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The afternoon planning session drags on into the evening, more because this group enjoys working together despite the life and death consequences of what they do. Leia Organa and Gial Ackbar have strategized together for longer than Finn’s been alive. Caluan Ematt joined them at the beginning of the Resistance formalization a mere twenty years ago. Statura came a few years before Finn, bringing intense technical know how to the table. Finn was drafted into this select brain trust seven years ago and despite being their ‘secret weapon’ he’s also their baby in every possible way except birth. He’s constantly amazed by feeling such a part of anything.
Finn hasn’t said anything for a long time and Leia finally looks to him. “Finn.”
He meets her eyes, lifts his brows. “I don’t know yet. There’s something here they haven’t told us yet. I want to have plans in place, to strategize, just in case. But, I also want to hold off at least awhile, see if we can find out what they’re holding back.”
The group hasn’t been talking about the fifteen defectors, but everyone understands who Finn refers to. Gial’s huge eyelids drift to half-mast. Statura nods. Finn shrugs. He wishes he were more sure. He taps his fingers on the table slowly. He is sure, but unsure if he’ll be credible. Not that any of this group has ever doubted him. “I think they’re from a recruitment colony. Not a base. I’m sure each of them has been part of attack forces, but they’ve come here from a recruitment colony.” Finn described the recruitment colonies long ago. The small highly regimented communities where the Order raises troopers. A bit like raising crops. “We wouldn’t want to approach a colony the same way we would a military base.” He adds.
The Resistance personnel have a very hard time thinking of the Order as a collection of people. Finn was mystified by the effect armor has in dehumanizing both the wearers and the observers. He remains baffled but is always reminding someone that they’re fighting people. Some of who are not soldiers. Yet. It’s easy to only focus on attack and defense. More and more, Finn is beginning to understand that there are opportunities for rescue and sabotage that will be more effective than anything they can do in waged battle.
He must be thinking pretty loudly because Leia clucks her tongue. A small noise of impatience. Finn looks up, sure his doubts are clear to her.
“What is it?” Leia asks.
“General, I wonder if they aren’t asking us for a rescue mission of some sort. They’re soldiers, not diplomats. They’re scared and confused by all this, too. They expected something a bit more… organized.” A smile twitches the corner of his mouth. “I get making these plans, but want to sound a note of caution.” He turns to gaze at the images in front of them. “Perhaps tomorrow we ought to begin planning our alternate strategies.”
Finn takes a detour past the starship hangars under the assumption the chances are high Poe is still there and not at home. He follows the lights still on through darkened two hangar bays, then he follows Poe’s voice, muttering a song, low and melodic. In the fourth bay, he finds Poe. Or rather, sees Poe’s legs and boots extending from under a starship. Finn leans on the wall.
Poe rolls out from under the X-wing. He’s pulled his hair straight back in a short ponytail. This is to keep it out of his eyes. And the man wears his hair much too long because Finn loves it. But, the ponytail is so handsome that Finn wants to tackle the man and take him apart on the concrete floor of the hangar. He’s so damn gorgeous
BB8 gives a whistle of greeting to Finn as she hands Poe a tool. Poe looks around and grins. “Hey. You done?”
Finn reconsiders tackling Poe. Instead, substitutes that notion with a vision of scooping him up and tossing him into the cockpit. Though they are matched in height, Finn outweighs him by 25 pounds of muscle most of the time. Finn can bench press Poe pretty easily and he tilts his head thinking about it.
Poe keeps talking. “Right there.” He points something out to BB8 that Finn can’t see. His dark eyes find Finn again. “Give us a minute and we can go.” Poe glances up again and catches Finn’s expression. “What?” His activity comes to a slow halt, his smile widening. “Didn’t we already do that?”
“We did.” Finn admits. “Hasn’t dimmed my interest you know.” He lifts off the wall and crosses to Poe, leaning to kiss him lightly.
Poe takes the kiss deeper, moving up against Finn. “Hi.” He sighs against his lips. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”
“Just told ‘em I missed you.” Finn smiled.
Poe shoves him gently in the shoulder. “What dastardly plans have you all come up with for us?” He tries for lighthearted but doesn’t succeed.
“Nothing yet.” Finn begins. He leans back on the fuselage and crosses his arms. “What would you advise if we found out where the recruitment colonies are?”
Poe stills. He searches Finn’s face. One of the first serious conversations they’d had was about Finn’s childhood in the recruitment colony. The disparity between Finn’s childhood and Poe’s has been a consistent topic of comment, revelation, and some sorrow. Every single Stormtrooper defection they learn of leaves Finn filled with hope and haunted by the on-going existence of the colonies. Poe doesn’t often nudge around the issues. It goes easier when he lets Finn come to him with memories or anger.
