Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I know,” Finn murmurs. His eyes stray again to Poe, lying prone, his face scraped up, his chest rising and falling in shallow breath s. He’s worried. He’s always worried when Poe goes on a mission. He comes back scraped up more times than not.

Finn talked to him about it, once, after Poe defied orders to retrieve not just the contact they were after but also all of her friends and her family, left behind on the planet from which she was trying to escape. He’d gotten them all safely into his ship without a backup plan of his own, had BB take them home, and had to be extracted from a tiny moon with a massive chest wound and a broken leg.

He'd spent every moment he could at Poe’s side, just as he is now, but instead of letting the fear seep through, Finn threatened him, telling him that if he got himself killed, no one would miss him. Finn would sell his clothes, which take up four fifths of their shared closet, and he would give Poe's X-wing to Jess. Then Finn and BB-8 would live in together, without him, enjoying their vastly increased space-to-being ratio.

That only made Poe laugh, his eyes bright, and ask for Finn to come down to kiss him.

Now Poe’s eyes are shut, and have been since they got him back to base. Even if Finn wanted to threaten him, he hasn’t woken up to listen to it. 

It’s going on 20 hours and Finn’s nerves are frayed. 

This time, Poe was hurt on a mission that Finn ran. Poe directly disobeyed an order that Finn gave and ended up shot out of the sky by a TIE Fighter while Finn watched.

This time, anger battles with the fear in his gut.

“Distract me,” he tells BB, unable to look away from Poe’s battered face.

<Has Friend-Finn tried counting? Organics find that a useful tactic.> It tries, but even the burbling flow of binary sounds sad and small, like all those years back on Jakku when Finn had told it about Poe’s supposed death. 

“I dunno if counting’s gonna cut it,” Finn mutters, stroking gently over BB’s top. He sighs and slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I have work to do. I should, I should go. Or get my datapad, at least. I need to prepare to debrief on what went from with the mission.”

<Friend-Poe went wrong.> BB-8 sounds sour about it. 

A very small groan slips from Poe as his face scrunches.

Finn gasps and he’s right at Poe’s side again, hands closing around Poe’s, which lies limp near the edge of the bed. “Poe? Poe, can you hear me?”

Poe’s face twists, pain tugging at his features and curling his mouth as his eyes flutter open. His pupils are gigantic, black swallowing his eyes until only a thin ring of brown is visible around the edges. He blinks a few times, mouth open silently, then gasps and shoves himself up on shaking hands, trying to scramble as far away from Finn as possible.

“Whoa, hey, hey,” Finn lets go of him, moving back slightly. Poe has the same look in his eye that he does when he starts to panic. “You’re okay, you’re okay. We got you back to base. But you shouldn’t move s’much.”

“We,” Poe says, slowly. His voice crackles roughly, and his eyes flick this way and that, from Finn to the walls and monitors around them and back to Finn. For a moment his jaw works. “Which base.”

BB beeps from the floor, its top just visible over the side of the bed. <Friend-Poe, Friend-Poe! We are on Kali, base for the Resistance. Friend-Poe, I am happy that you are awake. Friend-Finn and BB-8 were upset when you got yourself hurt.>

“Yeah,” Finn says with a tired smile, not taking his eyes off of Poe, “what BB said.”

Poe’s face, instead of clearing up with understanding or maybe a smile, only tightens further. His shoulders are a single thrumming line of tension, half-bandaged from his crash. “Kali,” he says, slowly, painfully, like it hurts to talk. He blinks several times, wincing as he does. “Kali in the Outer Rim Kali? That’s…”

“That’s the one,” Finn affirms, his relief melting back into concern. “Poe, I think I should get the doctor. Don’t try to get up or anything, okay?”

Poe watches him, eyes dark and wide and full of confusion and pain. His breath darts in and out of his lungs too-fast, just barely on the verge of hyperventilating. He keeps looking down at BB and then back up, then down at his hands and back to BB and up again and his mouth works but he doesn’t say anything until, finally, small and weak, “My head is killing me.”

“Yeah, no wonder,” Finn murmurs, slowly getting to his feet. His fingers brush BB’s top again and he murmurs, “stay with him, okay?”

BB beeps indignantly, his sensor following Finn as he leaves the room. 

He can wait until after Kalonia gives Poe the O.K. to berate his boyfriend. 

“Your concussion is worse than I thought,” Kalonia says quietly, removing the light she’d been shining in Poe’s eyes. “I’m going to get you on some painkillers, and you’re going to have to stay awake so we make sure nothing worse happens.” She touches his shoulder comfortingly. “You’re going to be stuck here for a few days at least.”

“I,” Poe starts, still staring at her with those wide, dark eyes. It looks like he wants to say something, and his eyes keep flickering to BB, still steadfastly by his side. His throat works, silent and a little smoother now he’s had some water. “Run a check,” he finally says, too-quick, and then, smaller, “Please.” His eyes flick over to Finn, then back to Kalonia. “Just, just you.”

Kalonia pauses, then nods, “of course, Colonel.” She stands and gestures to Finn, who’s sitting by the wall, datapad in hand. Poe’s barely acknowledged him since he returned with Kalonia. 

