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He first feels the inkling of it after Crait. It’s just one of those things he never expected to feel again, so he ignores it for a while. The Resistance is running for their lives. There’s not really time to wonder about some new, strange feeling on his chest right now. Only when things settle—relatively speaking—and he has time to himself and a room he doesn’t have to share does he notice it again. And when he catches the faintest hint of black ink in his skin, well—well, he freaks out.
“Rey! Rey, where are you?”
Finn tears through base on Ajan Kloss like someone’s lit a fire under his ass.
“Rey! Damn it, I need you!”
On instinct, he veers into the makeshift ‘hanger’ and finds Rey hips deep in a B-wing with Rose. He shouts, “Hey!” and Rey jolts, smacking her head on the engine compartment. Rose turns to him, hands on hips, as Rey rubs the back of her head and shimmies out of the machine.
“Ow, Finn! What in desert hell are you on about?”
Finn glances between the two of them and makes a split decision. “Come on, I need your help.”
Their faces immediately switch to action mode; a part of him loves them that much more for it. He strides as fast as he dares, trying not to catch too much attention, and ducks into a fairly well lit supply closet. The pair of them hesitate at the door so he snags a wrist each and yanks them inside. As soon as the door clicks shut, he turns, fingers fumbling at the buttons of his shirt.
“What are you doing?” Rose frowns.
She passes a look with Rey, who’s got an eyebrow raised at him, and he snorts in frustration.
“Just—” Finally, he gets the buttons undone and wrenches his shirt open. “Look and tell me how this is happening.”
Rose and Rey gasp in tandem, and Rey reaches out to smooth a finger over the thing he’s talking about. In the meat of his chest, just above his left nipple and spreading over his sternum, is the barest outline of an A-wing fighter. Just the notion of it, the finest of lines inking the skin over his heart.
“Finn,” Rey breathes. “Is that what I think it is?”
Rose takes a step closer and squints. “Shouldn’t that be filled out by now? Everyone’s tattoos usually finish by eighteen. Or the species equivalent. Sometimes later, but I’ve never heard of one popping up this late.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Finn shakes his head, stares down at the thing again because he honestly can’t believe it. “The First Order removed it. It was…it was part of it. All soulmate marks were removed so we could conform. Fit the mold, you know?”
Rose’s eyebrows shoot up and Rey winces for him. Finn’s skin still crawls. The remover was designed to be painless during the procedure but after? Stars, after was the worst. It always left a deep ache in his muscles. Everyone in his squad had had a tattoo appear at some point. And they’d all disappeared. Routinely. Quickly. Efficiently. Finn’s showed up when he was fifteen. He remembers seeing it in the sonics for the first time, the beautiful reds and whites that colored the ship, the thick, sweeping black lines that formed its edges. He also remembers that he kept it a secret as long as he could. Even then, he couldn’t conform just the right way. By the time he’d been brought forward with it, it had taken five sittings to remove it.
“How can that be?” Rose breaks into his thoughts. “If it was removed…is it possible for the mark to come back? I didn’t know that could happen.”
Rey draws her hand back, meeting Finn’s eyes. Her face says he’s looking more panicked than he intended but he’s just as confused as they are. Probably more so.
“I’ve never heard of it,” Rey says, “but I have a feeling you know what this might be.”
Finn’s eyes bug out a bit, he can’t help it. Well, that’s vague as hell. And what’s that supposed to mean exactly, anyway? But there’s that feeling in his gut that keep cropping up, pushing toward something, and it seems like Rey’s picked up on the thing he can’t bring himself to share just yet.
Is it a suspicion? Yes. But is he sure? No.
“Something must’ve triggered it,” Rose supplies, tone thoughtful. “Any idea what it might be?”
He glances at her. They’d both put Crait behind them, content to continue in the fight together as friends. Especially when she found out about Rey’s tattoo. That being the case, her words give him pause. Of the three of them, Rose probably knows the most about soulmate marks, having actually grown up with a family and a history and an education beyond barren First Order training regimes or what could be gleaned from the Jakku sands.
