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It was the waiting that killed him. Finn had become used to difficult things in the weeks after he emerged from his coma, dizzy and blinking, eyes immediately latching onto the bright orange of a flight suit. Waiting on news of Rey was a dim flame of anxiety that never fully guttered out. Physical therapy was frustrating, difficult. His back was a blaze of pain, even through the drugs. Breaking through the last fragments of Stormtrooper conditioning was confusing, confronting. He still couldn’t quite believe that he could wear his own clothes, walk the base when they weren’t recording all of his intel, speak to people without authorization, listen to unfamiliar yet beautiful music.
The wait for Poe was worse than all of that.
He was supposed to be back by now, damn it.
They’d only had three days after the coma. Finn had woken up and Poe was there, holding his hand. He’d looked terrible; unshaven and drawn, his hair a mess. Poe’s hand had tightened, and he’d shouted for the medical droid, and there was something in his eyes that warred with fright.
Finn had passed out again after that.
The next time he woke up, BB-8 had babbled happily and joyfully at the foot of his bed and tumbled out with a chirp. Five minutes later, Poe had bashed through the curtains, arms full of nutrient gel packs and repaired jacket and a couple of tatty books. Everything was dumped in a chair and then Poe was throwing himself down, saying Finn’s name and his arms were carefully, firmly wrapping around Finn’s neck and shoulders and Finn had to blink away tears.
How could he have so much, now? It was only weeks ago that he was faceless in white, subject to rules for everything, one amongst many. A number. Trained to shoot and march and sleep on command. Now? He had people. Family. A name.
A name.
They’d talked for hours, until they were both near-hoarse and yawning. The medical droid let them go, because every time it drifted in with a cautious beep, BB-8 chittered something to it and it left. Poe eventually left with a twinkle and a squeeze of Finn’s hand. Poe’s hand was warm, slightly rough from the stick of his fighter. Finn had felt himself smiling as he watched the pilot go.
In the morning, Finn had risked standing up to walk the couple of steps to the tiny bathroom adjacent to the med bay. He was shaking and sweating by the time he got back, but they’d changed the sheets while he was up, and there was a bottle of cold water by his bed, and Poe’s books to flick through. They were adventure stories, all daring heroes and heroines flying through impossibly tight canyons, making ridiculous shots, toasting their victories with creatures Finn had only ever seen in contact manuals. The covers were worn with age, and several of the pages had been taped into place.
They were obviously treasured. And Poe had lent them to him. His pilot’s jacket was draped over the chair next to Finn’s bed, carefully stitched around the singed edges with red thread to match the shoulder patches.
Nobody had ever cared for him like this. Rey was his friend, of course, someone he’d rescue a hundred times, an ally, a comrade in arms. Finn loved her toughness, her competency. Her incredible flying skills.
He missed his friend.
But this was different.
Poe was back again by the afternoon. He had clothes with him this time. Clothes, and a bright smile, and a steady arm for Finn to grip as he tottered to the mess. It was impossibly loud after the hospital wing, but there were people there who lifted their glasses and shouted his name - his name - and who laughed with Poe when Finn asked them to tell him about the assault on Starkiller. Finn sat, even though his muscles were screaming, because he was in the world again, and Poe had gone and gotten him a plate, and was wedged in tight beside him on the bench.
Hearing other people say his name was odd. Poe had named him and it was almost like he was the only one who was really allowed to use it. It was ancient magic; a bond. You gave me a name and it belongs to you as much as it does to me.
It was Poe who noticed when the pain got really bad and Finn had to dash away the sweat that sprung up on his forehead. It was Poe who got him up and slung an arm around his waist and who helped him back to his bed in the med bay. It was Poe who called the medical droid over, with worry in his voice and tightness in his face.
“Rest up, buddy. We’re going to need your skills with a blaster sooner or later.” Poe had smiled, but Finn could hear the stress in his voice. Years of living in helmets had made him attuned to all of the things that people said without words.
“I’m fine, I’m just... I want to be healed already, you know?” Finn eased himself into his bed. “I need to be doing something.”
“You’ve already done plenty. The General has put your intel to good use - she’s planning strike missions as we speak,” Poe said.
