chapter six: duplicity in double

Rey should probably figure out where Han lives.

She decides this a few days later as she sits on a pier kitty-corner from Millennium Motor and watches Han arrive again late in the morning. Chuy is again already there. They never arrive together or leave together, so Rey doesn't believe they are roommates. They take different directions when they leave, too. If he's not rooming with Chuy, Rey can't find any evidence that Han has anyone else meaningful in his life. If he's estranged from his family, he almost certainly lives alone.

Unless he has a girlfriend, but Rey doubts it. He is charismatic enough, certainly, but after only a few days observing him she doesn't know when he'd have time to devote to a partner. He is busy, running from the shop to the smuggling tunnel, sometimes to a little boat in an obscure industrial marina, to a Chinese restaurant, and to just about every random place a person can think of. Rey gets a lot of walking and driving in trying to tail him.

She's always too worn out to follow him when he leaves for the night, which is probably a huge mistake on her part. He would be easiest to catch alone at home when he's least expecting a confrontation. So today she won't run herself ragged following him everywhere. She'll sit and watch the shop and when he's ready to leave for the night, that's when she'll move.

A seagull perches next to her, eyeing the bagel she's mostly eaten. She shoos it away, but it floats back down beside her again the moment her attention is back on the shop.

She's about to really get after it, wave her arms and yell like a lunatic, when something catches her eye instead.

A sleek black sedan is sitting surreptitiously at an empty pier a block down the road, an unmistakable trident badge on its mean grill. She can't exactly make out the driver at this distance, only that there is one, but she has a pretty good guess of who it is anyway. Someone is watching her watch the chop shop.

Seizing the opportunity at her distraction, the seagull roughly plucks the rest of the bagel out of her hands and bursts off in a flurry of feathers. She watches it go but doesn't really comprehend it, too busy thinking instead about the wraith in the tunnel and how he said he couldn't let her arrest his father.

Petulance flares in her chest, white hot and defiant, and she stands, shoving the remaining trash from her now-stolen food into one of her pockets. She fully faces the car, giving it a little wave before turning and marching directly to Millennium Motors.

She wants Ben to see her interacting with his father. She wants him to be very nervous.

The door to the shop is propped open with a rock. Rey pulls it the rest of the way open and strides comfortably inside.

Neither of the business partners are at the front desk, but she can see them a couple yards away in the garage, busy taking the nose off an old Buick with an acetylene torch. Both their faces are obscured in welding masks and the roar of the torch drowns out any sound.

Rey skims past the desk and enters the garage. She finds a work table and hoists herself onto it, sitting comfortably, legs swinging, while she waits for them to finish. She finds a nut and bolt to play with, swirling it around the threads, imagining what Ben's reaction might be right now.

Eventually, Chuy notices her and shouts something to Han above the noise. Then the torch goes silent and Han lifts his mask long enough to shout.

"Heya, kiddo. Wanna give us a hand?"

Rey hops off the table and joins them. Chuy hands her a welder's mask and some gloves, then turns back to the car. He's cutting through the roof supports while Han works on the other side and slices through the floor. Rey goes to Han's side. He hands her the torch to finish while he inserts some supports under the part of the car that's about to separate.

Rey flicks on the flame, a roaring jet of fire shooting from the thin metal nozzle. She directs it to the glowing line Han was carving through the steel floor of the car and continues tracing it to the opposite edge. On the other side above her, sparks shower from Chuy's work, bathing everyone in a blinding glow.

A moment later and the car separates, Chuy pushing the roof and cab backwards and away while Han stabilizes the nose and dashboard area.

When it's over, they all take off their masks and Han is grinning.

"Thanks for stepping in. Made things a whole lot easier. You change your mind about coming to work for us?"

"No," Rey says, relishing the smell of burning steel and the feeling of using her hands for something useful again. "I came to take care of your Westie. I haven't been able to sleep well or focus on my job, thinking about her rusting away. You got a wire brush around here? I'll treat her ugly spots and get her glowing again."

Han chuckles. "Hey, Chuy, looks like I got my own personal grease monkey here."

