A Star Wars Reylo AU: The Taming of the Professor

Twenty-Seven

Poe walked her home. He was less shaken by the situation with the jerk at Shots than she was.

"Did I do the right thing?" She had asked over and over, and each time he reassured her. 

"Better safe, you know?"

"Yes. I don't like confrontation."

"I know."

She squinted at him in the darkness. "You think I did the wrong thing tonight with the professor?"

"I don't think he deserves any of your time after what he did. If you want, I'll remove him next time he comes in."

"He's Maz's friend, you know."

Poe shrugged. "It's my decision. But I doubt he'll try again here. Maybe he should ask Hux to set it up."

"That's just what I need. Both of them in the same room, bickering, and me in the middle. Sounds fantastic."

Poe chuckled and dropped it. When they reached her complex, he left her and headed on his way. She stood outside in the cold for a while, watching the snow fall. It was so quiet at night. The big overhead light buzzed. 

She started up the stairs, and stopped. Something behind her made a shuffling sound. She turned, just in time to see a man rush at her.

It wasn't at all like her exercises at Master Luke's. She was cold, and exhausted, and still focused on Dr. Solo's confrontation. You are no longer my student. It repeated over and over in her mind, drawing near constant attention.

The ground was slippery with snow and her toes were numb. Her nose and fingers, too. She didn't have time to do anything but scream. He plowed straight into her. She slipped, twisted, and the bridge of her nose and forehead connected with the hand rail as she fell. He fell, too, tumbling over her, colliding with her hip, and rolling. A blinding flash of pain, and bright spots filled her vision.

There was no neck shot. No standing approach, no planning. She twisted and kicked as hard as she could, her vision blurred. She screamed again.

Her foot connected with his belly, right where Master Luke had taught her to aim with her elbow, and he dropped back down, the wind knocked out of him. She had a little time before he caught his breath.

She scrambled to her feet, and looked down at him. The bastard from the bar. He must have followed them back. She landed a straight shot with her foot to his groin to slow him up even more. He screamed at that. A door on the second floor opened, and a head poked out.

She ran. Her body was a jittery mess. Blood ran from her nose down her face and neck, and she wiped at it with her coat sleeve, trying to avoid leaving a trail.

When she arrived outside of Master Luke's studio, she realized it was after 3 a.m. She had never been to his apartment above the studio, but she went up the steps in the back and knocked.

He answered a half minute later. He didn't say a word when he saw her condition, just led her into his little kitchen and sat her in a wooden chair. He handed her a wet towel.

"Don't take me to the hospital. Please. I'm not in any danger. I just hurt my head."

The rush of adrenaline was ebbing, and her body was very heavy. He left to make some phone calls after assuring himself that she wasn't hurt too badly.

"Come on. Let's get you somewhere safe. Leia's neighbor is a doctor. He'll see you when we get there."

Rey didn't argue. Her head was throbbing, and she wanted to sleep.

When they arrived at the Mayor's house, Master Luke led her up the walkway and through the front door. Rey didn't notice much. She sat in another chair, and an old man with round glasses shined lights in her eyes and asked her lots of questions.

"Does she need to go to the hospital?" asked the Mayor. 

"I would have taken her if she did, Leia," said Master Luke. 

"You're not a doctor," she snapped, and Master Luke said nothing more. 

"A mild concussion," said the doctor. "Otherwise, there will be a lot of bruising, but she'll be OK. Help her to bed. I'll stay for a while."

Leia led her to a bedroom on the first floor. The woman helped her strip off her blood soaked coat and shirt, wet, muddy pants, and wipe more of the blood away. She handed her a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, which she carefully worked over her screaming face, some pain medicine the doctor left, a glass of water, and left her to sleep.

The throbbing was beyond unbearable, but the medicine was strong, and she finally slept.

When she woke, she filtered up through the fog and pain, her stomach queasy as she tried to sit up.

"I'll help you sit if you think you can tolerate it," said a man's voice. She squinted over into the bright lamplight and found the old doctor sitting at her bedside, reading a book. "Are you dizzy?"

"Yes." 

"I'm Obi. I'm a retired neurologist. I didn't find any broken bones earlier, but you were dazed. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"No." 

He nodded. "I'm going to get you some ice and tea. It will help settle your stomach. Your head might hurt for a few days. Had the concussion been bad, you would have lost consciousness. I'm assuming that wouldn't have been the worst of your problems if you had." 

She shivered with revulsion. He helped her sit up and propped pillows around her. She was on a narrow bed. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. The door opened again, and the bed creaked as he sat back down beside her. Gentle hands wiped away the rest of the dried blood, and carefully placed an ice pack on her nose. 

She finally allowed herself to cry. She had been so shocked by all that had had happened that she'd somehow missed that step. The ice pack moved, and instead of the old physician, Dr. Solo sat in front of her. She cried harder.

"You left me." 

Her face throbbed more when she cried. He pulled her forward and folded her against his chest, creating calm, smoothing patterns on her back. And she allowed it, because she desperately needed the comfort, and though she wished it were different, she desperately needed him. 

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I won't leave you again."