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Finn is startled awake, disoriented, grabbing for a blaster that isn’t there before taking stock of his surroundings and status. The small crew quarters on the Falcon—right. They are in hyperspace traveling to a prospective new base, and the noise that woke him was…?
The noise in question draws his attention to the adjacent bunk, where Poe is thrashing and moaning as if in pain. A night terror. Finn sits up at the same time BB-8 rolls across the narrow room from the charging station at the back wall, beeping and trilling in a pattern that would almost certainly make sense if Finn spoke Binary. Finn watches as the little droid, with seemingly practiced movements, rolls forward and backwards rhythmically bumping into the side of the bunk, then extending a pincher-arm to tug on Poe’s sleepshirt.
After several unsuccessful bump-and-tugs, BB-8 rotates his optical sensor over towards Finn. “Here, let me try?” Finn asks, moving across to sit at the end of Poe’s bunk, well away from BB-8 and the top half of Poe’s body. Night terrors were not foreign to Stormtroopers, so Finn was well-accustomed to avoiding the fists of terrified, disoriented dreamers. As BB-8 goes back to bumping and tugging, Finn shakes Poe by the calf—kicks could hurt, but were more likely to hit hips or shoulders than bloody noses or blacken eyes.
“Poe. Poe…” He says Poe’s name in increasing volume until finally Poe shoots up, swinging wildly. “Hey, you’re alright, you’re okay, You’re in the Falcon, you’re safe, I’m Finn, BB-8’s right there, you’re okay.” Finn rambles out information and reassurance while holding his hands up in a surrender position while Poe orients himself and realizes there aren’t any threats outside the ones in his subconscious. After a moment his eyes focus—first on BB-8, who beeps a concerned-sounding pattern, then on Finn, who tries to look as unthreatening as he can.
“Fuck.” Poe says with feeling, laying back with his hands covering his face. Finn takes a gamble and lays his hand back on Poe’s knee, hoping to ground him but not sure if it will be welcome. ‘Troopers normally didn’t welcome casual touch, but Finn himself has appreciated it whenever it’s been offered. He’s satisfied when the knotted muscles of Poe’s thigh relax slightly at the contact.
BB-8 grabs a canteen out of a bedside nook and pushes it gently into Poe’s shoulder, who takes it with a soft “Thanks Bee,” and sits up to take a long pull, swinging his legs off the bed to sit next to Finn.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says softly, staring down at his hands holding the canteen.
“Do you have them often? The terrors?”
Poe shrugs, attempting and failing at looking casual. He runs a hand through sweat-soaked curls, causing even more disarray. It’s… endearing. “This line of work you can’t really avoid them, but… it’s been awhile since they were this bad. Think it’s all catching up to me, finally. The last few weeks.”
Finn nods in sympathy. Though he hasn’t had any violent night terrors since defecting, he’s not exactly been sleeping well either, and he’d also been unconscious part of that time. He knows they’re coming, probably sooner rather than later.
Poe takes another long sip of the canteen, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still not looking at Finn. “Did you, uh, have them? Before?”
“Sometimes, yeah. Stormtroopers wake each other up from night terrors, mostly to shut you up so they can go back to sleep, but also because if the captains catch you one too many times you’d get sent for reconditioning.”
That got Poe’s attention, finally bringing his eyes up to Finn’s, incredulous. “For a nightmare?”
Now it was Finn’s turn to attempt a casual shrug. “Yeah well, if you’re having night terrors then something’s obviously bothering you, right? Something’s keeping you from being the perfect emotionless soldier they raised you to be, so that’s gotta be corrected. No room for fear or self-doubt in a Stormtrooper barracks.”
“Shit. That ever happen to you?”
Finn shakes his head. “No, I was lucky. And anytime someone gets sent to reconditioning the whole unit is punished, no matter what the infraction was. So, while no one was exactly nice about it, we all had to look after each other somewhat, to save our own skins if nothing else. Some were kinder about it than others, but… they tended to be the first to go.“
“How’d you survive so long, then?”
“Kept my head down. Knew what I could get away with and when. I was really good at knowing when we were being watched, even if it seemed like we weren’t. Slip, my um… friend, I guess, as close to it as we got, he called it an ‘overactive self-preservation instinct.’”
Poe huffs, looks up through his lashes and shoots Finn a small smile. “Yeah, I don’t have one of those.”
Finn raises an eyebrow in return. “No, really? I hadn’t noticed.”