Chuy's laugh is a booming thing, almost more animal than human. It makes Rey laugh too, delighted and genuine.

Han walks over to a giant tower of drawers, pulling one out, rifling around in disorganized hardware, and emerging with a wire brush. He put it into Rey's hand.

"Alright then. Go to town, if you want."

She grins and practically flies back outside, surprised at her own eagerness. This was just supposed to be an excuse for getting close to Han again, and mostly to annoy the bejeezus out of his son, but she's actually looking forward to the work.

Outside, she checks to see if the black sedan is still here. It is.

Crouching down next to the van, she turns her attention to the wheel well and lets her fingers run along the spots of rust. Luckily it's just scale, at least in this section, so there is something she can do about it.

She settles on the ground and sets to her task, scrubbing the area, grinding away the oxidation.

After some fifteen minutes, or maybe half an hour, she isn't sure, Han comes outside to watch her. He's chewing on a long piece of red licorice, amusement twinkling in those eyes of his.

"Settle a bet between me and Chuy, Rey. Where are you from in England? Your accent is kinda different, and we can't agree on how it got that way."

She pauses in her work, her gaze flicking to him briefly before she looks away again. "I uh...I don't actually know where I'm from."

"What does that mean? How do you not know?"

"I was put into the foster system in Arizona when I was pretty young," she says, allowing him this grain of truth. "Maybe my parents were from England. Somehow I got this accent, but I have no idea. My — the guardian that I ended up with, we moved around a lot for his job. So I'm kind of from everywhere, I guess."

Han works his licorice and studies her. She starts scrubbing the rust again, unsure what else she should say about it.

"Yeah," Han finally says. "I get that."

Rey looks at him again, observing the lines around his eyes. She decides to hazard a bolder question. "What about you? Do you have a family? Or just Chuy?"

A soft, gruff, grunt of a laugh escapes him. "That's a long story, kiddo, but yeah. I got a family."

"Kids?" She lets her eyes widen curiously, even though she knows the answer — or at least, part of the answer.

Han nods. "One kid. A son. His name is Ben. He's..." he shakes his head. "He's nothing like you and me."

He isn't a great father. He isn't even a good father.

Ben's words surface in her mind, soft and damning. What is it? What is this thing she can sense lurking under the words Han isn't saying, and under the accusation Ben made? What it the dynamic here between father and son? Rey feels like she has glimpsed a few lines from a thick book, and she itches to know more.

"Where is he now?" She asks.

"Working for a big deal company. Real important. He's got degrees — a couple of them. I guess you could say he made something of his life, a lot more than I ever did."

"You don't sound proud of that," she observes.

Han shrugs and pulls off another bite of licorice. "The work he's doing now isn't really something to be proud of. And I oughta know, my own work isn't always something to be proud of. Least not to most people."

Rey tingles with understanding, with that strange insight that often comes when she's speaking to others, giving her a glimpse of knowledge she shouldn't have. And she speaks it, knowing even as she forms the words that it is true.

"You haven't heard from him in years."

Han rubs the back of his neck and the stubble around his chin. "Yeah well...I've been out of the country off and on...but yeah. It's been a long time."

Rey glimpses shame there. Han feels responsibility in his estrangement from his son. This she does not observe out loud. Some things, she suspects, are too personal to be made public by some weird girl who likes his van.

"Does he at least talk to his mother?" She asks instead, trying to keep her voice light and conversational, instead of desperately interested. "Or is this guy just a big asshole to everyone?"

That makes Han laugh. "You're not too far off, actually. And as far as I know, he doesn't talk to her either."

Possibly this is the right opening for her to ask if Han lives alone, since he has admitted to having limited contact with his ex. But Rey hesitates. She stares at the body of the car and and scrubs orange dust away and wonders why she's dragging this out.

Chuy yells something from inside. Han heads back in to help him out, and Rey is again left to her own thoughts. She glances behind her, down the street. The black sedan is gone.

