Chapter Text
The door opens.
Finn doesn’t look around. It’s just another person to attack him, to tear down his carefully built character in the Resistance. It took so much to get everyone to trust him, to accept him, and it’s all gone in one afternoon.
He can’t think. He can only feel the horrible sick pull in his gut that says he’s responsible for Poe’s memory loss. He can’t even hear what they’re saying.
Neelin’s voice cuts through the admirals’ debate.
“Colonel,” Neelin says sharply. Finn sits up straight, eyes flicking past her and his breath catches. Poe and Rey stride toward him.
Poe’s hair is helmet-messy, tousled practically beyond repair. He’s still in a bright orange flight suit like he was just in the air, even though he’s still grounded, and grinning that smile that always means he has some dumb plan that he’s already made up his mind to carry out.
“So nice of you to join us, Colonel Dameron,” the General says. “Rey caught you, then. Good. Please, sit.”
“I’ve done enough sitting lately to last me a good few years, so if it’s the same to everyone here, I’m going to stay standing. What’s going on? Because it looks to me like you’re putting one of the best members of the Resistance on trial for no reason.”
Finn smiles, just a tiny quirk of his lips, at his words. Poe must have forgiven him, at least, for last night.
Some of the static settles. His mind feels clearer.
“Major Finn stands trial for disloyalty to the Resistance,” Neelin states, her voice booming around the room. “He has been transmitting intelligence to the First Order since he arrived here. He was and will always be one of their operatives. I’m afraid that we were all fooled, including you, Colonel.” There’s something like pity on her face, her lips turned down, eyes hard.
She really believes it.
Poe barely moves, cocking a brow at her with an ease few people could probably tell he doesn’t actually feel. There’s something tight about his shoulders and the loose way he holds himself, like he’s ready to bolt or fight at any second. Probably fight. It usually is.
“I respect your dedication to the Resistance,” Poe says, soft-voiced. His eyes flick over to Finn. “It’s admirable, Commander.” He grins again, sharp and sudden. “I would’ve liked to give my testimony sooner, only someone forgot to invite me.”
“All officers were called here,” Akbar intones.
“Regardless,” the General says, looking at Poe with raised brows, “he’s here now. You have the floor, Colonel.”
Finn watches him raptly. If he remembers, somehow, then Poe can help him (or hurt him, if he really sent that message). It means that he didn’t ruin this as much as he thought, last night. It means that Poe cares enough to be here, to speak for him.
He wants it to mean that, and that want blooms, energy bursting through the static and fills the room.
He hears a sharp gasp from Rey.
The General’s eyes are suddenly on Finn and he stares back. At least until Poe starts talking. Poe, who is also watching Finn.
When negotiating, Poe does this thing where he smiles and looks at everyone and talks slower than anyone wants him to. Taking it slow, reading the room, watching reactions. It’s the only thing he does at anything less than lightspeed, and usually the other party gets impatient first. Finn’s seen and heard him do it on countless planets, bartering supplies, personnel, treaties. Lives, sometimes.
He does the same thing now, standing in the middle of the room with all eyes on him, surrounded by a waiting silence. His eyes sweep the room, lingering for a moment on Finn before he looks up at Neelin and smiles. Whispers start to spring up all over again.
“Now,” Poe starts in a soft voice.
The whispers stop.
After a long moment, he continues into the silence: “Rey caught me up on the way over here, which is why I’m surprised I wasn’t invited. If there’s anyone on this rock that knows anything about Finn, it’s me.”
“While that is a beautiful sentiment,” Neelin says, pacing so she’s standing directly between Poe and Finn, “what you have to say is inadmissible, with your condition.”
“Oh,” Poe sounds almost too surprised, edging into sarcasm. “Right, the one where I conveniently don’t remember the order that got me shot down.” He pauses, like he’s considering it. “That condition?”
“Yes, that condition,” Neelin responds, unperturbed. “It’s convenient that you don’t remember, for Major Finn.”
“And for anyone who really wants to accuse Major Finn of betraying us, but that’s all beside the point, because even more conveniently, I happened to hit my head earlier. You know pilots: running into stuff all the time when we’re not in the air.” He pauses, tilts his head at Finn and grins at his own dumb joke. Finn’s focus is completely on him, the swelling pulse of the room around him directed at Poe. He would berate Poe for getting himself hurt again if Poe wasn’t looking at him with eyes that feel like they know Finn: like they really know him, like they haven’t since the crash.
