Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were in the middle of another session when it happened. Poe had been rudely awakened from his much-needed rest after the last one by Kylo Ren releasing his restraints and all but throwing him to the ground. He barely caught himself, sprawling belly-down in the ground, his nose an inch from the hard, gleaming surface.

Ever since the video transmission, his captor seems to have less reservations about damaging him. It’s only been two and a half days… roughly, but the Pilot isn't sure how much longer he’ll last with this kind of treatment.

His deaf ear rings as he tries to pick himself up, and gets a boot on his back, pinning him down for his trouble. He vaguely wishes that his shirt hadn't been ruined, because the metal his chest is pressed against is cold and biting.

That’s the least of his worries. Because now it’s a knee on his back, and there’s a hand in his hair, pulling his head back painfully. Poe doesn't even have the energy to resist; all he manages is a pained grunt, and a shudder of his shoulders. And then the other man is in his head, the force making its way into his thoughts with little effort, thanks to Poe’s off-guard, half-asleep state of mind.

The abrupt invasion wakes him up, and Poe quickly fills his thoughts with space, thinking of all the star systems, asteroid belts, comets, and other beautiful things he’s witnessed. He doesn't really have anything of importance to hide, but it gives him something to do, something to distract himself with. A way to control one aspect of this, and to keep Kylo out in some sense.

Kylo Ren releases a disgusted huff, using the grip on Poe’s hair to slam his head down against the ground. Poe groans in pain, feeling blood trickle from his nostrils. Not broken… but it sure hurts like hell.

Offhandedly, Poe thinks there must be something wrong. Usually (and holy kriff, has he really been through this enough times to know how it ‘usually’ is?), there’s more of a preamble to this. Kylo would take great pleasure in tying him up, pinning him in some uncomfortable position, all the while gloating over how weak Poe is compared to him. But this seems rushed, like Ren is just looking for someone to take his anger out on, and Poe was the first thing available.

Well, good. Maybe it doesn't bode well for him, but anything that makes Kylo Ren angry is good news to Poe. With his face pressed to the floor and blood pooling under his nose, Poe Dameron smiles.

Kylo senses the vague tendril of happiness, and growls, his anger flaring further, and Poe can feel it in his head, the stream of unadulterated rage just simmering below the surface of his torturer.

The pilot’s head is jerked back again, and Kylo’s gloved hand is around his throat, cutting off his air supply. “You find pleasure in my frustration?” The dark Jedi hisses in Poe’s good ear, the emotion showing itself even through the distortion of the mask. “You won't for long, Resistance scum.”

Poe wants to respond, but he can't breathe, he can't breathe.

And suddenly he’s released, and he can, drinking down lungfuls of air like it’s going out of style. “What… what’s got your panties in a bunch…?”

The weight is removed from his back, and he immediately scrambles to his hands and knees, turning himself around and putting distance between himself and the Sith-in-training. He only stops when his abused back makes contact with the wall.

Kylo is standing there, and even though the mask is covering his face, Poe just knows that he’s glaring, his nostrils flared. The robed figure doesn't get a chance to respond, however.

The ground shakes. Once, twice, three, four times in quick succession. Poe grits his teeth against the accompanying booms, his and Kylo’s heads whipping towards the sounds.

Alarms begin to blare down the hall as the base screams in response.

They’re under attack.

Poe looks back at his company, a slow grin stretching his bloodstained lips. And Kylo looks so off-guard, so confused… The pilot can’t help himself. He laughs, and it’s a quiet sound, one that grows with each passing second.

Kylo Ren snaps to look back at him, and immediately sweeps through his mind. It’s not exactly hard to find what Poe thinks is so funny, as it’s at the forefront of his thoughts. ‘The Resistance has found us, and it’s too late for you to escape.’

Poe’s laughter breaks into a coughing fit, and Kylo just stays put, staring at him in a state of shock. The pilot eventually regains control, and gives the man a bloody grin. “Checkmate.”

The noise that comes out of Kylo’s throat is some inhuman mixture between a scream and a growl. He turns, withdrawing his lightsabre and hacking the torture table to pieces in his rage.

Poe lets his head fall back and rest against the cold wall, knowing he’s won. “Thanks for sending them that incredibly convenient, traceable video, Renny. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

The Sith Lord-in-training growls viciously, stalking forward and reaching out a hand to force-choke Poe. The pilot sees black spots at the edge of his vision, and grasps uselessly at his throat, trying to pry away invisible fingers. Just when he’s about to give in, acknowledge that this is it; he’s going to die… a Stormtrooper enters and tells Ren that he must leave now. Poe is dropped to the floor like a toy that’s outlived its entertainment value. Kylo apparently forgets his sabre, sweeping out of the room and leaving the pilot gasping on the ground, exhausted and bleeding against the wall. Kylo can still try to escape. Poe, he leaves to go down with the base.

But Poe knows it’s too late, that the Resistance wouldn't have started the attack unless they had it surrounded. Nothing will be getting out. No distress signals will get through, no calls for backup will reach their intended recipients. Kylo Ren is as good as theirs. He takes slow and deep breaths, drawing his knees to himself and basking in the victory as his mind slips back into unconsciousness.

-

“Is he okay? Poe, Poe can you hear me?” Someone’s shaking his shoulder.

“He is breathing, relax Captain Pava.” Halting syllables, emotionless tone. Med bot.

“There’s so much blood.” The voice is quiet and masculine.

“Captains Wexley and Pava, I must insist that you give Commander Dameron space. He will recover, but hovering over him like you are will not speed the process.” Another robot, not the same one as before. Know-it-all tone… probably threepio.

He groans, trying to open his heavy eyes. The light is bright, and he quickly pinches them shut again.

“Poe!!” Jessika ignores the golden droid, crowding at his side. He feels a hand on his face, and senses a shadow pass over his eyes. His ears are ringing.

The grounded pilot groans again, trying to open his eyes a second time, and this time succeeding, his irises adjusting to the light with the help of Jessika’s shadow. Her brows are drawn together, and her eyes are searching his face.

Poe turns his head slightly, trying to get a look at the rest of the room. He makes a move to sit up, and is stopped by a restraint over his chest. He jerks again, in a momentary state of panic. Straps are holding him down over his chest, abdomen, and legs. He can't move.

No, nonono…

The pilot forgets where he is, struggling against the medical restraints as the rest of the room goes into varying degrees of panic.

“Untie him!” Jessika.

“Calm down, Commander Dameron.” C-3PO.

“Can't you see he’s confused?! Undo the restraints!” Snap.

“Mister Dameron has sustained serious trauma to his entire body; particularly multiple fractures to his ribcage. He must remain restrained for his own well-being.” The med-bot.

Poe doesn't hear them, or rather, he hears their voices, but is in no state of mind to interpret the meanings behind the sounds. He can't move. He can't move.

None of it matters. He exerts too much energy, arches his chest the wrong way, and he’s out. Unconscious again, head lolling to the side.

-

The second time he wakes, it’s dark. There’s a steady beeping somewhere off to his right. The restraints are gone, and someone is holding his hand.

He stays still for a long moment, his eyes staring unseeingly into the blackness. The hand holding his is old, the skin rough and calloused, but also small, and soft in places. A thumb over the knuckles reveals wrinkles. The General. He shuts his eyes again, sighing softly. Her presence is a balm to his nerves, and he lifts the hand holding his, pressing it to his cheek.

Poe stays still like that, listening to her even breathing, and wondering what she could be dreaming about. His other hand roams over his chest, giving himself a quick examination. They’ve wrapped his chest in thick bandages, and he can feel similar wrappings on his leg and forearms. A slight shift confirms that while he’s still deprived of a shirt, he’s been allowed to keep his compression pants.

There’s an IV in his arm, and though he wants to rid himself of it, he wisely leaves it be.

The quiet is peaceful, and soon he drifts off to sleep again.

His last thought is quiet, hopeful. It’s over.

-

The third time he wakes, it’s bright again. Jessika, Snap, and Karé are chatting each other up in the waiting seats, BB-8 is with Finn, playing some kind of card game off to the side.

Poe keeps the illusion that he’s still asleep, just listening to the enthusiastic conversation and Finn’s occasional frustrated interjection, followed by BB-8 loosing an amused string of beeps.

It’s good to be back… even if he does still feel like he’s been through a meat grinder.

Eventually, Poe opens his eyes, pushing himself up onto his elbows with stiff limbs. Karé notices first, breaking away from the conversation to shove him back down. “He lives!”

The pilot releases a humourless chuckle, taking the hint and staying down. He does lift his arms to rub his eyes, though. “Barely. What happened?” Kriff, is his voice really that rough? “How long was I out?”

The rest are soon crowded around, and Poe is just glad that he isn’t claustrophobic.

Jessika speaks next, grabbing his hand as she does. “We wrecked them, boss. Took out their ships, wiped out a dozen ‘trooper squadrons, and captured the big wigs. The First Order didn't see us coming. That was just a couple days ago.”

Finn piped up after her, seeming excited to talk to Poe as well. “Rey came back with Master Skywalker, and he put a block on Kylo Ren’s abilities. He’s in the prison block right now.”

Poe knew that Finn probably meant well, but the sound of his captor’s name sent a shiver down his spine, and brief fear crossed his features. “He’s alive? He’s dangerous, why didn't you kill him?” And he’s in the prison block. That’s only a five-minute walk (if that) from the barracks.

Nobody would meet his eyes. BB-8 eventually answers. [[Designation Ally-General Organa ordered his capture. Designation Enemy-Kylo Ren is the son of Designation Ally-General Organa and Designation Ally-Han Solo. Designation Ally-Luke Skywalker is making attempts to erase the influence of the unknown power he has designated ‘dark side’. So far, these attempts have been unsuccessful.]]

Poe’s fists clenched and unclenched as he listened to the droid, swallowing hard as BB-8 finished. He was tortured by the General’s son. That was news to him. Why didn't she tell him before? Why was he not trusted with that information…? She must have a good reason.

The room was silent for a moment, and Poe desperately fought to maintain his cool. He thought it was over, that he’d never have to see Kylo Ren again… but he’s still alive, he could get out.

Or worse, Luke could prevail and Poe would have to see him day after day, and pretend that he’s not scared to death.

He fights back a shiver.

“That's great, Jess.” He forces a smile, changing the subject. “How was being commander?”

Jess seems grateful for the change, and replies with a roll of her eyes. “Wouldn't know; Karé came in and led us with stiletto squad.”

Karé nodded to confirm this. “You have a good team, Poe.”

“I know.” He smiles warmly, tilting his head to get a better look at Jess and Wexley. “… Where’s Iolo? And Nien?”

“They got pretty banged up in the mission, Commander. They’re in the med bay. We’ll tell them you’re awake, though!” Wexley supplies, gesturing vaguely outside the intensive care clinic.

Poe needs to sit up. All this lying on his back is frustrating him. So, despite BB-8 and Kun’s protests, he pushes himself up, moving back so he can use the headboard for support. “I'm glad they’re okay. And what about you guys? How’d you even find me?”

Finn spoke again. “Same way we found Rey on Starkiller. Well, sort of. We… persuaded a ‘trooper to tell us where they kept you. You were in bad shape, but you weren't tied up, which was kind of lucky. What’s the last thing you remember?”

The last thing he remembered… Poe searches his mind, trying to bring the memories up. He’s still go that just-woke-up haze, and his memories of the last few days seem to blend together.

His eyes drift off towards a wall, unfocused.

--Anger, so much anger. All this rage, threatening to tear his mind apart and leave nothing behind.--

--A gloved hand gripping his hair, yanking his head back painfully.--

A little further back, but still vivid and fresh in his mind. --Leather-clad fingers shoved down his throat, too deep, too harsh, and he’s gagging, and it’s too much, he can't breathe. And then he’s released, and all he has to cough up is bile, and it burns coming up.

"Do that again, and I will kill you."

Rough, in and out. A heavy weight on his tongue, with an inhuman taste, it’s worse than the fingers--

Poe’s fingers are clenched tight enough to dig painful, little white crescents into the heels of his palm. He shakes himself out of the nightmare, focusing back on his now-concerned friends. They’re still waiting for an answer.

--His back against the wall, his tormentor is upset…--

“Bombs. I heard— felt— the bombs drop. Ky… he was there, something had him pissed off. He just left me when he found out the base was under attack. I think he expected you lot to destroy everything, and me with it. Bastard.” The last word was almost whispered, as if he was afraid he’d be overheard. It took a while for Kylo to condition him to fear punishment for his smart mouth, and it would take a while for him to recognise that he’s free to speak how he likes again.

Jessika especially, looked like she wanted to say something more, but it’s Wexley who pats her shoulder, and lets Poe off easy.

After that, the conversation turns to safer topics, and no one dares to bring up what Poe experienced at the hands of Kylo Ren again.

