Chapter Text
F.N. licked his lips and tried not to mind the taste. It was dusty in the stables, and the grit got everywhere. Even the air tasted old.
He blinked against the setting sun and straightened his shoulders. He might’ve been terrified, but he wasn’t going to let anyone else know it.
He stared out the door at Phasma, Hux, and Snoke across the way. A smile crept to his lips. If you didn’t know better, they’d look like a family. The two kids listening to daddy’s fatherly advice.
F.N. grimaced.
Mr. Snoke was anything but fatherly, especially considering he was the only father F.N. had ever known.
F.N. didn’t remember his parents. Snoke said they died when he was five, and even as a kid, F.N. knew not to pull at that thread. Whether they’d died—or been killed—didn’t matter much now, did it? Besides, there were some things it was better not to know.
Still, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t form an image of them in his mind; he couldn’t remember a voice or even a sensation. It was as if he’d sprung to life fully formed.
Perhaps it’s better this way, he mused as he lined up in formation, trying hard not to let his hands shake too noticeably, already hating the beads of sweat coating his forehead. Memories would mean having lost something. Without them, he could pretend that he was whole.
F.N. looked down at his hands, currently betraying him, willing them to stop trembling. I can do this, he kept repeating to himself. I’ve trained all my life for this.
Mr. Snoke didn’t take kindly to those who couldn’t hold up under pressure, and tonight’s raid was a test. F.N. knew that. Hell, everything in my life is a blasted test, he thought as he finally got his hands under control.
It was a simple mission on the outskirts of Yavin. They were supposed to lay waste to the ranch, steal the cattle, and kill anyone who got in their way.
F.N. wiped his forehead and reached down to his holster, stroking the grip of his gun. He’d been well trained, had better aim than the others. But he’d never fired at a real person before. That, he knew, was why his heart was pounding.
He grimaced as he looked over at Slip and Nines. Nines was damn near grinning. He was bouncing on his toes waiting for the signal to mount and ride. At least Slip looked a little more hesitant. He caught F.N.’s eye. “Ready?”
F.N. gave a grim nod.
“Oh come on, you two act like we’re going to a damn funeral. Try to look a bit more excited about this,” Nines hissed. “It’s our first mission!”
“Yeah,” said Slip, more trying to convince himself than anything. It seemed to work. “Yeah,” Slip added, more enthusiastically. “We can do this!”
Nines hit Slip on the back. “That’s the spirit.”
Miss Phasma walked into the stables, grimacing. But, F.N. reflected, she never looks happy.
“Okay, boys, we’re ready.” She sized them up and looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Don’t let me down tonight. The Order is counting on you.” She mounted her horse and rode out.
Slip, Nines, and F.N. quickly followed.
As they rode across the barren landscape, F.N. tried to get his heart to stop beating so fast. He looked over to see Slip, now smiling his stupid smile. If Slip can do this, I can do this, he thought. He tried not to focus on the nagging feeling that what they were doing was wrong. As Mr. Hux liked to remind them, there was no right or wrong in this business. Only profit for Mr. Snoke.
F.N. pushed down the rest of his concerns. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it. He took a breath and steeled himself.
They came to a stop on a hill overlooking the Dameron ranch. F.N. spotted a group of riders on the next hill and startled. “Is that…”
Phasma nodded. “You didn’t think we were going to entrust this job to three brand new troopers, did you? The Knights are here to make sure things run smoothly.” She looked over to the other hill. One of the riders raised his hand. “On my mark,” she said.
F.N. pulled his bandana up over his mouth and nose.
The man’s hand came down and Phasma whispered, “Go.”
The rode down into the valley below.
F.N. was a good trooper, probably the best. He could outthink both Slip and Nines. He was focused and good enough on a horse. Plus, he was masterful with a gun. But in this moment, riding down to destroy someone’s life, he realized that being a good trooper didn’t amount to much.
He’d rather be a good man.
They hadn’t even made it to the fence surrounding the main house when they began taking fire. Dameron knew we’d be coming, F.N. thought to himself. Good.