For the past few years Finn has been infusing the Resistance strategies with ideas about supporting the trooper rebellion and rescuing recruits. They’ve had an incredible impact infiltrating trooper communications, resulting in a steady stream of trooper defections. The latest arrival of Stormtroopers has stirred planning for a deep space attack on the Order. This is the first time Finn has ever hinted at knowing where the colonies might be.
Poe’s eyes narrow. “Rescue.”
Finn nods. “It feels like these guys come from the colonies. We’re gonna wait. We’ll see.”
“Seriously?” Poe’s face lights from within.
Finn nods again. Poe’s enthusiasm and delight is satisfying. Feels right. Stokes Finn’s hope for this. There’s no way to describe what it would mean to liberate one of the colonies. Most days he simply ignores the possibility as too farfetched. Suddenly it seems within reach.
~
It is without a doubt the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to him, Poe thinks. How in the ever loving kriff do the simplest things go so far wrong? He and Pava were standing in a junkyard on Gavin 7 asking the operator about possible spare parts for an old generator back on D’Qar. Simple. Routine. Business. Pava was haggling the creature down from some exorbitant price, the standard custom. Poe backed up to give her some room to negotiate. Behind him some chucklehead let go an EMP – clearly designed to disable a piece of Order tech before storage – innocent. Every servo and circuit in Poe’s rebuilt leg and shoulder died, leaving him standing on one foot and aching. No signs posted, no warning called. There ought to be laws. In fact, there are. But, private property. New employee. Son of someone. Poe stopped listening to avoid shooting said someone.
Nothing bled and nothing actively hurt. He was able to fly home. Now he’s sitting on a kriffing gurney in medbay listening to Kalonia tell him he has to have new implants. She looks cheerful about this. Something about new tech, better implants.
“No, no.” He says. “I fly out in two days. Just turn them back on.”
Kalonia levels a glare at him. “Poe, you know that’s not how it works. They’re useless. Someone may fly out in two days. But it won’t be you.”
Finn finds him in medbay lying sullenly on a gurney with an arm over his eyes. “Nicely done, Dameron.” He says softly. He lands a gentle kiss somewhere on Poe’s chin as Poe shakes his head. “Knew you didn’t want to go in, but kriff. You coulda just said.”
“Finn, no.” Poe protests.
Finn ignores his protest. “Dr. Kalonia says surgery for you tomorrow.”
Poe is still shaking his head.
“Sweetheart.” Finn caresses Poe’s cheek. That works to get Poe’s attention.
He stares up, bites his lip. “We’ve done this before.”
“Many, many times.” Finn agrees. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right here.”
“What…” Poe halts, starts again. “We wait. Postpone the mission until…”
Finn shakes his head.
“Finn, I…”
Finn silences Poe with a kiss. “Sweetheart. Surgery tomorrow. If that goes well, then we’ll decide about the mission.” He is not, isn’t ever really sanguine about Poe being injured. Kalonia assured him that this is unfortunate but routine. He believes her as far as it goes. He just wishes more fervently every day that Poe would keep himself in one piece. That wish is futile on behalf of a fighter pilot. It’s a conversation he and Kes have had many many times. Many times. Might have again tonight. Right this minute Poe is unhappy enough for all three of them, so Finn continues with level ease. “You can come home tonight, you know.”
“I know.” Poe is very close to pouting.
“Up to you.”
“I know.”
Kes and Leia arrive together, both looking concerned in ways that make Poe a little crazy. Kes gives him a measuring look. Leia corners Kalonia for details. He throws an arm, his good arm, back over his face and groans. “Do we have to have a full on conference right this minute?” He grumbles. He’s being an ass and can’t seem to stop. It’s even more annoying that him being an ass doesn’t bother any of these people in the slightest. They are all, all three of them, so kriffing good. Infuriating. They are discussing whether or not he should sleep at home tonight or stay in medbay. “I’m right here.” He fusses. “I can hear you.” He would complain that they’re not paying attention to him, but that would be far from the truth. Finn’s hand rests on his chest, one thumb stroking firmly. He’s also leaning on the bed, his weight and warmth right up against Poe’s shoulder. Papi has re-fastened the shoe Poe’d taken off for the exam and straightens Poe’s pants leg and cuff. Leia is the only one of them looking at him and she’s meeting his eyes with serious affection, much too serious for comfort, might even be love. Poe grits his teeth against his impulse to yell. “Home tonight.” He says, hoping to sound reasonable. “Back here in the morning.” What he hears is resignation.
~
“It killed his mother to stop flying.” Kes announces in passing while drying dishes Finn has washed.
They’ve been arguing for three days. Not that Finn and Kes actually argue. They discuss. Exchange looks. Comment.
“He isn’t Shara.” Finn replies. And I am not you, he doesn’t say aloud. The rare times he and Kes disagree, they don’t pull punches. There are some things, though, that don’t get said. Finn sets his dishrag over the faucet and turns to face Kes. “He’s the only person from his academy class, hell, from his original squadron, still flying in combat.”