They talk for a good hour or so before Poe’s eyelids begin to feel heavy again. Karé makes a sleeping beauty crack, and then gets everyone to leave so he can pass out in peace.

This time, he dreams. He wishes he didn't.

-

It takes Poe a full four days before he can keep his eyes open for more than a couple hours. The med-bots say that he’s over-exerted himself and his body is trying to cope with the fatigue.

It takes three weeks before Poe is allowed to leave the hospital bed. He thought that lying down forever was torture… but somehow, trying to walk with his long-unused legs is worse. He does it though, forces himself to walk through the pins and needles. He won't be kept down. Poe takes up a light jog in the morning to help him recover his strength. It’s another week before he can do it without stopping to catch his breath.

Immediately once he does, Poe asks the General for a new assignment. She tells him that he doesn't have to go back to the field, ever if he doesn't want to. Dameron knows that the resistance needs pilots, badly. So he tells her; “Ma’am, I didn't join the resistance to sit on my ass and do nothing. I'd like to keep fighting, if that’s alright with you.” And then he smiled the tiniest bit. “Karé would never let me live it down if she took my place as best pilot. So, where to, General?”

She ended up telling him to wait another two months, on mandatory recovery time. Poe wanted to protest, but how was he supposed to argue with the General without making himself look even more unfit for missions? Eventually, he gave a short bow of his head, and agreed to her terms.

When he asked General Organa why she kept Kylo Ren’s identity from him (for kriff’s sake, he knew Ben. He thought his childhood friend was killed with the padawans. But no, Ben was the one who killed them all.), she didn't answer right away. Eventually, she sighed, and gave him one. “I'm sorry, Poe. I thought you’d be safer if you didn't know. My son… he’s on a warpath, to conquer everything from his past. It’s part of why I was sure that he’d want to recapture you, rather than kill you on sight. But Poe, tell me honestly. If you had known who he was, would you have tried to use that knowledge against him?” Poe had to admit, he definitely would have. He nods, and she continues. “That is why I didn't tell you. If you had brought it up, he might have hurt you even more irreparably. Killed you, perhaps. You were safer not knowing.”

Poe still wasn't happy about it, but he understood.

The pilot slowly got back to his typical routine; eating lunch with his team, taking his X-Wing flying to keep in practice, and sleeping in the barracks with the rest of his crew. But, things weren't quite the same. Poe found it harder to talk, because he’s so used to sharing his experiences with everyone. But right now, he doesn't have anything he wants to tell them. For possibly the first time since he joined, Poe was the quietest person at their table. Jessika tried to make up for the lack, and Poe helped her by laughing along with her jokes and stories.

Not only that… but Poe is an attractive guy. He’s used to getting hit on a couple times a day. However, nobody’s even come close to flirting with him since he got back. Poe doesn't bring it up, of course, but his chest tightens every time someone gives him an appreciative look, then turns away. Like he’s off-limits. Like if someone threw a pick-up line his way, he’d break. It wasn't that he really wanted a girlfriend or a hook-up… he just wanted people to stop treating him like he was damaged in some way. But he keeps it to himself, because it’s stupid, pointless. Flirting won't get missions done.

Time that he would normally spend training with his squadron, or possibly with a woman, Poe is on his own, going at the sims with wild abandon. All the anger, and all the frustration he feels, goes into his combat training. Gradually, he starts to enjoy his time spent alone with the training programs more than being with his friends and teammates.

At least Finn is there for him. Finn, who puts up with the limited space in the resistance, and shares a bunk with Poe. Finn, who knows more about the First Order than anyone else, and understands what it’s like to feel like an outsider. Finn, who’s always happy to see him, and who didn't know him well enough before his capture, to see him any differently. Finn still wears his jacket, and has become closer to Poe than the pilot has ever let anyone get before. He’s a constant presence when he’s on base, and often will show up while Poe is doing sims to join him, or just watch.

Poe will say it again. Finn is a good man. And the pilot is forever grateful to him, and glad to have such an amazing person for a best friend.

However… Rey is also usually with Finn. And, it isn't that she’s mean, or anything of that sort… (she's actually a very sweet person, if a little butch.) but Poe is scared to death of her. And it’s completely irrational. Luke Skywalker too, though he sees the man less often. They’ve found that, after everything he went through, and all the times Kylo tore through his mind, Poe is extremely open to the force’s influence. Rey, not having much control of her abilities, will accidentally read his mind, and laugh at something he hasn't said yet. On one memorable occasion, Poe and Finn were joking around, and she told them both to shut up. Finn just grinned cheekily, until the other two realised that Poe was almost biting through his lip to make himself stay silent, cut off mid-sentence.

Luke has taken a look at him, and told Poe that, “While the process is slow, you are healing. You’re a very resilient man, Commander. That’s to be admired. If you’d like, we could hold sessions together. I would be more than happy to help speed along your recovery.” Poe turned him down, for the time being. If he can help it, he’d rather not have anyone in his head. Luke accidentally read that thought, and nodded in understanding.

His two-month-deadline can't come fast enough.

-

[ Resistance base, Yavin VI. Two months after the destruction of the First Order Base. ]

Poe doesn't look her in the eye anymore. He doesn't smile, either. And if he does, it lacks the same unbridled brilliance it used to hold.

Kes and Shara would be so disappointed in her.

Their boy’s light has been smothered… and it’s all her fault.

The General has lost Ben, Han, and now she’s losing Poe too, in all the ways that matter. Poe, who left the Republic to help her, on principle. Poe, who has always been so eager to help her, even more so than his own mother ever was. Poe, who with his charm, jokes, and easy smiles has become like a second son to her. How could she let this happen to him?

She told him that he didn't have to return to the field. That the resistance would be happy to offer him a home after his sacrifice, that he’d never have to fight for them again. Poe politely declined the offer, and asked for his next mission.

For now, his mission is still to recover. Leia has told him that he required three months of rest before he’d be allowed back on the field. The pilot had seemed upset at first, but eventually bowed his head in understanding. He was compromised, and it wouldn't do to have him making critical choices before he’s good and ready to.

She can usually find him attacking the training sims these days. If he hasn't snuck out with his X-Wing to practice manoeuvres, that is.

He used to drag friends, teammates, complete strangers along with him to practice, so he would have someone to chat with. But her beloved pilot has taken to being alone as of late. For a short time after he returned, it seemed like he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Little things would set him off. Everyone heard about his violent reaction to being restrained, and she ordered that it not be done again after that incident. Soon, they found out, what he was suffering from wasn’t PTSD. Poe was conditioned to fear full-body restraint, along with a few other things. The sound of a lightsabre opening, for instance. People touching his neck as well. The reactions were extreme at first, but now that he’s had time to settle himself, the worst that happens is a flinch. Had he been there much longer, C-3PO predicted that it might very well have developed into full PTSD. But they got him out, and the worst of the disorder was avoided. He’s healing.

Poe flinched when she kissed his cheek.

She could strangle Ben for what he’s done.

Her feet lead her to the prison block for (possibly) the thousandth time. Leia finds herself going there often, whenever she wants to take her mind off of something. Her son is very good at keeping her focus on him.

She pauses as she nears the cell, frowning and quieting her steps. Is… someone else there? Luke, perhaps? No-- she just left her brother in the war room.

She makes her way closer, trying to make the other person out. Worn clothes; curly, windswept hair; strong jaw… Poe? The General stops, holding her breath now as she slips into the doorway of an empty cell. What’s he doing here? With /Ben/, of all people?

She peeks around, trying to see what’s going on. Nothing much, it seems. Kylo is standing by the barrier, one hand resting against it. Poe is leaning against the wall opposite, arms crossed. She can't see his expression, but the General imagines that he’s scowling, or deep in thought.

Finally, one of them speaks. It’s her son, and his calm voice makes her heart both sink and soar. He never speaks to her, unless it’s to spit insults.

“I suppose it must be I who talks first. Why do you come here, Dameron?” He’s been here before? That’s news to her.

“Seeing you in a cell makes me happy.” The pilot snaps back venomously, and even Leia can tell that it’s a lie.

“The truth, Commander.” Her son’s voice is icy, patient, threatening, and she can see Poe visibly shudder. How many times has that voice been used on him? She vaguely remembers during that ill-fated transmission, Kylo’s threat to kill Poe using that same tone. The poor man must be conditioned to expect bad things with that particular tone, as well.

“…I don't know.” Poe sounds lost as he admits it, and the General knows he means it. His head is down, studying the sleeves of his shirt.

“I do.” The other sounds smug, and she can hear the vicious smirk in his voice.

“Oh yeah?” And the sarcastic tone is back, Poe straightening his posture again. “You don't know shit.”

Kylo leans closer, face hardly an inch from the barrier. “Oh, but I do. I've seen your mind, Commander. I know how you think.” He takes a pause, and Leia imagines him leering at Poe. “You aren't as noble and good as you’d like your fellow resistance scum to think. You aren't as strong as you’d have your precious General believe. You want to kill me. Very, very badly. You don't care that I am beaten, unarmed, powerless. You want to make me suffer as you did. You want to take me apart, and burn each piece until there’s nothing left.”

Leia holds her breath, eyes locked on the silent pilot.

After a long moment, Poe releases a disgusted snarl. “Like I said, you don't know shit. Sure, I was kind of hoping you’d be buried under a pile of rubble back at your base… but I'm not sick and twisted like you are.”

Kylo leans back slightly, examining his company. “No, you aren't like me. You're a coward, too afraid to take what you want. You do want all that. But you won't do anything about it.”

There’s another long silence, and she can just hear the heavy, deep breaths from them both.

“You're wrong.” Poe’s voice is so hard, so full of conviction… it can't be anything but the truth. His truth.

Kylo begins to laugh, and it’s a broken, insane sound. “Perhaps I am. But then, why are you here? Why do you come to stare at me, Poe Dameron, if it is not to imagine all the ways you could destroy me?”

"I don't know.”

“I think you do.”

More silence, and then she hears footstep leading away. When the General looks back, Poe is gone.

Leia takes a deep breath, steels her nerves, and then continues on her path, stopping briefly in front of Ben’s cell. He’s still smiling when she reaches him. “…What are you so happy about?” The General inquires, as if she wasn't just watching.

“I don't know.” The grin only widens as he shares the inside joke with himself.

She stares for a long second, then shakes herself, continuing to walk past him. She shouldn't have taken this detour.

Chapter Text

“Mine.”

The word permeates his whole being, echoing around his head, and it was more than just a statement. It was a fact, a claim to all he is. The response torn from his lips wasn't one he wanted to give.

“Y-yours.” The pilot found himself choking on it, the word ripped from him like everything else had been. Poe was broken and beaten, a dishonoured mess.

“Yes. Good, pet.”

There was a hand, gentle in his hair. A cruel mockery of affection, as if this were not a relationship between torturer and captive, but of lovers. Poe could only shiver, feeling the cool fingers skirt over his abused scalp. Soothing the same places they had gripped hard enough to bring tears to his eyes, only a moment before.

He wanted to move, to pull that hand away from him, but he was frozen on his knees, his wrists locked against his back.

Kylo Ren kneels down on one knee, his masked face less than an inch from Poe's own. One hand caresses his hair, another runs along his jaw, and then grabs his chin.

All Poe could think of was his reflection in Kylo’s mask. His eyes, angry and defiant, looking back at him from his torturer’s face.

And then Kylo is standing, amused by something, perhaps Poe's thoughts? He’s sure he didn't say anything out loud.

The hand in his hair becomes harsh again and the next thing he knows his face is buried in his enemy’s crotch, nose pressed against a cold metal zipper. He shuts his eyes and tries not to make a noise. Poe can feel the arousal of his captor through the robes, hard and hot against his cheek.

“Undress me.”

And Poe shakes his head, he can't. He can't humiliate himself like this. He tries to ignore the way the other’s cock presses against his face, and the stab of pain he receives when it catches his other cheek; still sensitive from where his tooth had been forcibly ripped out only six days earlier.

Kylo stifles a moan at the friction, his hips bucking slightly.

“I said, undress me.”

This time, the words are laced with the force’s influence, and Poe finds his will sapped away. He tilts his head up, taking the first button between his teeth and undoing it, and he can only watch, a passenger in his own mind.

He tries to blank it out, but it’s too personal, too much. He feels each button as he pulls it free, hears the slow clicking of the zipper as his teeth pull it down.

His hands are suddenly freed, and then he’s tugging his captor’s clothing down, undressing him quickly, until that thick organ is freed, hanging heavily between pale, lean legs.

Poe swallows, unable to look away. Not only because of the grip in his hair, but because of the sheer length of it. This is the first he’s actually seen of it, and it’s terrifying.

Kylo is having none of his hesitation. The Sith yanks his head back, angling his neck painfully to face him. Poe's wrists are behind his back again.

“You will take me whole, you will suck me off, and you will enjoy it.”