“I don’t see what this has to do with the accusations,” says one of the aides standing near Neelin—Deming again, frowning at Poe.
Poe turns to Neelin and Deming both and says in a flippant tone, “I don’t know how much you know about X-wings, Commander Neelin?”
“I know enough,” she says, standing at her full height, which is slightly taller than Poe himself.
“Then I’m sure you’re familiar enough with the schematics to know how hard the oxygen converters are to even find, much less to hit.”
“The report, written by Major Finn, stated that your oxygen converter was shot,” Neelin recites.
“Sheared clean in half,” Poe says lightly. “Gave me a hell of a headache on the way down. Couldn’t even find the steering in front of my face. Rapid decompression. Not fun. Scrapes out the insides of your lungs. What you might not know,” he glances around the room again, “is that Black One was modified.” A few people snort and Poe grins. “Alright, most of you know she’s been modded, but specifically, I moved the oxygen converters higher up, to the left, almost right behind the cockpit. They’re usually below the pilot to make them one of the last things to go, but I wanted improved sublight engines. They’re these massive things taken from an older model with a few mods of their own. Point is, even if you did on the off-chance know where to shoot to take out the oxygen converter on an X-wing, Black One’s was placed differently, and whoever shot me still got it in one.”
“Major Finn knew the changes you made to your X-Wing, I presume?” Neelin takes a few steps toward Poe and Finn can see him again. Even he can’t tell where Poe is going with this, but he trusts with everything that he is that Poe will fight for him till the end.
The fear starts to dissolve, replaced by a bright swell of hope.
“Pretty much everyone in the hangars knew about it, took me weeks,” Poe corrects her sharply. “No use keeping that stuff to yourself when you have a bunch of smart people around to help you out. Finn knew, but the thing is, he can talk your ear off about blasters but even after four years he has no clue how the inside of an X-wing works.”
It’s completely true. Finn’s lips quirk.
“I’m sure there are schematics of your X-Wing, Colonel,” Deming says from the benches. He shouldn’t be there, Finn realizes. If anyone under Commander was kicked out, Deming doesn’t qualify. Yet he’s still here. “This is a thin argument. I hope you have a point to all this.”
Poe lifts a brow. “You ever looked at an X-wing schematic, Captain?”
Deming’s face crumples in a grimace, his usual placid calm breaking.
“Yes, yes, they’re very confusing,” Neelin sighs, “we understand, Colonel. Please, get to the point.”
“I’m getting there,” Poe’s eyes flash, anger flickering briefly over his face “The point is, someone obviously got their hands on that knowledge, and I don’t think anyone here has thought to ask any X-wing techs about that, so before we do anything else, I’d like to hear from them.” Whirling back around on his heel, Poe says, “If you did transmit that information to the First Order, you would’ve had to ask someone what to say. Right?”
Finn realizes that for the first time in an hour, someone is talking to him. He meets Poe’s eyes, breath caught somewhere in his throat. The air around him seems to strain and skip until he says “um. Right. I don’t have access to the schematics.”
“Nor do you want them, I know, you’ve told me that enough,” Poe says with a laugh. “That’s pilots-only. I’ve already been through the terrible question of whether my pilots betrayed me once: I am not going there again. I trust all of them with my life. That’s no small thing.”
“’3PO,” the General says, leaning back in her chair to talk to the droid. “Go talk to the ship techs, see if anyone unauthorized asked for ship schematics in the last three months.”
“Of course, General,” C3PO says with a slight incline of his head. His joints squeak as he makes his way out of the room. It’s loud in the ringing silence.
Neelin looks interested now, pacing past Poe, eyes alright. “Alright, I see your point, Colonel. However, it’s possible that it was a lucky shot. The TIE fighters wanted to take you down, and they did.”
“Exactly,” Deming chimes in again, frowning hard. “A lucky shot. Major Finn still gave the Resistance faulty intelligence so the First Order would immediately have the upper hand, and they did. Major Finn ordered the recon and rescue teams directly into the line of fire. It’s in his transmissions!”
“I did not,” Finn shouts, eyes burning into Deming. Heat flares in his chest and down his spine, the same fire he feels when he’s training with Rey, when he can feel her next move and feel the Force circling them both.