Kes’ mouth pulls into a thin line. He looks like his son. “He should make his own decisions.”
Finn raises a brow. It never ceases to amaze him that anyone ever thinks Poe ought to make his own decisions. Certainly not his father, who should know better. Does Kes know how reckless his son can be with his own life – never the lives of others. When both Dameron men give him the thin lips, he’d love to be able to give it back. But his mouth firms, it doesn’t thin. Poe says it’s quite intimidating. He feels it happen now, tries to relax his expression. “If he doesn’t decide to retire from combat, Leia will decide for him.”
They both know that won’t be pretty. Surely they are both on the same side of this. Everyone wants Poe to live forever, don’t they? Dameron stubbornness on the issue is entirely unnecessary. As is Bey stubbornness. Finn sighs. Reminds himself he chose this family. That thought makes him smile. Yes. Yes, he did. Does. “Okay, okay.” He lifts his hands. “I hear you. But, you need to hear me. What if he’d been in battle when that happened?”
“It can’t happen again. He has those nano-things now.”
Finn narrows his eyes. “You told him what you think, I told him what I think. Let’s leave it there.”
“And Leia has told him, I suppose.” Kes huffs.
“I suspect half the fleet has told him.” Finn picks up the drying towel, signaling his withdrawal from the argument, at least for the moment.
Kes grumbles something about having children that’s drowned in the sound of Poe and Rey coming in the door.
“Finn, look who’s coming to dinner.” Poe manages to make this sentence sound like an accusation, if a teasing one.
Finn ignores him and sweeps Rey up into a twirling hug that carries them across the small living room in a flurry of giggles and chuckles. Finn and Rey together is effervescent, practically carbonated. Poe and Kes stand back and grin at them. When her feet touch the ground again, Rey floats over to Kes and hugs him, too, kissing his cheek.
“So you’re doing this?” Poe asks.
Finn rolls his eyes skyward. “Yes, for the hundredth time, yes. We’re leaving in four days.” He tucks an arm into Rey’s elbow. “Dinner isn’t for ages. Let’s leave these cranky men and go take a look at the flight plans.” He kisses Poe lightly, salutes Kes, and they’re gone.
~
Communications go dark. Poe stills, staring at the coms station feeling his bones turning to stone. Quiet settles in HQ in increments, weirdly contagious, resting on his skin like a frost. His thoughts stutter to a halt. Finn. His stomach hollows with fear like he's never experienced.
A hand lands on his shoulder gently and squeezes. He blinks himself back into existence, takes a long slow breath and hopes he doesn't faint. Finn has explained that knowing something isn't always enough preparation. That there is no preparation for standing by while your heart flies into certain danger. He hasn't fully appreciated the seriousness of that until now. He forces himself to orient to the grip of his father’s fingers.
The tracking beacon on the Falcon ticks reliably, a golden dot in an artificial space map. In a few seconds it too will vanish, consumed by hyperspace. Poe can't watch and can't look away. Most of his adult life he was the golden dot. More recently he's supervised enough missions from here to be fully familiar with the routine. But Finn. It’s been ten years nearly to the day since Finn shed his helmet and Poe first saw the loveliest dark eyes in the galaxy. If today is the last time he gets to look into… Poe blinks the thought away. Six or seven days was the projection for how long the mission will keep Finn away. They’ve been separated countless times, but generally Finn has been safely here. Though Poe certainly hasn’t been. And while Poe is always sure he’ll return – and he has hasn’t he? – Finn and Rey have flown into the heart of the Order to locate the Recruitment Colonies, to liberate a score of children if they can. Poe should be with them.
“Nice work.” Leia says. “Let's check in with Wexley and Pava.” The room shifts attention to the other mission they're monitoring.
Another moment and Poe comes back to himself, more or less. His anger at being grounded simmers. At least if he were with them. Any of them. If he weren’t simply standing here he wouldn't be reduced to a puddle of temporary uselessness. He hopes temporary. He's fairly sure just temporary. He looks around seeking his father, anchoring in his warm brown gaze as if he's a kid again. Or sick again. Kes offers back a bemused smile, half empathy, half ‘told you.’ His father’s humor brings Poe even further back to reality. He feels his mouth curve with chagrin. He can feel his feet again, too, which has to be a good sign.
Poe ought to refocus and assist with the mission in Corcursant, just the thought of Pava all polished up to negotiate with Republic leaders is hilarious. Though these days, age and experience have given both she and Snap the gravitas to clean up exceptionally well. He glances over at the strategy table to see what's happening.
“Take a break Commander.” Ackbar. A webbed appendage gives Poe a sympathetic pat.
Poe looks to Leia, a protest forming on his lips. She nods curtly, dismissing him.
