in hell she'd wear a dress or even own one. But Finn has this look on his face, the same one he has whenever he's got something up his sleeve, and whatever appetite Rey might have is shoved sorely out the window.
As it so turns out, Finn knows someone who knows someone. Rose, a Resistance tactician and seamstress in her spare time, is nothing like Rey pictured. What she lacks in height she makes up for in bubbly personality, and Rey is drawn to her effortless happiness like moth to flame. Rose takes one look at her body and hums, sizing her up without needing any guidance. Her eyes start at the bland top she's wearing to the stone coloured pants and black boots.
"You don't seem like a dress kinda girl," Rose says, more of a statement than a question. "Practical, understated, simplistic."
Rey's cheeks burn. Her mouth opens and closes to try and protest being boiled down to three words, but the tactician is right. She snaps shut her mouth and Rose beams at her.
"I've got just the one for you."
When she re-emerges from the back room, Rose is holding a long black garment. Ushering Rey into one of the dressing rooms at the back of the store, Rose swings shut the door and leaves Rey staring at a reflection of herself – one she's not entirely used to seeing.
Dressed in what she's wearing, she looks like a normal Coruscant citizen. Coffee coloured waves frame her face and fall just short of her collarbones, and the green in her eyes disappears beneath harsh fluorescent lighting of the seamstress shop. Rey releases a long sigh and stares at the black dress Rose has pulled for her.
The Jedi Exhibition, despite her reluctance to attend, is the perfect opportunity to test Kylo Ren's claim of corruption. The exhibition will undoubtedly host a number of Resistance and Republic members, by the likes she's never had access to before. On the rare occasion Poe allows her inside the Resistance headquarters, Rey is surrounded by logistics and plans and people who are actively trying to wipe any existence of the First Order from Coruscant. For a charity, Rey thinks the Resistance has too much of a stake in the First Order's demise to be purely good. And, on the other hand, the Republic officials excusing themselves from the Citadel could be the perfect subjects to question.
If Unkar Plutt has done anything right during his time as Rey's boss, it's planting the seed of disbelief. She's a journalist, after all – the kind who doesn't stop digging until she has all the facts, all the players in the game. Her exposé on the First Order had turned heads; Plutt wanted to publish the story under her name, but Finn's demands that she use a pseudonym probably saved her life.
If wearing a dress is the only way to get through those exhibition doors, Rey can bear it for just one night.
But the dress doesn't co-operate with her; it slips up past her hips a bit tightly, and there's an entire length of unused fabric. Rey stares for a moment until she realises the garment isn't a dress, even though it looks like one. She shimmies the material back down her thighs, sticks a leg through the second hole, and zips up the back.
She almost doesn't recognise who's staring back at her. A deep V-neck cuts past her breasts and stops in the middle of her torso, revealing quite too much of her skin, and the sleeveless look shows off her sun-kissed arms. The wide-leg pants have been cut with so much material it looks as though she's wearing a dress, and suddenly Rey wants to crush Rose between her arms.
As she flings the door open, she can't help the giddy laugh at the back of her throat.
"Rose!" She calls, "Rose, I can't believe you!"
Rose is delighted in her reaction – she shows Rey how to wear her hair, points to a couple of images of makeup examples, shoves some thick golden heels in her hands (these are exactly like boots except you can see your feet), and sends her on her way.
By the time the Jedi Exhibition rolls around, a low bubble of excited energy begins to pool in her stomach.
She meets Finn and Poe beneath the Bell Tower, about a block away from the Exhibition Hall, and tries not to blush as her friends gawk at her. She brushes off their compliments and loops her arm with Poe, and the rest of their walk is a nervous chatter of what food to expect and how many drinks it will take to get drunk.
The Exhibition Hall looms unopposed into the Coruscant sky at the end of a bridged walkway. Golden concrete structures extend above them and meet in a sharp apex at the top, and standing against each concrete pillar are giant golden statues of unknown Republic Troopers who died for their city in the Battle of Exegol. The three of them walk beneath these pointed archways until they stand in front of the Exhibition Hall, dwarfed by the building's size and grandeur.
"Let the fun begin," Finn breathes.
They join a fast-moving queue, and the closer they get to the entrance, the more Rey begins to panic. Their barcodes haven't been bought, their tickets aren't real, and if they're caught trying to break into such a prestigious event, they'll be stripped of their belongings and thrown into the barracks.
Poe shows no fear as his barcode is scanned at the entrance to the Exhibition Hall. Neither does Finn. Rey's hands shake when she hands her ticket over to the Trooper, but the soldier doesn't notice – her ticket barcode shows up green and she's ushered through like everyone before her.
She shares an excited look with Poe as they continue moving forward, and a laugh of disbelief escapes her mouth.
As soon as they're through the giant timber doors, Rey's breath stops short in her lungs.