Finn follows her just outside the room where she stops him, “You don’t have to wait. This will take some time.”

“Yeah, yes, okay,” Finn breathes, frown deepening. “Will you tell me the results?” 

Kalonia looks at him with something close to sympathy in her eyes. “You know I can’t do that, Finn.”

Finn sucks in a breath and drops his gaze. Usually, she doesn’t care. Usually, Poe asks that Finn stay right there because he wants Finn to know what’s going on with him. “Right. Right. I understand. Then, please tell me when it’s over.”

She nods and turns to walk away.

BB peeks out of the room with a questioning beep. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right here. If they kick you out too, you can sit with me,” Finn tells him, dropping down into one of the chairs in the hall. He’s more familiar with these halls than he would like. 

“I’m not a Colonel,” is the first thing out of Poe’s mouth when Kalonia sits back down beside him with pad in hand. It’s small, stupid, but Poe’s been stuck on it for however long she’s been gone, and he can’t tell that, exactly: his head feels hollow, scraped clean, like someone took a scalpel to the inside of his skull and pressed. 

Like someone reached into his head with searching fingers, probing, and took. 

He swallows against the rising panic.

Kalonia frowns. 

“Please state your name, rank, and the current year.” For a moment, all Poe can do is stare at her, his brain full of static. 

He’s not a Colonel. Poe can start there. Feeling shaky, he pushes himself up onto his elbows, ignoring the dizziness that washes over him.

“Commander,” he starts haltingly, “Poe Dameron. And the year is,” for a moment Poe has no idea and his throat goes tight but then it trips into his head like a warning light. He can take a guess, ”is 34 ABY. And we’re on Kali, not D’Qar—do you, how did I.” Too many questions. He can’t keep anything straight, can’t get the face of that man out of his head, warm and familiar and full of concern.

Poe doesn’t know him, though.

“Please tell me what just happened to you,” Kalonia requests. 

Poe sucks in a hard breath. He’ll have to debrief with Leia later anyway.

But BB was there. Wasn't it? 

BB was there beside his bed, peering up at him, and memory floods back into Poe in startled bursts like a flood smashing over a dam: sand, and the frozen shivering bolt of a blaster in midair, and the sick red lights in a sky, fear plunging over him like ice. He doesn't know why.

Searing pain bursts behind his eyes; he shoves his hands over his face and grits his teeth. “I, how did we,” he can’t follow the track of his own thoughts. The room spins around him, lurching to one side like a listing ship. Poe’s hands shift to correct before he remembers he’s in a medical bay he doesn’t recognize with his head splitting in two.

Hands are guiding him back down onto the bed, soothing. “We’ll finish the test after you’ve rested,” Kalonia’s voice comes from a distance, from the other end of a dark hallway. Poe whines, feeling pathetic. Distantly, he hears BB-8’s concerned flood of words, blending into the rush of sound in his head before everything goes black.

When Poe wakes up again, it’s to a dull throbbing ache in the back of his skull, radiating to his teeth and down his spine. He tries to open his eyes and immediately shuts them again, rolling over to push his face into his bandaged arm.

Bandaged. He doesn’t remember his arm getting hurt. Maybe he got shot.

He still doesn’t know where he is, because everyone keeps saying Kali and last he checked they were based on D’Qar.

Poe doesn’t know much right now.

At least, when he finally does manage to open his eyes without pain searing through him, Kalonia is there by his bedside, stolid and familiar.

Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, though. 

Poe’s never seen her do that.

He parts his lips, trying to struggle up to sitting, but he can’t make any sound and his breath comes too fast for him to actually get any words out.

Her hand lands on his chest, gentle but firm pressure holding him down on the bed. “Don’t move, Dameron. You’re safe, your squadron is safe, and I need you to lie still.”

Poe twists away immediately, trying to get out from under the restraints, away so they can’t—but it’s Kalonia, he realizes through the haze of fear, and quiets again. “I,” he starts, then swallows and tries again in a less shaky voice. “I’m okay. How did, when can I debrief? How am I here?”

“You were injured on a mission to Yavin 4,” Kalonia says, matter-of-factly, removing her hand from his chest. “You lost oxygen when entering the atmosphere. Jessika Pava and Temmin Wexley retrieved you. They will debrief the mission.” Her eyes flick over his face, “anything else?”

Confusion sweeps coldly through Poe, tightening into his lungs like claws. His fear must show on his face, because Kalonia moves closer, concern flickering through her eyes. 

“Your hair is up,” he says weakly. 

“It is,” Kalonia affirms. Her expression doesn’t change. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“You never wear your hair up,” Poe continues. His voice sounds high and reedy even to his own ears. He curls his hands back into the sheets, on a bed, not held down. Kalonia’s form swims in his vision. The halo of light around her recedes a bit. “Last,” he has to swallow around his suddenly-dry throat, push through, damn it, he can do this later when he knows all the facts, “last I checked," he has to think again, and everything is blurry. He was in his ship, maybe, or maybe he was strapped to that cold metal table waiting for death in the wake of his failure. "I was on some First Order ship. The, the,” the name is on the tip of his tongue, there, but it slips away before he can catch it and he curses. “Fuck. Big one, a Star Destroyer, they got me on Jakku. The map—” he tries again to sit up, gasping. “They have the map, I gotta—”

“We have the map,” Kalonia assures him, taking notes on her data pad, “lie back down, Dameron.” 

