"Show me how you do that trick,

"The one that makes me scream," she said

"The one that makes me laugh," she said

And threw her arms around my neck.

"Show me how you do it

And I promise you, I promise that

I'll run away with you

I'll run away with you"

"Just Like Heaven," The Cure

Rey hears Ben pulling into the driveway and leans back against his stoop. She's been here for hours. Burned, probably, although she's been in the shade for the past few hours, watching the battery on her phone dwindle away.

"Ben?" she calls.

"Shit!" He jumps out of his car. "Rey—you're—God, I didn't think—"

"I confronted your family. It didn't go well," she tells him, half expecting him to jump all over it.

Instead, he blinks and winces. "I'm so sorry, Rey."

"Are you okay?" she asks, getting to her feet and stretching. Her back cracks. His nostrils flare and he's gritting his teeth.

"I'm quitting FO Tech," he tells her. "I'm turning them in. I'll probably go to jail for everything." He gulps in air, looking much like Finn when anxiety snatches his control.

"Okay," Rey says, one part thrilled, and another part terrified for him.

"What am I going to do?" he asks her, voice cracking.

"Didn't you just tell me what you're going to do?"

He nods, blinking. "I'm so scared, Rey."

She catches his wrists, emotions storming through her. See, you're about to lose him too. "I know you are. But it's the right thing, right? To do this?" Her own voice trembles.

I'd rather lose him to prison than to the creature FO Tech wants him to be.

He nods again. "I don't want to be this person, Rey. Not anymore." He drops his head.

Rey presses her palms against his shirt, feeling his chest. "I'm proud of you." She knows he needs to hear it. She looks up at his face, her mouth opening slightly.

You know what I want. She doesn't have to ask.

His lips sink down to meet hers, and Rey throws her arms around his neck. He heaves her up, and she wraps her legs around his waist as she presses into his mouth with urgency because she wants him, and she wants him now, and he wants her. He presses her up against the side of the house, and Rey kisses Ben Solo, kisses Kylo Ren, and it doesn't matter his name because they're the same person and she loves him. His hands dig under her shirt and her hands massage his scalp, run through his hair. Her heart pounds and something ignites in her chest.

He might be gone soon enough, but for right now, he's here, he's in her arms and she's in his. He's here.

"Should we go inside?" Rey manages, lifting her head.

He smiles, tracing the side of her face. "Yeah." He lets her down, and she follows him into the house, both of them trying to kiss and stagger up the stairs and into his room. He disappears into the bathroom, presumably to get a condom. Rey hopes. He comes back in, and Rey's heart skips a beat. She exhales.

"I've never done this before," she admits.

He laughs. "Neither have I."

Her jaw drops. "Aren't you twenty-nine?"

He shrugs, a smirk on his face. "I'm shy."

Rey grins. "Well, now I feel less insecure."

"We'll figure it out," he assures her, cupping his hand around the back of her head. He pulls her hair loose from its buns, one at a time as his lips drive into hers. He pulls away, pressing her hair against the side of her face. He studies her. His eyes tell her what he thinks, and he doesn't even need to say it.

She pulls off her own shirt, and Ben pulls off his. She slides back on the bed, the comforter soft against her legs as he folds her in his arms, pulling her face towards his and kissing her again. She traces the line of his neck with her lips, and he groans.

"What's this?" Rey asks, spotting a red mark and stretched flesh under his ribs.

"A scar. I got it when I was twenty-two—a car—"

Rey bends over and kisses him against the mottled skin, His fingers wind through her hair, run down her back to her bra clasp, which he fumbles to undo.

"Need help?" she asks, stifling another laugh.

"Got it." He smiles and lifts it away, and Rey lies back, her mouth on his neck as he leans forward. His hands cover her chest, and sparks shiver through her. She wraps her legs around him again. Butterflies flutter in her stomach as she pulls back, and he looks at her with his eyes the color of earth in spring—he looks at her like she's beautiful, and Rey knows he loves her too.

"Are you afraid?" he asks uncertainly.

"No." I feel it too. She reaches down to unzip his pants, and his fingers undo the button on her shorts. His lips graze her stomach, her navel. A thrill shudders through her. His fingers grip her shoulders and she sees his face again, his lips parted as he gasps. Her hips move against his, and she calls him Ben because that's who he is to her. Someone who's choosing the right path, finally. Someone who sees her as who she is, family name be damned. Someone who loves her, who saw her lost and lonely on a bench and offered to help her. Someone who let her inspire him.