Poe shudders, shaking his head as best he can. Not in denial; in fear. He knows better than to tell Ren no. “H-how— can't— not ready—” He doesn't remember when he started sobbing.

The pilot quickly cuts off his pointless half-sobs, half-pleas; though not by choice. His counterpart slams the heel of his palm into the side of Poe’s face, the side his tooth was torn from. He grimaces in pain, tasting the tell-tale iron of his own blood.

Kylo Ren’s mask is impassive, but Poe knows he’s enjoying this.

Without warning, his jaw is wrenched open, and there are fingers pushing inside, reaching past his tongue and pressing against the back of his throat. The fingers agitate his newest cut, just inside his already-swelling cheek.

Poe chokes, gags, and attempts to retch dryly all at once. The fingers pull back, giving him a second to gather himself, and then they press in again, spreading his oesophagus open and giving him no space to breathe…

He gags again, the muscles in his neck spasming uselessly against the leather digits.

He needs to grip something, to brace himself, but his arms are behind him and he can't move them no matter how hard he fights.

Kylo Ren clucks his tongue somewhere above him, and the fingers retreat, leaving Poe to cough violently and gulp down much-needed air. He doubles over, trying not to notice the blood staining the ground along with other bodily fluids of his.

“Soon, you will learn to let me in.” The spit-and-blood-slick fingers brush over his lips, and up across his cheek.

Poe's face burns with shame, his eyes lifting up helplessly to that cold, black mask. The mask which has become both his torment and his solace.

“Now.”

Ren pushes his head forward once more, and Poe’s panting, parted lips are pressed against his heated flesh. Poe shuts his eyes tightly, willing himself somewhere else.

"Suck."

The pilot knows he’ll only get one warning, one chance to control his own body, so he does. The hand loosens its grip on his hair as his lips fall further open to allow his tongue to skim the hard, smooth surface down to the tip. He’s slow, cautious, biding his time.

There’s a groan of pleasure above him, a lewd sound that he’d normally enjoy being responsible for, but given his situation, is only repulsed by. He keeps his eyes shut, dipping down to collect the head between his lips.

Kylo’s so turned on by his suffering that there’s already precome beginning to leak from it and the salty taste doesn't help him space out at all.

His first bob is shallow, just tapping the back of his throat. The grip in his hair tightens, reminding him of his place, and reminding him that if he doesn't do it to Ren’s satisfaction there’s always another option. Poe steels himself, silently and hysterically wondering how he’s supposed to take the whole, monstrous thing down. This is nothing like past dalliances with men, in those, his partner had been happy with whatever he offered, not—

He feels a sharp pang of anger slash through his mind, Kylo dragging his thoughts back to the present. The power of the force washes over him, an accompaniment to the other man’s words.

“You will not think of others. You are mine.”

So much power is shoved into those words. Poe has to ground himself, holding onto something substantial, or the strength of Kylo’s will just might wash him away, leaving… who knows what in his place.

He pulls off of Ren’s dick, gritting his teeth. The ache from his missing one helps him stay together. The tidal wave of pure Kylo threatens to crush him, and he holds on tightly to the only thing he can…

When it subsides, Poe can't even summon the strength to be ashamed that his hands are fisted in Kylo’s robe, and his face is pressed against one ivory leg, eyes shut and silent tears rolling down his face.

There's a moment where he’s allowed to catch his breath, allowed to just hold on with all his strength… and then that moment is broken with a gentle caress of kylo’s hand through his hair. The feigned kindness of the gesture just makes it worse, and Poe tightens his grip.

The hand drops to the back of his neck in a possessive hold. There’s a hiss, and then a clunk as the mask is dropped to the floor. Kylo Ren drops down to his level, forcing Poe to look into his eyes. Eyes that are deep, dark, and full of hidden malice. Eyes that don't belong to the soft expression he wears on his face.

“Who do you belong to?”

Poe holds his tongue, knowing what Ren wanted him to say. Knowing that if he complied, he could possibly avoid more torture. That all he had to do was say ‘you’, and the worst of this nightmare could be over.

But that isn't the mission.

“The Resistance.” His voice manages not to waver, despite everything.

The following slap is expected, but brutal all the same. Poe blacks out.

-

The pilot wakes with a start; his eyes shooting open, lungs heaving for breath, and neck dripping with cold sweat.

It takes him a good five minutes to realise that he’s in a bed, and that was all just a nightmare. A memory. He’s safe. Poe’s hands lift up to scrub at his eyes before he tiredly reaches for his holopad. 04:36 hours. He groans, lying back again, but he won't get any more sleep. He knows from experience.

The nightmares just seem to get worse as time goes on. At first it was just flashes of the worst moments, but lately it seems that he can’t close his eyes without being bombarded by the most vivid tortures from his memories.

The pilot eventually gets up and shuffles over to the washroom. He splashes cold water on his face, but it really isn't quite enough. So, Poe goes for a cold shower instead.

The stingingly cold liquid helps clear his head, and fifteen minutes later he’s towelling his hair off as he walks back in the dark to his shared quarters.

The pilot takes his time, first slipping on a fresh pair of boxers, then picking through his closet. And really, the closet is really more ‘theirs’. Finn who does not have any clothes of his own, mostly borrows his. Poe doesn't mind. They’re about the same size, and Finn’s been such a good friend to him.

He’s about halfway done pulling a pair of close-fitting cargo pants on when; “Had another nightmare?”

The pilot jumps in surprise, and the reaction makes him catch his foot wrong in the leg of his pants and fall over. He grumbles quietly to himself as he realises that it was just Finn.

Said ex-Stormtrooper muffles his laughter, reaching over to turn on a lamp. “Are you okay, buddy?”

Poe gets his legs all the way in, then stands to pull the pants all the way up. “I'm fine.” Liar. “Why are you awake?”

He starts looking for a shirt to wear while Finn speaks. “Your shower woke me up.” And he barrels on before Poe can apologise. “—it’s fine, I'm a light sleeper. Something tells me that you didn't wake up this early just to hit the showers, though.”

“Maybe I just like beating the rush.”

Judging from the expectant silence, Finn doesn't seem convinced.

Poe tugs a white shirt on, then plops down on his cot, running his fingers through his damp hair. The memory of someone else doing the same thing makes him shiver. “You were right, it was a nightmare. Sorry I woke you up, bro. I was just going to shower and hit the sims until everyone’s up again.”

“You aren't going back to sleep?” Finn lifts an eyebrow, suddenly wondering how many times this has happened before, and he just didn't catch Poe. It seems that the pilot does tend to be up before everyone else on most days.

Poe shakes his head. “There’s no point.” He stands back up, stretching. “You should get some more rest. See ya later.”

His wrist is grabbed as he attempts to walk by. “Hey, hold on. You need it too, Poe. There’s gotta be something that can help…” the ex-Stormtrooper pauses, and Poe looks back at him, waiting for his suggestion. “… maybe if you had someone to sleep with, that would help? You can sleep with me, if you want to try.”

Poe chews his lip, considering it. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't considered the possibility…

“… We can try that tonight, okay? Right now, I just need something to hit.”

Finn’s grip tightens slightly, and Poe gets the feeling that the other wants to argue… but then he simply lets go with a sigh. “… Okay. Yeah, I understand. Hey, have breakfast with me at six, alright?” It was phrased like a request, but Poe kind of knew that Finn wouldn't take no for an answer. In any case, turning him down barely crossed his mind.

"Sure thing, buddy. Sweet dreams." Poe smiles, giving Finn a quick wave before slipping out of the room.

Left to himself, Finn sighs heavily as he watches the door slide shut. “… Bye.”

-

The sims do manage to keep him distracted for the better part of an hour. Before he knows it, it’s 05:50. The pilot quickly shuts everything down and makes his way to the cafeteria for coffee and breakfast with Finn. On the way, he sends BB-8 a message to meet him at the X-Wing in about half an hour. BB-8 quickly replies in the affirmative to let Poe know he received it.

He’s there before Finn. And since he is, he goes ahead and grabs himself coffee, then some toast and Nerf sausage for them both.

By the time he gets it all, Finn is sitting down, and Poe slips into the seat next to him with a smile.

“Morning!” Finn’s cheerful tone is pretty much unique this early in the day, but infectious all the same.

“Where do you get all that enthusiasm, my friend?” Poe shakes his head, tone light and teasing as he nudges Finn and pushes his tray in front of him.

The ex-Stormtrooper shrugs, wasting no time in snatching a sausage up and taking a bite of it. “Unlike some people, I actually sleep.”

Ah, so they’re addressing this now. “Lucky you.” Poe replies tiredly, downing half his coffee in one go.

Finn swallows his sausage before picking up another one and using it to gesture at Poe. “It’s getting worse, isn't it? You should talk to someone. Master Luke offered to help, didn't he?”

"I don’t need help. I'm fine.” He tears a piece of toast off and pops it in his mouth. “I'm sure there’s nothing wrong with me. It probably happens to everyone who…” He makes a vague gesture. “It'll pass.”

"Oh yeah? Like your panic attacks ‘passed’?” When did Finn learn to sound so judgemental?

"They did pass, Finn. I don't—” he flinches as Finn pointedly reaches to brush his fingers through the pilot’s hair.

The ex-Stormtrooper takes the betrayed look from Poe with a pointedly raised brow. “Yeah. You’re fine.” When Poe turns back to his food, refusing to respond, Finn continues. “I don't know why you refuse to ask for help. Nobody would blame you.”

When Poe still doesn't talk to him, he tries again. “Come on, man. You don't even have to go to anyone professional. You can talk to me, and I'll do my best. I’ve been through conditioning too. I can help you.”

Poe drops the slice of toast he was picking at, still refusing to look at Finn. “It’s not that simple.”

He can just hear the disapproving frown in Finn’s voice. “Oh, so betraying everything I ever knew is simple, now?”

“That's not what I—” Poe protests, facing him.

“--Then what did you mean?” Finn’s watching him intently, minus the anger the pilot expected, and Poe belatedly realises that Finn’s trying to get him to talk about what happened.

The Commander sighs, glancing around at the mostly-empty cafeteria. “Nothing. I wasn't thinking. Sorry.”

“That’s not an answer.” Finn pushes, his food forgotten for the moment. “What’s so complicated, Poe?”

Poe considers it, for a moment. He could spill his guts to Finn. He could tell him about how he’s terrified of Rey because of the force, about how the fact that Kylo Ren is right around the corner is a fact that he can never get completely out of his head… Poe could tell him how much he hates it that people are so cautious around him, how Jessika never jokes at his expense anymore, how all he really wants is to be treated like nothing’s changed, but he also just wants to be alone most of the time because he knows that won't happen… maybe even about the four times he’s been to see Kylo Ren…

He could, but he doesn't. Poe Dameron is an adult, the best damn pilot in the resistance, and a commanding officer. He can deal with his own problems. Which he doesn't have. “Nothing, really. I didn't mean that.” The pilot replies softly, pushing his barely-touched food away. “Good talk. Thanks. I'll think about it.” He just wants to get out of here, now. “I told BB-8 to meet me in the hangar. I should get going.”

The other man releases a frustrated sigh, watching his friend shut him out. Again. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.”

Poe shrugs. “Not hungry.”

“Maybe you can survive without sleep, but you need food, Poe. At least take it with you.” Finn knows he won't be able to convince the pilot to stay any longer, but he hopes he can at least get him to not starve himself.

After a second, Poe nods, grabbing the toast he started, and a couple sausages. “Fine, mom.” He intends for it to sound like a lighthearted tease, but he falls short, mostly just coming off tired.

Finn catches his wrist again, and really, what is with him and grabbing onto people? “You can't run away from your problems forever, Poe Dameron.”

Poe exhales softly, squaring his shoulders. “Watch me.”

He doesn't stay to see Finn shaking his head dejectedly.

-

He eats one of the sausages and the rest of his toast on the way to his X-Wing. The Black One is a thing of beauty; his pride and joy. Just being near her improves his mood.

BB-8 beeps a greeting at him, and he pats the droid affectionately on the head in response. “Hey, buddy. How’s she feeling?”

The little droid is quick to remind him that ‘she’ is a machine, and therefore does not feel. But, if ‘she’ did, the Black One would be happy to see him, and ready for anything. And ‘she’ would like to respectfully ask him when he’s going to be finished with his ‘project’.

Poe laughs softly, patting her side as he walks past to retrieve his rolling creeper. “Won't be long now, girl.” The pilot snaps on his goggles, waving to Snap as he slides his toolbox under the X-Wing, then lies down on his creeper and follows it underneath.

With nothing else to do, Poe’s been spending quite a lot of his time tinkering with his ship. For the past week or so, he’s been taking apart the engine and cooling system, updating it to a more resilient, more efficient version. He already took apart the wings, cleaned them out completely, and put them back together as tight as they can fit.