“This can’t be good,” Poe says in a wavering voice, trying to make a joke, only he can’t summon a smile to match.

Kalonia shakes her head. “This isn’t going to be easy to hear, but I believe that you have an acute case of amnesia, possibly brought on by loss of oxygen. The current year is ABY 38.”

She’s lying.

Testing him or something, to see if he really did lose his memory along with the rest of his head from all that time Kylo Ren spent poking around in there, even though Poe will be the first to admit that everything gets fuzzy at the end there: he remembers hearing screaming, and then figuring out the screaming was coming from him, and then nothing at all. 

But Kalonia doesn’t do that kind of thing, and she’s looking at him with familiar eyes with an unfamiliar medical array spread out behind her, and Poe can’t help but believe her.

As much as he doesn’t want to.

“38,” he repeats, faintly. Four years’ worth of memories, apparently wiped from his head from a freak accident on—

Poe’s eyes go wide. He does not lie back down. “You said Yavin 4.”

Kalonia nods, “It was captured by the First Order two years ago. You were there on a mission, I don’t know the details. Finn can tell you more.”

“Finn?” Poe asks. Something clenches in him at the name, but he doesn’t know why. He’s never met anyone named Finn.

The rest of what she just said slowly, slowly filters into his head. “Wait. Yavin, Yavin 4? My dad? Is he okay?”

“If I recall correctly, yes. He and most of the civilians were able to evacuate,” Kalonia picks up her comm, “you’re going to have questions that I can’t answer. I need to keep you here to run further tests, but I can call for someone who can help. Would you prefer Finn or one of your squad?”

That name again. “I don’t know a Finn.”

Kalonia shoots him a sharp look and takes another note. “I see. I’ll be back soon. Stay in bed, press the button if you need anything. You know the drill.”

Poe gives her a tiny, weak smile that he doesn’t feel. “Yeah. I do.” 

At least he knows that much. 

It’s been nearly an hour and Finn hasn’t heard anything. Kalonia knows him, knows how close they are, that Poe would want him there.

Only Poe looked at him as if he didn’t know him. It’s shock. Or a concussion. Something to addle Poe enough that he doesn’t acknowledge Finn like he usually would.

“Major,” a loud voice booms down the hall. Finn glances up and his heart sinks. Captain Tye Granta walks toward him with his thudding footsteps, “what are you doing here? The debrief should be happening about now.”

“Yes, sir,” Finn says softly, schooling his expression into something neutral, “Colonel Dameron was injured.”

“And? He’s alive. Now get,” Tye waves a large hand on Finn, who stays where he is, fists curling on his knees.

“The General will understand,” Finn manages to keep his voice mostly even, leveling his gaze with Tye’s.

“The General, maybe. The Admirals?” Tye laughs and walks past Finn. “Good luck.”

Tye’s been cold to Finn from the beginning: it’s nothing new . Even Poe doesn’t like him very much, and Poe makes it a point to like almost everyone he encounters unless they’re trying to kill him. He’s told Finn that many, many times over the years.

And Finn is missing the debrief to sit here uselessly outside Medical , waiting for any news about Poe even though he should be in there by Poe’s side making sure he’s alright. 

Tye’s footsteps fade off into the distance, leaving Finn in the heavy silence of his own thoughts and the generators powering Medical. 

All at once, a tiny whirring blur darts out of the door so fast that it nearly slams into the wall opposite. BB-8 corrects and swerves toward Finn at the last second, ramming into his knees. <Friend-Poe is broken!>

Finn jerks, frowning at BB-8. “What?” He turns around and walking with BB-8 toward the private rooms in medical. “BB, he’s broken? What do you mean?”

<Friend-Poe does not recall the current year or his current rank!> BB is practically screeching, keeping itself so close to Finn it nearly trips him a couple times.

Kalonia is there waiting for him, staring down at BB with a quirked brow. “I take it you told him.” She doesn’t sound nearly as upset as she could.

“Yeah, it did,” Finn breathes, staring at her, confusion buzzing in his gut. “He doesn’t remember? Anything?”

“He couldn’t tell me anything more than his name, rank, and what he thought was the current year,” Kalonia says softly. “I can’t tell you any more than that. He’s asleep again now, and I recommend that you go to sleep as well. You’ve been here too long.”

“Uh, yes. I have to go debrief with the Admirals,” Finn can’t quite keep a grimace off his face. “Thank you, doctor. I know he’s in the best hands here.”

Sympathy flashes over the doctor’s face. She rests a hand briefly on his shoulder. “Don’t let them keep you too long. I know you’ve been here since they brought him in.”

“But he’s,” Finn starts, then he sucks in a breath and nods. “Right. Right, I,” swallowing hard, he asks, “will you comm me when he wakes up?”

