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He could have sworn the man who once identified himself as FN-2187 was the one.
Poe Dameron lost all sense of direction the first time he looked into the rebel Stormtrooper’s eyes. The man’s willingness to defect, his excited reaction when Poe said, “Yeah, we’re doing this,” as they improvised an escape–then actually succeeded–and their emotionally charged reunion when each thought the other dead… in Poe’s mind it made sense.
Poe could have sworn the first touch of his bare hand to Finn’s skin would result in a simultaneous flare-up of their soulmarks. Yet… nothing.
Well, not nothing. Whenever Poe grasped Finn’s hand in a congratulatory shake or greeting, whenever they hugged, his body ached for deeper contact. His heart thumped a smidge faster, and white sparks exploded in his vision. Love felt this way, he thought. By this logic, the unique mark shared with his forever mate ought to have tingled and surfaced on the spot of first contact, as it had for others lucky enough to discover their other halves.
Finn as a soulmate made sense, so naturally the galaxy denied Poe. Too good to be true, apparently.
He refrained from expressing his disappointment and confusion to Finn. As the war raged on, surely the man returned Poe’s attraction, and perhaps also thought this anomaly curious. Poe wanted to believe it, and manifested the possibility of a late blooming of their marks until the day Finn attempted to leave the Resistance to find Rey. Rose Tico, thwarting his mission, helped him to his feet and their hands nearly fused with a blinding glow.
Poe had to bite his lip, willing back tears when Finn ran over to tell him the news. Love gained during a war, who would have thought?
Yeah, right. Poe forced a smile and congratulated them both, then put aside all thoughts of love and want and focused on winning the war.
Persistence paid off. The Resistance won, at a great price. They lost their beloved General but gained many new allies. After the victory against the Final Order, Poe returned to Ajon Kloss and touched every. Single. Person. Some people, he touched twice and three times to make sure he hadn’t missed a spark or singe.
Rey, having come from Exegol to reunite with their team, happily returned his hug but nudged him when he let it linger and tighten. “Poe, I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry.” Of course the universe wouldn’t pair him with a Jedi. What am I thinking?
He ran through the population of the Resistance and their supporters. He watched marks flare and heard shouts of surprise and joy. The celebration soon turned into one large matchmaking frenzy, and nearly everybody paired off.
Despondent and desperate, Poe turned toward the cache of First Order prisoners and Stormtroopers scheduled for deprogramming. He looked for exposed swatches of skin in between battle-damaged armor and all-covering uniforms. He ignored the weird looks and flinches with each cold contact, then came to the last possible candidate.
At least he’s cute. Poe spread out his arms. “No hard feelings, Hugs?”
Armitage Hux, former First Order general, sneered down at him. His uniform was shredded, and the white bands of gauze wrapped around his blaster-scorched chest were visible. The man looked as though somebody had fished him out of a garbage compactor. “What are you…hey!”
Poe clasped his hands on Hux’s sharp as knives cheekbones. Nothing. Hux seemed to catch onto the purpose of it and sighed with obvious relief.
“I’m sure it’s for the best,” Hux said.
“Your loss. I’m a damn good cook.” Further jokes went unsaid when Rey approached to escort Hux to the nearest medbay. Their hands touched and a bright orange glow emitted between their fingers.
“Oh, come on!” Poe shouted.
When the initial surprise faded, Rey responded with an exaggerated eye roll and looped her other arm through Poe’s. “I think perhaps you should come along,” she said. “There’s one person you haven’t checked in with yet.”
*****
“No.”
Poe stared down at the figure floating in the horizontal bacta tank. Behind him, Hux snickered.
“Talk about mismatched souls.”
“More than a Jedi and a First Order mass executioner?” Poe shot back.
Hux rounded on him but kept his hands behind his back. “And Starkiller base was completely deserted when you and your merry band of rebels destroyed it,” he said. “Your soulmark-less hands are hardly clean.”
