Chapter Text
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Poe.
Poe.
Poe.
A distant voice called for him, growing louder. Closer. And then it yelled.
COMMANDER!
Poe jerked awake.
Sitting upright with a start, he gasped, chest panting hard. Sweat soaked cleanly through his shirt. He found himself staring directly at Rey -- the Jedi girl -- who was eyeing him with much more concern than he cared for, holding his shoulders steady in her hands.
"Are you alright?" she demanded, and Poe realized too late that he was gripping her forearms.
"Wh -- yes. I'm fine," he breathed. Uncoiling his fingers from her wrists, he averted his eyes as he rose to his feet. "Bad dream."
"Oh." Softly, she said, "I hate those."
She spoke politely, but her eyes narrowed, discerning, on his face.
Offering a thin, apologetic smile, he let her go, sliding himself away from his makeshift bed as he attempted casually to look for a fresh shirt off the dirt floor of his tent.
The Resistance -- what was left of it now -- had made temporary base camp on a quiet woodsy moon. The Falcon had landed four days prior deep within a forest clearing.
In those four days, Poe had slept (frenzied, he'd began to keep track, writing down the numbers in the inside of his palm), perhaps ten hours in total.
" -- General Organa called for you," Rey was saying from the entryway of the tent. Her lips were moving but Poe had to blink his eyes rapidly at her to discern her words. "She's waiting for you at the campfire."
Swallowing hard, Poe managed a nod, then grabbed for a wrinkled long sleeved shirt on the ground, tossing it up into his hands before bringing it below his nose to smell.
Tossing his wet shirt aside, he realized that Rey was still in the doorway.
"I'll be there in a second," he said pointedly, and Rey lingered, scrutinizing his face in something like suspicion before drifting out the door.
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