Chapter Text
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Rey Niima has never really been regarded as impulsive. She’s known amongst her (very) small circle of friends as reliable, steady, dependant. Impulsive would never be a word associated with her. Well apart from how she met her best friend Finn Storm six months earlier and wound up having friends.
That was the most impulsive she’d ever been in her nineteen years of life. But that’s a story for another time, because right now she’s sat on a plastic seat in St. Pancras Station, London, waiting for her boyfriend (if you can really call him that) to show up for their train to Paris.
The only problem is, the train leaves in ten minutes. And he’s nowhere to be seen.
She’s been dating Joe Gray-Fry for three months. And this would be their very first trip. Their first vaccination. Their first holiday. Their first everything together. It was a cheap deal she found online with restricted dates (which is why she’s going to Paris for the first time in late November), but it would be romantic. It’s the City of Light after all. La Ville-Lumière.
In all honesty she should have seen her current situation coming, because when she presented him with the ticket two weeks ago, he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, and simply kept repeating, ‘Paris? Together? Us? Are you sure?’
She should have realised, but Rey is an optimist and even now she clings to that familiar feeling of hope. It’s that same sense of hope that’s helped her survive all these years.
Rey bites her lip as she fires off the seventh text she’s sent him.
Where are you? The train is about to leave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The tannoy announces that she needs to get to the platform, now. Rey stares down at her phone screen, hoping that he’ll answer her back. All previous six had gone unanswered. And each time her stomach dropped a little more.
She rises to her feet, tugging her satchel onto her shoulder, chewing on her bottom lip as she clutches her phone in her hand. It vibrates, startling her enough to make her gasp.
Sorry babe. I’m not going to make it. Caught up with stuff.
She stares at the words, they float around her mind. It’s so casual, as if they’d arranged to meet up for a drink or the cinema. Not like they’re meant to be going on a special weekend to Paris. And what the hell is “stuff” exactly?
You’re not going to make this train? I can wait. We can get the next one.
Her throat has gone dry as she stands in the middle of the gangway, other passengers hurrying past her, muttering insults under their breath as they’re forced to dodge round her.
You get this one. I don’t want you to have to wait. I’ll get a later one.
Her mouth falls open in disbelief. Anger circling in the pit of her stomach. She quickly types a reply.
Why can’t you get this one? What’s this stuff you’re doing that’s more important than Paris???
What is he caught up with? What is this stuff that’s more important? He works in a bowling alley. His parents are divorced. His Mother lives in Cambridge and his Father in Edinburgh. He’s an only child. What can be keeping him.
She’s angry with him. Hand gripping her phone as she looks up at the sleek and shiny train waiting at the platform, waiting for an answer.
Just work stuff. I’ll get a later train. Go ahead without me.
Rey gawps down at the message. Work stuff! Anger surges through her body as she quickly types a furious and rash reply,
Fine. I’ll go to Paris on my own then.
And with that she shoves her phone into her satchel and lifts her head up high, eyes steady on the train as she walks forward, pulling her suitcase behind.
She’s going to go to Paris. Alone.
Joseph Gray-Fry will not get the best of her. No way.
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Paris is busy as Rey steps out onto the platform, pulling her small - specially brought - case behind her. She feels anxious as she walks through the gate and into the station. All hustle and bustle. People going about their daily lives, pushing and shoving. Knowing where they’re going, what they’re doing. Unlike Rey, who stands frozen, lost amongst a sea of people, kiosks and escalators.
The loudspeaker says something in French and Rey’s stomach churns with anxiety. She doesn’t understand a word of what is being said, not like everyone around her. They all seem to know.
Rey looks up at the signs, trying to find one that would be helpful and give her a sense of relief.
Bingo. Found one.
Taxis.
She lets out a breath before scrambling through the crowd, not even caring that there’s a substantial queue when she gets there. She pulls the hotel information from the small plastic wallet in her bag, gripping it in her hand like a protective shield.