Kes follows his son from headquarters into a bright day. There's a kind of wicked satisfaction in seeing him suffer this parting so well known to Kes and Finn, and to Leia. It seems un-parental and strangely fair at the same time.
“What’m I supposed to do?” Poe might be talking to himself.
Kes can't resist an answer. “I used to head home from the airfield and vomit. Finn cries.”
Poe’s head drops and Kes immediately reaches for him. “Give it a little time, son.” He wraps Poe into a long hug. “The shock goes in a couple of hours.” He pulls back to look at Poe who looks more stunned than queasy. “Come have a drink and a bite. Then you can get back to work.”
After a meal, he says goodbye to Kes and assures him he’s fine.
Poe can’t go back to work, though. He doesn’t want to see the coms station again, unable as it is to show him Finn. Perhaps tomorrow. He doesn’t want to hang out in the hangars or work on a ship he might never take into battle again. He’s not there yet. He walks back to the hut where he leans his head against the door for a moment before punching in the security code. Finn isn’t home.
Intent on simply going about the motions of picking up the room and maybe taking some laundry out, he shrugs off his jacket and flips on the lights. Weirdly, BB8 has gone with Finn and Rey and R2. Poe’s world is suddenly far too quiet. He picks up the basket they keep laundry in and checks the bathroom for towels. There’s a piece of paper taped to the mirror. It’s folded once and says ‘hey.’ Poe drops the basket and snags the paper.
‘Hey sweetheart’ Finn’s careful handwriting is as familiar as his voice and just as welcome. ‘I’m fine. I’ll be back. I won’t do anything stupid or brave that would keep me from you. I know you told Rey to watch my back – about seventeen times. Whenever your mind wanders off wondering what I’m doing, just remind yourself that I’m fine. Stay busy. By the way, could you look at the speeder for me? It needs a tune-up in the worst way. Thanks, buddy. I love you.’
Poe tucks the note in his pocket, catching sight of his own smile in the mirror. Excellent. Laundry. Speeder. He’s on it.
There’s another note under the pillow when Poe settles into bed. ‘Figure you’ll be up most of the night, buddy.’ Poe grins at the paper. ‘I recommend a walk along the edge of the forest to the picnic spot we like. Sit up there on the rock and watch the sky. We’ll be looking right at each other. I guarantee I’ll be looking towards D’Qar every chance I get. I love you.’ Poe turns the scrap of paper over in his hand for a minute. He climbs out of bed and grabs his pants off the floor. He scrambles back into them and grabs the first note from the pocket. He takes it back to bathroom and tapes it back to the mirror. He slips the most recent note back under his pillow and heads outside. It’s not like he’s gonna sleep. Hell, he has a hard enough time sleeping when Finn’s beside him. When they’re apart Poe is generally awake. When Poe is on a mission he’s generally awake.
On the rock where he and Finn have had more meals than he can count, he stretches out, feet crossed at the ankles, hands behind his head. The sky twinkles down on him and he picks out the constellations he knows. They’ve done this together so many times Poe feels Finn’s formidable spirit, knows he’s looking right at him. He’s fine. Poe stays until he’s actually sleepy.
Walks back to the room and slips under the covers. Sleep is elusive as always, a bit fitful. His body complains about the hours he spent hunched over the speeder, the hours he lay out on hard chilly stone. His body complains about the new implants in his hip, femur, and knee that have him grounded. He should be deep in the Unknown Regions with Finn and Rey. Not that they need him. Something he only admits to himself in the dark. They’re fine. His body complains about the lack of Finn, who warms the bed like a large furnace, hogs the middle, spoons insistently around Poe with arms and legs draped heavily.
There is another note in the pocket of a clean pair of pants. Poe finds it in the morning. ‘hey, good looking.’ He wonders if there are notes everywhere. There must be. He glances around the room, tempted to simply upend the entire room to find them. He turns his attention back to the slip of paper in his hand. Leave it to Finn to leave physical, paper notes instead of messages. ‘I’m telling myself you’re gonna keep eating and not be crazy and starving when I get back. Like you are when you come home. Don’t make me look bad. I left the readouts on the new barracks up on my datapad. If you wanted to take a look? I love you.’ When did Finn do this? Poe doesn’t want to accidentally wash a note, so he slides this one under a chunk of the servo he has disassembled on the desk.
He resists the urge to ransack the room in search of Finn’s notes. He likes coming across them as he goes. Finn is meticulous in checking through Poe’s gear when he’s leaving for a mission – even a simple recon. While Poe focuses on future plans and coordinating his rambunctious pilots, Finn makes sure nothing’s overlooked or forgotten in the bustle of departure. Poe tries to imagine Finn writing him these little notes and finding places to stash them, the care of this gesture is so dear his chest tightens with the realization. It’s never occurred to Poe to do any such thing. He’s never wanted to pester Finn with constant reminders that he’s gone. He laughs out loud. Next time he’s leaving, if there is a next time… if Leia doesn’t ground him permanently after this last fiasco.