He can’t feel what Deming will do next, but he can feel the energy crackle and lash, and he grits his teeth to keep it back. The last thing he needs is to hurt a Captain and be immediately sent to a firing squad.
Poe’s head whips around toward Finn. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows high. His hand flies up to press just over his heart, fingertips pushing into the orange cloth.
For a few breaths, Poe watches him. No one seems to move. His lips part silently like he’s about to say something.
He doesn’t, though.
He swallows, nodding to himself, and finally turns back to Deming with a small furrow between his brows. “I remember the crash,” he says. His voice is soft, almost wondering. Neelin is forced to lean closer just to hear him. “I couldn’t get any oxygen. Everyone was screaming in my ear to pull up. Couldn’t get to the controls, or I thought I couldn’t, and then my wing sheared clean off. My ship’s still sitting out there in the jungle. It’s all pretty hazy.”
Poe stops again, looks at Finn.
There’s something in his eyes that Finn recognizes: shaken, a little lost, like he’s just woken up in the medical bay all over again.
“One thing I remember,” Poe’s voice strengthens, “is that Finn was in my ear the whole time, talking to me. He always does when things start to go south because he’s the best damn person on this base and I know I am biased,” he snaps at Deming, who opened his mouth to cut Poe off. Poe stalks closer to that side of the table. His footsteps ring through the silent room. “I’m biased, and that means I know Finn better than anyone. He was talking to me the whole time—” his words are coming so quick and sharp that it’s like they’re tripping over themselves to get out, like Poe’s head is three steps ahead of his mouth, and then he turns back to Finn, his eyes dark and wide.
“You was terrified. There were all these TIEs here that you didn’t expect, like you thought it was your fault the First Order led us into a trap which we should have known about or expected, but I got carried away with trying to save my home and everyone left there.” Poe breaks off with a soft, familiar laugh, taking a half-step toward Finn. “Maybe I was careless,” he says, much quieter.
Finn wants to reach for him, but his hands are bound and sudden movements are dangerous. Instead, he looks into Poe’s eyes, that soft brown that he’s looked into so many times before. “You’re always careless,” he says, and he knows that his love shows through his voice. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Poe’s answering grin is sharp and bright. “That’s a conversation for another day, I guess,” he says, just for Finn. “When all this is over.”
“When all this is over,” Finn repeats, “when this is over, we have a lot to talk about.”
“Long as we need to.” There’s promise in Poe’s voice and in the curve of his smile
Neelin clears her throat. “While this is very sweet, if we could return to the point—” Before she can finish Poe whirls back around, his back to Finn like he’s standing between him and everyone else there, anger flaring up again. Finn can feel it. Finn’s always had a pretty good sense of what Poe was feeling, and now the energy around him is lit up.
“The point,” he snaps, “is that there is no way that Finn sent me, or any of the rest of us, into danger on purpose. You all know that as well as I do.”
Poe sucks in a heavy breath, staring around the room at his silent audience, hands clenching into tight fists. “The fact that any of you are actually sitting here, honestly considering that one of the strongest, bravest people in the galaxy, someone who broke through years of conditioning and immediately decided to save a broken pilot he had no need to save because it was the right thing to do, who had every opportunity and reason to run away for good and turn his back on us? That you think after four years of putting up with our shit, keeping us out of danger, trusting us when apparently most of us can’t even return the favor, that he’s going to turn around and sell that trust to the First Order? That tells me a lot more about you than it tells me about Finn.”
Poe pauses, then, voice thick with emotion and wet around the edges, he says, “and that’s not the Resistance I joined. So if that’s what you think, what you decide, then you can court-martial me right alongside Finn and we’ll go form our own Resistance built on the same ideals I joined this one for. Trust, loyalty. Love.”
When he’s done, no one speaks.
The silence echoes around the room. Finn wants to get to his feet and wrap his arms around Poe, emotion pressing hot in his throat, his eyes wet, that same force inside him flowing toward Poe. He wants Poe to know just what that means. How much he loves him. How much Poe’s words mean to him.
“Maybe we should,” Deming cuts into the silence. He’s on his feet now, staring at Poe. “Clearly he’s tricked you or you’re working with him. The stormtrooper is guilty.”