“Right away,” Kalonia promises quietly as her hand slips off his shoulder. “Get some rest as soon as you can, please. You too, BB-8, I see that power light flashing.”

<BB-8 is fine and will stay with Friend-Poe!> BB argues immediately. 

“Come on, BB,” Finn murmurs, holding out his hand for the droid. “I’ll bring your charging pad here when I come back, alright?”

BB’s dome swivels toward the door, then back to Finn, and then to the door again—it’s unclear whether Poe picked it up from it or it from Poe, but they both do it. <Friend-Finn needs to attend the debriefi ng .> it acknowledges softly. <We will be back.>

Finn smiles sadly and nods to Kalonia. “Thanks. I know you’ll take care of him. I don’t need to warn you that he’s not gonna stay still for long.”

“No, he won’t.” Kalonia says with a hint of a dry smile. “We can handle Colonel Dameron. Don’t worry.” 

They’re more than halfway through the mission report by the time Finn makes it to the command wing of the base.

All eyes turn to him when he pushes open the door, a current of annoyance flickering through the room like electricity.

“Major Finn. So kind of you to finally join us,” Commander Neelin says sharply, frowning at him. “This session started nearly an hour ago.”

“Apologies, Commander,” Finn says in a quiet voice. He falls into his position around the holo. “Please, continue.”

Neelin glares at him for a moment longer before launching back into her account of the mission planning, full of entirely too much detail as usual. Finn can feel eyes on him. An undercurrent of hissing whispers runs under Neelin’s voice.

“And that, of course, is when Major Finn ordered Black Squadron to engage with the oncoming TIE Fighters,” Neelin says, pointedly not acknowledging Finn. His hands curl at his sides.

“Commander,” he cuts in, “I ordered Black Squadron away from the fight. I evaluated that the fight was not one we could win.”

“Either that is a lie, or Black Squadron directly disobeyed the orders they were given.” Neelin says coolly. Her face betrays exactly which option she thinks is more likely.

Finn presses his lips shut. With a short nod, he says, “I sent the order. I’ll get to the bottom of where this went wrong.”

Neelin narrows her eyes. “Captain Deming will assist you. He isn’t compromised by the mission itself and should be able to provide valuable insight.”

“Yes, sir,” Finn intones evenly, lowering his eyes to look at the holo of Yavin 4 hovering in the center of the circle. It turns slowly, with pinpricks of red light showing where Poe crashed surrounded by a spiderweb of thin red lines: flight vectors, possible and confirmed First Order-owned outposts. The glowing orange dots for possible have grown exponentially since the mission.

“I’d be happy to assist, Commander.” Captain Deming says coolly from his place beside Neelin. He’s technically too low of a rank to be in the meeting at all, but Neelin’s been training him in leadership and strategy. In most of the tactics meetings lately Deming has hung around the edges like a tall, silent shadow.

His eyes rest on Finn as the discussion shifts back in the granular details: locations of potential outposts on Yavin 4, whether or not they should try again.

They’re discussing the fallout of a mission that Finn led, but he can’t pay attention. Instead, he scribbles on his datapad notes about Poe, what he knows about his condition, about the crash. It’s right next to the doodles he drew months ago of the ring he wants to give to Poe, the simple band with the Resistance’s symbol on the inside, for how they met, how they grew, and how they loved.

“Major Finn,” Akbar’s guttural voice says and Finn suppresses a flinch, looking up at him. “Do you have anything further to add?”

Finn straightens up, his chest tight. “Yes, sir. Despite the losses, we achieved our goal, retrieving some of the last refugees from Yavin 4 and gaining vital intelligence about the First Order’s purpose on the planet. I agree with assessment that this was a morale move more than most things."

“Major Finn failed to mention one crucial part of the failure of his mission,” Neelin says from opposite Finn in her precise, nasal voice. 

“Commander Neelin,” Finn says politely, ceding the floor to her. He picks up his stylus and forces himself to pay attention.

She steps up silently, standing a little taller, and waits until everyone’s attention is on her again to speak.

“First Order troops appeared to be waiting for Black Squadron and the transport ship. We knew there would be resistance: it is an occupied planet, but this was a coordinated counterattack commencing almost immediately. The Yavin mission was one of the most covert we’ve undertaken, which is why Black Squadron was chosen for the task.”

She’s only repeating back facts they already know, but the ton of her voice sets off whispers around the dark room.

Finn’s breath sticks in his throat.

“Are you suggesting,” Admiral Akbar says in his slow voice, “that the First Order did not attack in reaction, but knew exactly when Black Squadron would arrive?”

“As soon as they broke into the atmosphere, they were swarmed. Colonel Dameron was shot down in mere minutes.” Neelin says with a sideways glance at Finn. “Somehow, they knew we were coming.”

She stares directly at Finn as she says it all.

Finn stares back, brows creasing.

“How could they have known?” Captain Deming asks in a hush.

Neelin’s large, pale eyes flash. “There are a few ways. They could be intercepting our transmissions. They could be planning better than we are. They could be getting information another way.” Again, she looks at Finn.

“What are you implying, Commander?” Finn asks, voice low.

“Are you saying that Major Finn is feeding information to the First Order?” Admiral Statura asks quietly. 