If the façade of the building is impressive, the inside of the Exhibition Hall is a thing of architectural brilliance. From the polished stone floor to the marble staircase leading beyond the ground and first floors, to the dark timber accents and grand archways, Rey is awestruck. The entrance foyer is lit by candelabras perched along each pillar, and between each pillar, on each level, is a small balcony with thick marble balusters. Rey lifts her gaze to the roof and stops dead where she stands, frozen in place by the sheer magnificence of what is staring down at her.
"Wow," she breathes, hand clenched tight around Finn's arm. "Finn…"
Finn follows her gaze and swears under his breath.
Above them all is the singular, largest piece of Jedi artwork she's ever seen. It covers the ceiling from one corner to the next to the next, drenched in the whimsical pastels of the Jedi style and punctuated by the bold depiction of violent beauty.
Rey can stare only for a moment longer before the artwork threatens to swallow her whole.
For a moment, Rey is swept away by the splendour of the evening. The women are dressed exquisitely from head to toe and somehow, she fits right in. The men are dressed just as immaculate, with suits and bowties and shiny shoes. Rey spins in a slow circle and takes it all in, bathing for just a moment in a world she's too mundane to exist in.
Poe, who has disappeared into the throng of attendees, returns with three drinks balanced in his hand. Bubbles trail from the bottom of the narrow glass to the top, sifting through the transparent golden liquid with ease. When Rey takes a sip, the bubbles pop gently against her lip and her nose. The alcohol tastes expensive; it dances across her tongue erratically and burns the back of her throat, but the burn is replaced by a numb tingling she can't seem to get enough of.
"How the hell did you get us in, Poe?" Finn asks lowly, just as transfixed as Rey is.
Poe shrugs, smiles widely. "Perks of being the Resistance."
Rey doesn't believe him, but she lets it go. There is art to see, people to talk to, food to eat, and much more of this splendid alcohol to drink – any hesitation she has about being here tonight is now non-existent.
"Rey, I want you to meet someone." Poe holds his hand out to her and she graciously accepts, lets him guide her towards a painting with a small crowd around it. He weaves through a couple of people and stops behind a short woman with greying hair, and then loops his arm back through hers.
When the woman turns around, Rey doesn't have the words.
"Mr. Dameron! I didn't expect to see you here tonight; I had no idea you were interested in this Exhibition. If I'd known, I would have asked you to accompany me…"
Poe laughs gently at the remark. "Well, General, there's a first time for everything."
The General smiles softly at him. Her eyes drop to Rey's, and Rey's heart rockets into her throat. "My, who have we here? I don't believe we've met before – I'm General Organa, but you can call me Leia."
Ben stares at the hole he's put in his bedroom wall as he fiddles with the length of his necktie. It's the same size as his fist, and plaster hangs lifelessly from the origin of impact. If he has enough time this week, he'll plaster it back together. He regards himself in the small mirror, gels his hair back until the wild locks are somewhat tame, and pulls the blazer jacket up and over his shoulders. The dark suit pronounces his pale skin more than he's comfortable with, but there's no mistaking that he looks the part.
The Jedi Exhibition isn't something he wants to attend, but he's got no choice. His First Order counterpart is expecting an update, and Ben doesn't plan on disappointing.
Cardo wolf-whistles when Ben steps into the warehouse logistics room.
"Looking dapper," Hux comments, blinking awkwardly when Ben ignores him. "Are you sure no one at the Exhibition will recognise you?"
Ben spares a look at the First Order spook. "They only know Kylo Ren as a mask."
"How about the girl from the alleyway?"
It takes all of Ben's might not to reach for the pale man and rip his eyeballs out. All his will to sniff at Hux and turn the other way. "Let's get the Black cleared out. Dump it into the Riverina. All the Troopers will be stationed around the Exhibition Hall for tonight, so streets should be empty."
"How will we know if you're compromised?" Cardo asks lowly.
"I won't be," Ben responds, glancing down at his watch.
The journey to the Exhibition is a quite one. With no one to talk to, Ben pulls out a data-pad and flicks through some of the files Ushar has prepared for him. Lithe and agile, a man with dark skin and darker eyes, Ushar is intelligent, loyal to a fault, and an expert in Coruscant trends and art – the perfect man to run reconnaissance for tonight.
But his fingers hover over a file name, and his heart plummets to his stomach.
Of course. Of course his mother would be there, with legions of other Resistance members.
He opens the file and reads with interest, noting every right and wrong thing they've recorded about her. General Leia Organa, who married a smuggler before founding the Resistance alongside her brother Luke Skywalker. Children: unknown. Spouse: deceased. Ben stares at an image of his father. His mouth is dry, throat closing as he takes in the dark hair, the lopsided grin. The way he was holding Leia tight against him. Ben draws a hand down his mouth and rests his head back on the leather seat.