He picks up Finn’s datapad on his way out to physical therapy. He flexes his hand. The microscopic nano-bots in his joints faired much better than the battery driven implants in his leg. The new implants in his leg are similar to those, powered off his own body’s electrical output. But none of his internal tech was happy about the EMP blast.
The day is overcast, though so far still dry. The base is busy with a new supply shipment that arrived last night. PT will take an hour and then he’s expected at HQ to supervise the afternoon shift of Snap and Jess’ mission. Dinner with Papi tonight, Poe offered to cook. He taps the datapad. He’ll look over the plans for new barracks with Papi over dinner. Another day falls into place.
~
When the last of the fleeing ships punches into light speed Finn hollers with the sheer adrenalin of six days non-stop mayhem. Whatever he thought would happen if they found even one recruitment colony was completely undone by what happened when they landed on planet 12 and R2 came back from its recon excursion into the Order base with three troopers. When the troopers understood that FN2187 was in their midst was indeed quite real and quite alive everything took off in a direction Finn could not have predicted.
Rey was much less surprised to find a vast network of restless stormtroopers inspired by the story of Finn. His flesh and blood embodiment amongst them fanned the low embers of possibilities into a blaze of rebellion that blew into wholesale social collapse within 36 hours. Information that many others who’d defected over the years had survived, and better yet thrived, outside the Order tumbled through the ranks like falling dominoes. By day three all Chewy, Finn, and Rey could think to do was try to get the youngest of the recruits out. Fast. The kidnapping plan they engineered was miniscule compared to the scope of hundreds of defection plans being undertaken at the same time. The Order did not respond well to the unraveling of the command chain, and defecting squadron leaders turned the command structure inside out. Things, large things, actually caught on fire or were burned down. That they left the system with nine freighters filled with children and their caretakers was a miracle.
They hadn’t dared to take their refugees to D’Qar for fear of bringing the wrath of the Order home. Finn managed to get one message out to Leia as they left. They were taking the refugees to Dantooine; easier to defend and fewer non-military residents. Finn advised evacuating as Leia thought best. And getting ready to go on the offensive immediately.
“Did you get a message off?” Finn looks at Rey.
She’d been working to send a message to Master Luke. She nods absently, keying something into the control panels before settling back in the pilot’s seat. “Grabbed the base coms feeds from the past week, too.” She dials up the holo-projection. Data scrolls past in a thick stream of training schedules, supply runs, personnel movements, transport timetables, and then two days ago the stream erupts with information about disturbances in the Unknown Regions. Rey leans back. “Well, at least everyone knows something’s happening.”
It’s been several days since any of them ate or slept and the deprivation hits Finn hard. He can hardly think. He shifts from the co-pilot seat stiffly and heads towards the cabin, food, and bed. He eats a day’s rations, still reeling through images in his mind of hundreds of kids, ages 3 – 14, confused and scared, hustling along the corridor. Following orders. Still following orders.
Rey wipes his cheek with the back of her fingers. “You okay?”
He’s crying. He nods. “Yeah. I guess so. Brings back a lot.” The other feeling tugging at his insides is an overwhelming relief Poe didn’t have to see any of this. The reverence with which some said the designation he’d so glibly and gratefully abandoned ten years ago is disturbing. Back there, FN2187 means something it never meant to him. When he left the designation behind as a symbol of his long subjugation it’d transformed into a symbol of freedom. His skin crawls and he rubs his arms. And, so much armor. He hadn’t really thought through the impact of so much gleaming white armor again. Rey’s arms come around him, hug him close. She’s murmuring something and prodding around in his brain with a clumsy form of Force comfort that makes him chuckle.
“I gotta rest or I’m gonna fall over.” He mutters, shoving Rey gently around until he can stretch out on a bunk. He tugs her in despite her wriggling, wraps around her. “Be still.” She laughs, squirms, gives up. Finn yearns for the smooth warmth of Poe’s well muscled limbs instead of this sharply bony creature. But before he can complain sleep takes him under.
~
The first bit of interstellar panic comes from a Corellian smuggler and Resistance sympathizer who messages a question to Poe. ‘what the hell’s happening in the UR?’ Poe’s known Regis for decades and trusts her implicitly. He leans over and punches up a message stream from the smugglers’ coms on the outer rim.
“What the…” Dara Keen dials up the chatter on the main view screen.
Poe tunes out the noise in HQ and reads. There’s a series of reports coming out of Order territories describing some kind of trouble. His heart stutters in his chest, this time worse than when they lost communications with the Falcon. He needs to know right now, where this trouble is happening. He continues reading. Order ships are returning to the Unknown Regions at speed. There’s a brief report of fighting someplace called Planet 12.