A trigger?
He racks his brain for any instance that might stand out. But there’s nothing. No grandiose moment of recognition, of oh he’d heard so many whispers of. He’d run into Poe and had been running since. In fact, the only constant in the whole mess is Poe. Rose takes on more duties every day. So does Finn, usually with Poe in tow. Even Rey is more transient than he’d like, training with Leia and running around the galaxy. So he just shrugs and looks at them helplessly. They look right back. Whatever this is, he’s clearly on his own with it. Which isn’t great, because he only has the barest knowledge of soulmates. Maybe he could ask someone else? Or what does it matter. Who would he know whose best childhood memory was about an A-wing, anyway?
—
He gets the next inkling of it around a bonfire a couple weeks later. Black Squadron’s back from another—mostly—successful mission and there’s a bottle of celebratory whiskey making its way around to cups. Most of the base is in attendance, happy to have a break. Ajan Kloss is really too sticky this time of year for a bonfire but everyone’s in too high of spirits to care all that much. Finn’s feeling a little sticky himself, mostly because of the heat. Also maybe because Poe’s knee is resting against his in the dark and everything feels pretty great.
“So we’re coming in off a run,” Snap’s recounting, “we’ve got no support, no cover. TIEs are buzzing around us like we just kicked a nest of rock hornets. And we have no idea where he is,” Snap waves pointedly at Poe, “so we’re pretty sure we’re screwed.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Finn sees Poe rub the back of his neck and shake his head like he’s already embarrassed. This isn’t exactly the first time he’s noticed, far from it really, but Poe looks…good tonight. In a kind of way that almost makes Finn’s skin feel too tight. His shirt collar’s open a little more, a hint of his own tattoo peeking across his chest. He can’t quite make it out in the dark. Then he’s distracted by a pretty pink flush on Poe’s cheeks in the firelight. Finn blinks. Turns to look a bit harder because, wow. When Poe meets his stare with a soft grin, he realizes what he’s doing and buries his eyeballs right in his drink.
“Then, out of nowhere, a TIE comes screaming by. And it’s not firing at us, it’s taking down all the TIEs behind us! This crazy bastard stole a fighter right out from under them and took out, what ten? Twelve fighters in a run? How many’d you get, Poe?”
“Ten,” Poe chuckles. “That thing really moved and you know they don’t have shields worth shit.”
“Yeah, but still!” Karé pipes up, crossing her arms. “You come in all bombastic and make us look bad.”
“I’m tryin’ to make sure I come back with my squad,” Poe smirks. “I’m just sad I had to leave the thing. I was just gettin’ used to it.”
Finn grins at the look on Poe’s face and that’s when he feels it for real. There’s a tickling, which turns into a scraping, which turns into a burning over the sticky sensation on his skin. He frowns, rubs at the spot on his chest. Well damn, it hasn’t done that before. As surreptitiously as he can, he ducks away from the bonfire and into the woods. He’s not sure if anyone’s really noticed him leaving and he’s too impatient to get to his bunk. Just a quick look away from the others to see what’s up, then he’ll go back. That’s the plan, anyway.
The woods open to a small clearing, bright and florid in the moonlight. He fishes a penlight out of his pocket and holds it between his teeth as he undoes a few more buttons on his already-loose shirt. He takes a peek, parting the fabric with one hand and holding the light with the other. What he sees makes him frown a little more. The skin under the tattoo is raised and angry. What’s more, the A-wing’s red stripe is colored again. Bare hints of a faint white tease the edges and bleed into the red. It still needs some filling it but it’s really starting to take shape now, dynamic in its flight. The whole thing’s actually pretty beautiful. Too bad it hurts like a mother—
“Finn, you ok?”
Finn jerks, nearly drops the penlight in his haste to pull his shirt closed like a scandalized Chandrilan. And of course, who would be there except Poe, BB-8 beeping at his heels?
He yelps, “Yeah!” Clears his throat and tries again, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
Poe raises a very skeptical eyebrow and nods at the hand Finn’s got wrapped in the collar of his shirt.