He’s done just about everything he can think of to the X-Wing, and the only reason it’s taken him so long to do this, is because he’s purposefully taking his time on it. It feels like he’s got nothing but time, so he’s really in no rush.

The other pilots come and go, and a couple take off on missions while he works.

Poe remains uninterrupted until Jessika calls out to him, informing him that they’re all about to head over to the mess hall for Lunch. Poe tells her he’ll catch up in a minute, and starts to clean up his things.

He’s just about done, thinking he’s alone, when he hears just about the last thing he expects.

"Commander,”

He recognises the General’s voice right away, and in his rush to sit up and make sure he’s not hearing things, bangs his head on the underside of his X-Wing. He swears under his breath, rubbing his forehead as he rolls out and sits up. “General Organa; hi.”

This is a surprise. He hopes it doesn't show too much… The pilot wipes his hands off on a rag, using the X-Wing to stand up again.

“It's good to see you keeping busy, Poe.” The older woman’s tone is warm, but the look on her face says she’s dancing around something. “I hope you’re doing well?”

Poe briefly wonders if Finn put her up to this. But them he banishes the thought, because he explained the bro code to Finn, and thus far, Finn has taken it very seriously. “Yeah, I'm great.” He lifts a brow curiously. “Do you have a mission for me?” Poe can't quite keep the hopeful note out of his voice.

“… Not quite the kind of mission you’re thinking of, Poe.” Did she look… apologetic? Poe can't remember her ever looking that way, in all the time he’s known her. Even after his return, she never apologised. He wouldn't accept one from her anyways, she wasn't at fault. She made it very clear that he might be subjected to horrible, awful things. He knew the risks.

The expression makes him mildly anxious, but he merely straightens up, lifting his chin proudly. “Whatever it is, I'm happy to do it for the Resistance.” Even if he had to be captured again. Better him, than anyone else.

Leia reaches forward, warmed by his continued loyalty. How did she get blessed with Poe Dameron? She honestly can't say that she did something to deserve such a wonderful man’s loyalty. Her hand rubs his shoulder gently, and she just feels all the more guilty for what she’s about to ask. “My brother and I would like your help with something. Someone, really.”

She pauses, and Poe waits for more, trying his best not to rush to any conclusions.

“I'm not sure how to say this… But I was walking through the cell block yesterday, and I saw you there, by Ben’s cell. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but—”

Poe rushes to interrupt her, eyes widening in worry. “I swear, General, I have absolutely no intention of doing anything he said. I’m not—”

Leia waves him off, a soft look in her eyes. “Poe, you think I don't know that? Relax. Ben is…” She sighs, shaking her head. “I don't know what Ben has become. In any case, I know you well enough to trust your judgement, Commander. And I know you haven’t got a cruel bone in your body. I am sure that Ben only said those things to rile you up.”

As she speaks, Poe does begin to relax. But his former worry is merely replaced by confusion. “Thank you, ma’am. But… then what did you want to talk to me about?”

And here, Leia starts to look guilty again. He doesn't get it. “Allow me to apologise in advance, Poe. I really have no right to ask you for this, and I want you to know that if you decline, it will in no way be held against you.” Her hand had remained on his shoulder up until that point, where she let it drop to his upper arm.

Poe nods reluctantly, both to show that he understood, and to tell her to continue. His eyes briefly glance at the hand, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. If anything, he recognises it as the comforting gesture it is.

From the way she’s talking, he’s expecting something like joining Luke and Kylo for the latter’s sessions. Or being asked to interrogate the would-be-Sith, perhaps.

Seeing his nod, Leia pushes on. “Ben hasn't said a single civil word to my brother or I. Luke hasn't been able to get through to him this entire time. He won't speak to us. But, he spoke to you, that day. We wanted to ask if you would be willing to have monitored conversations with him.” She quickly carries on, before he can agree or disagree. “I know it’s not my place to order you to do this, but as a mother, and your comrade, I’d very much appreciate your help with this matter.”

Poe shifts slightly under her stare, now somewhat uncomfortable. He’d been expecting worse, honestly… but this was still an odd request, and one that he isn't sure he’s up to.

He’s honestly been avoiding her, more than most people. Ever since she grounded him, Poe felt a bit betrayed. But after talking to her, he thinks he has a better understanding of her motivation for it. And he really can't begrudge her for being a mother.

“I…” he bites his lip, glancing between her and the floor. “General, I’m not… Can I have some time to think it over?”

Leia nods kindly, releasing his arm. “Yes, of course you can. Take as long as you nee, Poe. But in the meantime, I would like to keep this between you, me, and my brother.” She waits for Poe to nod in understanding before she continues, tone lighter. “Luke also wanted me to remind you; his offer still stands. He said you would know what that meant.” She sighs in exasperated fondness. “My brother has become quite the cryptic old man…” she smiles, lowering her voice a tad. “I did always say he was the weird one.”

Poe smiles in return, relieved that he wasn't expected to decide right away. “With all due respect to him, General… I barely understand half the things he says.” That earns him an assenting laugh. “But yes, I do know what he means. Thank you, ma’am.”

“Poe.” The older woman rubs his arm once more. “I think you’ve more than earned the right to call me Leia. Please; there’s no need for formalities.” She drops her hand again, and gestures towards the hall. “You best catch up with your team, now. I'm sure they’re missing you.”

“Yes ma’a—I mean, Leia.” His grin widens, closer to how he used to smile. It feels good to stretch those muscles again. It feels good to have the General’s trust, especially since this whole time, he’s believed that she thought him unfit to do his job.

He vaguely remembers… when he was very young, his own mother enacting similar punishments whenever he got hurt. Of course, he never really had a motherly figure in his life after Shara Bey died. Until he joined the resistance, that is.

And to Leia, Poe is like a second son.

Case and point, Poe knows now that it’s because she cares, not because she doesn't trust him, that Leia put him on probation. “Are you sure you don't want to join me, General?” Leia. Oh, well. It’ll be a hard habit to break, they both know.

“No, that’s quite alright, commander. I have a few more things to do first. Now, off with you.”

With a nod, a grin, and a wave; Poe takes off for the cafeteria. If he’s being honest, he’s not all that torn up about being late, especially with what a good mood this conversation has put him in. Jessika’s ‘look’ is more than worth knowing that the General still has faith in him.

-

“Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence.” Jessika joked, watching as Poe plops down across from her, a smile still lingering on his face. “What are you so happy about?”

Poe’s already stuffing a chuck of his bread roll into his mouth. “Didn't know it was a crime to smile, Jess.”

“Your smiles are criminal, Dameron.” And rare, these days. Whatever put him in such a good mood… Jessika wasn't about to complain.

Poe looks taken aback for about .2 seconds, then he looks like he’s trying and failing to hide a huge smile as he winks at her. “You know me, always breaking the rules.”

Jess laughs softly, tossing a fruit in her mouth before speaking again.

The rest of the table was still recovering from such a strong display of what they had started calling ‘old Poe’. Kun was the first (after Pava, of course), to catch up, and grin along to their antics.

Poe himself, seemed to have a huge appetite. He reaches over to steal a hanava fruit from Jess (since he was too late to get his own), and she slaps his hand away. “Uh-uh, flyboy. First come, first serve. Should've got your butt in gear.”

Temmin ‘Snap’ Wexley recovers next, rolling his eyes and tossing Poe one of his. “I saved one for ya, boss.”

Poe thanks him, then sticks his tongue out at Jess. “Why can't you be more like Wexley, Pava?”

"Snap, you kiss-up.” The female pilot snorts, biting into her hanava. “Someone needs to keep you from getting a big head. But seriously, Poe. What kept you so long?”

“I'd tell you but,” Poe starts, a wry smile crinkling his features as he lifts a hand up high, “you have to be at least this tall.”

Jessica scoffs, tossing a grava berry at him, which he just catches in his mouth, purely to infuriate her. “You’re one to talk, shortie.”

Poe snorts. “I can still put you on cleanup, Testor.” It’s an empty threat; everyone knows that Poe loves Jess to death. This point is particularly illustrated by the fact that he’s gesturing with a vegetable.

Karé interrupts, leaning forward with interest. “You can't tell us?”

Jess catches on. “Ooh, classified.”

Poe huffs, rolling his eyes. “More like, the General asked me not to say anything. So, I'm not telling you. Toss me another berry, would ya?”

Jess doesn't comply, instead popping a couple into her own mouth. “So you were talking to General Organa?”

Poe responds with a locking gesture over his lips.

There are a couple more attempts to get him to talk, but the others quickly realise that their efforts are futile. Jessika moves on to talking about her recon mission, Wexley interjects whenever she’s exaggerating. It’s nice. All of Poe’s old friends, acting how they used to act. He falls into the usual push-and-pull of the conversation.

For this one, shining occasion… everything was perfect. Everything was normal.

Chapter Text

Poe should not be allowed to think. He shouldn't. It never leads to anything good.

Then again, calling what he's currently doing ‘thinking’ might be a bit of an overstatement.

Everything was fine, like, ten minutes ago. It started when he excused himself from the rest of lunch, feeling a little queasy from eating too much too fast. He wasn't exactly nauseous, per say, Poe just figured he should stop eating. Everyone else was almost done, anyways.

Is it bad that he's only just now realised that he hasn't eaten enough to be what he used to consider a ‘healthy meal’ ever since he got back? It's no wonder that eating a normal amount is upsetting his stomach. Maybe he should have listened to Finn more; the younger man was always trying to get him to eat.

But that's all a moot point. Because that was just the start of this horrible thinking thing he’s been doing.

He always thought Finn was just trying to make him stay a little longer at meals, but this is solid proof that he actually hasn't been eating right. Of course Finn wanted him to eat more, he was half-starving himself. And how did he not notice?

Poe takes a real, good look at his hands. He stops in his tracks, staring at them. He’s been working almost nonstop, on either the sims, or his plane… so his muscles are fine. Strong as ever. But his skin seems… tight, almost. He blinks, then wraps his index and thumb around his wrist. The tips touch easily.

"Kriff…” He stares at the proof disbelievingly for another second. Why? How?

Come to think of it… he can't remember the last time he actually took a look at his reflection. He has no idea what he looks like.

The pilot stays frozen to the spot for a moment more, considering running to the nearest lavatory. Or just finding any shiny surface, so he can put his mind at ease.

His memory haunts him with the reflection of his eyes in Kylo’s mask. Surely, he can't look any worse than he did then.

Finally, Poe shakes himself, letting his fingers drop from around his wrist. (Were his veins always so prominent?) He takes a deep, calming breath, and continues walking.

That was eight minutes ago.

Now, he’s back under his X-Wing. No one else has joined him yet, and he doesn't expect anyone to for another several minutes. Maybe longer, if the pilots get caught up in an argument, as they are wont to do.

He’s finally finished replacing the engine and cooling system, and now he’s just stalling, wondering what he can do next as he polishes the durasteel.

He's got just under a month until he’s no longer grounded, and then he won't have to worry about keeping busy. The thought cheers him up for a second, until he drops the rag from the metal to see how he’s doing. And suddenly, he can see himself.

Poe stares. The stranger in the metal stares back.

For several seconds which seemed to last for an eternity, Poe’s brain just… stopped working. He froze, not recognising himself. Two months. Almost Two whole months, he’s gone without ever once stopping to look in a mirror.

The pilot raises a shaky hand to his own cheek, trying to understand how this happened.

He’s been taking care of himself, working out and such. But where before Poe would eat enough for two, even three people, now he had taken to just eating enough to keep himself going. So between the sims and the lighter diet, his face had significantly thinned out. He wouldn't say he looks gaunt, or underfed even, just sharper. His jaw is more defined, and his cheeks dont have the same rounded, cheerful quality he remembers. His hair is longer, much longer.

He vaguely remembers it being cut after he was rescued, as parts were matted with blood, and… other bodily fluids. But he hasn't messed with it since then. It doesn't look right on this thin, wide-eyed face. Through all the thoughts in his head, he manages to say one thing, his voice deceptively calm and collected. “Hey, BB. Schedule a haircut for me.”

The droid agrees to do so, then releases a long, low beep which means nothing in binary. Poe belatedly realises it’s BB-8’s version of shaking his shoulder to ask if anything is wrong.

He doesn't answer, eyes locked on his image as he struggles to comprehend it. No, he’s not okay. He thought he was, he’d pretended to be fine… but he’s not. The simple fact of it slaps him in the face with the force of a ten-tonne land speeder.

Both his hands go up to his face, the heels of them pressing at his eyes. He takes a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm himself. It doesn't work.

It’s nothing but a downward spiral from there. Poe makes another attempt to reign in his emotions, to shove them down for just a little bit longer. There’s no point. He’s kept it all bottled up until now, and he just can’t hold it back anymore. The pain is finally rearing its ugly head, and it’s all Poe can do not to let it completely consume him.

-

He’s not sure when or how he got there, but Poe found himself out from under the X-Wing, and huddled up against BB-8’s side when she found him nearly twenty minutes later.