“The stormtrooper has a name that he chose for himself,” Poe snarls, slamming his hands down on the table between them, “and if you think I’m gonna get married to someone who’s been lying to me for four years then I really don’t have a place here. You do anything to him,” he whirls, staring first at Leia and then again at everyone there, slow, burning, “you lose me. You got that? Finn and I, we’re in this together. I promised that to him four years ago when he first woke up and I’m not about to break it now.”
Finn stares at Poe in awe. He’s not even sure what he’s feeling anymore except for pure, intense love for Poe. For Poe who loves him. Who knows that they were going to get married. That Poe asked him, quiet and sweet before he left on the mission to Yavin. That no one else knew. Finn didn’t tell anyone. Poe didn’t have a chance.
Poe remembers.
The heat of the Force sketches through his body, pulsing now with hope and the love that’s so evident in Poe’s voice. He wants Poe to remember, needs him to remember, for his sake as much as for Finn’s. For the sake of their future together, the children they off-handedly talked about if this war ever ends. For the squadrons Poe leads. For the people they love.
The power flows under his skin, smooth and easy like a gentle stream, and he can almost see it wrapping Poe up, seeping into him and binding them together.
Then he realizes that Deming is speaking again, stepping past the benches to confront Poe. “A broken pilot isn’t much to lose,” he says, low and harsh. He turns and addresses the council, “if Colonel Dameron is siding with this traitor, he is of no use to us.”
Poe flinches minutely, then drags in a breath and draws himself up without acknowledging the insult. He keeps his steady, heated glare on Deming. “You’re pretty invested in this, Captain.”
“As you know, Colonel,” Deming spits the word, “we have been betrayed before. I won’t stand for a stormtrooper in our ranks.”
“He’s been here for four years,” the General says, leaning forward slightly. “Why the sudden concern?”
Deming’s face twists in anger. “He showed his true colors! For four years he’s been lying to us all, getting higher and higher in the ranks, gaining trust, and what was he?” He whirls on Finn. “Just a stormtrooper after all!”
Slowly, Finn rises to his feet, Poe’s speech giving him the strength to speak up and to gather the power around him, the Force, to radiate strength like the General taught him. No manipulation, no Jedi mind tricks, only the strength to stand and to lead.
“I never chose to be a stormtrooper,” he says, keeping his voice even. He doesn’t look at Deming, but meets the General’s, Leia’s, eyes. “I would never have, given the choice. My choice was to leave the First Order and to join the Resistance. I’ve never regretted those decisions, and I would never go back. I don’t know how my codes were used or by who, but I didn’t send those transmissions.”
“And you couldn’t have,” Rey pipes up, behind him although he never heard her get up. “I’ve been looking into them,” she says, stepping forward to set a data pad in front of Leia, “the first one, sent four years, two months, and six days ago, couldn’t have been sent by Finn. Finn was in a medically induced coma until the sixteenth day of the second month in year 34 ABY. This transmission was sent six days before that, on the tenth day of the second month in year 34 ABY. Finn couldn’t have sent that transmission.”
Poe’s breath catches audibly. “What does it say?”
“Secure. Message only this code,” Leia says. Her fingers tap the desk, “that certainly proves that Major Finn didn’t send this specific transmission. However, it doesn’t prove the rest of them.”
“Exactly,” Deming hisses. “The issue on the table is still that Finn’s loyalty is in serious question and we have no proof but Colonel Dameron’s touching unfounded belief in his inherent goodness.”
“It does call the rest into suspicion,” Leia continues as if Deming never spoke. “Rey, have you found anything else?”
“Not quite yet,” Rey frowns, “I’m sure that I will, given more time.”
“Thank you,” Leia hands the data pad back to her with a nod. “This means that someone was using your codes at one point, Major. While it’s possible that you’re working with them, I find that difficult to believe. If I remember correctly, you were barely on the base before your injury, and most of it was in my company.”
“General, you aren’t considering the facts—” Deming cuts in just as Poe opens his mouth to say something. “A transmission sent from Major Finn’s codes put our pilots in danger and almost killed them! He obviously knew the First Order was prepared to meet us on Yavin 4 and led us straight into danger. Just hours before the mission a message was sent into First Order territory referencing the upcoming attack also using Major Finn’s codes, and you’re prepared to ignore all of this on the word of a pilot whose memory is faulty at best!”