Leia arrives at Poe’s shoulder. “Commander Keen, alert the fleet. I want them on standby.”
General Ematt orders Snap and Jess back to base. Poe’s body wants to move, reflexes long borne of battle. Leia offers him a small smile. “I suspect our friends are still at large causing trouble.” She says.
Poe frowns. “Or…”
Leia assesses him. “This isn’t what it looks like when they’ve captured one of ours.” She points out. She moves to the next table and begins mapping out defensive positions along the outer rim.
Poe, who’s been twice on the captured side and never on the standing around in HQ side of the equation, subsides into watchful silence as activity in the room picks up. Once her squadrons are assigned and sent out, Leia assigns Poe to watch the coms streams coming in from the underground, among the smugglers, and citizenry. Within the Republic, all remains quiet for two days. The Order bases closest to the border of the outer rim become quiet and the data from Tatooine indicates those bases are emptying. But emptying to where? And why? Poe reads the incoming data from the underground networks of traders, workers, and smugglers. He also listens to Leia’s side of communications with the Republic Senate. Whatever is happening inside the First Order, Poe’s torn between hoping Finn’s nowhere near it and conversely that Finn caused it.
~
The first one off the Falcon is BB8 rolling down the ramp and across the tarmac with R2 close behind. Drowning in binary, Poe sucks in air as Finn, Rey, and Chewy inch down the ramp talking with each other. BB8 knocks against his shin, but Poe is already running. The motion catches Finn’s attention and he steps clear of Rey in time for Poe to crash into him. He scoops Poe from the waist, under the arms, and up into a kiss that is hungry and half-finished. Finn growls, unable to get close enough to Poe in this moment to satisfy even a sliver of his need. He needs the contact, the close, the crush, everything. He needs the love. Needs to see it and taste it, because he’s been abandoned again in each and every small face he’s looked into over the past week.
Rey pats Poe on the shoulder when Finn puts him down. She leans to gaze up into his eyes, shockingly serious. “Do not let him go.” She insists.
“Never.” Poe agrees easily. Her gaze doesn’t waver. Poe sobers, glances between Rey and Finn. “Never.” He repeats. She nods and walks away briskly.
Poe turns back to Finn, wants to ask him what the hell that was all about. But, Finn’s buried his head in Poe’s neck, clinging tightly. Poe clings back. Finn does not let go. Poe shifts around to put his mouth next to Finn’s ear. He kisses at the hinge of his jaw. He whispers. “You hurt?”
Finn nods, his grip on Poe tightening.
“Medbay?”
Finn shakes his head, leaving Poe at a momentary loss. They can both be clingy after a stretch apart, but this feels different. New. He traces a hand up Finn’s back, caresses his neck. They haven’t moved from the tarmac under the belly of the Falcon. Now two First Order transports come in to land. Despite Chewy’s message that both transports carry rescued and escaping Order recruits, kids, Poe stiffens a little at the sight of the hulking machines putting down so close by. At that, Finn leans back and Poe can see his face. For a flash, he sees something’s terribly wrong. He opens his mouth to speak. Then, Finn is back to business, pulling himself together and moving away to meet the transports. Rey’s words echo in Poe’s head. Do not let him go. Instead of any internal questioning, he takes Finn’s hand and they go to wait for the transports to unload together.
The sheer number of children is startling. There must be close to five hundred children, a few adults sprinkled among them. Eerily, they march from the transports in groups mostly sorted by size. By age, Poe amends. The adults, unsure what’s going to happen next, line the kids up in squadrons on the tarmac, basically at parade rest. The kids wear the equivalent of trooper black under-armor, soft shoes. Their hair is uniformly shorn close and Poe realizes that if there are girls, which there must be, there’s really not much way of telling until they are older. And, yes. Among the teens, there are clearly young men and women. Two of the men, older than Poe, approach Leia and Luke, who’ve materialized on the airfield, walking up beside Poe and Finn.
“Colonel Dameron?” Leia addresses Finn. “Glad to have you back.”
“Glad to be back, General.” He gestures. “Allow me to present BR1717 and BQ2643, superintendents of the recruit camps on Planets 12 and 14 respectively. They have defected from the First Order and bring with them 457 recruits. They are requesting asylum and resettlement within the Republic.”
Poe hears this and hears the beginning of Leia addressing the two men before her. But, the sense of the words fades as Poe pictures Finn in the ranks of these strangely still children. Every story Finn has shared about his upbringing in the Order surges up into Poe’s imagination and shifts. He hadn’t accounted for the control or the silence. His heart contracts and his hand tightens.
A small staff of medical personnel moves up and the youngsters are shepherded away to barracks, food, and beds.
Leia returns her attention to Finn. “Excellent work.”