Mercifully, none of the pilots had come back to the hangar. Later, he’d find out that BB-8 sent them all fake orders to report to the other side of the base. They were confused and irritated, but the little droid understood that Poe needed to be alone for this.

When she found him, his face was streaked with tears, and his breathing had dissolved into hiccups, his forehead still pressed to the cool metal of BB-8’s ‘head’.

Rey rushed to his side, ignoring the cautionary binary from the orange-and-white droid. The new Jedi knelt by him, and Poe’s shoulders jumped in surprise when he felt her hand come to rest on his shoulder.

The pilot’s head whips up to see her, eyes wild. The first thing he notices is the overwhelming presence of her force signature. “N-no…” he tries to move away, but Rey’s having none of it, holding him in place with kind eyes and a firm grip.

"Poe Dameron, you complete moof-milker. I'm trying to help you. You know, like you’ve done for me twice already? You haven't even let me properly thank you.” Rey starts brashly, sounding mostly exasperated, rather than angry.

To say Poe was thrown by her words was a major understatement. She had a way of speaking that managed to sound annoyed and fond simultaneously. The pilot was oddly reminded of General Organa, and the likeness did a good deal to sooth him. As a result, he stopped trying to pull away.

Rey took his silence and lack of physical resistance as an invitation to continue. “Sorry, I… erm, didn't mean to intrude on you. I just couldn't help it. Through the force, I could feel that you were in pain.” Her face scrunched up a little, as if she didn't think the words did t sensation justice. “More so than usual, anyways. I had to come and make sure you were alright. … Are you? Alright, that is?”

Poe opened his mouth to give her the automatic 'I'm fine', then paused, and shut it again. It dawned on him suddenly… he didn't have to lie to her. More than that, he really couldn't lie to her. So there was no point in giving her an answer she would immediately know is false.

Another few seconds, and he dropped his gaze again, a humourless laugh leaving his lips. “What do you think?”

Rey sighs, thinking about how to go about answering his question. She did appreciate his relative honesty, though. “I think… You’re a right mess, that’s for sure. But you’re getting better. You know, my mum used to say that sometimes all anyone needs is a good, long cry. Or at least, I'm sure she did, at some point. That seems like the kind of thing that Mums would say, yeah?”

Poe can't put his finger on what it is about Rey that’s so emboldening. Maybe it’s her blatant lack of hesitancy, or the eagerness to be helpful in her voice, but whatever it is, she soon has Poe lifting his head again to offer her a small smile. Obviously, he was wrong to fear Rey. She’s much to sweet for her own good.

He nods mock-seriously “It does. Right up there with ‘because I said so’.” They share a short moment where Rey tries to hold in her giggles. This time, it’s Poe who breaks the comfortable silence. “Do you ever miss her? Your mother?”

Rey purses her lips, then shrugs a bit. “Sometimes, I guess. But I don't really remember her. Just… flashes. It’s kind of hard to miss someone you don't know, yeah?” She pauses for half a beat, then continues. “Do you miss yours? Or is she still…” she trails off, not sure how to ask.

Poe understands her question, and shakes his head. “No, she died in combat.” Once, it hurt to talk about her, but he’s had almost three decades to let that wound heal. Now, he doesn't mind bringing her up; in fact, he’s happy to keep her memory alive. “I do miss her, sometimes. But I still have her memory, and everything she taught me, so I guess she isn't really gone.” He huffs, shaking his head. “Kriff, that sounded a lot cheesier out loud.”

Poe is rewarded with Rey’s lovely, very lady-like snorting laughter. She shakes her head, smiling widely at the older man.

He makes the effort to straighten out a little, wiping his face dry with his sleeve. It's a bit impossible to stay sad when someone is smiling at you like that. He can't help but ask. “Why the sudden interest in mothers? Do you plan to be one?”

Rey quickly shakes her head, eyes widening almost comically. "Oh gods no. Me? A mother? No, thank you. I wouldn't know the first thing, and being with child sounds just horrid.”

Poe gives her an amused look. “You’re young. Give it time, you might change your mind.”

“Nuh-uh.” Rey vehemently shakes her head. “Anyways, it’s against the Jedi code. No attachments, and all.”

Poe could help a little brow raising of his own at the mixed tone of relief and irritation in her voice. “There’s a code?” He prompts, sensing she has more to say on the subject.

The 19-year-old nods shortly. “There is no Emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.” The way she recites it by rote, it’s obvious that she’s been reminded of it many, many times.

Poe frowns slightly at the disgruntled tone. His own troubles forgotten for the moment, he lets his silence prompt her to continue.

Eventually she does, waving one hand in exasperation. “It’s a load of rubbish, if you ask me. No emotion? Passion? I'm a person, not a bloody machine. No offence, BB-8.”

The little droid, which had thus far remained silent, piped up to let her know none was taken, she was stating simple fact. The familiar pitch-and-roll of the droid’s animated way of speech was yet another comfort to Poe. To be honest… he felt better now, much better than he has since his rescue. Rey was right… it felt good to let some of his pent-up emotions out. His heart felt light, and only now did he realise how heavy it had been before.

He nods at her slowly, mulling it over. “That does seem strange… there has to be a reason for it, though.”

The younger nods again, pulling a face briefly. “Attachment is the way to the dark side, Master Luke says. But I think he’s wrong.” Her tone has an air of secrecy, and Poe gets the impression that he shouldn't repeat any of this to anyone. “The way I see it, all the Sith started out as Jedi. And because of the code, they couldn’t do what they felt like. The lot of them went to the dark side because they didn't see another option.”

Poe nods hesitantly, but she doesn't wait for his response.

“I just wish there was some kind of middle ground. Not a Jedi, or a Sith. You know? I’d like to be someone who fights for what I believe in. Not because I’m told to.”

And now Poe sees it. Rey has so much passion, so much enthusiasm to help. She wants to channel all that into her training, but the code requires her to hold back, to only see things objectively.

It would be like asking Poe to fly his X-Wing without enjoying it.

Just the idea makes him want to cringe. This time, he nods with more conviction. Rey seems satisfied that she’s made her point.

"I don't see why that’s so terrible. Being human doesn't make you evil.” Rey seems greatly relieved that he agrees. “You should change the code. If anyone can; you can, kiddo.”

The Jedi-in-training looked mildly apprehensive, but nodded her agreement anyways. “You think so? Thank—” she cuts herself off, eyeing him sternly. “Mother of Kwath, Poe!” She hits his shoulder with her open palm, just hard enough to jostle him. “I'm supposed to be making you feel better, not the other way around!”

The pilot bites back a cheeky smile, using the X-Wing to pull himself to his feet. “You already did. I thought it was my turn.”

She seemed a bit confused, narrowing her eyes at him as she stands as well. “Wait, I did?”

Poe nods, taking the opportunity to tease her. “Definitely. Something about being called a moof-milker really brightened my day.”

Rey huffs in mild annoyance, but she takes the fact that he’s joking again as a good sign. She hits his shoulder again. “You’re welcome, then.” She glances over at the finally completed custom X-wing. “Did you finish it?”

“Her,” Poe corrects, “and yeah. There’s not much left for me to do to old Black One.”

BB-8 pipes in that the ship resents being called ‘old’, and that she would appreciate it if Poe would refrain from tinkering with her any more.

Rey snorts again, patting the X-Wing. Her next words are aimed at a bemused Poe, however. “So, what are you going to do now?”

Again, Poe almost gives her another automatic response, but it sticks on his tongue. Instead, he finds himself being honest again, a soft sigh leaving his lips before he answers. “I'm not really sure.”

The young woman nods, like this was the answer she expected. For a second, she looks less like a bright teenager, and more like a wizened Jedi. “You’ll think of something, I'm sure. I think you should let Master Luke help you. He’s a bit weird, but he’s nice enough, promise.”

She's the third person today to say that. Is it that obvious that he needs help? Did they plan this?

He huffs with a mixture of exasperation and amusement at his own paranoia. “I’ll definitely consider it.”

Rey takes that as her cue to leave, waving as she turns to go.

He reaches out to stop her on instinct. “And Rey…”

She faces him again, giving him a pleasant smile. “Yes?”

He wasn't sure why stopped her, but his mouth seems to decide it for him. “Thanks.”

She beams back at him. “Don't mention it.” He thinks she’s done, but then she surprises him by continuing, an earnest tone to her words. “If you need a shoulder to cry on… mine’s a lot more comfortable than BB-8, I think.”

Poe can't help but smile at the younger pilot, touched. “I'll be sure to remember that, Rey. Just don’t tell Finn, he already mother hens me plenty as it is.”

Rey mimes locking her lips. “You keep my secret, I'll keep yours, mate.”

The conversation was over, and this time, she did leave. It was rather obvious that Rey had something to get back to. Again, he feels a surge of gratitude for her. Despite her duties, (who knows what crazy things Master Skywalker has her doing?) she still came, just because she knew he needed someone.

Smiling at her retreating back, Poe resolves to get to know her a little better. He’s obviously been missing out on an extraordinary friend.

-

With not much else to do, and everyone else busy for the rest of the day, Poe decided to turn in early. (Apparently, they caught wind of an attack on a sister base, and he’s sure they’re getting ready to mount a counteroffensive. Not that anyone will tell him anything…) The pilot has had something of an exciting day (to put it lightly), and he hopes that his combined physical and mental exhaustion will stave off the nightmares so he can get his full eight hours of sleep for once.

Poe lies back on his bed, staring at the the ceiling and trying to fall asleep. For a little while, his mind buzzes with questions, some of them far too existential for him. But most prevalent, is this: “What do I do next?”

He mutters it to himself, honestly stumped. He knows he can’t keep hiding from everyone, and in any case, there really isn't much left to distract himself with. Something clicked today, somewhere between Finn’s persistent questioning, Leia’s reconciliation and request to him, and the moment he shared with Rey. He’s not sure he’s ready to deal with Kylo Ren just yet (that’s a whole other can of worms he’d rather not touch, if it can be avoided), But maybe… Maybe he can start to get better, rather than pushing away help, and bottling up his problems.

And really, that was the problem all along. Today, he’s finally realised that no one thinks any less of him. It wasn’t pity his fellow pilots looked at him with, it was concern, mingled with a desire to help, though they didn’t know how. Leia hadn’t benched him because she didn’t trust him, it was because she knows that he’ll do anything she asks, regardless of his own health, and she’s too kind to take advantage of that. Finn hovers over him, not because he thinks Poe is broken, but because he thinks Poe can be fixed.

He has friends, people who care about him, and he’s been too blind to see it until today. He let that thrice-damned son of a Nerf herder’s words get to him, and believed himself alone and unwanted, when the truth could not be further from that.

As he finally began to drift off, he was smiling softly. Poe can’t help thinking that he’s never been more glad in his life to be wrong about something.

Poe got a few hours of sound sleep… But it didn’t last.

-

Poe’s body aches. He’s lost track of time already. Has he been here more than half a month? A month and a half? It feels like it’s been that long.

The pilot struggles to shake off the last vestiges of his troubled sleep. It was hard to close his eyes in this place, and he usually only managed to get any significant amount of rest out of pain, or bone-deep exhaustion.

He got the impression that it was pain, this time. You know, if the way his muscles are screaming at him is any indication. The pilot groans lowly around the gag obstructing his mouth, cautiously opening his eyes to see if he’s alone. He is, thank kriff. The commander vaguely remembers his first week here, alternating between being left alone for long periods of time, and being interrogated by that damned orb or Kylo Ren himself. Until the Sith apprentice ‘changed tactics’… Poe almost preferred the torture. At least then, he knew what to expect. Now, he appreciates any second without that masked monster’s company. The banter provided is just not worth it.

The room is dark. It always is when he’s left alone. It makes it harder to judge how much time has passed, and gives him nothing to fixate on. Sensory deprivation tactics, if only partially done. He knows what the point of it all is… The idea is to make him fear being alone, and make him long for his captor to visit, when he has light, when he’s able to move, and speak. In a way, it’s working. He hates being left here, unable to even stretch the pins and needles out of his trapped limbs. But really, it isn’t. He hates Kylo’s visits even more, and will gladly take hours in aching silence as opposed to fifteen minutes with the black-clad man.

He loses track of time again, entertaining himself with thoughts of what he’ll do when he gets free. If he gets free, that is. There’s always the possibility that he’ll die here…

Poe frowns at the thought, vaguely worried by his own lack of protest to that. But, he decides not to dwell on it too much. It’s just one of the risks. He’s accepted it.

Instead, he thinks of all the things he misses doing. He lets his eyes fall shut again, imagining that the ache in his muscles are cramps from being in a cockpit too long. His hair isn’t stuck to his head from the hard spray of a droid’s hose, but from sweat, and a helmet pressing the curly locks to his scalp. The quiet isn’t that of an empty room, but of open space, with his engine running silently for a stealth mission.