“You get a bite? There’s all sorts of shit out here, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“No.” Wait, should’ve said yes. Too late. “No bite. Just…irritated.”
Poe frowns at that and takes a few steps toward him. BB-8 beeps a question but Finn’s still a little sketchy on Binary. The only part he catches is ‘bacta’. Poe answers for him though.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea, buddy. Go snag some, we’ll be right behind you.”
“No, you don’t have to do that!”
Finn reaches after BB-8 but the little droid’s already rolling away. Too late does he realize he reached with the wrong hand. Shit. Now his shirt’s open to his diaphragm and Poe’s eyes are going a bit wide.
“Hey, what is that?” he breathes, closing the distance between them and parting Finn’s shirt without a second’s hesitation.
Finn swallows, hard enough he hears it click. Poe snags the penlight with one hand, fingertips of the other brush over Finn’s hot, irritated skin and he looks just as stupefied as Finn did when he first saw it. Oh, that’s—that’s a wonderful feeling, actually. Sure, he’s worked with Poe. Shared meals and missions and laughs with him. But, he’s never been this…close, before. Not with just the two of them. A little part of him wonders why. Poe traces the edge of the tattoo and softly says, “I didn’t know you had one of these.”
Finn sighs. He’s not sure whether it’s from exasperation or the pleasant way his skin cools under Poe’s touch. “I didn’t use to,” he mumbles. When a confused line appears in Poe’s brow, he gives him the short version, unsure of why he hasn’t told Poe about it already, “The First Order removed it years ago. It’s only just started to pop back up since Crait. Maybe before and I just didn’t notice. I’m not sure.”
“I didn’t know that could happen,” he says, echoing Rose from weeks ago.
“I didn’t either. It’s just decided to…add? I guess? Before tonight, it was just an outline. Black lines.”
Poe traces a finger down the thick red stripe in the A-wing’s center, considering. He seems to be on the verge of saying something before he sucks his teeth and shakes his head.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“I guess so.” Finn watches Poe’s face carefully. He’s not upset, rather he looks at Finn with something he’s never seen before.
Poe wets his lip slowly. The shine of it in moonlight is…distracting. The air around them still feels sticky and close but there’s another tension thrumming in it Finn’s felt a few times before. He’s not sure exactly what it is, but it’s a warm, syrupy feeling he kind of wants to dip deeper into. Then, Poe claps him on the shoulder and the moment’s gone.
“Come on,” Poe says. “A little bacta couldn’t hurt. Let’s go get you fixed up.”
Finn lets out a breath when Poe turns back to base. But, he doesn’t see the point in not getting bacta, it probably would actually help, so he follows behind. After a few steps, he catches Poe glancing at him over his shoulder. He’s not sure, but it seems like there’s a question there.
“What?”
Poe snaps his head back to the trail, but quietly he asks, “What um, what do you know about…soulmates?”
A week ago that might’ve been a hard question to answer. But he’s done his research, as far as he can for the time being.
“I know most people don’t find them. The marks transcend galactic boundaries, and species sometimes, but there doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to it. At least, not according to what I’ve read. Some soulmates are complements, some are opposites. They can be platonic or romantic, and the tattoos aren’t really more than a clue to get you in the right direction. The only thing that’s consistent in any of it is that they represent a favorite childhood memory. I would guess it’s the galaxy’s weird way of getting people to talk to each other.”
Poe snorts but Finn catches the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he turns to ask, “So what’s yours, then?”
“My what?”
“Your favorite memory.”
They pass by the bonfire, some whooping and hollering breaking the flow of conversation. At least it gives Finn a minute to consider. He hasn’t really thought about it solidly in a long time. As soon as their feet hit the tarmac, Poe prompts, “So? You feel like sharin’?”
The question makes that warm, syrupy feeling sneak back in. Yeah, this is something he’d like to share with Poe. He’s never told anyone else, might as well get it out. He gives Poe a little smile.
“It’s kind of a downer. You sure you wanna hear it?”
