Work Text:
Three months pass before Finn wakes up, exhausted. He’s been given another name ‘John Doe’, and leaves the health centre with instructions to take it easy. The need to get off planet presses incessantly at the back of his mind as he wanders through the crowds, air hot and heavy with humidity.
They were taught to go above and beyond, he knows his limits and how long he can ignore them. But this body isn’t his. Not all of it - it’s new. There are patches of pale, fresh skin on his shoulder. His back is home to a web of soft tissue that would look more at home on a victim, not a soldier. Finn doesn’t have the time to be either of those right now.
He stops, letting the crowds surge past him. What can he do now? This body is still healing, he can’t have walked more than a mile, yet every muscle is threatening to cramp. Transportation doesn’t come cheap, and he’s down one bargaining chip.
No. He knows where that philosophy came from. It will not be his own, never again. Finn is more than his body, more than a good shot.
He’s new. No, not quite. He’s still healing.
He’s growing.