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On a rare day when his time was mostly free, Stormtrooper FN-2187 strolled through the hallways of Starkiller Base, planning to meet up with a couple of his friends and play card games in their dorm. Screams and wails sounded from a room that was fairly far off, but Eight-Seven paid these no mind. It was a fairly tense time, and obviously, Master Ren was going to be torturing some people. Throughout his twenty-three years on Starkiller, he had always been taught to turn a blind eye.
Eight-Seven kept walking – but no, he wasn’t walking, he was running, trying to let the pounding of his feet drown out the hurried beating of his heart. This torture was on a level that he had never experienced before – clearly, whoever was being tortured was being tortured hard. He had done something bad.
That was what Captain Phasma had said when the Stormtroopers were little and asked her why people were being tortured. They had done something bad.
But for some reason, Eight-Seven’s mind was rebelling against this instinct. Something strange was compelling him to save the man – it sounded like a man. Before he could change his mind, or before any of his fellow Stormtroopers could change it for him, he turned back around and ran in the sounds’ direction.
When he arrived at the room, he pressed his body against the wall and listened in. It sounded as if Master Ren, General Hux, and the unfamiliar man whose voice he had heard were all in there, voices overlapping in their anger.
“You’re no sanitation worker,” Ren hissed, evidently about to throw one of his infamous tantrums. “You’re a spy. And I don’t like spies.”
“I am a sanitation worker!” the unfamiliar man protested, voice evidently on the verge of tears. “My credentials haven’t been properly entered in yet. Please help me! Please!”
Eight-Seven’s hand clenched into a fist as he turned his head around to peek in. The man was bleeding, and dark bruises dotted his face. If this was because of missing credentials, then it was rather harsh treatment, even for the First Order. But if it was something else…
“We have proof that you’re a pilot with the Resistance, Poe Dameron. It’s no use arguing. You must either submit to us or be killed.”
The Resistance. Eight-Seven had been taught about the Resistance. Taught that they were horrible people who fought against the good First Order, but never taught why.
His mind flashed back, spinning frantically, thinking about everything he had seen. Death, torture, and violence all found a new home in his mind, forcing tears out of his eyes and pain into his body. All of that had been the First Order. All of that was a hunger for power. All of that was pure, pure sadism.
How could anyone be a bad person for fighting against that?
Eight-Seven unbuckled his uniform and shoved it into a closet before stepping into the room, eyes and mouth wide open in pretend shock.
“He’s not with the Resistance!” he exclaimed, mind racing with a supposed backstory. “That’s my husband! We’re just regular villagers who wanted to fool around. You know, break into the FO. For fun. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things so difficult.”
Eight-Seven’s heart pounded. In the unlikely event that either Ren or Hux recognized him as a Stormtrooper, then everything would quickly go downhill.
“Poe Dameron is his twin,” Eight-Seven continued. “We’re both very ashamed of him. But this is Oscar Fertson. I’m his husband John Fertson. Please let us go.”
Hux’s eyebrows lowered. “He was the only intruder we noticed. You must have been very secret.”
“I was, sir. I found Stormtrooper armor in a closet and dressed up as one. Please, sir. Please let us go.”
“Hmm.”
Ren was silent, but Hux looked between Eight-Seven and Poe and thought.
“Well, I don’t recognize you as a member of the Resistance. I see no reason why your story is untrue. I apologize, Oscar and John. I will order one of our pilots to give you a flight back to your home planet. What is it?”
“Jakku,” Poe burst out. “We live on Jakku.”
“Ah. I remember us stopping there recently. Head to the location where our ships are for further instructions.”
“Thank you,” Eight-Seven said, wrapping an arm around Poe. “Thank you so much.”
“Of course.”
Once they were out of earshot, Poe whispered in Eight-Seven’s ear.
“Thanks for getting me out of that. I was beginning to think that no one would. Who are you?”
“My name is FN-2187.”
“FN-what? That can’t be your name.”
“I’m a Stormtrooper. It’s the only name I ever got.”
