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As he watched the rest of his squadron ready their ships, Poe had never felt so broken. Sure, there was his actual broken arm to consider, not to mention the cracked ribs and the painful pounding in his head. The battle yesterday had left him an utter wreak of a man. Thanks to some skilled flying from his fellow pilots and a quick response from the resistance’s medical team, he’d live. In fact, they told him that he’d be all healed up in a few more days. That didn’t stop him from wanting to be out there right now, checking over his ship with BB-8, getting ready for the mission. A pilot who couldn’t fly was, in Poe’s view, no pilot at all.
He didn’t know what he was without a ship around him… apart from broken.
“Hey, there you are.”
Careful not to hurt his neck, Poe turned it to see Finn walking into the hanger. The man looked relieved, as though he had been searching a while. Hadn’t it been obvious where Poe would be? Of course he would be right here. He was always right here. “Here I am,” Poe mumbled his agreement.
Finn rested his hand on Poe’s ass, probably worried he might hurt Poe if he touched anywhere higher than that. He wasn’t wrong. There was an uneasy silence as the two men watched everyone go about doing their jobs. Poe wanted to hear reassurances that his friends would be all right without him, but dread had taken up residence within him. He knew Finn would never lie to him. He knew Finn couldn’t make any promises regarding their safety. Finn knew the First Order’s capabilities better than anyone.
“Hey,” Finn said again, in just a whisper this time. “Where are you?”
Poe started to reply that he was right here, but he suddenly found that he couldn’t lie to Finn either. His breath caught and his heart began to race, panic and uncertainly settling in.
“Rey and I need your help with something,” said Finn.
Shaking his head and willing the prickling behind his eyes to keep back if it knew what was good for it, Poe squeezed out one word. “Can’t.”
“Sure you can.”
But he couldn’t. He was broken. He was broken in every way there was to be broken. Evil was going to triumph. His friends were going to be slaughtered. He was going to let down the people he loved most the world. And Poe wasn’t all right with any of that.
“Our bed’s cold,” Finn finally explained. “And we can’t make sense of that map the General Organa left behind.” His fingertips brushed lightly, hesitantly, down Poe’s arm. “We really do need you.” Poe hesitated again, unable to say yes but also unable to say no. “How about you put your good arm around me to steady yourself? We can take it as slow as you need, and you will look as if you’re helping me, rather than the other way around.”
There was nobody on base left who didn’t know he was broken, no one he had to safe face in front of. Except… maybe himself. He slipped his arm around Finn’s waist and leaned into the man. They took it slower than slow. One painful, excruciating step. A pause. A breath. Another pause. Then the second painful, excruciating step. It was slow and careful, and even then parts of him still hurt. But Finn was unbelievably patient and didn’t try to hurry him at all.
When they got out of the hanger, Rey stood there, just beyond the door. She wore a rare, pleased smile at the sight of them. With a wave of her hand, he felt himself bathed in something like a warm, protective energy. It helped him move without feeling so much pain in his chest. It helped him breathe without feeling as if he might burst apart in tears and misery.
He was still broken in every way that counted. Except for one. With Finn on one side and Rey on the other, he made his way back to their room.