Commander Neelin tilts her head up, meeting Finn’s eyes. “I’m suggesting that there is a possibility someone in our ranks, perhaps with a proved connection to both that mission and the First Order—someone who had been urging us to undertake that very mission for months, at our own risk, who was in charge of the planning and who is very close to all of Black Squadron—may have tipped off the First Order.”

The whispers set off all over again, hissing around the room like insects. It seems like everyone is watching Finn, a few with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“Commander,” Admiral Statura says firmly, but his voice goes ignored in the rising noise. Frowning, he tries one more time, then sighs and stands up. “Commander!” 

Everyone goes quiet at once, eyes on the Admiral instead of Finn. Still frowning, he glances slowly around the room, making sure all attention is focused. “We will get nowhere by arguing. Without all the facts, we can do nothing. I suggest we compile the full report with the help of Major Finn and Captain Deming. We need Colonel Dameron’s account as well.” He looks at Finn, something like sympathy on his face. “What is Colonel Dameron’s status at the moment?”

“Physically, he’s doing well,” Finn says quietly, “however, he’s experiencing memory problems. He doesn’t remember the mission.”

The whispers start up again all at once, cut through with sharper voices.

Neelin narrows her eyes at him from across the room. “That’s certainly convenient.”

“I don’t agree,” Finn levels her with his own glare, “Colonel Dameron’s condition will improve. He will remember shortly.”

“And I’m sure his testimony will be enlightening and impartial,” Neelin says coolly, “but since, as of now, we have nothing but your word to go on, we will need to conduct a full investigation.”

A murmur of agreement rises behind her. Admiral Statura stands, moving closer. 

“Then, unless there is anything else to report, we’re done here. Everyone is dismissed.”

Finn lets out a breath and stands. He could have defended himself better, given more proof, but his heart and his mind are with Poe. To the fact that Poe doesn’t remember him. That the future they planned together is suddenly gone, the idea held on to only be Finn himself. And it doesn’t feel real. His entire chosen life, his life after the First Order, he’s shared everything with Poe. Poe was there from the beginning, Poe gave him his name. And now it’s gone, erased from existence along with the last four years of Poe’s life.

Brows furrowed, Finn leaves the room and walks slowly back to his and Poe’s room. If Poe still wants to share his room.

He imagines for a second how he would feel if he found out that he shared a bed with someone he doesn’t remember. With a grimace, Finn decides to make the room back into what it was before he moved in.  

Snap and Jess converge on Finn before he can make it back to their wing, coming from the direction of Medical with pale faces and worried frowns set hard on their mouths. 

“Where’ve you been?” Jess demands as soon as they get close enough.

“Debrief,” Finn says quietly, the expressions on their faces making his heart sink further. “How is he?”

Snap frowns. “Debrief? Already? That’s… quick.”

“They’ve been impatient with this whole thing,” Jess shakes her head, her eyes narrowed. “Kalonia wanted us to tell you he’s awake, if you wanted to visit. How’d it go?”

“Not good,” Finn shakes his head, “I’m glad you two are alright. And I’ll need your help putting together the whole story of what happened. But, yeah, uh, let’s see Poe first. If. He still doesn’t remember?”

Jess’ face falls. “Four years, gone.” she confirms quietly. “We’ve already seen him. He’s pretty upset. You know Poe.” She hesitates, searching Finn’s face, then reaches up to wrap both arms around Finn’s shoulders, tugging him down to her level. 

“Kalonia said memory loss usually fixes itself,” Snap offers in a soft voice. He sounds nearly as upset as Finn. 

Finn turns into Jess’ embrace, tucking his head against her neck. She , like Rey, usually avoids too much physical contact. That almost makes it worse: she’s worried about Poe, and about him.

“Did he seem okay?” Finn asks, voice muffled in her jacket, “aside from, from his memory. Is he okay?”

“He was up and moving,” Snap says, but they all know the unspoken there: that doesn’t mean shit. Poe could have two broken legs and cracked ribs and still be up and trying to plan missions. “Nothing big though. A bit of swelling in his stupid head, fractured arm, a cracked rib, but other than that,” and the memory loss, he doesn’t say, though they can all hear it in the spaces between his words, “he’s damn lucky.”

Finn’s arm slips around Jess’ waist, holding her close. He takes a deep, steadying breath. “He’s always been lucky.”

Jess nods mutely. It’s strange to hear her so quiet: Jess’ usual brand of worry is to bully whoever is hurt into accepting whatever treatment she dreams up for them. The first time Finn had gotten a bad viral infection, even after he’d been cleared from Medical she’d shoved him into a bed and force-fed him a tea from her homeworld, then glared at him every time he tried to get up.

Finn hugs her tighter for a second before he pulls back, steadying himself. “Will that freak him out too much? Even if I just go, go bring BB to him?”

“I dunno that he can get much more freaked out than he is right now,” Jess says.

Snap shifts a little closer in front of him, his presence steadying. “Figure you’ll help more than anything,” he says quietly. 