She spends the entire afternoon at the auto shop, working on the Westfalia. She buffs down most of the rusty spots — one of the sections by the back bumper will need to be replaced completely, the rust has eaten all the way through, but by early evening she is satisfied with her work. Her insides feel all glowy and happy, both from good company and good progress. Her head is faraway from her troubles, instead full of imagined possibilities for how this van might look all fixed up.

"You got primer?" She asks Han when he comes out to check on her again.

He shakes his head. "Nope. Not really what we do here."

"Get some primer and I'll come back on my next free day to apply it," she says, handing him the wire brush and dusting off her hands. "Thanks for letting me hang out again."

"Any time," he says. Then he gives her a smirk. "Hey, has anyone told you you're kind of a weird kid?"

She smiles slowly. There is mischief, not insult in his face. "What could you possibly mean?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a good weird. But you choose to spend your day off from your work as a mechanic to be here, working?"

"This is a labor of love," she says, patting the car. "If you took better care of her, I wouldn't have to."

Han chuckles. "Touché."

She knows he'll be heading out soon, and she still needs to tail him to find out where he lives, so she has to get far enough away that he thinks she's gone for good. "Well then, see you tomorrow."

He waves and is heading back into the shop when another car pulls up and a man around Han's own age gets out. Han wanders over to greet his visitor. Rey pauses for just a moment to take in the strangeness of a Tesla in the parking lot of a chop shop, but then Han's other activities are probably the reason for this particular visit.

She makes her way down the block, towards where she has hidden her car. She probably shouldn't have told Han what she drives, she realizes. Her Rocky is old and bright blue and doesn't blend well with all the other nondescripts on the road. She'll have to keep a generous distance between them. Luckily his own vehicle doesn't easily blend in either.

Before she can reach it, however, a figure steps out of an alley between two warehouses and cuts off her path.

She grabs instinctively for her pepper spray — if she can't bring herself to tase his beautiful face, she will at least give him something to cry about.

But his hand leaps out and intercepts hers with a touch that isn't as aggressive as she expects. He's holding her wrist, but not tightly. His hand is so large it wraps halfway down her forearm. It is hot against her skin. And damn, he is fast. Once again, she didn't even see it coming. This is a pattern she doesn't like, this never anticipating what he's about to do until he's done it already. It has to change.

"Don't," he says, his voice hard. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He said that before, and she didn't believe him. This time, for some reason, she does. She yanks out of his grasp, but doesn't go for the spray again.

"Isn't your job something important?" she asks, taking a step back from him. "Too important to spend your time stalking me all afternoon, surely."

His eyes narrow. "Why are you getting close to him? Why haven't you just arrested him already?"

"Why haven't you told him who I am yet?" she fires back. Her brow lifts tauntingly. "Or would that require you actually speak to the man?"

His jaw tightens and a hint of annoyance flashes over his features. "I see."

"What do you see?"

"You think you do, but you don't know anything about my family."

"You're right, but I don't need to know much to see that it really isn't much of a family anymore, is it?"

Just like the tunnel, something flickers beneath the surface here that disarms her. His defenses momentarily drop, and he's looking at her like she just ripped off his scab. Like its a betrayal somehow, and he's both angry and a little stung. "No, it isn't. It never was"

She doesn't want that. She doesn't want him to show this hint of vulnerability.

As if he can sense this, his face closes off again and he regards her with scrutiny. "What's a person like you doing as a bail bond agent anyway?"

"A person like me?"

"People attracted to your profession are usually white trash gun humpers with a hard-on for law enforcement. Big burly ex-military men, and girls with bleached blond hair, too much makeup, and a predisposition to defer to her male partner as the dominant voice."

Rey knows exactly the type of people he's talking about because some of Griff's other agents fit that description exactly. Still, she bristles. "I'm not any of those things."

Amusement briefly flickers at the edges of his expression. "I know. Which is why this -" he motions vaguely to her "doesn't make sense. How did you get into this work?"

"My — " She stops herself, outraged that he almost so effortlessly drew out her secrets. She scowls. "I don't owe you my life story."