BB-8 lets out an amused-sounding tone, and Poe kicks at him half-heartedly. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up you two. I know what I’m about.”
They sit in comfortable silence for a minute, Poe offering his canteen and Finn taking a sip before passing it back.
“What are yours about, your terrors?” Finn says, then flinches. “Sorry, that’s probably inappropriate, yeah? You don’t have to answer that.”
Poe turns a little on the bed, brings a knee up so he’s facing Finn more directly. “No, no, it’s fine. I mean, you can probably guess them at this point.” He pulls a face. “Ren’s usually the worst of it. Feeling him… inside my head again, invading my memories, ripping things out. The pain wasn’t even the worst part, it was the… lack of control. Knowing I couldn’t do anything to stop it, but throwing everything I had at him to try. Him cutting through it all like butter.” Poe takes a shaky breath, his eyes a bit unfocused again, and Finn reaches out to take his hand. He doesn’t know if that’s appropriate, either—he’s quickly learning the social norms of Stormtroopers are nothing like those of the free galaxy. Stormtroopers weren’t allowed to hold hands, either, but when they were younger, especially, it was a quick and subtle way to show support, and one of the only places you could actually feel a touch with armor on.
Appropriate or not, it works—Poe blinks twice and squeezes his hand in return, then continues. “The rest is, well, the usual I guess. Watching everyone I know and love hurt, or die. Knowing it’s my fault. Knowing I could have stopped it.” He sighs. “Nightmares and reality aren’t much different, sometimes.”
Finn nods. “I used to dream that I got my whole team killed. Or sometimes I’d dream that I woke up on Starkiller and everyone had left, abandoned it, and left me behind with no working ships or coms. We weren’t ever alone, really, our whole lives. Which I know now isn’t normal or… healthy, but. It was a recurring theme in dreams. Being alone is still really, uh, disconcerting.” He laughs at himself. “But then, being in a group of people all laughing and talking at once, instead of sending each other whispers or hand-signs? Also disconcerting! So I guess I’m just fucked.”
Poe squeezes his hand again, and his eyes are intense, but kind. “Hey, you’re not fucked, alright? They’re fucked. You—” Poe pauses, bites his lip, then lifts his chin as if daring Finn to disagree, ”—you are perfect, you just need some time to adjust. You’re amazing, and kind, and intuitive, and if this is who you are after 20 years of those bastards trying to beat it out of you, just think who you’ll be after a few years of freedom. You’ll be the best of us.” Finn scoffs, and Poe tugs at his hand. “Don’t even try to fight me about it, either. I’ve been doing this a long time, I know a good man when I see one.”
Finn rolls his eyes, cheeks heating, but doesn’t try to fight. He may have only known Poe a few weeks, but he already knows it’s pointless when he has that particular gleam in his eye. “Alright, alright, look—I thought I was supposed to be the one comforting you, here?”
Poe chuckles, lets go of Finn’s hand to rub the back of his own neck. Finn’s hand feels oddly empty without the contact. “Well, you took my mind off feeling sorry for myself, so it’s still mission accomplished.” He checks the chrono and curses under his breath. “Well, I’m up for the duration, now. But hey, look”—he reaches back out to clasp Finn’s shoulder, a simple friendly touch, but Finn, still not used to such contact, feels it like a spark of electricity down his spine—”I know we’ve been on the run basically the whole time you’ve been with us, but eventually we’ll settle into a new base. Force willing. When we do, we’ll be able to spread out a bit, especially until we get recruitment up and running again, but… if you’d prefer to bunk with a friend, I’m happy to share. And I’m not just saying that so you can wake me up from nightmares.”
Finn blinks at him a few times. “Aren’t you entitled to officer’s quarters?”
Poe shrugs, standing up to start gathering clothes for the day. “Well yeah, but I lived in pilot’s barracks for years, a single roommate is nothing. Might be nice to have someone to talk to again besides just BeeBee.” BB-8 trills, and Poe chuckles. “Bee says he’s a great conversationalist but he’d accept a second roommate as well.” Poe grabs his ‘fresher bag and makes to head out across the hall to the Falcon’s small refresher unit. “Anyways, think about it, buddy. And uh, thanks again for the… distraction.”
Poe throws him a smile and heads out, and BB-8 beeps something Finn can’t translate before going back to his charging nook. Finn goes to get dressed himself, feeling slightly dazed. He has a feeling he's just going to have to accept that as normal after a conversation with Poe Dameron.