Finn's love for adventure stemmed from his childhood days digging holes in the dirt. Promising himself that he would one day travel abroad. Explore the secrets of renowned civilizations and discover the assortment of riches and gold, said to be buried in the earth. Stories his father told him filled his head with curiosity, wondering if there was any truth within those pages of the old fables. Whether those sea monsters in legends and witchcraft existed or not.

What he never thought to learn was that the latter was, in fact, true. All of it. 

Witches and their enigmatic skills in magic. The rumors of a young man who had inadvertently cursed himself to the sea after rescuing his father from an undead pirate captain and his immortal crew. And based on the information Finn managed to collect while listening to the captain and Maz, Hux - his captain - had also once held a share in that same curse. Back when the Silencer was under Snoke's command.

Now, supposedly, Hux was set on avenging his late superior's death, and his target was Ben Solo.

No, he couldn't let Hux succeed. Wanted no part in whatever grand scheme the captain was hatching. Not after what he did to Rey. Not after watching him gruesomely torture the elderly. Though it appeared that the old woman was hilariously more than a match for the captain and it was Hux who fled. Like a master lugging his dog around by a short rope, his first mate Mitaka had been hot on his heels.

Had Finn possessed any allegiance to the captain, he would have followed too.

Yet it was difficult to erase the images his mind had already been shown. He couldn't bring himself to leave the woman there on the floor. Vulnerable. Alone. Wrinkles prodigiously mapping the signs of old age on her visage bloodied from the raw incision dissecting half of her face. With the power she'd exerted over Hux, he thought her ego to be engorged. But when the woman raised her chin, her almond eyes leerily landing on Finn's as the pirate knelt beside her and lent her a hand, helping her rise to her feet, he saw Maz's expression was anything just.

"You best leave now before he notices you're gone," she gravely admonished.

"I'm not going back," Finn countered. His hands dove into the pockets of his slacks, rummaging for his handkerchief so he could offer it to Maz. "Torturing the innocent isn't what I signed up for."

She studied him dubiously for a second. Her mouth quirking somewhat of a bemused smile. "Well, in that case," she snorted and accepted the handkerchief he extended to her, "that makes you the worst pirate I've ever heard of."

Finn chortled tersely at that. "Maybe," he conceded. "At least going down as the worst pirate in history in that sense is better than dishing out scars."

Her brows shot up in amazement. "Indeed," she mused. Her focus fell to the handkerchief she was wrapping around her index and middle finger and began dabbing the thin fabric gingerly over her gaping wound. "You're certainly not like the others...?"

"Finn," he provided cordially. A cloud of desolation materializing aloft as he recalled the night Rey was sent to her watery grave. Guilt for having not attempted to save her kicked in and he felt that proverbial twinge of pain in his breast. "The captain, he uh..." Grimacing, his right hand kneaded the material on his chest, vainly suppressing the ache. "He killed a friend of mine. Her name was Rey."

Enlivened by his mention of Rey, Maz smiled knowingly. "You know Rey?" To which a very reluctant Finn nodded. "I can assure you, your friend is alive and well-cared for."

Anything sensible that was worth responding with fumbled at the tip of his tongue. At first, he was sure Maz was toying with his intelligence. Not even the best swimmer could have possibly survived those waves that night. "That's impossible," he scoffed. "I saw her jump overboard myself."

"The Supremacy wasn't the only ship in the ocean then, Finn," she responded cryptically.

The only other rational answer that crossed his mind afterward had him thinking she really was playing him for a fool. Han Solo's son or no, there was a reason why the Silencer was the most feared ship in the seven seas. "No," he snorted. "No offense, but if you're suggesting she's with him, you're out of your mind."

"Ben Solo is not our enemy," she clarified, a finger of her opposite hand pointed sternly at him. "On the contrary, he is our key to ending this war and Rey's destiny lies with him. And I can assure you there will come a time where the two of you will meet again. Until then, there are those of us here on Jakku who could certainly benefit from your knowledge of Armitage and his allies."

Admitting to himself that Maz was telling the truth about Rey was the easiest pill for him to swallow. The other was more like gagging down one of those weevil-infested hardtacks. It wasn't that he opposed the idea of Ben Solo redeeming himself. But what part Rey did have in it?

However, if there was even the teeniest chance that assisting the people of Jakku could bring her home faster, Finn was prepared to do whatever Maz was asking of him. "Alright," he sighed, crossing his arms. "I'm listening."