It’s a good daydream; and for a moment, he almost convinces himself it’s true.

Just when he’s about to slip back to sleep, the harsh artificial lighting flickers on, and he hears the hiss of the door sliding open.

Poe remains still, in the vain hope that (if it’s Ren) his visitor will think he’s asleep and leave him be a bit longer. But just then, he catches a waft of something warm and meaty. Food. The last time he ate was yesterday… About an hour before the Sith apprentice’s ‘demonstration’ to the resistance. And he threw all that up.

His stomach growls. Crap… Busted.

The pilot hears a chuckle, far closer than he expected. He cracks his eyes open warily, seeing Kylo Ren just as the other waves his hand to unclasp the restraints. Poe quickly snatches his wrists away from the now-open cuffs, and gingerly rubs the raw and reddened skin. There’s a service droid nearby carrying two bowls of some kind of stew. Blinking in confusion, and the obnoxiously bright light, Poe turns his questioning gaze back to his masked company.

“You will eat with me from now on.” The mechanical voice offers a simple explanation. No more Storm Troopers bringing his meals. He’ll only have contact with droids, other than Kylo… Poe is understandably suspicious. He sets his jaw against the gag, unable to ask the question on his mind. Why?

Kylo Ren answers it anyways, and Poe honestly isn't sure anymore if he’s just that easy to read, or if the bastard is in his head again. “So I can be sure you are eating. You’re no good to me dead. Not to mention, a Trooper assisted in your escape from the Finalizer.”

Poe cringes at the thought of death. No, he won’t starve himself. Just like he won’t bite through his own tongue to choke himself to death. He’s a coward… And Finn was one in a million. His chances of finding another ‘trooper willing to help him escape are laughably low.

Kylo Ren doesn’t respond to that. Not that Poe can see, anyways. So, not in his head. Maybe.

‘Kylo Ren’s face looks like like a camel.’ Poe thinks, testing for a reaction. The other pauses in his movements, then continues like he heard nothing. Poe’s heart sinks, realising that his captor is only faking ignorance.

Kylo Ren looks straight at him, snorting before giving Poe an explanation with that same, fondly patient tone he uses. Like talking to a dumb creature. “I’m not in your mind, Dameron. You are projecting.”

Poe just scowls back, and Ren shakes his head. “A camel, really?” The tall man waves his hand again, releasing Poe’s midsection and ankles now that he’s had a moment to rub the weakness out of his arms. The gag as well, is untied and allowed to fall to the floor. Poe cringes internally, knowing that it will return to his mouth at some point.

The pilot makes no attempt to apologise to Kylo Ren, just barely managing not to fall as he quickly stands to get away from the hard interrogation chair. He holds on tightly to the curved metal bars which were trapping his midriff a few seconds previously. Once he feels steady on his feet again, he lets go, eyes on Kylo Ren the entire time.

Poe can’t be certain because of the mask, but Sith-in-training’s head is facing him, so he assumes the other is watching him equally closely. He probably remembers Poe pinning and nearly choking him the day before. The reminder gives Poe a small rush of satisfaction, and he feels a sharp burst of anger from the man opposite him.

Kylo Ren’s voice sounds strained as he jerkily gestures towards the droid. “Sit.” Yeah, Poe hit a nerve with that reminder. Kylo Ren turns, cloak swishing as he seats himself gracefully in front of the droid. The barefoot pilot pads over, plopping down with significantly less grace than his present company. He doesn’t touch the food just yet, raising a brow at the other man, and loudly wondering how he’s going to eat with his mask on. Projecting. Huh. Seems a more fun way to talk than actual speech.

In any case, it makes Kylo look a little nuts, having a seemingly one-sided conversation with him. Poe will take any entertainment he can get.

The taller man takes off the mask in response, then rolls his eyes for Poe to see. The pilot gets yet another quiet rush of happiness upon seeing the scar Rey gifted his captor on Starkiller. He always enjoys that particular feature of Ren’s face. A face which is currently saying something. “Most men would have broken already. I applaud your resilience.”

Does Ren think he’s going to be grateful for the ‘compliment’? Poe opts not to respond, instead focusing on shielding his thoughts. He’s found that the best way to keep Kylo Ren from reading his mind, is to put something in his way. Any other musings, daydreams, irrelevant memories. He’s gotten fairly adept at keeping his train of thought under a false surface.

The other man continues, scooping up a bite of his stew with an air of boredom. “Of course, it makes me wonder what scrap of hope you’re clinging to.” He takes a second to swallow down the spoonful before adding, “No matter. You and I have plenty of time. It too, I will eventually crush out of you.”

Poe wisely keeps his thoughts on the subject quiet, instead considering the stew. He briefly wonders if it might be poisoned, then tosses the idea aside. There are easier, more straightforward ways to kill a prisoner than that. He finds he doesn't really care anyways. And he’s rather hungry, so… Poe takes his own spoon, noting that his isn’t metal like Kylo’s. Of course, they wouldn’t dare give him anything even vaguely resembling a weapon. He sighs, taking his own first scoop. Surprisingly, it actually tastes good. The stew is a vast improvement from his usual scarce meals, that’s for sure.

Kylo seems to be frustrated with his inability to get a rise out of Poe. Not even a derogatory, snarky thought?

‘Good,’ Poe thinks, ‘Maybe he’ll decide I'm not interesting enough to eat with. I can go back to chatting up the socially inept troopers.’

The other man catches that, and rolls his eyes as if to say ‘not a chance.’ Great. Poe vaguely wonders if he just inadvertently challenged Kylo to try harder to upset him.

There's a few moments of eating in horribly awkward, tense silence. It’s Poe who speaks, taking a break from eating too quickly about halfway through his bowl. “Why the fancy lunch-date?” He leans back on his hands, ignoring the protests from his aching muscles. “Y’know, most people do the eating together thing before the sex thing.” After yesterday’s events, the pilot has decided that he really doesn’t have anything left to lose, so he’s thrown caution to the wind. He’ll speak his mind. It’s not like anything he thinks can truly be kept from his captor anyways.

To his astonishment, the Sith apprentice laughs. “You’re very amusing, Commander. Firstly, it is third-meal; you have rested for nearly a full day. Secondly, do not mistake my laziness for romance. It was simply less troublesome to have the cooks make two of the same meal.”

And the great Kylo Ren wouldn't stoop to eating food fit for a prisoner, Poe mentally supplied, tone rueful. The man opposite him gave a simple nod, confirming the thought. Poe glared, thinking pointedly at him about right where he can stick his mind-reading mojo.

There’s another short silence, and he can read a vague mixture of frustration and amusement on his counterpart’s big-nosed face.

Kylo Ren finishes his meal while Poe is still about three quarters through his. The Sith Lord in the making folds his hands in his lap, watching his prisoner closely. Poe vaguely considers how fucking surreal this whole situation is… He slows down, not wanting to find out what comes after he’s finished the stew.

But eventually, he does get to the bottom of the bowl, and proceeds to mirror his counterpart, hands in his lap, and nerves on edge. Kylo simply gets to his feet, waving for the pilot to stand as well. A flick of his wrist, and the bot starts to roll away with the dishes.

Poe thinks about making a break for the open door… But where would he go? He watches the droid leave, fighting the instinct to run after it, and then turns back to Kylo, who was replacing his mask. The door hadn’t closed yet. It took everything in him for Poe not to bolt.

Ren stepped towards him, Poe stepped back. The next step Kylo took was more successful, as he had decided to freeze Poe in place.

The Pilot clenched his jaw in anticipation… But the other simply gripped his upper arm tightly, and began to walk him out of the room.

Poe followed without question, his curiosity winning out. He hasn’t left the room since he was captured… Where are they going?

The mask told him nothing.

Ren’s long steps were hard to keep up with, but he managed, tired and barefoot as he was. Poe’s curiosity was sated when they finally reached their destination. A shower room. He was roughly shoved inside, and the door was shut after the robed man followed him in. The mechanically altered voice finally gave him an order. “Clean yourself.”

Poe looked around, noting the soaps, hair products, and various other personal things. Oh, gross. This must be Kylo Ren’s shower… The other crossed his arms in acknowledgement. “Would you prefer the cleaning droid?”

The pilot quickly shook his head, but couldn't keep himself from wondering why he wasn't using the Storm Trooper’s quarters. He gave the other a pointed look, but quickly realised that he wasn't going to get any privacy, and began to undress, turning his back to the other man. Poe caught a glance of himself in the mirror, cringing at the cuts and bruises marring his body. The entire left side of his face seemed to be composed of a bruise, and his neck was ringed with a mixture of dark purple and reddened bite marks. Poe’s lower lip was split. His chest and shoulders had inflamed cuts dotted all over, and around his ribs in particular, there were large black and blue patches. On his hips were smaller marks, bruises where the man behind him had gripped him tightly as… He turned away and didn’t look again.

The Commander stepped into the shower, turning on the cold water. The steady drumming on his skin was nice, and the temperature went a long way towards soothing his wounds. Too soon, all the blood and grime and… other... was cleaned from his body, his hair carefully washed, shampooed, and untangled. He’d half expected to be jumped while in the shower, but he was not interrupted, and he gave the other another questioning glance as he stepped back out, drying himself and pulling his mysteriously-now-free-of-filth compression pants and cotton shirt back on.

Kylo looked him over, then nodded, replacing his grip on Poe’s arm. No words were exchanged until they reached the interrogation room again. Finally, Poe could hold back his curiosity no longer. This seemed so… Random. Too nice, too… Human, for the experiences he’s had thus far with Kylo Ren. If the Goal was to confuse the fuck out of him, he damn well succeeded. “Why? Wh…” He notices suddenly that the room has also been cleaned, the floors and chair now shining like new, free of any evidence that he had been there previously. “What’s the big idea…?”

Ren sighs, the sound transforming into a gentle ‘Pshhh’ through his voice modulator. “Must there always be an ulterior motive? Perhaps I simply tired of visiting a filthy prisoner in a filthy room.”

And you waited this long to decide that? Poe thinks, not buying it.

He can almost feel the other rolling his eyes, despite the mask obstructing his camel-face. “You want a reason? Fine. Consider today a reward for your performance in front of the General. Now; in the chair.” He commands, voice low and even.

Poe doesn't move, frankly somewhat disgusted. Did his captor expect this to somehow make him feel better? Reward his ass; apology not accepted.

Kylo’s voice is irritated as he repeats himself. “In the chair, Commander.”

Poe still doesn't move towards it, hardly paying attention as he seethes. Who does this 2-bit son of a Nerf-herder think he is to--?

His thoughts are interrupted by a sharp force-tug on his ear, drawing his attention back to the younger man. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Last chance, Dameron. Chair. Now.”

Poe considers ignoring the order again… But comes to the decision that he rather likes being clean, and would prefer to stay that way as long as possible. So he complies, sighing as he uses the open restraints to pull himself onto it, taking his time. He tightens his thoughts, preparing for a mental intrusion as the ankle cuffs, then wrist, and finally midriff bond locks back into place.

But no such attack comes. Instead, Ren’s fingers trace the unbruised right side of his face. He stares at the expressionless mask, his confusion as plain in his mind as it is in his eyes. Two gloved digits come to a rest just under his chin, forcing him to keep his head slightly lifted. Poe blinks.

And then the fingers are gone, and Ren steps away. “There will be no sessions today. Now sleep.”

Not expecting it, Poe immediately gives in to the force suggestion, his eyes slipping shut and head lolling as he swiftly loses consciousness.

He doesn't see Kylo Ren leaving the room, shoulders back and head held high. The one thing he is sure of… is that tomorrow will not be so kind to him.

-

Poe wakes up to the darkness of his room, and somehow the footsteps from his (dream? Nightmare?...) sleep, had followed him into the waking world.

He frowns, sitting up as someone draws closer to his door, reaching for the blaster he keeps under the bed.

There's a short pause, and then the door hisses open again, revealing… Finn.

“Whoah! Poe, it’s me!” The ex-Stormtrooper raises his hands in surrender, and Poe sighs, then drops the weapon.

“I just woke up.” The older man states by way of explanation. He stuff the blaster back under his cot. “Why are you just coming back at…” He turns to check the clock. “Ten… Nevermind.”

Finn offers him a smile, flipping the lights on. “When did you turn in?” He sheds Poe’s old jacket, digging out sleep clothes.

The pilot shrugs, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. “Three-ish.”

“Really?” Finn seemed surprised by the somewhat normal number of hours as he quickly did the math. “I take it you slept well, then?”

Poe nods, stretching his arms up with a yawn. “Yeah, actually. Better than last night, anyways. I’m still a bit tired though.” The last word stretches into another yawn, and this time Poe is sure that if he tries it, he’ll actually get some more rest.

Finn grins, glad to hear that. “Need company, or do you think you’ll be fine?”

