Archive of Our Own ^beta

Poe’s distracted and the worst thing for a fighter pilot to be, besides dead, is distracted. He really should be paying attention to what is probably a very inspiring speech, but all he can think about is the sudden strange smell that overwhelms him, draping over him like a heavy, sodden blanket.

Everything smells like wet ashes, smells like he’s being buried alive in wet ashes, and when Poe swallows, he can taste them too. His head feels funny—achingly tender, like a bruised fruit left out too long—but he just grits his teeth and resolves himself to paying even closer attention to the General’s speech.

His plan doesn’t go as he, well, planned, though. There’s a terrible pain in his skull suddenly, as if someone cracked it open and reached into his brain, squeezing with a tight fist. It makes him sweaty, palms of his hands clammy and his hairline damp, and he grips the edge of the conference table in an effort to stave off the wave of nausea that hits him unexpectedly.

Kylo Ren, he realizes. It’s Kylo Ren. Back from the dead, in his head somehow. He’s been compromised.

Poe doubles over and presses his sweat-slick forehead against the cool metal of the conference table.

“—Commander Dameron? Are you well?” General Organa pauses in the middle of her speech, and all eyes are suddenly on Poe.

Poe manages to lift his head. “I—I’m fine, General. Just a little headache. It’s nothing.”

General Organa twists her mouth and appears to consider his response before marching over to his side and putting her hands on her hips. “Go to the medbay and get yourself checked out.”

“General, I’m fine. I swear,” Poe insists.

“That was not a request,” the General says, firmly but not unkindly. “Go.”

Poe pushes himself slowly out of his seat and tries to conceal the shaking of his hands. The General is Force-Sensitive. Maybe she can sense Kylo in his brain, maybe that’s why she wants to get rid of him.

“General, I’m so—”

“I know. Now go.” She gives him a gentle push toward the door. “If you want, I can send one of my guards to escort you to the—”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Poe mutters, and does as he was ordered.

***

He’s flat on his back in the medbay, staring up at the plain white ceiling, when the sound of footsteps draws his attention. The doctor comes to his bedside, bearing a datapad in one hand and a nasty looking silver needle in the other.

“What’s that for?” Poe asks, fighting the urge to cower against the wall.

Actually, he’s not even sure he could do much cowering right now, as weak as he feels. He’s completely wiped, drenched in sweat and trembling from the exertion—of what, he doesn’t know. All he knows is he feels like he’s been fighting something ever since he smelled those wet ashes.

“It’s a shot to ease the pain in your head,” the doctor says, smiling kindly at him and swabbing his arm with wet cotton. “It’s not perfect, it won’t completely get rid of the pain, but it will help for a little while, at least.”

“Wait. The pain in my head, it’s not—” Kylo Ren, Poe can’t bring himself to say.

Doctor Kalonia’s smile disappears, though he doesn't think the grim expression that replaces it is meant to be directed at him. “No. It’s just a migraine. Well,” she says, “I shouldn’t say just a migraine. Migraines can wipe you out for hours, a whole day, even longer. But it’s not whatever you thought it was.”

Poe offers his arm to the good doctor and lays his still tender, still aching head back against the pillow. Now even the base of his neck, where it meets his skull, is sore. It feels like every inch of him is a bruise. “That’s good. Could be worse,” he muses.

“This’ll—” The needle slides home and Poe only gives a little flinch. “—sting.”

The doctor depresses the plunger and withdraws the needle. “You’ll need another shot in a few hours, if the pain hasn't cleared up. But you should be good to go in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, doc,” Poe mumbles.

“You’ve got some visitors,” she says, bandaging his arm with a square of gauze. “I’ll send them right in.”

Doctor Kalonia slips away and soon Finn’s and Rey’s curious, frightened faces peer down at him.

“Are you okay?” Finn asks, grabbing Poe’s hand in his.

“The doctor told us you had a pretty bad migraine,” Rey tells him, pulling a chair over to Poe’s bedside. She plops down in it next to Finn. “I used to get them back on Jakku, sometimes.” Rey pauses, as if carefully considering her next words. “I’ve been getting them here and there too, ever since Kylo Ren…”

Poe looks over at her. He feels tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, even though he isn’t crying. Or, at least, he hadn’t thought he was crying. He’s not sad, really. Just sore. “I thought he was in my head again,” he admits, squeezing gently on Finn’s hand. “Felt like there were claws in my brain, picking around.”

Rey leans forward and covers Finn’s hand on Poe’s with her own. “I’ve got my own remedies, if you ever find yourself in need,” she says. “They’re not quite as advanced as whatever Doctor Kalonia gave you, but it might help you to have backup just in case.”

“Thanks,” Poe mutters. His mouth is as dry as a desert now, and he smacks his lips. Someone presses the rim of a cool glass against his lips and Poe sips gratefully. “I mean it. Thank you both.”

“Anytime,” Finn says.

“Anytime,” Rey echoes.

Poe closes his eyes against all the lights and the constant hum, which still make his head throb. But Finn’s hand covers Poe’s and Rey’s hand covers them both, and Poe feels a whole lot better than before.