As the queue thins out and she finally reaches the front. She slips into the car and offers the paper to the driver and nervously asks, ‘Hotel Alderaan, s’il vous plaît.’
He looks at her sceptically, before snatching the paper from her hand and scanning over the document beneath the interior light, ‘Ah Hotel Alderaan. Oui, oui.’ He says, thrusting her paper back at her before pulling out into heavy traffic.
Rey sits back, letting out a long breath, letting Paris pass her by. Busy streets, full of cafés, boutiques, bars and beauty parlours. Endless elegant buildings glowing in the early evening winter sky, and Rey suddenly feels that things will be okay.
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Half an hour later Rey finds herself standing in a side street as the taxi disappears around a corner into the the growing darkness. Leaving her alone outside what she summarizes is a nice hotel, from what she can tell in the fading light.
The smell and sound of Paris surrounds her. A heady mix of smoke, coffee and food, along with the noise of the busy streets nearby - reminding her a touch of London. But she doesn’t want to dwell. That won’t help her mood. Not now she’s starting to feel okay about the situation.
Rey does a 360, realising that she’d not seen a single office block. Just tall buildings with long windows and little balconies. An abundance of cafés, complete with outdoor dining and endless stylish people.
It hit’s her then. She is in Paris. Excitement bubbles in her stomach as a faint smile creeps across her face.
She goes inside, finding herself in a narrow lobby with a single desk at the far end. It’s clear and modern, not bad at all. She gives herself a mental pat on the back. Happy with her find.
‘Bonjour. Hello. Um, I have a room booked. J'ai une chambre réservée.’ Rey announces as she steps forward, hoping she doesn’t sound as nervous as she feels, when she sees the short middle aged woman look up at her from behind the desk.
Rey places the paper on the desk and the woman gives her a friendly smile, and Rey suddenly feels calm, all thanks to to the warm eyes and smile of the stranger.
‘Bien sûr. Bienvenue. Welcome to Hotel Alderaan. Let’s get you all checked in.’ The woman says, and relief washes through Rey at the sound of her voice.
‘You’re American?’
‘I’m from many places. But yes America is one of them.’ The woman replies, smile still on her face as she punches Rey’s details into the computer.
Rey doesn’t really know how to answer, so she just stands there quietly. Waiting patiently for her key. After a few more moments the woman places a key on the desk, looking up at Rey.
‘Here’s your key. Room number seven. If you would like breakfast it’s from seven in the dining room just down the corridor by the lift. Enjoy your stay.’ The woman smiles once again, pointing at the lift, as Rey picks up the key from the desk and returns the smile with one of her own as she glances at the nameplate on the desk - Leia Organa Solo.
‘Thank you. I’m sure I will.’ Rey answers as she heads for her room, feeling more positive than she had hours ago.
Once inside the small but neat and smartly decorated room with a state of the art bathroom Rey sits on the edge of the bed and decides to message Finn, to let him know that she got there safe. He’ll just worry otherwise.
Hey. Just letting you know that I got to Paris fine. I’m at the hotel now. Hope you have a great time in Brighton. Don’t have too much fun without me xx
It’s early evening, but her anxious gut had stopped her from eating anything more than a snack bar all day. But now that she’s there and feeling settled, her appetite has picked up.
She looks around the room, peeking out of the window to find a view of a small lit garden below. It’s utterly charming and completely romantic and Rey finds herself smiling rather ruefully at the garden. She won’t be experiencing that romance, not now. She’s brought out of her daze by the ping of her phone. It has her dashing back over to the bed. Perhaps it’s Joe apologising?
It’s Finn.
That’s good. Well I hope you get to see the sights and not just the hotel room ;) Miss you. Have a great time xx
Rey sighs. She’s not going to tell Finn what’s happened. Besides she can do this herself.
Paris is her’s for the taking. And she’s going to grip it with both hands.
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