“I hope so,” Finn breathes, pushing himself up. “I’ll let you know how this goes,” he gives them a tiny smile, stepping over the bench and wending his way through the crowded mess hall. He barely ate, has barely eaten since Poe was injured, and seeing Poe might help with that. Seeing Poe usually helps. Poe has been his partner for three years, the solid presence next to him through everything. It aches, knowing that they had something, and now he’s the only bearer of those memories, keeping their relationship alive through the force of his memory.

He collects BB-8 and the charging pad, as promised, and steels himself before they enter medical. Glancing down at BB, he smiles weakly. “You’re gonna take care of him for me, right, buddy?”

BB-8 gives him an offended beep meaning, roughly, Obviously! and nudges hard at Finn’s legs.

“Right, right,” Finn laughs, and it sounds forced even to his own ears. Slowly, he enters medical, giving Kalonia a quick smile. She nods to him, but doesn’t say anything as she continues measuring some bright blue liquid.

Finn avoids the other doctors and nurses, even though he knows all of them, and worked with them for a short period during his recovery all those years ago. He can’t talk to anyone right now without his voice breaking, his emotions too close to the surface when Poe is concerned.

Quietly, he knocks on the door to Poe’s room, but before Poe has the chance to answer, BB barrels through, beeping loudly, <Friend-Poe! You remember BB-8. BB-8 will ensure this.>

“I remember you, buddy; how could I forget? I hear you’re kind of a hero these days,” Poe’s voice sounds a lot stronger than it did the first time, but it’s still small and soft and tired, like it is when he’s just woken up and doesn’t quite have his head on straight.

<BB-8 is a hero. BB-8 has the medal to prove it> the droid seems to puff up, rolling back and forth in its excitement. <Friend-Poe remembers BB-8. Good. Friend-Finn was worried.> BB-8 turns its sensor to look at Finn, hovering in the doorway.

“Friend, huh?” Poe asks in that same soft voice, following its gaze up to Finn.

There’s a small smile on his face, but it’s his default smile: the one he uses when he’s meeting someone new, in a weird situation and trying to look friendly. 

Finn steps into the room and sets the charging pad down, plugging it in. “BB-8 can stay with you, now,” he says quietly. That smile hurts, aches down to his core, but this isn’t about him. This is about Poe, who’s hurt and who can’t remember anything past Jakku. It cuts deep into his heart to know that Poe forgot everything, every moment that he knew Finn, cut off right before they met.

“I get the impression I’m supposed to know who you are,” Poe says in a dry voice. He looks over Finn, eyes slipping from his eyes to his mouth and down in a look Finn’s seen from him a thousand times. His smile quirks up a bit when he meets Finn’s eyes. Finn’s breath catches, frozen in place. He can’t help a weak smile in return.

“Well, yeah. We’re, I’m your,” his tongue fumbles with the words. Partner , the word they’ve used for one another for years, seems t o o ambiguous now. Partners in work, in life, in love. It means too much. 

Instead, he takes a breath and drops down in the chair by Poe’s bed, holding out his hand. “I’m Finn.”

At least Poe is sitting up now, with bandages around his head pressing some of his wild hair flat to his face—it’s been getting long—and others winding around his shoulder, his ribs.

He shakes Finn’s hand firmly, warmly as always, and Finn can’t be imagining the way Poe’s fingers linger at his wrist as he pulls his hand free. “Good to meet you, Finn. Uh,” nervousness flickers suddenly over his face. He glances down Finn’s chest again, lingering there too before he meets Finn’s eyes. His own are dark with pain, but no longer dilated and foggy. “Really seems like I should remember someone like you.”

Finn smiles, small and sweet. His fingers shift so he’s holding Poe’s hand in his own. “I know you would if you could,” Finn says gently, and he tries to tamp down on the hope swelling in his chest.

“Bet your ass I would,” Poe laughs. It’s a little strained, a little tired, but he doesn’t pull away from Finn, searching over his face. “Kalonia’s keeping me in the dark for now.” The expression on his face, twisting and bitter, says all it needs to about that.

Finn nods, looking down at Poe’s hand in his. An IV drip is connected to Poe’s wrist. “Yeah, I’m not supposed to tell you too many details. We don’t want to confuse your brain anymore. But I can try to answer whatever questions you have. We, we know each other pretty well.” It’s an understatement and tastes sour on his tongue.

Poe, strangely, smiles sweetly at him and squeezes Finn’s hand. “That’s a relief, man, thank you. Can you, uh. Can you fill me in on the whole,” hesitating, he glances down at BB-8, who trills inquiringly, then back up at Finn, “what happened after I blacked out on that Star Destroyer? I mean, obviously BB’s back. My head's all over the place, though. I swear I remember coming back, but.”

“Oh,” Finn’s eyes skate to BB as well, and his lungs feel tight. “Right. That, that’s when we met, actually. You and I got off the Finalizer together. You flew us out of there, but we crashed back on Jakku, ‘cause you had to go get BB. We were separated, and you got a ride off-planet with a smuggler. I managed to find BB, and Rey. You don’t know Rey either, huh,” Finn’s eyes flick back to Poe, “Rey is a Jedi. She trains with Master Skywalker. She, BB, and I got off Jakku. We got BB back to you, with the map to Skywalker and everything.”