That was how Finn found himself going to the Solo's mansion in the countryside on this peaceful, overcast evening. Without the hubbub of villagers scuttling about, there was only the sound of horse hooves, deriving from the mount he had (permanently) borrowed, clip-clopping down the cobblestone drive. For those born into wealth and could afford to live in the rural fringes outside the rugged Jakku township, it was a luxury. Unlike the commoners' dusty dirt roads in town.

Of course, he expected nothing less for Governor Organa and Admiral Solo.

Both were highly respected by the people and reputable to the fight against piracy. Which was fine and dandy, if one wasn't a pirate. He hoped his previous coalitions with those onboard the Supremacy wouldn't discourage the Solos from listening to the messages he had for them. Hoped they wouldn't think he was lying and present for the sole purpose of acquiring intel for Armitage. If the Governor or Admiral suspected him of treason...

...Well, he tried not to think about what would happen next.

Various greens and mangos lined the stone barrier in front of the Solos' estate. Steering his mount through its open wrought iron gate, the colossal mansion came into view. Akin to three moderate-sized townhomes arranged side-by-side, with ferns and pygmy palms growing up around the main stairway leading to the entrance. And the structure had more windows with french panes and shutters than he could count on all ten digits. Charming, yet astonishingly huge for a few people if he counted the butler plus a maid or two.

Dismounting, Finn patted his mare reassuringly on its rear haunch and strolled on over toward the entryway's double doors. He knocked thrice on one and waited a minute or so before the door cracked open.

The butler, he presumed, was approximately Finn's height, but leaner. Adorning a marigold yellow coat with a damask pattern embellishing the fabric and breeches in a relevant solid shade; an alabaster cravat around his neck, undershirt, leggings, and black buckled shoes. Leaving his hands and clean-shaven, narrow face the only parts of his body exposing the anemic cast to his skin.

The man stood there, rigid and silent. His expression placid as if it were physically impossible for him to smile or talk. Utilizing the clock he overheard ticking inside, Finn tallied the seconds to which a salutation by the butler had been ignored. He concluded forty-five ticks in his head.

Perhaps he should be the one who spoke first?

"Hey, hi!" Finn bumbled anxiously, his left hand waving a half-assed friendly hello while the other removed the hat on his head and held it low at his sternum. "I um...I'm here to see Governor Organa."

"And you are?" the butler poshly implored, measuring Finn. It made the pirate feel no bigger than a shrew.

"Finn," he affirmed. "You can tell her Maz Kanata sent me."

The butler curtly bowed his head and backed away, widening the gap and giving Finn enough space to enter the dim foyer. Closing the door, the butler promptly turned and addressed him. "Wait here," he advised, retiring someplace in the home Finn wasn't permitted to go.

Waiting, he started browsing over the Solo's modest furnishings. In juxtapose to the exterior beige, a smokey grey colored the walls, matching slate-tiled floors. Behind him, floor-length merlot tapestries hung above two windows flanking the doorway. A pair of oil paintings inside brass frames were mounted to the wall on his left: individual portraits of a handsome middle-aged man and his wife.

Straight ahead, past the center table supporting a lovely flower arrangement, a grand stairwell led to the upstairs. A much larger oil painting depicting the canal in Venice decorated the wall opposite the banister. There was a grandiose chandelier suspending from the lofty ceiling, compensating for the diminishing light outdoors.

And to his right, reserved a quiet study. A few steps sideways gave him the opportunity to slip in and out before anyone caught him snooping. Sheer draperies secreted a massive window in the room's far back. A pair of high back leather wing chairs bracketed a small round table atop an ecru area rug. The wall parallel to their placement was composed entirely out of built-in shelving units, brandishing early literature by the dozens on each shelf from the floor to the top.

However, it was the wooden chest, sitting on a mid-level shelf among Greek literature novels and old English textbooks, that caught his eye. Its lock, the shape of a crab, ensuring the domed lid was tightly sealed unless one had the key. Braided octopi tendrils were unprecedentedly engraved into recessed columns on the front and sides. Handles hinged at opposing ends provided a convenient means for transporting it here and there.

With the tranquility inside the study, he heard his heart beating louder the closer he came toward the chest. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Or was it even his own pulse?

"Finn?"

Shit! Shit shit shit!

