"Hey Ben, it's mom. I know we're not on best speaking terms, but a situation has come up with one of my engineers and she needs your help. You're fully capable of taking on a case such as hers. I've taken the liberty of leaving my contacts with your secretary at your law firm. Please get back to me, you're her only hope."

1 voicemail. A single voicemail on my home landline. The first words from my mother in so damn long, and it really struck me. Well of course it did. I wasn't expecting this. I was just supposed to come home to my tiny ass apartment, feed the cat, make tea and relax for once this week but it seems not only work has followed me home but my personal issues as well. I guess I can only avoid it for so long but, I, no. I don't have to accept her offer. Nothing's forcing me. Although if she did call this must mean something. Is it just an excuse to re-connect?

I stop and take a breath. My mind is racing far too fast for comprehension. Breathe, it's just a voicemail. She's just your mother. A mother you haven't spoken to in, years. I bite down on my lip forcing it not to quiver, not to cry. I won't cry, I can't cry, yet I think I am. All this over a voicemail.

"Ben, you can't run from your problems" tauntingly echo's my thoughts.

There is a case beside my mother. A job. A girl in need of help I presume. I've just closed, maybe I could, but it's most likely a case within the air force. Is mom still in the air force? Last, I heard she was. Ben, if you're so god damn curious than just consult her on what you'll be doing. Who you'll be defending. You don't have to say yes, but can I say no to her?

I grab my work book out of my satchel, dislodging all other paper and items that were once neatly packed in there. Desperately I flip through the pages and find the list of messages left by Phasma, Under Leia Organa Solo.

I dance around the numbers on the phone, still contemplating. I don't have to do this, yet without conscious thought her number was wrung and the phone was dialing. Each ring making my breath shudder.

"Hello? This is Leia speaking." Sung out from the speaker.

It took a moment. A long silent moment that seemed to span the years of silence, but I managed to choke out a simple "Organa?"

Hours go by in the seconds she takes to reply. My whole world has come to a slow. "Yes. Is this Ben?"

"Yes. This is Ben Solo."

"You don't have to sound so formal, I'm your mother for gods sake."

I'm laughing awkwardly, of course I am. I'm choking on the words desperate to get out and masking it, horribly.

"You did call about a case." Nervously spit out of my lip. Calm Ben, calm. "Speaking of, how did you get my home phone?"

Her laughter resonates, and weight starts to lift from my chest. "I am your mother, and I have my ways."

"That's not an answer."

"Well it's the answer you're getting."

My mind stutters about searching for a response. There's still an old instinct to talk back like a rebellious teen yet I decide to be respectful. I was never the best at fighting her and I'm on the spot, but thoughts are interrupted by her voice.

"How about I stop by your office tomorrow? I'll bring a file and context for us to discuss more. It's better than over the phone. Especially when you're off work."

I only reply a simple "okay" and she says a simple "I'll stop by tomorrow." And that was it.

We hang up the phone and a wave of heat and relief wave over me, overwhelming my senses. Did she feel this too? Internally I am crying yet somehow that resonates itself in laughs. Relief maybe? Whatever it be I'm consumed by it. I finally fall into the couch nearby, and let myself sink into it. Let myself get lost in it. For the first time it feels welcoming and comfortable. I should've done this when I entered my home, but was obviously distracted. God, I'm exhausted throughout. I can feel the ache of my mentality and emotions pour out in shallow tears on my cheek. Whether they are caused by joy or sadness is still unclear. All I know is that they're there on the cheek of the emotional ticking time bomb called Ben Solo.

Mind and body still exhausted, I pull myself up from the couch and drag myself into the kitchen where my long wanted electric kettle and array of tea awaits, as well as the diva of a cat waiting expectantly next to where her food bowl is. The simple things that I see daily, now different through the lenses of whatever has come over me. I switch the kettle on, set up the cup and indulge the ever-impatient Daisy. By the time the kettle chimes, bringing me to reality from wandering day dreams the overwhelming heat previously felt has drained. Thoughts of my past and future fade and blur just enough for me to focus on the present. Enough for me to hopefully sleep at night (I'll have a glass of wine to help). Somehow, I may manage to shut my brain up for 8 hours.

When I fall into bed that fantasy is not met. I lie awake, with the taunting purr of the white fur ball next to me as if saying "slumber has chosen me yet shuns your existence to suffer". But then again, she is just a cat. I doubt she can sleep maliciously. The true enemy is my mind, my thoughts and memories swimming around. They're not even coherent and clear, just an over whelming burning feeling of my past resonating through a physical ache and sting. My only hope for release is to just pray to some higher force that I will sleep. I must sleep to silence.

Through the in-coherent mumbling of emotions in my conscious a tenable cry rings through. The cry of a lost child seeking familiarity. Mom, mom, "Mom". It fights out from my voice. I beg to hold back the cry's. Cry's of a lost child from long ago, that were met with silence. Is that all I am? Still? Just a pathetic child crying out for help? Are the thoughts late at night simply the minds attempt to bully and succumb you with no distractions from the outside world, or is it un-filtered truth that I simply cannot face. Am I just denying myself? I shun away from diving further into my psyche. I abandon hopes to sleep, throwing myself out of bed in protest. I refuse to fight this tonight.