Her muscles wind up, but he's gasping as if he's already free and she needs more—she digs her hands into his back, her palms sweating, and then exhilaration lifts her up and she pulls his mouth down to cover hers again.

"I can't believe they kept that from her," Poe says bleakly as he stares into a mug of coffee and scratches Beebee-Ate's head.

Finn can, though. His own secrets scream and pound against the vault he's locked them in. And letting them loose would be asking for shame, because he deserves it. Just like Luke, and Han… only even worse.

Finn studies Poe, the way his shoulders droop and his lips hang right now, but he knows how those lips smile, how they kiss, and he knows he can't lie to Poe anymore.

"I'm doing the same thing," he blurts out, before he can stop himself. Finn sets his own cup of tea down, fingers shaking.

"Huh?" Poe's eyebrows fly up his forehead.

"I'm—I've been keeping something from you, because I'm scared. Like Luke. I feel for Rey, but I also—I get what he feels too, you know?"

"No," Poe says slowly, jaw hovering open. "Finn?"

Poe's afraid. Finn hates himself, but he forces himself to regurgitate the story of Phasma and her threats.

"You never—you—but you never actually did it," Poe stammers.

"Does it matter? I might have."

"Yeah—but—yeah, it matters." Poe shakes his head, shoving his own coffee away onto the end table. "You didn't go through with it. That's got to count for something."

Finn shrugs. "I might have."

Poe throws his hands up in the air. "You're so fucking hard on yourself, Finn. Why? Like, really, truly, honestly, why?"

"Why not?" Finn manages, confused and hoping and confused about that hope. "I've always had to prove myself."

In all the houses he lived in. Prove that he deserved to stay. Prove that he wasn't going to be a stereotypical troubled kid to his teachers. Prove that he deserved his scholarship.

And in all that proving, he forgot how to be a good person, how to do the right thing. Until he saw people he didn't know getting slaughtered on TV and Phasma ran Poe over with her car.

"You don't have to, not to me," Poe insists. "Finn, I—people did doubt you when you first came. I defended you."

Finn throws his hands up in the air. "And you were wrong."

"What the fucking hell, man? No, I'm not." Poe moves to the couch, taking both of Finn's hands with his own. "God, Finn, people make their own choices. You chose—not to. And I admire that." He gulps, and his eyes retreat to places Finn's never known, to his own vault. "Finn, there are things I've done that were wrong, too."

"Like potentially spying on an ex-agent?" Finn snorts.

"No… like I was a bit of a hotshot playboy for awhile. I never let it interfere with my job, though—my job was my life. I wanted to make my parents proud, from beyond the grave, you know?" Poe drags his hands through his hair and shakes his head, biting his lip. "So I shut off parts of me. I thought what I did in my social life didn't matter, because I didn't have much of one, but what I did have I spent banging whomever I could, drinking—because my job wasn't fulfilling me, even though I thought it should. It's not like it was wrong—it wasn't—but it was empty and I hated that. And God, Finn, there's so much corruption there—it's like not even worth fighting for. So when Leia asked to meet with me, I left. At least at Alderaan House, I felt like I could make a difference—and then you showed up. I mean, I basically gave up on any kind of social life, because I had something to do that mattered—this FO Tech investigation. And then you came, and Finn—" Poe's voice cracks. "I love you, Finn."

Finn craves to hear those words again, the words he never thought he would deserve, and yet he still struggles to swallow them. "Why?"

"Because I do." Poe grips Finn's shoulder. "And I hate seeing you so down on yourself. Please consider seeing someone. I'll fucking pay, and don't look at me like that—it'd be a privilege."

Finn leans his head against Poe's shoulder. "I love you, too." Words he's never said aloud. Never thought he would say, at least not to anyone who actually reciprocated.

Poe wraps his arms around Finn. "I forgive you, okay?"

"I believe you," Finn chokes out.

"We'll take down FO Tech. I promise," Poe says as he holds Finn tight, his hands moving in circles on Finn's back. "I promise."

"Just say it, Leia," Han says bleakly. "I fucked up. Again."

"I don't need to say it. You just did."

"You had the best of intentions," Chewie grumbles.