When his eyes slide shut, he's transported back to his childhood. To his father swinging him around, throwing him up in the air and catching him on the way down. He remembers his father's smile, the mischievous twinkle in his eye when he was up to no good. The days of joy where Han would take him exploring beyond city limits, and the days of misery when Han couldn't understand why his kid was so despondent.
Ben remembers the echo of a gunshot. The way his father had jumped in front of a bullet to save him, as Kylo Ren, from dying. The way he'd died to protect his son, even though he despised who his child became.
The entire population of Coruscant knew Han Solo was Leia's husband, but no one knows him as their son. Not Hux, not the Republic, and not his Knights of Ren. His mother is the only one who knows his true name, his true lineage, his true identity, and for so long after his birth, she'd fought incredibly hard to keep it a secret. Leia Organa was a popular figure and a genius and if the First Order knew she had a child, he would be dead.
His mother protected him as best she could, until she couldn't. Until he became Kylo Ren, the leader of the Knights of Ren, a guns-for-hire mercenary. But Leia loved him too much to turn him over – loves him too much, still.
As the car pulls up to the Exhibition Hall walkway, Ben contemplates for a moment whether he should continue with his mission for the night. Whatever it is holding him back dissipates when the car slows to a stop. Ben has a job to do, and the presence of his mother isn't going to slow him down.
Walking through the pointed archways leading to the Hall is a thing of wonder, and despite how many times Ben has made this walk, it never gets old. But instead of joining the line to enter, Ben circles his way around the long building and follows a cobbled path to an obscured entrance, one only he and a few select others know about. The hidden door descends him into the eery basement of the Exhibition building, and he spends a moment tapping excess dirt of his shoes. Then, he makes his way towards a service elevator and hits a button which will land him at the back end of the foyer.
A moment passes, elevator doors sliding open, and he rounds the corner and pushes through a service entry door. What meets Ben's eyes is a vision of opulence. Expensive décor and golden accents throw the foyer into an ethereal, dark atmosphere. There are Jedi-style artworks everywhere Ben looks. The ceiling tapestry has been replaced with a large and gaudy painting of a woman in a swing, her pink frock stark against the teal backdrop, and in the hand not holding the swing's rope is a sword. Ben knows Jedi artwork to be one of two things – gentle, with its muted colour palette and fantastic attention to detail, and contradictive, with its simultaneous depiction of beauty and violence. Ushar was giddy just hours ago explaining this to him. Ben wishes his brother could see it like this.
But what steals away his breath isn't the expensive alcohol, the coveted art, or the garish dresses.
What steals away his breath is the thing he's not expecting. The one kink in his armour, the one thing he can't seem to escape from.
A large crowd has gathered around one of the smaller paintings. In its midst is his mother, elegant and beautiful as ever, brown eyes sparkling with mirth as she converses to the woman by her side. And the woman, in her black gown and neckline which plunges well past the valley of her breasts, is Rey Niima. His Rey. The only other person in this room who knows the face of Kylo Ren.
Ben steadies himself against a marble pillar. He draws in a deep breath as he watches them talk to each other, laugh with each other.
For a moment Ben is thrown back into Rey's bedroom – to her troubled eyes, her soft skin. When she'd put space between them because she'd realised how she was looking at him. He'd lifted her chin, intent on kissing her, and instead found himself back in his own room.
Ben snatches a glass of Pérignon from a nearby waiter and sips at the bubbly concoction.
The service elevator is just behind him. He can call the night, inform the First Order contact he would touch base in the future. Ben glances over his shoulder and contemplates leaving. But his eyes are drawn back to his mother, to Rey, and he finds he can't even move. He can't walk away, even if he does have just sliver of self-preservation left.
Slipping through the murmuring crowds, Ben makes his way towards the grand marble staircase and slowly ascends to the second level.
He is inconspicuous at best, notable at worst. There are many other men in dark suits and dark ties, but he's tall and lanky and without a partner by his side. A few women stare at him, a few smile, and he would be dense if he didn't notice the tiny giggles which followed.
On the second level is a plethora of smaller Jedi paintings. There is movement in the exhibition; the eye is drawn towards a female and male figure in each, every new painting showing them in a slightly different position, in a slightly different environment. But it's impossible to discern such intricate details, and so Ben follows the hallway to an irregular shaped balcony, the furthest one from the staircase, braces his hands against the polished stone.
From this angle, Ben can see almost everything. Rey and his mother walk around the room with their arms interlocked, pausing at each artwork to discuss their thoughts. Scintillating conversation, he assumes. Art really isn't his thing.
He can also see a particular Resistance worker perched just slightly behind them. The luscious black hair tells Ben everything he needs to know – Poe Dameron, in the flesh, and beside him, a First Order defector. Finn. He wonders if they're here with Rey. Can't help but imagine how they would react if they knew who Rey dreamt about when she was lonely. Scared. Relieved… aroused.