“That’s a dumb name. I’m calling you Finn now.”
Finn smiled. “I like it.”
“Thanks.”
“So, are you really a Resistance pilot?”
“Yep. I was sent on a reconnaissance mission into the First Order to gather information. But, as you can see, it didn’t really work out.”
“Yeah.”
Poe grinned. “Well, I won’t get information now, but at least I’m safe. We can regroup to try again later.”
“Oh, sorry,” Finn said. “I really screwed you over, didn’t I?”
“Kind of, I guess. But my life matters more than my information, if I do say so myself. Thank you for saving it, husband.”
Finn blushed. Poe was such a beautiful man that the descriptor of husband was the first one that came to mind.
“I’ll take you back to the Resistance if you like. I’d love for you to meet my friends. And you seemed pretty willing to help me out.”
“I think I’d like that very much.”
Poe clutched his hand. They had arrived at the pilot base and now went to the man who looked as if he were waiting for them.
“John and Oscar Fertson, am I right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Say, Oscar, Captain Phasma tells me that one of our sanitation Stormtroopers mysteriously disappeared. We have a job position open. Would you like to take it? Or you, John, I guess.”
Poe and Finn looked at each other.
“I’ll take it,” Poe said. “Can you take my husband back to Jakku like we planned? He’ll wait for me there.”
The man nodded. “’Course I can do that. Oscar, wait here while another pilot takes you to Captain Phasma to explain the situation. John, come with me and sit in the backseat.”
Finn hugged Poe tightly and pressed his head on his chin.
“Good luck, Oscar.”
“Good luck to you too, John.”
They turned around and parted ways. Finn sat in the backseat of the ship and stared longingly at Poe’s retreating form.
They had both gotten what they wanted in the end: Finn his freedom and Poe a spot to spy in the First Order. But now, the most likely scenario was that they would never see each other again.
That shouldn’t have mattered. But in its own strange way, it mattered very, very much.
“Welcome to the base, Rey and Finn. Let me introduce you to everyone.”
Finn looked up at General Organa-Solo and smiled gratefully. It was only fitting that he had found his way back to the Resistance, just as Poe had planned for him to. Even if it wasn’t the way that either of them had expected, it was still the reality.
“Say, Finn,” the General said, stopping him with a wave of her hand. “Were you by any chance formerly a Stormtrooper?”
“I was,” Finn confessed. “Why do you ask?”
“We’re getting reports from one of our inside agents, Poe Dameron, who’s posing as a sanitation worker named Oscar Fertson. He mentioned a former Stormtrooper named Finn who saved his life and helped secure him the spot. He said he had a message for you if we ever met you.”
Finn’s heart raced once more, and short breaths were the only ones that he could manage to make. He barely managed to ask: “What message?”
“A letter.”
General Organa-Solo pulled it out of the inside of her sleeve and handed it to him, and he ripped the envelope open with shaking hands. Once he managed to read it, Finn knelt down to the floor and burst into tears.
Dearest husband/sugarnugget,
I’ve been gathering lots of information from this position. Thanks to you, I’ve gained the trust of not only my fellow workers, but Ren, Hux, and Captain Phasma as well. The identity of Oscar Fertson is doing well for me.
And I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without you, my savior from heaven. You came into my life and helped me and then just as quickly walked out, leaving me staring at the door and wondering whether, or how, it was even real.
On the off-chance that you managed to find your way back to the rebellion, I’d like to thank you again and again and again. I honestly don’t know if I can thank you enough, or if any favor that I could do for you will make up what you did for me.
And I’d like to ask you a question. On base, there’s a spot where I like to go with my friends to eat lunch or dinner or whatever, or even just talk and hang out when we’re on break. I think it’s the perfect spot for a first date. Don’t you?
See you soon (I hope), Poe Dameron
“It was smuggled in with the reports,” the General explained. “We managed to decode it and – Hey, are you all right?”
Finn sat up and smiled, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of one hand.
“Yes,” he said breathlessly, almost laughing at the words themselves. “Yes, I am.”