“You’re very familiar with the messages Major Finn sent,” Leia says. The same power radiates from her and Finn feels his own winding down, settling in the presence of her. “And what you’re suggesting is that Major Finn not only directed Black Squadron into danger, but he also told the First Order about our plan before we even left the base.”
“It’s possible,” Neelin says, brows furrowed as she watched Deming, “but, Captain, you told me that you hadn’t looked at these messages before now. That you were shocked by this revelation.”
Deming’s hands clench on the tabletop. He glances between Finn, Neelin, and Leia, mouth opening and then pressing into a grim line. “I,” he narrows his eyes at Finn, stands up straighter, “am shocked by the possibility of betrayal. A message sent only hours before the mission even started. It was doomed from the beginning because of him.”
“What was sent from Major Finn’s code hours before the mission?” Neelin asks, already scrolling through her own data pad.
“Plan of attack on Yavin. Full squadrons, command ship. Eight hours.” Rey beats her to it, reading the transmission loudly.
“Eight hours,” Finn says, trying to think back to that day, the day before his life fell apart. He was with Poe, of course, for most of the day. But it takes six hours to fly there, one to get ready, so that leaves this transmission at one hour before they left. “General,” he says, “if I’m not mistaken, I was in this very room at that time. Presenting the mission plan to all of you.”
“You prepared it in advance and sent it while presenting to throw off suspicion,” Deming hisses, shoving himself away from Neelin with his glare focused only on Finn.
“Or,” Poe cuts in loudly, turning to face Finn, “someone wanted really badly for us to think that you were capable of something like this, and got sloppy and overexcited at the prospect of taking out all of Black Squadron and the Resistance’s top strategist at once.”
“They must’ve,” Finn agrees with him, keeping his eyes on Poe’s to make sure that they’re still on the same page. That Finn can help Poe get where he’s going, “it is messy. Hurting you was enough to poke a hole in this story.”
“What are you suggesting, Colonel?” Neelin asks, that spark of interest back in her eyes.
“I’m tired of suggestions,” Poe says, flashing a grin at Finn before turning back to stare directly at Deming. “Captain Deming is so adamant about this because he’s been the one sending the messages this whole time. How else would you know so much about them? If you really hadn’t read them before. Also, I’m pretty sure that medication you tried to give me last week had nothing to do with shock. Your bedside manner could use some work. ”
Deming’s face drops into livid anger. “I did not,” he growls and suddenly he lurches toward Poe, pulling a small blaster from the holster at his hip.
Without thinking, Finn is there, sweeping Deming’s legs from under him. He’s not even sure how he does it. Suddenly, he’s in front of Poe and Deming is on the floor. The blaster goes off, the shot sinking into the floor, even though it was pointed no where near that.
Finn shoots out his cuffed hands to stop the shot from ricocheting. It freezes in midair.
The next moment, the guards are there, blasters pointing, one at Deming, one at Finn. Finn holds his hands out in front of him and slowly steps back from Deming.
Poe, naturally, grins like his life was never in danger, meeting Finn’s eyes. “Always there just in time.”
Finn gives him a weak smile. “Can’t let him hurt you again,” he shoots back.
He looks around at a tiny, shocked sound from Neelin.
She’s staring pale-faced at Deming, her brows furrowed. Slowly, she looks up at Finn. “I… believe I owe you an apology, Major.”
Shifting closer to Finn, Poe looks around the room, one hand rising to settle at Finn’s back, right above the worst of his scar. “Everyone in this room owes Finn an apology.” He directs that at Leia, frowning hard.
She stands, hardly taller standing than sitting, and nods tiredly. “Thank you, Colonel, Commander, Major. This was very informative.” She jerks her head at the guard pointing her gun at Finn. “Release him. And cuff Deming. The council will decide what to do with him.”
Slowly, Poe turns to Finn, a brilliant, slightly shocked smile spreading over his lips. His hand slides down to Finn’s elbow, still touching with soft fingers. “You need food and sleep.”
Finn meets his eyes, then drops them again, not quite sure how to feel. Rell unlocks his cuff with a murmured apology.
“Hope this doesn’t ruin our Sabacc game,” she jokes quickly before turning to Deming.