Finn hurried back to the foyer at the sound of the woman's voice. No thanks to curiosity, he was absolutely going to be in a heap of trouble; even if he hadn't disturbed any of the possessions there while doing so.

But the Governor appeared more inquisitive than she did angry when he emerged from the study at an embarrassing speed. And she was very beautiful, despite her seniority in age. Wearing an exquisite gown in an oatmeal shade of fabric, a floral design made of lace trimming the bodice and skirt. Her greying hair braided and stacked high into a bun on her head.

"Governor Organa," he greeted, buoyantly, as if the Governor hadn't just witnessed him barreling out of the study.

The Governor smiled. Genuine, but a smile nonetheless used in place of a shield. An iron facade disguising her real emotions. A smile that never quite reached her eyes, no matter how hard she forced it to. "Please, call me Leia," she urged, ever so gallantly. "What can I do for you, Finn?"

Finn took a breath, then said, "I have some information that may be of interest to you. About Armitage Hux."

Leia studied him momentarily before a frown instantaneously replaced her smile, swallowing dryly. "Let's continue this conversation in a more private setting, shall we?" she stated, canting her head to their new destination in the house as her fists gathered up her skirts. "Follow me, if you will."  

She led him past the stairwell and a number of closed-off rooms down the main corridor to a remote sector inside the dwelling. Welcoming the pair inside the office space was a desk and shelving units similar to those inside the study, each supporting rows of numerous books, and a couple of windows overlooking the sea: one parallel to the doorway and another to the right.

Standing by the window to the west, brooding at rainclouds brewing over the darkening horizon, was a man dressed in Jakku's customary deep blue naval attire. His greyish hair tied back from the somber face he revealed the minute he saw Leia and Finn pass through the door.

"Finn," said Leia, turning, she stopped, positioned between himself and who Finn surmised was the Admiral. "I'd like to introduce you to my husband, Admiral Han Solo."

Finn, awed by the sight of the legendary Admiral, who was smirking, half-amused, extended his hand and firmly shook his. "It is a huge honor to finally meet you, Solo. I mean, Admiral. Han, sir. "

Han grunted. Retrieving his hand, he spared his wife a smirk. "He just called me Solo ."

Leia wasn't so amused. "Please," she snorted, casting an astringent glare at her husband. "It's the least of what I've been known to call you. Finn, here, has some information to share with us, regarding Armitage."

Han sobered at that and knitted his brows, eyeing Finn. "You know Armitage?"

Finn nodded, his fingers anxiously worrying the brim of his hat. What he was about to admit would either earn himself a place in the fight against piracy or public execution at the townsquare. "Yes, sir," he asserted.

The Admiral's jaw flexed. "How?"

"I worked for him, sir."

Husband and wife exchanged harrowing looks. Placing his weight on a heel, the Admiral put his hands on his hips and glared at Finn accusingly. "So you're a pirate."

"Was," Finn countered. "I was a pirate."

"Then you understand by wanting to help us you'll be betraying your captain."

"Yes, sir. I do."

"And you want us to believe that you won't end up doing the same to us?"

"Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm asking you guys to do," explained Finn. "Because as of right now, Hux is the closest he's ever been to getting what he needs to kill your son. And since my friend is also on the Silencer with Ben and the compass, she's in danger, too."

Leia gasped. "She? You said she ?"

Finn looked at her and nodded. At that, there was a notable shift in her demeanor—and in Han's. Less prim and averse and suddenly more willing to set decades of antipathy for pirates aside and acquiesce.

"Alright, kid," sighed Han. Flattening his lips, he gestured a hand for Finn to proceed. "Let's hear it."

For the first time that evening, Finn felt he could relax. His shoulders fell as he exhaled noisily. "Okay," he started. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and bet that Hux won't be stupid enough to go after the Silencer alone. A ship carrying that much artillery power, it would be suicide if he did. Not to mention its crew is literally unkillable."

"You're implying that Hux may rally reinforcements first?" Leia asked.

"As I said, I can't be certain," Finn added. "But lately, there's been talks among his men of this fleet in Dagobah, the First Order."

Han scoffed. "The First Order?"

Leia glowered at Han. "You told me they were eliminated?" she sneered, folding her arms.

"So you know of them?" inquired Finn, his query aimed at both Leia and Han.

