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Well, you wave your hand and they scatter like crows,
They have nothing that will ever capture your heart.
They're just thorns without the rose,
Be careful of them in the dark.
Oh if I was the one
You chose to be your only one:
Oh baby can't you hear me now, can't you hear me now?
-
Poe had glanced at the girl who accompanied Finn, and would never have thought about her otherwise if it weren't for the increasingly tall tales that eventually spring up around her.
Some say she's a Resistance spy from the Core worlds (he finds that hard to believe, and thinks that the General would've told him if there was a spy on their chessboard. But then, the General doesn't tell him everything). Some swear she's a First Order turncoat, a sleeper who accompanied Finn to the Resistance out of love, though why and how are still a mystery (Poe doesn't want to admit how invested he is in this story if it were true; not because of jealousy. No sir. Just simple curiosity, nothing more). Still others say she's the daughter of Luke Skywalker, and thus a savior; the General's niece and the very last of the Jedi (this theory is gaining ground, with all the thrown accusations and wild speculation that entails).
Poe, though, prefers to wait, and watch. The truth will out, he thinks.
The only times he sees her is by Finn's bedside, which wouldn't strike him as odd if it weren't for the fact that she jumps like she's seen a mynock whenever Poe opens the med bay doors. Whenever she sees him, she slumps over and excuses herself, and is out the door before he can say a word. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was avoiding him. He tries not to take it personally.
The longer she's on base, the more Poe learns, however obliquely. He's not stalking her, per se, but he does note certain details that seem to debunk the most popular theories:
- She appears to only have one outfit, the same sandy rags that she arrived in. A spy, he thinks, would have better resources.
- She's quite young, barely out of childhood. If she were a spy, she ought to have been recruited at an improbable age (the General would never stoop that low, and honestly he wouldn't fight for a Resistance that employed children).
- She seems bewildered by the commonplace tech around base. Once, he caught her standing by the water fountain, brow furrowed, as if waiting for someone to demonstrate how it worked. You would think an officer of the First Order to be just a smidge more worldly.
- (Jury's still out on the Skywalker theory. Her temporary quarters are quite near the General's, and he's seen them speaking in hushed tones outside the med bay. The evidence is inconclusive.)
Poe's done his detective work, but nothing prepares him for the first rain of the season. He needs some things from his X-Wing, and he grabs a battered umbrella for covering. No one else is on the tarmac, not in that weather. Poe, used to the humid rains of Yavin 4, shivers in the cold.
He retrieves his items (rations, datapads, new cords for BB-8) and upon tumbling out of the fighter nearly leaps out of his skin when he sees a figure standing nearby, face turned toward the sky.
It's the girl, the one who flew the Millennium Falcon, and her eyes are filled with wonder. She's also soaked to the skin, water streaming down her face and into her hair.
He gapes for a second, before a voice in his head that sounds remarkably like his late mother chides him into remembering his manners.
"Hey!"
Her face snaps to his, surprise and a childlike fear rises in her face. She looks small, and ready to flee.
"Here." He holds the umbrella over both their heads, and tries for a friendly smile. "Don't want you to get sick."
She only stares at him, eyes flicking to the umbrella, the rain, and back to his face. Deciding.
"Is it like this all the time?" She blurts out. Poe feels his brow furrow.
"This?" He stretches his arm, lets the droplets fall into his palm. "Sometimes. Just a little dew."
She looks almost exasperated (just a little dew) and seems to hesitate before speaking. "I've never...I mean, where I'm from, this doesn't happen. At least, not so much."
"Ah." Poe is dying to pepper her with questions, but c'mon; he's cooler than that. "Yeah. Don't worry; you get used to it. I wasn't when I came here, now I'm an old pro."
She seems to accept this answer, but her eyes are huge, luminous. They stand in silence for a moment, rain pattering over the umbrella. She looks at him.
"You visit Finn sometimes," she says, looking shy.
"Yeah," he says, voice lifting a little, half a question.
"I'm glad. I can't be there all the time. They won't let me sleep there."
Poe can't hold back anymore. "You and Finn are friends," he blurts out before he can stop himself. "How'd you meet him?"
Her eyebrows jump up, and she looks a bit startled, and he wonders if no one asked her that before.
"I...haven't known him long," she says, cocking her head. "We met on Jakku. His ship crashed, and his friend was killed. Dameron, I think was his name."
"That's me," Poe says, bewildered. Her eyes widen. He lets out a surprised chuckle. "I promise, rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."
"You're Poe Dameron," she says, and he likes the way she says his name, as if tasting it, as if it's wonderful. "I wore your jacket," she says, looking a bit embarrassed.
"Is that so?" He smiles down at her. "How'd that come about?"
"Finn gave it to me on Starkiller base. Said he didn't want me to be cold." She looks sad then, like she misses him. Poe's heart, big as an opee, wants to comfort her.
"He'll be alright," he assures her. She sniffles, and nods her head.
When she looks back up at him, her eyes are watery, but there's a hint of a smile on her lips. "I should ask you the same question. How did you meet Finn?"
"Well..." He chews his bottom lip thoughtfully. "So, I met this stormtrooper..."
"Finn?"
"Yes, Finn," he says, huffing out a laugh. "And we crashed on a desert planet—"
"Jakku."
"Jakku, right, exactly." Maybe the story had traveled faster than he thought. "When I woke up, I couldn't find him. He was lost."
"And you never thought you'd see him again."
"And I never thought I'd see him again.”
She looks thoughtful. He drops his eyes to their feet, listening carefully, trying to be respectful. When he looks back up, she’s smiling at him, and she looks like––
Poe remembers when he was little and used to put together puzzles with his mother, intricate things that made up pictures of Naboo landscapes, and those long-ago moments when he’d find the second-to-last piece and put it in place. Rey looks like how his mother would look like, all triumphant, all a-ha!, all indulgent, as she picked up the very last piece, and snapped it in where it belonged, completing the picture. Rey looks just like that.
“Well,” Rey says, never taking her eyes off him, “How strange, our paths have crossed and we’ve never met, until now.”
She sticks out her hand; he fumbles with the umbrella to grasp her fingers. Her grip is small, but powerful. In the weeks and months to follow, he remembers every crease and callus of her palm. “My name is Rey.”
He grins his Poster Boy grin, infinitely pleased, and gives her hand a good shake. “Poe Dameron.”