They split up: Slip and Nines following Phasma while F.N. headed to the back of the main house. As soon as he was well enough away from them, F.N. ditched his horse and found cover behind a rock. Dust was flying up. People were yelling. His heart was beating so fast. What’s the plan, F.N.? What’s the plan?
He knew, as sure as he knew who he was and that he had a heart thumping in his chest, that he wasn’t going to kill for Snoke. “Have to come up with a plan,” he said to himself. A woman was screaming. F.N. closed his eyes and prayed that she was okay.
F.N. peered out from his rock. He could just see the front of the house, and that was where the action seemed to be centered. Dameron’s men and women were running between the main buildings, trying to get an advantage on the Knights. F.N. felt sorry for them. These were cowhands and ranchers. They weren’t hired guns.
A commotion towards one end of the house caught his attention, and that’s when he saw Slip. “Get down,” he yelled out, just in time to watch Slip’s body jerk. Finn knew that movement. Hux had shot enough men in front of him for it not to be a shock and yet—this was Slip. Finn didn’t even realize he was moving until he was down in the dirt, picking up Slip’s body and turning him over. Slip was rasping out breath, blood dripping from his mouth. He reached up, his hand covered in a mix of blood and dirt—he grabbed at F.N.’s bandana, pulling it down and streaking it with blood. He coughed, choked, and that was it.
F.N. heard a scream and slowly realized it was his own. He turned to see the Knights setting fire to the main house. People were running out. Nines and Phasma were shooting at them.
He dropped Slip’s body and began backing away. I can’t do this. He stumbled and tripped and began crawling backward until he found an overturned cart. He hid behind it, trying to get his mind to think one clear thought. Need to leave. Need to run. Going to die.
F.N. dry heaved.
Why can’t they stop screaming?
Where will I go? What will I do? I’m going to die out here.
I can’t do this. I can’t kill people like this. They’re going to catch me and kill me too.
I can’t do this.
Through the jumble of thoughts, F.N. realized that the roar of noise from the gun fight had quietened. He peaked over the cart and saw an older man, grey streaking his hair, standing defiantly in front of the head of the Knights, Kylo Ren—the infamous bandit who always wore a black mask, day and night. F.N. hadn’t ever seen his face. He doubted that Hux or Phasma had either.
F.N. leaned forward trying to hear.
“Where’s the gold, Dameron?”
“I don’t know who you are, mister, but there’s no gold here. This is a cattle ranch,” he said, gesturing around. “At least it was until you sons of bitches came in and—” Kylo punched him in the stomach. F.N. moved forward, wanting to help the man. The man caught his breath, spit, and looked up at Kylo Ren. “I’m not telling you anything.”
Ren seemed to consider the statement for just a moment. “No, you aren’t, are you?” He lifted his gun and fired, killing the man instantly. F.N. jerked backwards.
A scream rose from the other side of the ranch. “NOOOOOOOOO!” Someone started shooting at Kylo Ren. Several of the Knights ran towards the shooter and soon enough, they were dragging him forward. From what F.N. could tell, this man was in his early twenties and after getting a good look at him, there was no denying the relation: F.N. guessed that this man had just watched his father die.
The Knights pushed the man down in front of Ren. “Maybe you’ll be more accommodating.”
“Go to hell,” the young man spat out, looking up at the bandit defiantly.
Ren laughed. “I probably will.” He crouched down so they were eye to eye. He studied the man in front of him. “He told you where it is, didn’t he?”
“You know, it’s really hard to understand you with all that…” The man gestured at Ren’s mask. “Maybe if you take it off, face me like a man…”
Ren’s voice rose, “Where’s the gold?”
“I’m not tellin’ you anything.”
Ren stood back up. “You will. In time.” He turned to Phasma. “We’ll take him back with us. Let Hux take a stab at getting the information.”
F.N.’s blood ran cold. Hux was a sick son-of-a-bitch who had a penchant for torture. If he gets his hands on this guy… For some reason, F.N. found himself jogging up towards the group. “Everything looks secure out back,” he lied.