"I'm guessing a family member," he muses. His gaze flicks behind her and in a flash he grabs for her again, this time taking her hand again, pulling her into the concealment of an alley and crowding her back against the wall to minimize her chance of bolting away. This irritates her, but again, she she doesn't go for the pepper spray. As annoying as he's being, she still doesn't get any impression that he means her real harm.

"So who is it? A brother?" He ventures, leaning over slightly so his fathom-deep dark eyes can search hers. "A father?"

Rey yanks out of his grasp again. "Neither."

"A boyfriend?" he asks, an eyebrow arching.

"No!"

He hums in thought, then gives himself a little nod of confirmation. "But there is someone. Someone important to you does this work. You're trying to emulate them instead of being your own person."

Mando always got incredibly spooked when Rey pointed out truths in others that she had no way of knowing, and now she understands why. Chills break out over her skin at his deadly accurate assessment.

"What about you?" she snaps, turning the table on him. "You have all these fancy degrees and work for a mega corporation, but you don't even have a relationship with your own parents. Parents who probably helped you get those fancy degrees. Parents who probably love you."

"You think just because you spent a couple afternoons with him that you know what kind of man he is?" Ben taunts.

"Yeah, actually I think I do. And you do too, which is why you're trying to protect him."

To this, Ben says nothing. The curiosity is gone from his gaze now, replaced by coldness and anger. It sends a winter wind sweeping through her, and she shivers. Still, she won't let herself be intimidated.

"You've never looked in the boxes, have you?" she says softly and the knowledge dawns in her mind. "You don't want to know what's in them."

"I know he's a criminal and a smuggler," Ben says, and the way he says it puts distance between himself and the words. "Any specifics I know just make me an accessory."

Rey nods. "Sure, that's what you tell yourself. But you suspect what he's smuggling anyway, and you don't want the confirmation forcing your hand. Because even though he thinks you're embarrassed and ashamed of him, we both know you do still care."

Surprisingly, Ben doesn't deny it. His frown deepens, but when he speaks, it's to flatly confirm her assessment. "I wish I didn't, but I do. That's why I can't let you arrest him. He deserves to be locked up, but for my own weakness I can't let it happen."

"I don't think that's weakness," she replies, thinking of Mando and Dyn with a surge of wistfulness. "I think it's love."

"Call it whatever you want, I don't want it," says Ben, but the steel has gone out of his voice.

Twilight has crept in between them now, and Rey only notices because Ben's eyes don't have the glow of sunset in them like they did before. They're dark, like spent coals. She startles and shoves him away, dashing out of the alley and looking down the street towards Millennium Motors. The Westfalia is gone. Chuy's chopper is gone too.

"You bastard," Rey cries, turning on Ben with dismay. "You distracted me so he could get away, and I couldn't follow!"

He smirks briefly, and she could seriously punch him in that gorgeous mouth of his. "I told you, I won't let it happen. When you didn't arrest him this afternoon, I realized you weren't going to do it with Chuy around. That meant you needed to get him alone, which was only going to happen after he left."

Rey growls in her frustration, stalking away from Ben to visually sweep the streets again. But it's no use. Han is long gone.

"Where does he live?" she demands. Her voice snaps like a whip.

He gives her an incredulous look. "You've lost your mind if you think I'm going to tell you that."

"Damnit, where does he live?" she repeats again, striding over to him, trying to get in his face, trying to cow him with the rage pouring off her.

It doesn't even almost work. He looks down at her without an ounce of intimidation.

"Give up," Ben says, and there is a firm command in the way he says it. "Go home."

"No." Rey shoots him a glare. "I'm not leaving this city without him."

"Then you're stuck here. Because you won't win."

"I will."

The air is charged between them, both of them angry and determined. It's like a magnetic field keeping them tethered in this tense proximity. With a shudder, Rey retreats from it, her heart beating way too hard, blood rushing in her ears as she fights down a feeling of…what?

A few cooling steps back now, she snatches the handcuffs out of her back pocket and shows them to Ben. "If you interfere again, I'm going to arrest you."