Poe’s eyes are very wide by the end of the story, wrapped up in what Finn is saying. He keeps looking down at BB, at his own hands, at the thin IV line, like he’s trying to place all these things he doesn’t remember happening. “So,” he says, very slowly, sucking in a breath, “First Order status: still not down, if they have Yavin 4. Right?”

“Right. We stalled them for a while, but they’re too big. They, they. You know your dad’s okay, right?” Finn holds his hand tighter, mostly for his own benefit.

“Dad,” Poe repeats in a tiny voice, eyes even wider. “Kalonia said she thought he was, where is he, what’s he doing? Is the tree okay?”

“He resettled, on a planet not that far from here,” Finn says gently, “the tree might still be there. We’re not really sure, but your dad got a cutting from it to plant on the new planet, and one for you too. It’s planted outside the base.” Finn’s thumb strokes over Poe’s hand soothingly, the way that Poe needs when he’s about to panic, when Finn can’t draw him close, but still wants to be near. Poe does the same for him when everything is too much.

Usually.

Poe drags in another quaking breath, clearly trying to calm himself down again. “Alright. Alright, that’s—that’s good. Uh,” he glances down at the bed, brows furrowed, then snorts and meets Finn’s eyes again. “Any other bombshells? Just drop ‘em on me all at once. Easier that way.”

“Uh,” Finn smiles and shifts a little closer. “Snap and Karé finally got married last year. You were in the wedding party.”

“About damn time,” Poe snorts. Maybe that news steadies him a little, because the tense set to his shoulders relaxes a bit. He still looks tired, with heavy bags under his eyes and an unfocused haze over his expression, but at least he’s no longer looking at Finn like he wants to run away. 

Actually, he’s looking at Finn with warmth and curiosity. “What about you, buddy? You married or anything?”

Finn’s caught in his gaze, and it almost feels like Poe knows him. But if Poe knew him, he wouldn’t be asking that question. That question that they’ve talked about, on and off for a few months, that he finally asked Poe straight out after one particularly grueling mission that left him exhausted after not sleeping for three days and bruised all over from a horrible landing. He’d taken Poe in his arms and told him, without any couching it, that he wants to be with him forever. Poe laughed and told him he’s known the same since about three months before kissing Finn for the first time.

“Not yet,” he finally says, barely above a whisper. But he will be, when the war is over. Or when they finally give up and elope. He smiles, remembering Poe’s frequent threats to take him away to some planet in the Outer Rim and get married without all the ceremony. Finn knows he’d never actually want that: Poe wants his dad there, his friends, his squadron.

Poe squeezes his hand just once before tugging it free. “So, obviously BB likes you. BB doesn’t like just anyone, y’know.”

“BB shocked me the first time we met,” Finn laughs, shooting the droid a look. BB whirs innocently, rocking back on its ball. Its watching Finn intently, as it asking him to say something more. Finn shakes his head shortly. Subtly, BB-8 exposes the same little shock-prong it had used on Jakku, whirring at him.

“Don’t threaten him,” Poe laughs, then stops with a wince and a rough cough that shakes his ribs. “Man, do I feel like the wrong end of a bantha. Remind me not to crash again anytime soon.”

<Friend-Poe should stop getting into crashes permanently> BB-8 informs him almost huffily. Poe’s laugh this time is stifled by a yawn. 

“What are the odds, y’think, of me getting outta here any time soon? I hate medical.”

“No, really?” Finn snorts, sitting back. He watches Poe, heart aching. Finn wants to touch him, to push his hair back from his face, to kiss him and let him know he’s safe. He doesn’t do any of those things, hands neatly in his lap. “I’ll put in a good word to Kalonia, but you’re stuck here until she decides. It’s not even better in your fancy officer room?” Finn gestures at the private room around them, small and cramped, but decidedly not in the main room.

“So that’s not really a secret,” Poe drawls with an amused light in his eyes. “Alright, alright, it’s better in the fancy private room. Colonel, huh? What’d I do to deserve that?”

“That is a real story,” Finn smiles, then it fades slightly. “You led the fleet that took out Star Killer base, the First Order’s super weapon.”

Poe’s expression flickers with something, then drops into a frown. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Right. Super weapon. You,” he stares at Finn for a long moment, eyes tracing slow over Finn’s face like he’s trying to remember, but the light of recognition is still absent from his eyes. “You know a lot about me.”

“I, uh,” Finn’s breath catches and he tries to think of an innocent lie, something that could explain why Finn knows what only the man you’ve been living with for three years, or a stalker, would know. Nothing comes to mind. “We live together,” he finishes lamely.

Poe blinks at him. “Cramped for space even on a new fancy base, huh?”

“Sure,” Finn mutters. BB is staring at him and he waves a hand at the droid, who only rolls closer to him, its sensor zooming in on Finn’s face. Finn nudges it with his foot.

<BB-8 finds there is plenty of available space on the Kali base.> It beeps back at him, tilting its head.

“Then how come you live with us?” Finn shoots back, his arms crossing over his chest.