"Unfortunately," Han quipped. "Mostly stragglers from old pirate regimes before the laws here on piracy were strictly enforced. Rather than oppose Snoke, they joined forces. Then after..." Pausing, massaging his chin, he stole a sidelong glance at his wife. "After losing Ben to the Silencer, we thought we had snuffed them out."

Leia's head shook in disbelief. "We have the numbers," she pressed. "If we can spare the men, we have to bide our son and the girl some time. That and he has two weeks before he comes home, Han. Two weeks. "

"Leia, I know," the Admiral groused. "But if our friend here is correct, Armitage already has a few days' headstart to Dagobah. If it's revenge he wants, then the best we can do to help Ben is to stay put."

Finn figured it was best that he keep quiet and allow the Solos to call the shots. Plot out their next plan of action. In the meantime, he hoped and prayed that Maz was right about Rey.

**

Onboard the Silencer, the crew worked tirelessly, heaving the last of the Supremacy's dead into the sea. Blood was washed away by the raindrops showering the deck. Debris was swept and tossed aside. What damage was dealt in its hull had begun repairing itself. Similar to how damaged coral would, little by little and piece by piece. Alive like an actual reef. Come sunrise the next morning, there would be no indication of war having transpired there.

However, not all memoirs of that night were so easy to erase.

While Kylo was tending to the wound on her arm, seated across from her, his legs spread apart for her knee to comfortably rest in between, Rey was fixed on the blood staining the cabin floor where her attacker had fallen. Guilt rising in place of her shock. Her stomach still felt nauseous. And she was struggling to keep that strong urge to vomit at bay.

Did war have this effect on everyone? Or was it weakness drowning her in its misery? 

Then, there was Kylo. Feeling the captain's hand grip her beneath her bare bicep, two of his tentacles wringing out a now crimson-dyed cloth into a bucket as he finished wiping the blood from her skin, reminded her it was Ren who had saved her life earlier. He was so calm about it now. So well put together. Unaffected, whereas she was striving to cope. Like he had been culling wheat fields all evening rather than enemy pirates.

"Does it get easier?" Rey quietly asked.

His forehead crinkled in response, more centered on stretching a tentacle for the clean fabric strip splayed out on the table. Since there were no proper bandages available to dress her injury, Ren made use of the fabric on her torn sleeve. "Is what easier?" he nonchalantly replied.

"Killing," she whispered.

Ren didn't reply immediately. For someone who had spent years plundering the Caribbean, his muteness surprised her. He motioned for Rey to hold her arm steady instead as he began dressing her wound, alternating his grip on the frayed material with a tentacle and hand. "In a perfect world..." he finally said, wincing. "Yes. If it comes down to your life being on the line versus your opponent's, it'll always be your own ass you choose to save. War is messy. Complicated. No moral grey where it's every man for himself. Makes it easier to forget when they're haunting your memories years down the road."

It was—not the most uplifting thing he'd ever said to her. But if there was one quality she'd come to understand and accept about Kylo Ren, he was brutally honest. Spoke precisely what was on his mind and sugar-coated nothing. As Poe had told her once before. She appreciated it as much as she also hated that it made him such an asshole sometimes. Yet in his eyes, in his touch, however simple it may be, there was a gentleness often compensating for the harshness in his words.

And sometimes, his tact wasn't so aloof.

"Rey," he softly entreated after sitting for a minute in silence. "There was no other option. You did what you had to do. He would have killed you if you hadn't."

Rey tucked her bottom lip under her front incisors and nodded. "I know," she murmured. Believing herself and him. "You're right."

Ren smirked, knotting the ends of the cloth together. "I know," he preened.

Rey rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Always so sure of yourself, aren't you?" she chided lightly. "I'll be surprised if your head doesn't pop one of these days."

"Runs in the family, unfortunately," he snorted, his forearms resting on his thighs, fingers brushing her knee. "Though my mother would say that I'm more like my father."

Rey tilted her head, surveying him. "Are you?"

He thought about that for a moment. "It's hard to say. Both are engrossed in professions they're passionate about. And both can be stubborn as fuck."

She laughed at the snide remark. "You'd mentioned you and your father had been in the navy," she drawled, leaning forward in her seat, her fingers, interlaced, barely touching his right knee. "Is that where you learned to sword fight?"

"No," he scoffed. "My father had me training when I was ten, two hours a day in the afternoon. Three, as I grew older. Said it was only fair that I learn to use and appreciate a weapon early that'll one day be my lifeline."