Finn is shaking his head. “No. No work at all, ma’am.” Finn hasn’t called her ma’am in years. Her brow furrows. He ploughs on. “The situation was vastly different from what we expected. There has been speculation among the troopers about the possibility of surviving outside the Order since…” He stops, swallows. “…since I defected. They were…” He pauses again, this time for longer. “… pretty excited to see me, ma’am.”
Leia looks into his eyes long and deeply. She puts her hand on his arm. “I don’t know how much intel you were getting out there. It seems that a trooper rebellion is collapsing the Order from the inside. If I’d known what I needed to do to defeat them was to send you back…” Something in Finn’s face stops her. “Finn, I’m sorry. It was brilliant strategy to rescue the recruits. That was all you.”
Finn lifts a hand. “No, ma’am. It was the stories. They told stories about me. They… when they found out the story was true… they, it…” He’s out of words. “the troopers did this. Themselves.” Finn bows his head and Leia rests her free hand on his head. He leans into her slowly until she’s holding him, eyes closed tight. Their embrace only lasts a second before Finn leans back up and nods. He glances to Poe, eyes pleading.
Poe inclines his head towards the barracks. “Permission to go get some rest, General?”
“Of course, Commander. We’ll debrief in the morning.” Leia turns and walks away, shadowed by her brother.
“What do you need?” Poe asks Finn. “Shower? Something to eat?”
“You.” Finn says. “Just need you.”
Poe gathers him close, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m right here.” He murmurs.
Another set of arms comes around both men. Kes. Poe relaxes and feels Finn, too, sinking into the encompassing embrace of their father. Kes rests his forehead against Finn’s and Finn looks up. Their eyes lock. “Be here now.” Kes says.
“Trying.” Finn says. “Can’t.” This truth sears through him like the furies. Every fiber of him is back at the very beginning of the end where everything warm and accepting was snatched away leaving him abandoned and alone amongst thousands of other orphans. Forever.
Poe’s fingers dig into his ribs and Finn glances up, his gaze snared by the intensity of Poe’s eyes. There’s a complicated fire burning there, part desire, part fury, part fear. There’s also a demand and the depth with which Poe wants him swamps through Finn.
Kes releases the younger men. “Go get some rest. Both of you.” He instructs.
“What’re you doing here?” Finn asks.
Poe ignores this. “Thank you for the notes. I can’t tell you how much that helped, buddy.” He snugs one last kiss into the corner of Finn’s mouth and steers them towards the barracks. “Leia asked Papi to manage the little ones.” Poe says. “She teased him about lounging around long enough without working, but he’s thrilled, really, to have something important to take on.”
Finn sends Poe a measuring look. “That’s terrific. I…” Kes will make perfect decisions about all of this. And Finn will always know what’s happened to them.
The rhythm of their steps falls into sync immediately, comfortingly. Finn may never let go Poe’s hand. The thought makes him smile, a genuine smile tugging up his mouth and his spirit. “Poe, they talk about me.” He starts, voice low and quiet. “They talk about me in the ranks. Somehow news got back that I survived defection, and…. They talk about me.”
Poe’s questions jamb up in his mouth as he struggles to give Finn the space to tell him what happened.
“They tell each other stories about FN2187. They are… proud of me.” Finn ventures, testing the thought out. “We sent R2 on a recon and it came back with three stormtroopers. When they recognized me, or I guess when they believed I was me, that I was FN2187, that I am FN2187, then everything just spiraled out of control.”
Poe has no trouble imagining this. Young resistance fighters talk about Finn, too. It’s been years since Poe became accustomed to the kind of hero worship the fighters of past, and sometimes present, can garner. He snatches careful glances of Finn as they walk. Something is very different in Finn’s posture, in his face. As straight as he tends to stand, he’s standing and walking more upright. As earnest as his face is at rest, the current raw longing in his expression is actually painful. Something intangible in the air around him is exactly like those kids marching soundlessly toward the barracks behind them. Sorrow hollows out Poe’s stomach, itches up his spine, tingles along his scalp.
Their room is dark and remarkably quiet. Poe assumes BB8 has gone to de-brief. He leans on the door to close it, watching Finn move automatically to drop the bag slung over his shoulder to the desk top. When Finn turns to face him, Poe quells the urge to go to him or baby him. Their typical post separation urge to hit the bed together and fuck each other senseless is missing from this homecoming. Poe waits.
“I’m sorry, Poe.” Finn offers.
Poe shakes his head.
Finn sits on the bed, leans back until he’s lying down, staring up at the ceiling. “You know, when you’re given to them, there’s nothing you can do but accept. You learn. You adapt. You adapt fast and it’s either okay or you die.”
Poe feels the words like blows. His chest contracts. Given. Accept. Die.
“But, accepting is a little like dying anyway. I didn’t know. I didn’t really understand. Until we got there. I just left all of it there in some unused part of my mind.” He throws an arm over his face. His entire body flinches as if someone’s dropped something on him.