And the anger in his countenance breaks, just for a moment, in favor of something…else. A slight curl at the corner of his mouth, a flash in his eyes. She quickly puts the cuffs away, and feels heat bloom in her cheeks.

"I look forward to it," he says, soft and low, giving her one final smirk before he abruptly turns and strides back up through the alley.

Rey contemplates running after him, but then questions her own sanity. She shakes her head and heads back to her car instead. God, what is it with him?

She sits in her car without moving it for a long time, processing, trying to figure out her next move. By day, Han has his giant companion for protection, and by night, apparently his confusingly compelling and obnoxious son is keeping an eye. Rey is now reasonably certain she could take him out if she needed to. In fact, she's sure of it. He's big and intimidating and hauntingly beautiful, but there's something about him which tells her that she'd be an even match in a contest of strength. Still, there's this pesky problem of her failing to treat him as she would any other threat the moment she's in his presence.

She has never had this problem before, and she has no idea what to make of it.

Before she's quite aware she is doing it, Rey finds herself scrolling through her very short list of contacts and taping on Mando's name. She considers hanging up as it starts ringing, but he answers too quickly.

"Rey? Are you alright?"

His voice, coarse and sandy, is familiar and surprisingly comforting. She exhales softly into the reassurance of hearing it. "I'm fine."

There's a silence, and she tries to remember why exactly she called him.

"Okay," he says awkwardly. "How's Seattle?"

"Fine," she says. "I - I just called to get your advice."

"The job not working out like you thought?"

Her eyes narrow at the subtle notes of hope coming through his otherwise neutral voice. He still doubts that she'll succeed. Why? Why is he so invested in her failure?

"It's working out just fine," she replies testily. But then, that isn't entirely true. "Or almost. I mean, I found him easily enough."

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm not sure how to extract him. He's got this huge guy as his business partner and friend. They spend all day together. I feel like he could take a round of rubber bullets, get hit with smoke and get tased and none of it would phase him. And then he's also got this…he's got a son who isn't about to let me get near him. Well, I mean, I can do that on my own, but every time I think I'm about to find a way to Solo, his son blocks me. He keeps interfering. It's infuriating."

"So arrest him and haul him down to the local precinct." Mando says it so easily, like it's not an obvious thing she's already thought of.

She sighs. "He's got a big fancy job with big fancy lawyers."

"Shit," Mando says, because he knows what a pain in the ass lawyers are.

"Yeah." Rey traces her finger along the steering wheel. "So it's taking longer than I thought."

"You don't have to rush this, Rey. Take your time. Wait for your opportunity."

She swallows, trying to tamp down the flare of fear that he's encouraging her to stay away longer because they're doing just fine without her. She takes a moment and then quietly asks, "How's Dyn?"

"He misses you," Mando says.

That's a comfort at least. "Tell him I'll be home soon."

"I will."

"So…um…back to the job...it's physically painful for me to admit I don't know what to do here, but, I don't know what to do. What strategy would you use to get this guy out?"

There's another long silence, and then finally Rey can hear a long, slow release of air on Mando's end. When he speaks, it's with reluctance. "Look, I'm sorry, I can't help you on this one, kid. You gotta figure this out on your own."

"Why can't you just point me in the right direction?" she demands, all the emotions of her recent interaction sending her frustration immediately to a razor sharp edge.

"This is the way."

"It's not my way!" she bursts, her hand tightening around the phone. "I'm not asking you as Mando the Beskarian, I'm asking you as my mentor and guardian and the closest thing to a parent I've got. Just tell me what I should do!"

"I'm sorry," he says, but she doesn't think he really sounds all that sorry.

"Great. Well. Thanks for nothing," she snaps, and immediately hangs up. She tosses the phone onto the seat next to her, hands rubbing her face, fingertips pressing into her eyes.

Loneliness sweeps over her, familiar and unwelcome.

Time. Mando said to take her time.

She'll go back to her new friends and let them distract her and give herself time to figure this out. She doesn't have to know right now. Drawing a deep breath, she accepts this tentative plan for herself and turns the engine on.