“Was anybody on that base actually missed?”
“Ask FN-2187. Surely he knew people there.”
Rey squeezed herself between them as the temperature rose. “Gentlemen, the war is over,” she said. “We will argue over reparations soon enough, but for now everybody needs a break.” Rey twisted to face Poe. “You’re anxious to move on with the rest of your life, and nobody out there is destined to be your mate. It’s worth your time to test this one last person before you leave, don’t you agree?”
Poe conceded. In an endless galaxy, he might spend the rest of his life searching. He ought to leave no available person untouched. “Let me know when he’s ready,” he said in resignation.
Minutes later, the trio watched the bacta drain from the tank. The lid slid open to reveal a body still undergoing the healing process–bare and slick with bacta residue, unconscious and appearing peaceful. A stark contrast from the man’s personality.
Yet, Rey assured Poe he was different now. Rey hadn’t known about Poe’s last encounter with him.
“Go ahead.” Rey urged him.
Poe took a deep breath and reached into the tank. He laid his hand on the man’s bare chest and watched a glowing yellow light emit from underneath his palm.
Great kriff. Poe’s soulmate was Kylo Ren.
*****
Your soulmate is Ben Solo. There’s a difference.
Rey’s words echoed in Poe’s head. He heard them as the med droids cleaned Kylo’s–Ben’s–body and settled him in recovery. He replayed them as he sat next to Ben’s bed, watching the man sleep. He remained silent, yet inside he raged and protested and wanted to blame Rey even though this situation wasn’t her fault.
Who’s to say life would be easier if we got to choose our life mates? Rey posed to him. Maybe it’s the Force that decides.
The Force loves practical jokes. Finn was perfect for me.
Finn is perfect for Rose. You are perfect for Ben, and he for you. You need to realize that.
Then Rey went off with her ginger-haired ex-general to deepen their acquaintance. He’d never figure out that match, as long as he lived.
Beside him, Ben stirred. Poe studied Ben’s face in repose. He was handsome; Poe gave him that. Poe looked for hints of Ben’s parentage in his face–the long nose, tense jaw, healed scars–and found nothing of Leia’s thoughtfulness or Han’s mischief. He guessed Ben embodied previous generations of Solos and Skywalkers. As Poe understood it, much pain existed in that history.
Ben blinked his eyes open and scanned the recovery area before settling his gaze on Poe. He worked his tongue inside his jaw for a few seconds, as though summoning the right words to say. Poe wasn’t expecting to hear, “I’m sorry.”
A broad statement, but not an unwelcome one. Poe figured it applied to many things. Torturing Poe for the location of the Skywalker map, the Hosnian system, Han. “You’re forgiven,” Poe said. The path of least resistance seemed best. “I can only speak for myself, though.”
“Where’s Rey?”
Poe nodded toward the door. “Picking out china patterns with her newly discovered lifemate. The Force, or whatever, matched her to General Hugs.”
“What?” The word came out in a strangled laugh, and Ben moved to sit up in bed. On instinct, Poe reached for the man’s pillow and adjusted it for Ben’s comfort. He received a soft smile in thanks. “I’ve seen and heard of some unusual matches, but that might beat all.”
“You think so? Have a look under your shirt, Solo.”
Ben shot Poe a quizzical look, then lifted the V-neck of his medbay gown to peer down his chest. The bright yellow palm print now appeared smudged, with the fingers beginning to settle into a permanent tanned tattoo.
“Who did–” When Ben met Poe’s gaze again, Poe was holding up the marked hand, showing off the same hue. “Oh,” Ben said, his face softening.
“That’s all you can say?” Poe asked, trying not to sound annoyed. “You just received life-changing information, the knowledge that you are bound to me as a soul mate, and you say oh ?” Poe leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I guess it’s something that you didn’t say ew.”
“Why would I say that? I’m not disgusted,” Ben said, “just surprised, is all.”