Poe cannot leave him alone in this and can’t join him. He crosses the room swiftly without knowing what to do with himself. He hesitates at the edge of the bed. “Missed you.” He blurts. “We missed you, buddy. It’s not like I can just carry on like nothing’s missing when Leia and Papi are mooning around wanting you back, too. Hell, I tried to keep up with them, but, kriff. I’m not you.” He’s meaning to make light, but what he’s said is entirely true.
“I know.” Finn says, a smile in his voice. “They do the same damn thing when you’re gone.”
“They do not.” Poe sits on the edge of the bed.
“I just don’t tell you about it, because I’m not a whiny baby.” Finn chuckles. “Kriff, I’m so tired I could cry. Tried to sleep on the way back. Kept waking up thinking about what the hell we do with all the kids. Or flashbacks to being one of the kids.” His hand catches the hem of Poe’s shirt. “And you know I can’t sleep without you.”
The invitation soothes over Poe and he lies down, curves to Finn’s side. He rests his hand on Finn’s chest. “I know.”
Finn gathers Poe close. “Man, you smell terrific.” He snuffles at Poe’s shoulder. “Haven’t smelled anything this good since I left. Bet you’re tasty, too.”
“So I’ve heard.” Poe wants little more than to drift into the familiar and much loved territory of romance. There’s more, though. He frames Finn’s face with his hands. “Babe.”
“Hmmmph?”
Poe leans his forehead to Finn’s and enjoys breathing him, measuring his weight, the realness under his fingers. Finn isn’t really in this space, though. Selfishly Poe takes another moment to experience his pleasure at having Finn back. When he takes a breath and backs up, he stows his own business and offers Finn his undivided attention.
“What's hurting?” When he wants Poe can be incredibly direct.
Finn opens his eyes, his gaze immediately captured by Poe's. He takes a breath, opens his mouth, closes it again, brows pulling together. “Damn. So much.” He starts slowly. “Something just got torn while I was there, Poe. It must've been, has to be, the colony I was raised in. I mean, lots of things in the order look the same, but the sense of home was really strong and so wrong at the same time. I didn’t know how deep I buried that.” He rolls onto his back again. Poe shuffles close and props up on an elbow to see Finn’s face. Finn massages the spot between his brows and sighs.
“Last year you told me you wished you’d known my mom.” Poe says. He and Kes both struggled with the tenth anniversary of Shara’s death. Finn went with them to Yavin 4, helped them have a small memorial. Finn nods. “You also said as much as you wanted to meet her, if she hadn’t died when she did, if she hadn’t left us alone, that maybe I’d’ve stayed in the Navy, not met you, maybe we wouldn’t have had a place in our lives for you.” Finn smiles. Poe touches his lips. “I wouldn’t wish the Order’s upbringing on anyone, Finn. Never you. But…” He tilts Finn’s face toward him, so they are looking at each other again. “I love everything about who you are. Even that. I’m grateful for every single thing that makes you who you are. Everything. I hope you know that.” Finn’s eyes glaze with unshed tears and Poe can’t let that stop his words. “I’m so sorry, buddy. Damn anything that hurts you. Hate it.” Tears drip down the sides of Finn’s face, threatening to drip into his ears. Poe uses the sleeve of his t-shirt to brush them away. He kisses Finn’s jaw, his strong chin, his plush lower lip.
For the first time since hearing his designation out loud back on Planet 12, Finn is completely in the present and whole. Hurting. But, back. He twines his fingers in Poe’s. “Thanks.” He whispers.
“Don’t thank me yet.” Poe says, a chuckle in his tone. “Cause, I’m just gonna say what I always do. The Force doesn’t give a shit how many of us go down, friend. It works how it works. And you. You are the secret weapon that will take the Order down once and forever. Because they took you. Because you survive. Because you escaped. Because you turned.”
“Because I met you.” Finn amends. “And I couldn’t resist you. So I followed your gorgeous ass all the way to the Resistance. Where Leia Organa sank her fangs into me.”
“Finn.” Poe glares at this misrepresentation of everything starting from the fact that Finn thought Poe was dead on Jakku when he came to the Resistance from Takonda.
Finn laughs. “I’m just saying it’s your fault, too.” He twists a finger in the collar of Poe’s shirt and pulls his close enough to kiss. “And where would any of us be without Leia? Heroes come in packs and you dragged me into yours.”
Poe wants to say that Finn is hope. His very existence is what will break the hold of the dark side on the galaxy. Of course people tell stories about him. They will tell stories about him forever. But, Finn is kissing him and the gravitational pull of Finn has him in its thrall, towing him back to reality where the most remarkable man in the universe is in his bed. Again. Tomorrow is bound to bring chaos. The fight isn’t over. And this. This is worth treasuring.