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Finn is walking with Poe down a sunny sidewalk that meanders its way through a giant park near the center of Republic City. Poe’s been taking Finn out into the city whenever he can, showing him “the real Republic City” rather than the cesspit the First Order presented it as when Finn was in his test tube. Finn would feel guilty at taking so much of Poe’s off-duty time if Poe didn’t seem so enthusiastic about it. He seems to enjoy watching Finn enjoy the greenery—the leafy trees, the grass, the relaxed people milling about in what Poe calls “civvies” and Finn is sure in some cases should be called “underwear.”
“He’s not even wearing a shirt, Poe,” Finn says of the rollerblader who buzzes past them wearing sunglasses and khakis. “And that girl—is that her bra? Won’t they both be cited for public indecency?” Finn tries not to default to First Order propaganda about the Republic being a din of iniquity and flagrant disregard for decency in all avenues, but he still does it every time something new shocks him. Today, those thoughts revolve around exposed flesh.
“That’s a swimsuit,” Poe says easily, not at all concerned. “You know, most men your age would be pleased to see a lady dressed like that.” His glance at Finn has a measuring edge Finn doesn’t understand.
Finn glances again at the woman, then flushes and looks away immediately. He notices then that other men, and a few women, are looking at the young lady sitting proudly sans shirt on a blanket on the grass. “Should I be looking?” he suddenly asks. “Is that normal?” Unconsciously, he begins to walk faster, as if by leaving her behind he will also escape his discomfort.
Poe matches his stride without comment, and shrugs. “For some people. She’s a little too young for me.”
Finn frowns. “But not for me?”
Poe makes an uncomfortable sound and clears his throat. “Well, I know we don’t technically know how old you are, but you’ve got to be closer to Rey’s age than mine, and definitely closer to that girl’s age, so…by socially acceptable standards—woah!”
Finn steers them towards the little booth on the edge of the sidewalk near the bend ahead. Poe’s been very kind and encouraging about Finn trying things he recognizes from memory but not experience, and Finn recognizes ice cream from lessons in the tube. He doesn’t let go of Poe’s hand even after he pulls up from a dead sprint sprint at the end of the short line branching out from the little awning. “Can we try this?” he asks Poe, motioning to the truck with their joined hands.
Poe nods and makes a motion Finn knows now means “knock yourself out;” he seems more concerned with catching his breath than expending it right now though, and Finn can’t help but watch him and grin softly before ducking his head. Poe is the best.
Then Finn shakes himself and looks back at the booth before anyone catches him staring at the way Poe’s curls glint in the sun, or at the curve of his mouth as Poe grins even while shaking his head, no doubt at Finn’s impatience.
When Finn looks back at the colorful menu of bars and things on sticks and ice cream on cones, however, he realizes he’s unfamiliar with most of these flavors and particulars. “Uh, which ones are good?” he wonders aloud.
“Can I get the chocolate one? Please!” wheedles a voice behind him.
Finn and Poe notice, just as the elderly couple toddle off to leave the two of them at the front of the line, that a little boy and his mother have swept in behind them. The boy is in blue and yellow shorts and has an outie belly button. His mother holds his small hand in a firm grip. Her yellow sundress flutters in the breeze and gives her dark skin a happy glow. Or it could be from her smile as she looks down at her son. “I believe I promised you whichever one you want today,” she tells him with a wink.
The boy cheers.
Poe nudges Finn with his shoulder, then pulls him aside. “We’re still deciding,” he says both to the woman and child, and to the vendor leaning forward expectantly.
The woman thanks them and she and the child move up to give their order and pay.
“Want a recommendation?” Poe asks.
Finn startles, eyes shifting guiltily from the way the woman’s hand clasps the boy’s, to the menu full of color and confusion. “Yes, please,” he admits. “Surprise me,” he says as an afterthought. He feels a glow himself at the way Poe’s eyes light up.
“Let’s go for a classic—nothing too exciting since this is your first time and all,” Poe says.
Finn agrees to this, and Poe gets him a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of chocolate ice cream on a waffle cone. He gets himself the same thing even though he seems to be eying the fudgesicle longingly. He drops Finn’s hand to pay, unfortunately, but then Finn is handed an ice cream cone and napkins and is told to have a nice day, and his focus shifts to this strange new delight.
The first taste shocks Finn with how cold it is, and the cold, for a moment, is all he can taste. His lips purse, then his jaw drops like it’s trying to heat the ice cream on his tongue with the summer sunlight, and then Finn’s mouth adjusts and he can’t help but laugh.
“Alright?” Poe asks, cone paused halfway to his mouth.
“I knew it would be cold,” Finn says, peering at the ice cream in his hand like it’s both betrayed and delighted him—which it has. “That didn’t help.”
Poe laughs in a short, surprised burst. “Yeah, some things are like that. Just lick off a little at a time. It’s easier to adjust that way.”
Finn does, and it is, and he grins. It’s when he looks up from his cone to see the little boy with ice cream on his mouth as he talks animatedly to the woman holding his hand that time stops and everything around him goes away.
Finn’s mouth is cold and he’s holding something in his right hand, while a bigger, gentle hand holds his left. “You’ve got ice cream all—over—your—face—” a woman tells him, running a damp cloth over his mouth in time to her wiping. She is laughing, and Finn is starts laughing too.
“Mama!” protests Finn’s mouth, voice high like a bell, as he shakes his head to dodge the cloth.
“Don’t you ‘Mama’ me,” she says, and it sounds like she’s scolding, but Finn feels warm all over, cared for, and they both laugh harder, and then the cloth leaves his face and Finn replaces it with the ice cream cone, with its cold vanilla—
“Finn!”
Poe shakes him and Finn blinks the world back into existence. The mother and son are gone, and people are looking at him and Poe. The sun is still in the same place in the sky, but the people around them have changed. Finn looks at Poe, and sees that his eyes are pinched with worry. His hand on Finn’s shoulder grips hard and steady.
“Are you okay?” Poe asks, touching Finn’s face. Finn feels Poe’s fingers slide in sweat. Finn wasn’t sweating before.
“What did I do?” he asks. “Did I do something wrong?” He wants to know first what he did to worry Poe. After, he’ll worry about what he saw (experienced), maybe remembered (but he couldn’t remember something like that, it’s impossible).
Poe straightens. Finn didn’t realize Poe was hunching so close until his shoulders relaxed and he was gone. Poe says, “You zoned out for a minute. A few minutes. You just…” He shakes his head, haunted. A little louder, he says, “And, uh, you dropped your ice cream,” and motions to the sidewalk.
Finn looks at the broken cone and melting ice cream suddenly realizes he is standing in the grass on the other side of the ice cream vendor’s tree, and he has no memory of moving there.
“Are you okay?” Poe asks again. Then he shakes himself, and he’s suddenly the Black Ranger taking charge of his squadron. “We should head back to base. I want Dr. Kalonia to look at you in case something’s wrong. No telling what the Order might’a done to your head while they had you.”
Finn thinks of the woman wiping his laughing mouth and nods quietly. “I think that might be best,” he says.
Poe takes Finn’s hand and hurries them back to base. Finn is so preoccupied he barely notices.