"Too bad those count for shit." Han leans back and groans.

"She hates me," Luke says bleakly.

"She'll get over it," Leia says, surprising Han. Her hand closes over his arm, and Han doesn't understand why she's so calm. After the kids fled, Leia ordered them all to get out. She called them to come back in the late afternoon. Han drove aimlessly with Chewie around the city. He didn't stop for coffee, and his head throbs from caffeine withdrawal. Chewie suggested they work on their story, but the memory of Rey's face—had Ben's face ever looked similar? Why can't Han remember? Because you weren't there—sapped all the motivation from Han.

"Will she, though? Obi-Wan was—I feel like I've let him down. Like I've let her down, again."

And all of you. Luke doesn't have to say it. Artoo whines and rests her head against Luke's knee.

"Luke, even if you can't wind up helping with this stupid investigation," Leia says. "I just wanted you back. You've never been a perfect brother, and you never will be. I just want a brother."

"Do or do not. There is no try," Luke recites. "That's what Yoda, the agent who trained me, used to tell me. I tried with Rey. I didn't do. I failed."

"There's still time," Leia says.

"Is there?" Luke's face—the cynicism. Han doesn't like it. That look—the raised upper lip, the narrowed eyes—that belongs on his face, not Luke's.

"I just don't see why you always see the need to hide things from me." Leia huffs. "Both of you. That's not really worked out for anyone."

"I just want to make things right," Luke says, doubling over.

"We still can," Han says, blowing out his breath.

"How?" Leia studies him.

He shrugs. "I don't know. We'll figure it out somehow, like we always do."

Leia looks into his eyes, and Han sees her skepticism, all the quips and remarks and fumbled plans they'd come up with in their youth, when he was a brash reporter and she was a lawyer just starting out, a lawyer with a heart for refugees and advocacy who wasn't afraid to call him out on his bullshit.

Hey, we're still here. He shrugs.

She leans over and pulls his face close, kissing him like they used to, back when there was no loss in their life, back when it was just them and their son was so young, so innocent, back when all they had was their dreams and their passions and they were so certain that nothing would get in the way.

We can do it, Han thinks. We can make things right.

Ben wakes up to his phone ringing. He blinks. It's dark. Rey's head is pressed against his chest, and warmth floods through him as he remembers her small body under his.

Ben. That was the name she moaned, and that's the name he wants to be called from now on. Not Kylo Ren.

"Who's calling?" Rey asks groggily. "Shit. What time is it?"

"Apparently 11:15," Ben says, staring at his phone and at the name glistening in white font. "I have to take this." He leaps out of bed, the cool air slapping against him.

"I heard you left work early, and you haven't answered your texts," Snoke growls. "Are you sick?"

"I—no. I'm fine." He's tempted to lie, but he won't. Cut off the snake's head. Don't let it live.

"Well, I needed you to respond to that email eight fucking hours ago, and you—"

"I'm not going to reply," Ben interrupts, breathing heavily. His chest hurts, and he thinks of that night in the hospital over a decade ago, when Snoke loomed over him as the doctor recommended psychiatric treatment.

You're not that weak.

Yes, I am, Ben thinks. I still am.

The acknowledgement pricks at him, but it energizes him at the same time. Snoke's wrong.

I don't have to follow him.

"What?" Snoke rumbles.

"I'm quitting. I quit. I'm done. With FO Tech. With you." Ben hates himself for his cruelty towards his mentor, but when Snoke's voice comes out devoid of any shakiness, any personal feelings, justified fire rises up inside Ben.

"You ungrateful little—if you think you can just walk away, you can't!"

"I don't care what you think I can or can't do." Behind him, he hears Rey's feet padding against the bare wood floor.

"Think about what you did to your father. I'll do far worse to your mother, to your girlfriend—there's no place you can hide—"

In prison I can. But Ben doesn't say anything. There are a million threats, a million insults and a million memories Ben riling up that he would love nothing more than to spit at Snoke. But instead, he hits the red end button and stares at his phone as Snoke's voice cuts out.

"Good for you," Rey says quietly from behind him. Swallowing, Ben turns to see her standing there, fully naked, hair brushing her shoulders. Heat stirs inside him.

Not now.

"We're probably not safe here," he admits. "Snoke could come—I need to get to the police."

"I have a better idea," Rey says.