"Seems your father was a wise man," she smiled.

Ren nodded. "I could teach you if you want," he coyly suggested. "Chances of survival for a novice with minimal training is better than someone who's never wielded a sword before."

Rey drew in a shallow breath, eyes falling to her hands. "I don't know..."

"What if I'm not there to save you next time?"

"We can just hope there won't be a next time," she countered surly.

"Not likely," he muttered bitterly. "Hux wants the compass. And I'm positive he knows we have it. Once he's built himself another crew, he'll be back."

Their gazes connected again. "Why does he want it so bad?" asked Rey, furrowing her brows.

"Revenge," he lowly rasped.

Her frown deepened. "As in he wants to kill you?" she queried, aware that it wasn't impossible. Having loopholes within immortality made sense, actually. And Ren had informed her a night ago, stabbing the former captain's heart had been the only way for him to kill Snoke. She scrunched her nose, puzzled. "I—don't understand. Why would Hux be looking for the compass if it's your heart he needs?"

Ren was quiet, emotionless. Like he was there but in the same sense, he wasn't there. As if his body was here, present in the flesh, a hairbreadth from her fingertips and his heart was somewhere else.

Somewhere else. Somewhere...

"Oh my god," she breathed, the unthinkable hitting her square in the chest. "No! No, because if Hux is looking for it, then that means you've—." Her palm covered her mouth. She couldn't say it. Refused to finish that despicable sentence. Because saying Kylo had removed his own heart, intentionally, out loud, meant it was true. Even though the blaring silence from him made it painfully clear. " Why ?" 

His eyes averted, downcast. "I was ashamed. Angry and bitter. So fucking bitter and I lost hope. I knew there was a possibility I'd be here forever and I couldn't handle it. Knew that once the curse had taken its toll, I could never be who I was." He looked at her and frowned. "This life—it's easier when you're numb. Easier when you don't have to think or feel and you can just—exist and not give a shit."

Everything was suddenly becoming more transparent now for Rey. Reasons she'd thought him pretentious and arrogant only to discover those reasons ran deeper. "I called you a heartless bastard that first night," she murmured through the fingers on her lips. Blinking so to lessen the sting behind her eyes. "Kylo, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you then and those things I said, I didn't mean them. Not really."

Ren sneered at that. "No, don't you dare apologize. I was an ass and I deserved everything you handed to me that night," he asserted. Disgruntled, her hand falling to her lap, Rey opened her mouth to protest but Kylo leaned forward and pressed his forefinger pad to her lips, silencing her before proceeding in his rant. "What I didn't deserve was how you made me feel when I first saw you." His eyes darted to her mouth then back to her eyes. "Having you here, Rey, you've made me feel things I shouldn't be feeling. Things I didn't know I was capable of feeling without a heart and yet for some ungodly reason, I still do. And damn it, it's killing me. It's killing me because you deserve the person I used to be—not this ."

Rey didn't know what to say. Didn't know if she should tell him she was having similar feelings about him or if this was his way of saying that whatever was happening between them shouldn't be pursued. Her body and her mind were pulling her in two different places. One saying this was Kylo Ren, the cursed pirate captain who was still very much a lethal killing machine. But her heart...Her heart was saying otherwise. That inside the beast who was Kylo Ren was the son of Han Solo clawing his way to the surface.

She couldn't say who ended up making the first move. She was staring into his eyes one minute and the next they were closing, her head lolling back as Ren lowered his hand from her lips to her hands folded in her lap and he leaned forward to kiss her. It wasn't earth-shattering or a breathtaking sort of kiss. Matter of fact, it was the complete opposite. Like he was breathing new life into her rather than stealing her breath away. Filling a part of her up she hadn't realized was barren and empty. His lips were so warm and soft where they should have been cold without a heart pumping the blood flow. And under them, she felt whole and complete, safe and at home.

He was pulling back while she was still blissfully hovering on Cloud Nine. As she peered at him through hooded eyes, Ren was staring at her expectantly. Waiting for her to say something - anything - about what had just happened. Instead of commenting on the kiss, she asked him the first question that came to mind. "The man before the curse, who was he?"

He hesitated, then the faintest of smiles graced his lips. "I was—," he cut himself off. Squeezing her hands, he abruptly added, "Am...I am Ben Solo."