A loose smirk takes shape on his mouth. The fun they could have, now that he knew he could touch her.
"You must be the contact."
Ben pulls himself from his musings, but barely acknowledges the man who's slid into the space beside him. "Who sent you?"
"Snoke."
A low hum reverberates through his chest. "Very well. The shipment was compromised during transport from the seller to the docks. We believe it was intentional tampering."
"The Resistance?"
Ben nods his head. "All signs point to them."
"Signs isn't good enough. If the First Order launches a war on them, we need concrete evidence."
"There is none," Ben quips, raising an eyebrow as he watches Rey double-over laughing. "It's all circumstance."
The First Order spy grumbles his disapproval and walks away, and that's that – his night is done.
Except… except, he doesn't move. He stares at Rey until he's mesmerised every inch of her. He stares until its clear he doesn't plan on leaving anytime soon, and with that revelation comes another; Ben wants Rey beneath his hands, beneath his mouth. He wants it so desperately he can't think of anything else.
Ben slowly begins to make his way to the marble staircase, intent on descending the steps and whisking Rey into a dark, empty corner, when something peculiar catches his eye. A flickering red dot, miniscule and inconspicuously placed behind a candle. Dread sinks so deep into his stomach he's rendered without breath. Underneath the balcony he'd just been standing on is a bomb hidden in plain sight.
Everything slows except for his heartbeat.
He steps one foot down the stairs and then another, and he pauses. The red light mocks him, taunts him with the threat of bloody chaos. Ben is torn between doing the right thing and simply… running. He's never had a conscience before, so why bother now?
But terror burns through him at the thought of losing his mother, and he's moving before he can register anything else. He doesn't know how much time he has, or how powerful the explosive is. All he knows is in order to save Leia Organa, he needs to be lightning fast and incredibly swift.
Ben shoves his way through the crowd of Resistance members and stands breathless for a moment behind his mother and Rey.
His heart beats just the once, and then Rey glances over her shoulder and drops her champagne flute.
A startled cry escapes from a nearby woman's mouth and a few gasp at the noise of shattering glass, but nothing else matters when Leia turns with a frown creasing her eyebrows. Her entire face changes as she looks at him; her eyes brighten with fresh tears, lips pursed. They share the same dark brown eyes, and he knows the look in them too well.
"Ben," she breathes.
"Leia."
Rey's eyes dart between them both, confused and shocked and most of all scared, and Ben feels her emotion so raw within his own chest it hurts.
"Ben, what are you doing here?" Leia asks him, glancing around suspiciously at the people who have come to surround them. "You're not… you're not here on business, are you?"
He locks his jaw. "Leia," he extends his hand out to her, and the icy stammer of his heart softens when she places her fingers across his palm. "We need to go."
"What's going on?"
Ben darts his eyes to Rey and back to his mother, and then back to Rey. "We're leaving. Now."
"No, I'm not going anywhere with you until—"
Ben doesn't have time for this. He curls a hand around Rey's bicep and tugs her to one side, his mother on the other, and walks them both towards the service elevator he'd used earlier. A throng of people part before him, and in his peripherals, he can see Poe Dameron paying close attention; he wishes there weren't so many people here. He wishes many things, and none of them include him being in this moment. "I don't have time to explain," he mutters, "We don't have time for anything."
His mother remains silent, but nothing is left unseen under her watchful gaze. She takes in the panic written across his face, the white-knuckled grip his has on Rey's arm, the purposeful strides, and then she's gazing over her shoulder, through the crowd they've left in their wake. Even in the dark atmospheric foyer, a flashing red light isn't easy to find. But Leia sucks in a deep breath anyway. She's found it.
"It's a bomb," she whispers, too quiet for anyone except him to hear.
They round the final pillar and Ben jams his shoulder into the exit door, hissing at the sharp pain echoing down to his fingers.
Rey is swearing under her breath. Her fingers try to pry against his vicelike grip, but there's no real effort in her struggles; she must feel the fear radiating from him. She must, because she looks up at him with wide eyes snaps her mouth shut, does exactly as he asks without fuss.
When Ben lets go of his mother to slam a first on the service elevator button, Leia has plans other than running away. With her walking cane in hand she doesn't get far, and Ben lets go of a long string of cusses, expecting her to continue back through the opaque glass door. She walks straight to the wall with a fire alarm sitting behind a small glass window, and jabs her cane aggressively into the button.
Two seconds pass. Then, the fluorescent lights around them dim and start flashing, sirens closely following, and muffled cries erupt from the foyer.
The elevator doors open just in time for Ben to pull his mother into the confined box.
thank you to my two reviewers and the three lovely followers! i hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you did, please let me know, drop a review, favourite, follow, anything that tickles your fancy :) x