<BB-8 wishes to make sure Friend-Finn and Friend-Poe are safe since you will not do it yourselves> BB informs him archly, making Poe laugh on the bed. 

“That’s BB for you. Taking responsibility for everything. Thanks for bringing its charging pad, by the way.” He’s watching Finn again. “BB doesn’t trust a lot of people with it.”

“I know,” Finn rolls his eyes, waving at BB when it gets too close, encroaching on Finn’s space. “I had to have one of the techs get it before a, uh, a trip once and BB shocked them all the way back to the hangar.”

That surprises a bright, easy laugh out of Poe, the kind that fills up the whole space around him that Finn is pretty much the best at dragging out of him. “BB-8, who taught you manners? Come on.”

<Friend-Poe taught BB-8 everything about manners. Friend-Poe is very rude to not remember Friend-Finn.> BB responds tartly, and very subtly zaps Finn’s calf.

Finn yelps and slaps it away. “BB! Come on, droid,” he mutters. “I’ve tried to teach it better, but you ruined it young.”

“Hey, I had nothing to do with BB’s personality, that’s all up to it,” Poe laughs. It’s an easier sound than his rough laughter of before. “Good luck getting BB to do anything it doesn’t want to do.” His eyes are so warm when he watches Finn, so bright and full of something it’s hard to look at. “Man, thanks for staying down here with me.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Finn smiles back at him, “you need anything, tell BB and it’ll know where to find me. And I mean the good stuff, not just the food you get here. I heard they’re serving Yavinese stew tonight.”

Poe looks very longingly at the door. “The real kind?”

“As close as you can get,” Finn smiles, dropping forward with his elbows on his knees. He waves BB away again when it whines at him.

“You know it’s supposed to be really good for injuries,” Poe tells him in his most serious voice, which almost always means he’s lying to Finn’s face.

Finn’s lips twitch. “You know, I’ve heard that,” he says, nodding seriously. His eyes are bright and he chances a wink at Poe. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You are the best,” Poe tells him fervently. “I feel like shit right now.” And he really must, if he’s saying that out loud without any of his usual bluster and bravado. 

<Friend-Poe should rest!> BB-8 trills loudly, knocking into the side of the bed.

Poe smiles ruefully. “Not gonna get a lot of sleep tonight. Kalonia has to wake me up every couple hours. Oh—” he glances up suddenly. “I crashed."

“Yeah, you did,” Finn pushes himself up and moves to the edge of Poe’s bed, “um, you’re not going to like this. When you went down, your X-wing was damaged. We couldn’t recover any of it.”

Poe’s smile drops all at once. “She’s still there? On Yavin?”

“Yeah, she should be. I don’t think the First Order knows exactly where you fell, and I don’t think they wanted your ship,” Finn frowns, “I bet we could salvage her, if we could get back to Yavin.”

“Yeah,” hope lights up Poe’s eyes as he shifts a little closer to Finn, his face pinched with pain. There are painkillers, but knowing Poe he’s been avoiding them. “You think we could get her back? If she’s not that bad off we could land and fix her up right there, I know my dad’s place has all the tools for Mom’s A-wing.”

“We’ll have to see. The First Order has a large presence there,” Finn says softly, but in light of the hope in Poe’s face, he has to relent. “But, yeah, I bet we could.”

“Good,” Poe says with obvious relief in his voice. “Good. Okay. Soon as I get outta here. Was any of the data from the crash recorded? BB and I can work on some simulations—”

<Friend-Poe is going to rest.> BB-8 scolds, rolling backwards from the bed, making Poe laugh ruefully.

“Yeah, alright,” he relents, and settles back against the pillows with a soft sigh. “Whenever I get out of here.”

Finn’s hand reaches out for him, but he retracts it before he touches Poe. He wants to pull Poe close and reassure him that everything will be okay. “I have the logs. I’ll see what I can find. Get some rest, okay?”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Poe drawls as he flops back into his pillows. 

“Yeah, right,” Finn laughs, and his eyes flick over Poe’s face again, the tired lines and soft eyes, before he turns away, fingers brushing over BB’s top. “You take care of him.”

<BB-8 will not rest until Friend-Poe does!> BB announces, then rolls a few feet after Finn. <Friend-Finn should also rest, and seek comfort with other friends.>

“Thanks, buddy,” Finn murmurs, smiling down at it. BB-8 trills back, zooming in on Finn’s face again. When it seems to be assured that he will in fact go rest, it nods once and goes back to wait by Poe’s bedside.

“Finn,” Poe calls just before he makes it out the door. “What is it you do, anyway?

“Oh,” Finn pauses and turns back to him, fingers gripping the door. “A little of everything. Right now, I’m working with the tacticians. I, I helped plan that mission to Yavin. I’m sorry that it led to, to this.”

“You can’t plan everything,” Poe tells him quietly, tilting his head. He watches Finn for a moment longer before he breaks out into a massive yawn and groans. “Alright, BB, buddy, you were right. The faster I nap the faster I’m outta here, huh? If there really is Yavinese stew I want in on that, invalid or no.”

Finn shoots him a quick smile and ducks out. As soon as the door shuts, he collapses against the wall and slides down it, his head in his hands.