The pilot remembers Finn’s offer early this morning, and considers it again. His first instinct is to turn him down, of course. But he reminds himself of the lesson he learned today, and then nods.

Finn grins in response, then looks at the two one-person beds on either side of the room. Poe sees the problem too. “We can push them together?” The pilot offers, standing up. “I can do it, you go ahead and change.”

Finn shakes his head, giving Poe a stern glance. “I’ll help. You aren’t some circus strongman.”

Poe rolls his eyes, but doesn't argue. Together, they make quick work of it. They pretty much just move Finn’s cot next to Poe’s, not wanting to disturb all the junk Poe has accumulated under his. Not junk, Poe corrects. Keepsakes.

It’s not long before they’re laying down beside each other, shoulder to shoulder. Finn is asleep almost instantly after he wishes Poe goodnight. The older man takes a bit longer, but he too is eventually pulled back to unconsciousness, helped along by Finn’s deep, even breaths.

Chapter Text

-- He watched as the life drained from Finn’s eyes. “N-No!”

"He should not have taken what is mine.”

The sputtering red beam of light protruding from his friend’s chest retreated, and the body slumped to the side, revealing his murderer. Poe’s torturer. “Monster!” The tears rolled freely down his face. Not Finn, no, not Finn.

“You would know.” A phantom grip took hold of his throat, and he was forced to stare into the red-washed face of Kylo Ren. The Sith grinned. --

Poe’s eyes shot open. He can't breathe, he can't…

The pilot takes several gulps of air, blinking in the darkness of the room. It was just a dream. When the beating of his heart slows down to a normal pace, he feels the steady breathing of someone else just beside him. Finn.

‘he’s alive, he’s fine. He’s… half on top of me.’ Poe frees one hand in order to roughly rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Sometime during the night, Finn had rolled over in his sleep and was now belly-down, one arm slung over Poe. The pilot doesn't really mind… But he doesn't want to lay here any longer. He wants to do something, preferably something that doesn't require a whole lot of thought.

Poe quietly wiggles out from under Finn, now regretting taking the cot that was against the wall (aka: the cot that was originally his). It occurs to him that his friend probably had it in mind that Poe wouldn't be able to leave without being noticed. Unfortunately for him, Poe’s had quite a lot of practice with sneaking away from people sleeping on top of him.

Well.

Mostly just one person in particular. Poe grimaces at the thought.

Somehow, the older man succeeded in getting away without disturbing his companion. The pilot leaves, still in just the pants he was wearing the previous day (he sees no reason to change), and automatically heads for the sims.

-

They helped a little, but after just an hour and a half, Poe realised it wouldn't be enough. Even at the highest difficulty, Poe’s just practiced with them so much that nothing catches him off-guard. He knows all the cycles, every pattern.

4:20 am finds Poe with his X-Wing, wanting to work on it, but unable to think of anything he can do.

4:25 am: Poe is in the locker room, making himself a cup of coffee.

4:30 am: Poe has finished said coffee, and still can't think of anything worthwhile to do.

He’s got an hour and a half to kill before people start waking up… so the pilot starts walking. Wandering aimlessly down the familiar hallways, occasionally just trailing his fingertips along the wall beside him.

He passes the barracks, then the med bay, followed by the kitchens…

4:37 am: Poe steals a roll of bread from the kitchens.

He doesn't realise where he’s walking to until he’s just about there.

… the holding cells.

Poe stops in his tracks for a moment, staring around him in mild apprehension. He knows there isn't anything to fear, that everything is in perfect working order. He knows that he shouldn't worry. He also knows that he really shouldn't be here.

… he continues walking anyways.

It wouldn't be the first time he’s visited Kylo Ren. Or, “Ben”, as everyone insists on calling him. Poe hasn't been here often… he can count his number of visits on one hand. The first few mostly consisted of him trading searching glares with his ex-torturer for a moment or so, and then walking away. Last time, though…

Last time, they actually spoke. He thinks back on the short conversation, hardly even noticing as he automatically stops by Kylo’s cell.

Contrary to what he expected, Ren is actually awake. He’s sitting with his back to the barrier, hands folded neatly in his lap. If Poe didn't know better by the deep, measured breaths, he might say that the Sith-in-training just fell asleep in that odd position.

Ren doesn't appear to have noticed him.

Poe considers walking off again, pretending that he was never here, but his curiosity is piqued. Is Kylo… meditating?

Gods know he needs it. The man is an absolute mess of anger issues. But… that’s not very ‘dark side’ of him. Is… could Luke be getting through to him?

Well. Poe doesn't have anywhere else to be…

Poe leans back against the opposite wall, and sinks to the ground. He folds his legs Indian-style, and leans forward. His chin rests on his hands, and his elbows rest on his knees.

There is one lone camera pointed at Kylo Ren. The Resistance is against using anything not absolutely necessary, so there’s just the one. It would be ridiculously easy for him to take a blaster, unlock the cell with someone else’s code, and rid himself of Kylo for good. No one would know who did it.

(It would be, except only the General’s code will open this cell. After an incident in which a few pilots used Poe’s code to get in and rough Kylo up [they would have killed him, if they hadn’t been caught by Luke], the security was increased to prevent it from happening again. There is a second camera pointed down the hall, hidden above the same corner where Leia overheard Poe and Kylo talking a few days before. Poe was unconscious at the time, and was never informed of it. The pilots involved [the entirety of Black Squadron, to name a few] were held in the cells for a week on principle, but were otherwise not reprimanded. General Organa understood their anger.)

But he doesn't want to. Not only would it be dishonourable of him… but Poe knows that it wouldn't make him feel any better.

And he honestly doesn't want what Kylo spoke of earlier, either.

Torturing him, tearing Kylo apart… it wouldn't solve anything. Poe wouldn't feel any better than he did now. He’s just… not that kind of person. He’s never believed that two wrongs will make a right, and he isn't about to start now.

He wishes he knew what he wanted. Because he does want something, that much he knows. He just can't put his finger on what it is.

“You're projecting, Poe.” Kylo Ren’s low-pitched voice startles him from his thoughts.

The pilot’s attention snaps back to Kylo, and the once-Jedi laughs softly at his surprise. He never turned around.

Poe quickly schools his expression into a glare. “I thought Master Skywalker was blocking you from the force.”

“He is,” Kylo nods, relaxing his posture and stretching his arms above his head. “But he’s sleeping now, and his focus is weakened. Not enough for me to do anything big, don't you worry your pretty head.” He pauses, and Poe processes this. The pilot considers telling Luke, and as soon as he does, Kylo turns around, giving him a wide-eyed look. “Please don't. It poses no danger to the Resistance; I can only read you because you think so loudly.”

There’s another pause, Poe doesn't speak.

“I know that you’re the last person who would want to give me sympathy… but you know how it is to be locked up like this.”

Poe’s gaze narrows.

“Okay, not like this… but you understand, even better than I do. I can't do much… but it’s still better than nothing. It makes all this bearable. You know.”

And Poe does. He tries to fight it, but he can sympathise. When he was trapped… and humiliated, tortured, used… what kept him going was the knowledge that his mind was still his own. That the Resistance would come. That there was an end. For Kylo, it’s that even for only a brief amount of time, he can feel the power of the force.

Poe decides not to tell Luke.

Kylo visibly relaxes. “Thank you.”

The pilot glares at the other man, tightening his jaw. “Stop reading my thoughts.”

“I can't.” Ren seemed genuinely annoyed at himself for this fact.

The pilot sighs, still annoyed. “… then just don't… don't respond to them.”

The younger man looks like he’s going to tell him no for a moment, but then he concedes, nodding his head. "… I'll try. You project so clearly, it almost sounds like you are talking. You’re very good at focusing your mind.”

“I had to be.” The commander replies shortly, shifting his position so that his arms are crossed over his chest. He tries to keep emotion out of his voice, but he’s sure that Kylo can feel it anyways.

“I know.” There’s no apology in his voice, and Poe finds himself grateful for that. He’s so tired of people falling over themselves to apologise for things and walking on eggshells around him. It got old a long time ago.

“Have you figured out why you visit me?” The voice isn't cruel, like it was last time. More conversational, curious. Like Kylo is just as lost as he is. Poe assumes that it’s because Ren could read his confused thoughts this time. Last time, Kylo really didn't have a clue.

The pilot shakes his head, loosing a tired sigh. “I wish.”

“You don't want to hurt me.” It wasn’t a question.

Poe answers him anyways, somewhat bitingly. “No; that’s what you would do in my position.”

The other nods in agreement. “Touché. Do you pity me?”

“Kriff no.” Pity? Gods no. He hardly even sympathises with the brat. Kylo has it infinitely better than Poe did. He dug his own grave, and now he’s lying in it. Serves him right.

“Good. I hate pity.” The younger pauses, clearly thinking. “You haven't tried to interrogate me.”

“Why would I? The General doesn't want information, she just wants ‘Ben Solo’ back.” Poe knows there’s a derisive, accusatory edge to his voice. He doesn’t care.

Kylo Ren pauses at that, examining his visitor. "So you know, now."

“Yes.” Poe watches the other closely. Even behind the impenetrable barrier, the pilot is wary of Kylo Ren.

The prisoner frowns looking at him curiously. “Yet, in your mind, I’m still Kylo Ren.”

He hesitates, eyes drilling into Kylo’s. Then he nods, slowly. “Ben Solo was a friend of mine. He was a sweet kid, and someone I trusted. You aren’t him. Not anymore.” Kylo is looking down, and Poe can’t tell if it’s shame or anger on his features. “… Don't get me wrong. I want him back as much as anyone else. I miss my friend. …I’m just less optimistic about it.”

The Sith apprentice doesn’t respond, and there’s a moment of quiet while Poe decides how to continue.

Now that he’s subconsciously looking for it, he can see Ben in the awkwardly large nose (Ben always hated it, but Poe thought it was cute in a dorky kind of way), the deep brown eyes, and the perpetually long face (in hindsight, maybe Poe should have made less jokes about it when they were younger). The reminder of his long-lost friend is more painful than any torture Kylo inflicted on him before.

Shara Bey-Dameron often visited with Luke and Leia, and on the occasions that she took Poe with her (which was more often than not), the two women’s sons would play together. (And usually get into trouble together, as well.)

Golden memories of sunny days spent chasing the general’s son through larger-than-life halls are now tainted with the horrors from two months ago. Thoughts of his own eyes wide with wonder as an equally amazed Ben showed him what the force could do are interrupted with flashbacks of Kylo choking him with invisible fingers. Children’s laughter mixes with his own screams ringing in his ears. Poe almost wishes he didn't know. Almost. Really, he only regrets that it took so long for him to get the truth. To him, Ben was a martyr; he was one of the reasons that Poe took so fiercely to the resistance. To only find out now that the childhood friend he held in such high esteem was in fact none other than Kylo Ren…

It was almost enough to break him.

Finally, the pilot chooses a question to ask. “Why?”

The response is quick. “Why did I turn?” Poe is aware that Kylo knows which question he wants to ask, and part of him appreciates the attempt to at least appear not to intrude on his thoughts so much.

“No. Ben never liked the Jedi Order.” He shoots back quickly. Kylo snorts, and Poe takes it as assent. “Why didn't you tell me who you were?”

Kylo looks down for a second before meeting his eyes again. “I… don't have a good answer. I suppose I wanted to go on pretending that none of it was personal. If you knew who I was, I couldn't do that.”

“But it was personal, wasn't it?” Kylo nods. Poe leans in. “Why? What did I ever do to you?”

"Absolutely nothing.” Poe just lifts a brow, knowing that there’s more. “You wouldn't understand.”

Poe almost smiles at the challenge. “Try me.”

"No." The way that Kylo Ren is glaring at him, Poe’s curiosity is just fuelled even further.

“… I’ll bring you pudding.” He’s not 100% sure if Kylo Ren still does, but he remembers being able to get Ben to do anything for pudding.

“Bribery, Dameron? Really?” The reply is given a little too late.

The pilot knows he’s got him, so he just gives Kylo a significant look.

Kylo keeps glaring back. “It won't work.”

“Two puddings.” Poe can’t keep the childish smile from his face, even as his instincts are screaming at him, telling him he should stop. He ignores them, in favour of pretending that he can have a ‘normal’ conversation with the man wearing his once-friend’s face.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Kylo’s voice is full of barely-contained exasperation.

Poe chews the inside of his cheek, then shrugs. “Peace of mind?”

There’s another short silence, and Poe doesn’t interrupt it, letting Kylo Ren make his decision.

Eventually, the younger man sighs and concedes. “… Make it three. And not all at once.”

Poe grins back, eyes full of amusement at his victory. “Deal.”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“I'm sure that I don't want anything else from you. Talk, Kylo.”

He doesn't miss the fleeting smile on the other’s face. Probably because he’s the only one who calls the other by his chosen name here.