“You missed all the fun,” Nines said.
Phasma demanded, “Where’s Slip?”
“Didn’t make it,” F.N. said, hoping that his face didn’t betray his sadness at that or his horror at what was happening in front of him.
The Knights had just finished tying the man’s hands and were hauling him up.
Phasma turned to Ren. “Now what?”
“Burn it all. To the ground. And make sure there are no survivors.”
The prisoner yelled, “No!”
Phasma grabbed him and shoved him at F.N. and Nines. Nines cuffed the man on the head. “Shut up!”
Phasma said, “Take him back to the hideout. Tell Hux we need some information from him. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am!” They both snapped to attention.
F.N. could hear the laughter of the Knights as they lit their torches and approached the outer buildings. He secretly hoped that there were others, waiting, to shoot at them, to get a few more hits in before the Dameron ranch was gone forever.
As they approached the stables, F.N. said, “Gonna have to get him a horse, unless you want him slung across your saddle.”
“Screw that,” Nines said, jerking their prisoner along with him.
“I’m guessing that this one…” F.N. gestured to a horse and when Nines went to look at it, he landed a solid punch to Nines’ face. As Nines crumpled over, F.N. brought both hands together and hit down into Nines’ neck. Nines hit the ground hard. F.N. kicked him in the stomach and then rolled him over, just to make sure he was out.
He looked over at the prisoner, who was gaping at him, frozen—like he couldn’t make sense of the scene in front of him. F.N. approached him slowly, hands raised in front of him; he didn’t want to spook the man. “This is a rescue. I’m breaking you out, understand?”
“What?”
“I’m trying to help you escape, okay?”
“Why?”
F.N. shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Why don’t we just say I have my reasons.”
“Try me.”
F.N. looked him dead in the eye. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
For a moment, the man just held his stare. Then, he smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t believe you.” He held out his hands.
“Told you,” F.N. said as he jerked the knife out of his boot and began cutting the ropes off.
“You got a name, kid,” the man asked.
F.N. shot him a look at the kid.
The man shook his head. “You’re what? Sixteen, seventeen?”
“Fifteen,” F.N. mumbled.
“Good lord,” the man said. “What in the hell do these bastards think they’re doing sending kids out to—”
“I can handle myself,” F.N. said defiantly as the ropes fell away.
“Yeah, right,” the man said. He shook his head again and sighed. “So, you were tellin’ me your name.”
F.N. shrugged. “Everyone calls me F.N. No one ever bothered to tell me what it stands for.”
“F.N., huh?” the man said, reaching down for Nines’ gun. “That’s what you want me to call you?”
“Not particularly.”
“F.N.…F.N.… Fernando, Frank…Finn?”
Finn? F.N. shrugged. “Finn,” he said, trying it on. “You can call me Finn. And you?”
“Poe. Poe Dameron.”
Finn winced at his last name. “Sorry about your—”
“Yeah, maybe we don’t talk about that,” Poe said. He walked over to a pair of horses. “I’m gonna take Bee here. You should take Clementine.”
Finn nodded and began saddling the horse. “We’d better hurry. They’ll come out this way soon.”
As they mounted their horses, he turned to Poe, “Any way out of the stables where they won’t see us?”
“Afraid not,” Poe said. “So we better be fast. You any good on a horse?”
“Good with a gun. Adequate in the saddle.”
Poe smiled. “Well, just do your best to keep up.” He kicked his spurs into his horse with a yell and they burst out of the stables.
It took the Knights a few seconds to realize what was happening. They began shouting and shooting. Poe turned and started shooting back. Finn came up next to him. “Are you crazy? We need to get outta here!”
“Just thought I’d give them back a little,” Poe yelled, a maniacal look in his eyes.
“Yeah, well, maybe survive now, get revenge later,” Finn reached for Poe’s arm. “Please,” he said, ducking as a shot whizzed by way too close for his comfort.
F.N. met Poe’s eyes and watched as the other man’s resolve to stay and fight melted away. Poe nodded and the two took off into the night.