Finn shifts toward Poe, exhaustion hitting him all at once. “Yeah,” he murmurs, feeling the strength in Poe’s hand on his back, “can we? Uh, if you want to.”
“I can do you one better.” Poe says in the same quiet voice, spreading his palm wider over Finn’s back. “C’mon.”
Nodding, Finn leaves the security of his hand for a moment, moving toward the long table, stepping around Deming who’s silently glaring at him, his hands bound behind his back.
Pausing in front of Leia, Finn waits until she looks at him. “Permission to be dismissed, ma’am?”
Leia opens her mouth to reply, but a voice breaks out through the room before she can. “Your Highness—ah, General Organa! Ma’am!”
Leia watches as C3P0 hurries back into the room as quickly as he can. “You’ll never believe who has been accessing the ship records in the last three months—”
“Captain Deming?” Poe cuts in, voice warm with amusement. C3P0 stops halfway across the room, turning toward the guards holding Deming, who’s looking sulkier and angrier by the minute.
“Well, yes,” he huffs, offended. Poe shoves a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Leia smiles, thin and amused. “That’s very helpful, thank you 3PO.” She turns to Finn with a nod, “Major, thank you for cooperating during this. This was very enlightening. You’re free to go.” She pauses for a moment, then nods at him. “Go see my brother when you get a chance.”
“Thank you, ma’am, I will,” Finn says, relief sinking through his skin and deep into his bones. He doesn’t have the energy to think about trying, not for the first time, to train with Master Skywalker.
Poe is at his side again, somehow, hovering there like he does when he’s worried. He reaches out, fingers resting briefly at Finn’s elbow before he drops his hand.
“Let’s get outta here,” he says close to Finn’s ear.
“Yeah,” Finn turns with him, heading toward the door. Rey is there waiting for him with narrowed eyes. She reaches over and drags Finn outside and off to the the side of the hallway, eyes fixed on him.
The amount of focus is unsettling. Rey is reaching out without even touching him, her energy brushing against his. For a moment, Finn thinks she’s going to yell at him, but instead she makes a quiet sound and drags him into a fierce hug.
Wrapping her tight in his arms, he breathes another, “thank you,” into her hair.
“We’ll prove every last one of those wasn’t you,” she promises quietly. “Every one. And then you’re going to see Master Luke.”
“I,” Finn tries to say something, but he doesn’t feel ready to address what just happened. “Yeah. Yes, we will.”
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Rey mutters, squeezes him once more, and then finally lets him go.
Poe hovers next to Finn. As soon as she’s released Finn, Poe drags her into a brisk hug, making her snort as she wraps her arms around him. “Thanks, Rey,” he murmurs against her head. “Still on for tomorrow?”
“Of course, even if you remember now, we can still do some work” she agrees quietly. “And after, Finn and I need to talk.” She sends him another pointed glance.
“Uh,” Finn stares at her, but she only smiles. “Okay. If they haven’t decided to change their minds by then.”
“They won’t,” Rey sounds too sure of herself, but she always does, and she’s usually right.
“No,” agrees Poe as he glances over his shoulder at the door, and back. “But we should probably get outta here, just in case, right?”
Finn shoots Poe a grimace and Rey says, “you’re not funny,” before she steps aside to go speak with Leia.
“She’s right,” Finn tells Poe quietly as they walk down the hallway. It feels like more than walking away from the room. It feels like walking away from suspicion, from what could have been.
He takes a deep breath, his body feeling weak.
“I’m hilarious,” Poe says with a grin. “And you know it. Funniest guy in your life, at least, if not in the galaxy.”
“Right,” Finn laughs, looking for something in Poe's face, for comfort, support. He’s not quite sure. Poe bites at the corner of his lip, dragging into his mouth for a second. His eyes flicker over Finn.
“Kriff it,” he mutters to himself a second later. Before Finn can even ask Poe’s dragging him into a hug, tugging him close with a rough sound. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there earlier, I didn’t even know—”
“It’s okay, you came when I needed you most,” Finn breathes, his arms tight around Poe as he settles into Poe’s body. He feels so right. He lets Finn be vulnerable, taking on his weight, supporting him even when he doesn’t remember who he is.
Unless he does remember.
“Thank you,” Finn mumbles, his face buried against Poe’s neck. “For coming. For fighting. For saying what you said.”