“That you’re stuck with me?”
Ben looked at his mark again. “That I’m paired with anybody at all. When I presented as Force sensitive and was sent to my uncle’s academy, I assumed I wouldn’t have a soulmate. Luke didn’t. It is rare, but it happens. I figured I’d be wed to the Force.”
“Is it possible, that some people don’t have destined mates?” Nothing in Poe’s education about soulmarks and soulmates indicated the possibility some people spent their entire lives alone. “I assumed everybody had some body,” he said. “Even your parents, when they weren’t together, remained bonded at some level.”
Ben closed up his front and pressed his hand over the fabric, right on Poe’s palm print. “I suppose their example influenced me. They bickered through much of my youth, to the point I was relieved to be packed off to another system to live with Luke.” He held Poe’s gaze again. “What now?”
Now? We live happily ever after. Maybe. Poe had a plan mapped out for if/when he matched with literally anybody else. Kes Dameron still had a place for his son on Yavin. Poe thought he’d bring his mate to his home system, set up housekeeping, and enjoy a lengthy honeymoon until the itch to explore the rest of the galaxy tingled under their skin. The thought of introducing the former Kylo Ren to his father unsettled Poe, however.
On the other hand, Ben Solo had no family left. Chewbacca might have counted, but Poe heard rumblings that the Wookiee entertained thoughts of traveling with Lando Calrissian or sticking with Rey. If the latter, Hugs would love that .
“I don’t know that we have to make any major decisions now,” Poe said. An answer that really answered nothing, but bought him time. “We should prioritize your recovery and see if you need to…” Make reparations. Stand trial. Accept sentencing. “To see if you’re needed here.”
Kriff if Poe knew what the Resistance would become in the wake of the Final Order’s demise, and what a new senate planned for Ben.
A med droid glided close to check Ben’s vitals, leaving Poe with his thoughts. He’d contact Kes and let his father know when to expect him. Ben, too, assuming his new soulmate had no alternate suggestions for their post-war existence. When the droid announced Ben was needed for a physical therapy session, Poe took the cue to leave.
“I have assignments to finish anyway,” he said. The celebration raged outside, yes, but eventually everybody was expected to pitch in and help dismantle the base. “I’ll be back soon.”
Ben caught his wrist and tugged him back to the bedside. “Before you go?” he asked.
Their contact felt warm, as much as when Poe first touched Ben to discover their shared mark. Ben’s hand completely covered his, and its softness surprised Poe. He’d have expected calluses, from gripping that lightsaber, rubbing rough along his knuckles. Of course, the former Kylo Ren had always worn gloves.
Everything he expected, Poe discovered the opposite.
Poe bent close to Ben’s face when bid, watching the other man’s eyes flutter shut. The kiss began as a gentle and chaste press of lips–dry but not without emotion. When Poe eased back to break away Ben opened his mouth slightly to slip out the tip of his tongue. Instinct took over, and Poe pushed forward to accept more of Ben.
A two-second kiss soon turned into a minutes-long delay that prompted the med droid to interrupt them.
“Sorry,” Poe said, though he wasn’t serious about it. Ben still held his hand, and brushed his nose up Poe’s cheek.
“It’s okay,” he said, “I’m not sorry, either. Hurry back.”
“Right.” Poe walked slowly, dazed from the kiss. His mind reeled. With General Organa and Vice Admiral Holdo gone, somebody had to step in and take command after this celebration. Plan the next steps, designate tasks, rebuild.
Poe walked out into the night, facing the riotous melee before him. Victors of war caroused, screamed and laughed, and held each other tight. He saw Finn sway-dancing with Rose in a clearing. Beyond that, Rey sat with Hux on a felled tree log, holding hands and whispering close.
Joy filled the air, and with it a growing sense of love. Yet it hardly satisfied Poe. The more he looked upon this merriment, the harder his heart panged.
Let the chores wait.
Poe turned and re-entered the medbay.