“Oh yeah? When is she sending you out again?” Finn asked.
“Tomorrow night.” Poe kept all of his easy confidence in his body as he moved to the door, but there was something closed in his face.
“Oh. That soon?” Finn suddenly realised just how much it was going to hurt to wander the base without his pilot. His pilot? Oh. OK.
“I’ve been grounded for a couple of weeks,” Poe grinned. “You just didn’t notice because you were in here. The world keeps turning without you, Mr Big Deal.”
“Not you too!” Finn groaned. Why, why, why had he said that to Solo? His stomach twisted as he remembered the war hero’s body falling into the void. “I’m just Finn.”
“There’s no “just Finn” about it,” said Poe, biting his lip a little. “You risked your life to save Rey, and to get those shields down. I would have been shot out of the sky if I had’ve been up there much longer. You got me out of there. Kept me safe. Me and Jess and Snap and the others. So I say you’re a big deal, OK?”
“Yeah, OK,” said Finn. Something in his chest felt like it was glowing. “You know, I only shook off my programming when we assaulted that village. I watched my squad-mate die, and I saw you getting captured, and I just... I couldn’t do it any more. I was so scared that someone would see that I wasn’t... following orders.”
“I’m glad you broke free of that.” Poe looked serious now. “I signed up for the military, you know? Joined the Resistance because everything was moving too slowly and nobody was taking the First Order threat seriously. You didn’t have that choice. They took you, made you into a soldier. It’s one of the reasons I fight. It’s not right, doing that to children.”
“No. It’s not.” Finn pressed a hand over his face. So many troopers. So many families torn up. “I gotta sleep. Come see me before you go?”
“Of course, buddy. You take care.” Poe lingered in the doorway for a moment longer and then left.
Finn sank down into sleep.
When he woke, Poe was gone.
*
A week passed with agonizing slowness.
Goddamn it, Poe was supposed to be back.
Days ago.
All Finn could do was monitor the base-wide comms channel for news, and do his horrible, painful, boring exercises. General Organa had gotten all she could from him over hours of discussions about First Order ships and resources and training and troop movements. She never looked tired, but since they’d gotten back from Starkiller and after Han, she looked smaller somehow. Still, she was tough, that woman. Near unbreakable. Whip-smart and driven.
Finn could see why they followed her. Why he followed her. Why he trusted her to send Poe out again, on a crazy dangerous mission. A mission that apparently only he could pull off. They’d figured out the location of a mid-sized base on Akiva that the First Order was guarding heavily. Poe and his squadron were hitting it, hard. General Organa was banking on the element of surprise, but it was easy to see that they could be outgunned and shot down if everything fell apart. Their smaller numbers meant that this kind of shock warfare was their best shot at doing damage.
When the news came, he was reading one of Poe’s books next to a comms unit.
Finn tucked the book under the pillow of his narrow bunk and hurtled for the strip, heedless of the pull of his scars. When he got there, X-wings were landing, crew were dashing around with tools and droids were beeping and booping.
There. Poe’s black and orange X-wing. Stepping out of it was Poe himself, all long limbs and lazy grace. BB-8 popped out of the fighter and chirped as Poe scanned the crowd from the top of the ladder. When he found Finn in the crowd, his whole face lit up.
Then they were running at each other, shouting, just like that time when Finn had thought him dead. The ground crew and officers were cheering the victory, but Finn could have sworn that they were cheering for him as he crashed into his pilot, shouting his name, furious that it had taken so long, but thankful, so thankful that he was back.
Poe grabbed him just as tightly, his hand locked on the back of Finn’s neck. They broke apart for just a second, and Finn’s heart was banging, and he was so relieved and happy that he could have kissed-
He kissed Poe, right on the mouth, in front of the whole Resistance. Poe pulled back, looking shocked for a second, and then he laughed and pulled Finn in for another, proper kiss.
“Don’t you dare”, Finn kissed Poe, biting that damn lip just a little. “Fly off.” Another kiss. “Without saying goodbye.” His fingers tangled in that glorious hair. “Ever. Again.”
“Yes sir, Mr Big Deal,” twinkled Poe. “Finn.”
He didn’t.