"Buddy, there is no way I was gonna leave you in that room full of vultures,” Poe says fervently and hugs him tighter. He’s practically vibrating against Finn, with anger or excitement Finn can’t tell. “I’m never leaving you, alright? I meant every word I said in there. They lose you, I’m going with you. We’ll start our own damn Resistance. On a tropical planet. “
Laughing shakily, Finn breathes in Poe’s scent and relaxes against him. “Bet Leia would like ours better. Think she’d come?”
Poe’s own laughter is bright and easy, pressed into Finn’s hair. “We’ll bribe her with fruit and not having to oversee a bunch of idiots. Only a couple of idiots. You okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I will be,” Finn pulls back enough to look at him and he knows his eyes are bloodshot. “Can we not be here anymore?”
“Yes,” Poe says immediately. He drops his hands to Finn’s and squeezes, already starting to tug Finn down the hallway. “I bet I can bribe the cooks to give us the good shit tonight—are you really okay? You look exhausted. How long were you in there?”
“Since,” Finn frowns, “0900? I was working on Jess’ X-wing with her, then they came and got me.”
“0900? Shit, Finn, you haven’t eaten all day! It’s almost 2000.”
Finn’s feet are clumsy underneath him, but training for the first 22 years of his life to withstand nearly any situation isn’t negated by four years of comfort. “I’m pretty hungry,” Finn agrees, “and tired. I think all that, using the, y’know," Force, "like that.”
“Yeah,” Poe says in a strange voice, “since when could you do that?”
“Since today,” Finn stares straight ahead of himself, not wanting to see the expression on Poe’s face. “I got. I was really angry. And scared. And it started to happen.”
Poe squeezes his hand again, tugging him close until he can loop an arm around Finn’s waist. “Scared the hell out of Rey. Did you see her face?”
“Yes,” Finn leans closer to him, “I’ll talk to her. And Luke. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Poe agrees. “Maybe two days from now. 0900, kriff, that’s—I’m glad I landed in time.”
“Me too. I don’t want to know what might have happened,” if Poe hadn’t shown up, the fear might have gotten worse. It might have lashed out more than it did.
“You don’t have to wonder,” Poe says quietly, and drags Finn closer for a moment. They’re stopped in the middle of the hallway again, but Poe doesn’t seem to care, pressing his nose into Finn’s shoulder with both arms tight around his back. Finn breathes Poe’s name and his hands slide around Poe’s back.
“You remember?” he asks after a long moment, paying attention to the hard, solid lines of Poe’s body instead of the hard pit of fear still in his gut.
He feels when Poe sucks in a slow, shaking breath, feels the tightening of fingers in his sweat-damp shirt.
“I do,” Poe mumbles into his shoulder. “I think. I think I remember. Everything kinda slammed into me at once in there, when you did the,” he lets go of Finn with one hand, probably making some motion behind his back, “Force thing.”
“Right,” Finn pulls back to look at him, his eyes wet, “right, the Force thing. Can’t be mad about that if you remember.”
Poe’s eyes are red-rimmed, too, shiny at the corners with unshed tears. “I’m sorry I forgot you.”
“Don’t be,” Finn says, voice rough, “just, just be with me now. You meant everything you said? You’d, you’d leave with me?”
“Kriff yeah I’d leave with you,” Poe says immediately, his hands clenching into Finn’s shirt again like he’s afraid to let go. There’s still a hint of fear lurking in his eyes, and the tears spill over onto his cheeks when he blinks. “Wherever you wanna go. As long as you’re there, I don’t care where we fight from, or under what name.”
“I love you,” Finn says with a sureness he hasn’t felt since before the crash, since before when he told Poe that he wanted to marry him, “I love you, Poe Dameron. Wherever we go, we go together.”
“We go together,” Poe echoes softly. His voice cracks, but he’s smiling as his arms go tight around Finn. “I love you so much,” he breathes, kisses Finn wet-cheeked and grinning, and then murmurs against his lips without drawing back, “and if I ever forget who you are again, I’m going to need you to Force-slap me until I remember.”
“Won’t hesitate to do it,” Finn vows with a watery smile. “Now that I have you back, I’m not letting go again.”
Poe shakes his head. Finn can feel his laughter shaking through him, warm and real and close. “I'm not going anywhere.”