Poe slows to walk by his side, brow furrowed even as he nods.
“There’s not…a lot of good things to remember. Most trooper experiences were designed to be neutral or negative, training to keep us level-headed in any situation. They had us dissecting Empire history, running simulations from the time we could walk. There was one thing that always stood out, though. Before I was transferred, between the barracks and the sonics was uh…a, uh short hallway. With windows. So when you walked back and forth you could see out into bare space.” He grimaces. Stars, now that he puts it to words, it sounds so pathetic. “I think my favorite memory was walking that hallway.”
He pauses, glancing at Poe. He still looks encouraging, like he knows there’s more to it than that. He’s right—so Finn soldiers on. That’s one thing he’s always been good at.
“We were usually dismissed to the sonics by squad. But a few times, I walked by myself. Stayed late on an extra rotation, trained a little more at one thing or another. And, when I walked by myself, I could…stop. Look out the window, you know? My favorite memory was when we passed close to this planet. I don’t remember what it was now but I could see its star shining in the distance, lighting it from behind. It was—” He stumbles a little on the memory. Even now, it makes him yearn and he feels himself growing quiet. “—the most beautiful blue I’d ever seen, the whole surface covered with seas and sap-green continents. I don’t know why, but I always imagined it was spring there. Or, the idea I had of spring at the time. I used to dream about it, thought about sitting under a real tree, smelling the sea. Seeing the stars from a different point of view.”
It’s only when he breathes the last that he realizes they’ve stopped. Somewhere between the barracks and the med tent. Just the two of them, alone together in orangish flood light glow.
“Living with people that…loved me, even if I wasn’t the best,” he finishes, dropping his eyes to stare at his boots. “It’s funny to think someone might be out there with a tattoo like that. Of that planet. Sometimes I wonder if it would look like I remember.”
He’s raw, more vulnerable than he’s ever been. It never occurred to him how intimate that memory really was. Just how much of him it lays bare. He’s getting a bit lost in it, until Poe’s fingers close around his arm.
“Finn,” he murmurs, “that’s—I—”
Poe can’t seem to finish a thought. Mouth working around words he can’t quite form. His eyes flit between Finn's face and his chest, where his tattoo’s firmly hidden back under his shirt. He’s looking at Finn, Looking with a capital L, like he really sees him, and it twists Finn’s guts all into knots. Poe’s thumb swipes once on the inside of his bicep. There’s no air left on Ajan Kloss.
Poe bites his lip. “Look—”
Whatever he’s going to say, BB-8 overrides it with a friendly, trilling whistle. Poe jumps, drops Finn’s arm like it’s burned him. He stumbles back a bit as the droid fits between them and holds out a jar of bacta in one helpful appendage. Poe fumbles for it, then fumbles it to Finn, who’s wondering exactly what happened to make Poe so nervous. They stand together still, awkward in the quiet. Finn’s not sure where that came from, either.
“Thank you,” Poe says at last, and that brings some of the air back, “for telling me. I mean it.”
Finn swallows. “Sure.”
“And hey, that soulmate might be closer than you think.” Poe tilts his head, shoves his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t know what to do with them. But, he murmurs, “We should go see that planet, if you can find it again. I think that’s the kind of dream I’d like to see for real someday, wouldn’t you?”
All Finn can get out is, “Yeah. Someday.”
Poe’s backing away, hands still in his pockets but a little smile on his face. “Don’t forget the bacta,” he calls.
Then he turns. And he’s gone, leaving Finn holding the jar, swimming in a lot of feelings he doesn’t know how to deal with. It’s not that he hasn’t felt love before, but this doesn’t feel like quite the same. It feels a little…more. Is it too early to say? His head says, Yes, you idiot but his heart timidly retorts, Maybe not. So, he shoves all that down and heads back to his bunk. Nothing to be done about it for now. It’s only when he’s smoothing the bacta over his tattoo that he realizes he didn’t ask Poe what his favorite memory was. But he smiles. Knowing him, it’s probably something to do with flying.
He’ll ask him about it, though.
Someday.