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Poe is there when he wakes, at last.
“Ugh,” Finn groans, voice scratchy with disuse, and turns his head to see a sleeping rebel, lanky limbs draped carelessly over a chair next to the bed. Chest rising and falling evenly, hand brushing a discarded helmet, dark curls clearly mussed from wearing it. Finn clears his throat again, trying to make his voice box obey.
The noise finally reaches Poe and he bolts up, hand immediately on Finn’s arm. “Buddy!” he nearly shouts, his enthusiasm quickly dispelling the sleep from the both of them. “You’re awake! It’s so great to see you!”
Finn is still unused to such open displays of affection, but he refuses to lie to himself about how happy and peaceful he feels with his new friends, and he returns Poe’s smile readily. “It’s great to see you too, Mr. Best Pilot in the Resistance. Why are you in your flight suit?”
A little color rises in the pilot’s cheeks as he flashes that beatific smile. “I was out on a mission. I always come check on you when I get back, but I guess I was more tired than I knew.”
Finn feels his own face heat, yet again, unaccustomed to casual intimacies. “Oh. Um… I’m glad you were here to see me, then,” he offers lamely, trying to let Poe know how glad he is but faltering. “Is Rey here?”
Poe’s hand is still on Finn’s arm and the question causes him to tighten his grip. “Afraid not, pal. She had to go immediately to find Luke Skywalker. But I know that she misses us and she’ll be back as soon as she can. And we promised each other I’d be here when you woke up.”
Finn is silent for a few beats, feeling a faint thrumming in his bones that he can’t help but feel must be the Force. His eyes wander around the med bay, trying to take in as much as possible. He notices that Poe’s jacket— his now, he reminds himself— is slung over the back of the chair the pilot occupies, but that none of his other clothing is anywhere in sight. Not that he was eager to don the Trooper clothes again, but they were familiar. Grounding.
Now, he feels shiftless. Lost.
“What happens to me now, Poe? Does the Resistance have any use for a defective Stormtrooper?”
Poe’s eyes flash with something unidentifiable as he answers, “If you’re defective at all, it’s only in the eyes of the First Order, as a failure of their mind control. You’re a good man, Finn. You’re smart as hell and quick on the uptake. There’s a place for you here. With us. With Rey and me.”
Finn just blinks at him for a few beats before Poe hastily adds, “If you want it, of course. You’re not beholden to the Resistance in anyway. But you are a hero.”
“Just because you see me that way doesn’t mean the rest of the Resistance does. Plenty of people won’t see past my Imperial background.”
Determination settles on the pilot’s face as he speaks again.
“You know, my parents were part of the original rebellion against the Empire. Kes Dameron and Shara Bey. Dad was an engineer and Mom was a pilot, and they knew a lot of the people we tell stories about today. Our greatest heroes. They liked to tell me about the crew of Rogue One, the rebels that stole the Death Star plans and turned the tide for the Alliance. All of them were amazing but my favorite was the pilot.”
Finn tilted his head to the side as he listened. “Why was the pilot your favorite? Aside from his occupation, of course.”
That brilliant smile spreads across his face once more. “The pilot was my favorite because he changed his entire life, everything he knew, on the conviction that he could do the right thing. That he could make a difference. His name was Bodhi Rook, and he was once an Imperial cargo pilot. And we owe the New Republic to him and his crew mates.”
Finn feels the strangest swell of something in his chest. He thinks that it must be hope.
“Tell me about him.”