“… Before… everything.” The man makes a vague gesture. “I… Ben had a crush on you.” He pauses, and Poe tries not to interrupt. “Don’t think too much of it. After all, who didn't? Even my Mother liked you, and she hardly likes anyone. You were, and still are; handsome, charming, confident, and the child of war heroes. I’m sure I was far from the only one.” This last sentence is bitter, and Poe gets the feeling that Kylo isn’t quite as over his crush as the Sith would like him to believe.

For a few seconds, the pilot is speechless. Then even though he’s sure the other isn’t, he blurts out; “You're kidding.”

Kylo shakes his head, seeming vaguely amused. Probably by Poe’s thoughts. “Dead serious. I warned you not to ask.”

Poe pauses, processing this, too. Then, he decides that it changes nothing, and resorts to teasing, as usual. “You know, nobody’s ever ripped my tooth out on our first date. Points for originality.”

“Do you have to joke about everything?” Kylo asks, exasperated.

“Yes.” Poe nods definitively, shifting because of the cold metal on his bare back. He belatedly wishes he’d thought to put on a shirt.

Kylo huffs, looking away from him. "Why?"

Poe shrugs. “It gets me through the day.”

There’s a somewhat awkward silence, which Poe feels obligated to fill. “For what it’s worth, if you didn't go dark side, kill a bunch of people, and torture me, you definitely would’ve had a chance.”

“Darn, so close.”

Poe can't help it. He chuckles, and the silence that follows is less awkward. Somehow, knowing that Kylo (Ben, he corrects himself; what Kylo felt wasn't love, it was obsession) had genuinely liked him at some point in his life made him seem less scary. More human.

It's another fifteen minutes of Poe leaning back and letting his mind wander before Kylo speaks again. “What are you doing up so early, anyways? I assume you didn't wake up just to talk to me.”

Poe snorts softly at the suggestion. “No. I couldn't sleep.” He gestures vaguely towards his head. “Nightmares.”

"I see." And he probably did, because Poe couldn't help thinking of his latest night terror. Kylo's smirks slightly, and his tone is both teasing and malicious. “Do you dream of me often?”

Only every night. “You’d like that, Wouldn't you.”

Kylo shrugs, but he looked smug. He must have heard the accompanying thought, as well.

Poe crosses his arms, miffed. He takes a second to wonder how a prisoner can be this maddeningly irritating. And why don't Luke or Leia complain about this?

Right, Kylo doesn't talk to them. Poe briefly envies the General and her brother.

“I know I'm not supposed to answer thoughts, but really, Dameron. You're one to talk about obnoxious captives. Or think, I suppose.” The dark-haired man’s eyes twinkle with mirth. “You could say I learned from the best.”

“… Point taken.” He lifts a brow, taking a better look as Kylo. He got the sense that the interruption of his thoughts was meant as a distraction, so he went straight for the topic Kylo was avoiding. “Why do you talk to me?”

The other shrugs, making no move to give a response.

Poe just waits patiently, mentally considering leaving if Kylo is done talking.

It works, and the would-be Sith sighs, and takes a moment to really think about it. Or maybe he’s just stalling. “Because you aren't trying to get anything from me? You don't expect me to change. It’s… nice.”

Poe nods, intuitively knowing that the other isn't lying. But he isn't telling the whole truth, either. “And you enjoy talking to me.”

The other shrugs, not arguing it. “I do miss our banter something awful.”

“Glad I could be such a source of entertainment for you.” Poe replies drily, shifting uncomfortably against the wall. Again, he curses his past self for not getting fully dressed. It’s a winter morning in a draughty base, for Force’s sake.

Kylo hums in agreement, then answers his thoughts. “I don't mind it.” Poe glares at the smug tone.

He stands stiffly. “Yeah. Okay. Leaving now.”

As he turns to march away with his dignity still intact, Kylo adds one more thing. It’s said softly enough that the pilot almost doesn't hear it. “I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go…”

Poe bites back a growl, tossing a rude hand gesture behind him. “Fuck you.” He immediately curses his poor word choice.

The younger man laughs, watching the retreating pilot’s bare back. “Anytime.”

The pilot chooses not to respond, though he’s now having second thoughts about that blaster…

-

[Several hours later.]

The General looks up in surprise at the knock on the door. She glances over at her brother, who nods, a small, knowing smile on his lips. Apparently, he’s fine with this interruption.

“Come in.” She commands, straightening up and facing the door. To her astonishment, Poe opens it.

“Is now a bad time?” The pilot looks like he’s having second thoughts, eyes darting over to the Jedi standing at her side.

Luke smiles warmly, answering before Leia can tell him to come back later. “Of course not. What did you wish to tell us?” Leia gets the odd feeling that her brother already knows the answer.

“Are you sure? I can come back later…” Poe’s halfway through the door, looking torn between coming in and running as far away as possible.

Leia glances at her brother again, but he doesn’t offer another invitation. The General hesitates, then waves Poe inside. “No time like the present, Commander. Come on in.”

Poe does, if a little edgily. “Thank you. I uh…” He lets the door hiss shut behind him, searching for the right words. His fists open and close a few times, and then he seems to come to a decision, stilling his hands and looking at them both with more confidence. “I’d like to help. With Ky— with Ben.”

Leia could feel a hint of the mixture of feelings rolling off her beloved pilot. But she could also feel the conviction in his words. He’s put a lot of thought into this.

Luke didn't look as surprised as Leia felt. She lifts a brow at him for a second, then turns to their visitor with a grateful smile. “I'm very glad to hear it, Poe. What made you come to this decision?”

The pilot shifts indecisively on his feet. Luke remains infuriatingly silent on the subject. Finally, Poe answers her. “I spoke to him again. At length.”

The general furrows her brow, wondering when he did this. She spoke to him just the day before, and she knows he was working on his X-Wing, and then in his room the rest of the day.

Before she can ask, Luke speaks up. “Thank you, Commander Dameron. Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

“I… Yes.” He steels himself, looking at the Jedi. “I’d like to accept your offer, as well.”

Leia feels terribly uninformed. She hates being uninformed. Luke sends her a look that promises an explanation later.

For the moment, she lets it go, watching the two.

“Of course. I’ll see you in the dojo tomorrow morning, at ten.” The dojo. Really, it’s a repurposed storage room that Luke takes Rey to for meditation and training.

Poe nods, then simply stands there, apparently unsure of what else to say.

Leia takes a step forward, still a little stunned by the fact that he’s really going to help her with this, with Ben. She isn’t sure what she’s doing until her arms are around Poe’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug.

He tenses, then seems to melt into it, embracing her back. She can vaguely feel his confusion.

“Thank you, Poe.” She breathes, finally having processed what just happened. “You can’t know how much this means to me.”

She can feel the stretch of his cheek muscles against her temple. “It’s the least I can do, General.”

“You owe me nothing, Commander. I'll have none of that.” She pulls away, in full-on mother mode. She can see the amusement on her brother’s face. “I'll give you anything you want, simply name it.” It seems a poor way to repay him for what he’s offered to do for her, but Poe’s face instantly lights up.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” She nods.

“I'd like my next mission, General.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

Leia instantly regrets her promise.

Luke laughs. “You did promise him, Leia.”

She glares at him, then sighs. The general shakes her head gently, looking back at the hopeful pilot. “One. Just one. I'll send BB-8 the details tomorrow.”

Poe grins back, and for a fleeting second, it’s just as bright and full of unadulterated joy as it used to be. “Yes, ma’am.” He salutes her briefly, stepping back to do so. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my team is waiting for me.”

In that moment, Leia knows everything is going to turn out fine. She waves goodbye, but Poe is already gone, presumably off to have dinner with his friends.

She smiles to herself, content in the knowledge that Poe has finally made it back to her.

She never should have doubted Shara Bey’s son. It’s only natural that any child of Shara and Kes would have the same unquenchable fire as they did.

"Now." Leia rounds on her twin. "Talk, old man."

Her brother chuckles, walking over to the holoscreen. “They spoke early this morning. I checked the camera feed and saw it.”

She raises a brow. “Why were you looking at it…?”

His eyes twinkle with mischief. “Oh, just because I allow Ben access to the force at night.”

Her heart almost stops. Did she hear that right? “You what?”

"Limited access. Relax. There’s no danger. It would be more dangerous to cut him off absolutely.” He smiles wryly. “He thinks it is due to my focus weakening in my sleep.”

Leia is still staring at him incredulously.

“Close your mouth, sister. You’ll catch flies.” She does, but her expression doesn’t change. “Look, he’s been using it to meditate. I am confident he is making progress.”

The Jedi pulls up the twin feeds, and she watches, all the way until she can see Poe walking stiffly away.

Her heart aches, watching her son speak so freely. And Poe, her sweet Poe. She can clearly see that he’s regained much of his confidence. Again, she regrets doubting him. Belatedly, she realises that he’s had his hair cut between the time he spoke with Kylo and his visit to her and Luke. Yes, he’s healing. It warms her heart to know it so absolutely.

Leia opens her mouth, closes it, and then shakes her head. She decides not to try to understand her nut of a brother. As long as he maintains control, she can't really object. “And your offer to Poe?”

Luke nods sagely, closing the feed. “He needed my help, I offered it, and now he’s accepted it.”

She frowns at him. “I'm not going to get a clearer answer than that, am I?”

“You can try, but I do believe I've mastered the art of remaining infuriatingly vague. Proud, Master Yoda would be.” Leia considers flicking the annoying smile off his face.

Instead, she plants a kiss on his cheek. “So you are doing it on purpose. I was beginning to worry that you’d gone mad on that island.”

Luke laughs again. "Of course not. One of us has to be sane.”

Before she can hit his shoulder, he returns her kiss with one to her forehead. “Now, let’s wrap this up and see if we can get to dinner on time for once, alright?”

Leia sighs heavily, but eventually nods.

Yes, everything is going to be just fine.

-

… what, you thought there was more?

Nope.

That’s it.

The End.

… (Maybe.)

Chapter Text

“I can't do this!” Poe shouts, standing up swiftly enough to give himself vertigo. “It’s not working, there’s no point!”

Luke remained where he was, unperturbed by the other’s outburst. “Sit down, we will do it again.” He hadn’t even opened his eyes.

Poe made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “I've been trying, Master Skywalker. It’s not working!”

The old an did open his eyes at this, giving Poe a curious look. “A wise man once told me; do, or do not. There is no try.”

Poe looks about ready to tear his hair out. “Are you even listening? What’s the point of all this? Nothing makes a difference!”

With a heavy sigh, the old man gestures for Poe to move closer. “Commander, the damage was not done in a single day, and it will not be healed so quickly. You will need to have patience. So either sit down and we will do it again, or leave and do not come back.”

Poe looked like he had been struck. He didn't move. He wanted to ask, ‘what if I can't be healed? What if we do all this and it’s for nothing?’

After a short silence, the Jedi shakes his head, reach a hand towards Poe in silent askance for help getting up. Numbly, Poe complies.

Luke gets to his feet, straightens his robes, and proceeds to flick Poe on the ear. “Do you think me a foolish old man?”

Poe rubs his ear, shooting the Jedi Master a scowl. “Sometimes.”

Luke releases a bark of laughter. “Honesty is good.” He shakes his head, sobering up. “I know that not everything I do always makes sense. But there is always a purpose, Poe. And I am not such a fool that I would try to fix what is broken beyond repair. You must have more faith in yourself. Each failure simply takes you one step closer to success.” He pokes the centre of Poe’s chest. “You only truly fail, if you give up on yourself. You are strong, Commander. Stronger than you know. Now chin up, and humour this foolish old man one more time.”

The pilot listens, and after a second he nods. One more time. He’ll give it everything he has, and then he’ll leave in the knowledge that he did his best, and it still wasn't enough.

Luke gives a short huff, and seats himself once more. The pilot drops back to the floor just in front of him and closes his eyes, waiting.

It isn’t long before he can feel the now-familiar blanket of Luke’s force signature wrapping around him. Like every time before, the calm presence surrounds him, and slips easily into his memories, dragging up his experiences with Kylo Ren.

Poe grits his teeth, mentally shoving at the questing fingers. They do not budge. As the first memory begins to take form, he pushes, desperately trying to stop it from happening.

Then he stops, Luke’s voice faintly echoing in his thoughts. ‘Do, or do not. There is no try.’

Poe calms himself, breathing in deeply. He focuses his mind, preparing to make one last effort.

No, not an effort. There is no question of if it will work. He is not trying to expel the Jedi. He will remove Luke from his mind.

His fists tighten, and Poe tells the searching tendrils to go. He forces Luke out, and then… nothing. His mind is his own once more, the mildly suffocating presence is gone.

Poe opens his eyes, blinks, and stares at the Jedi Master across from him. Luke is giving him that knowing smile. “Good, very good, Poe. Did I not say you were strong?”

The pilot is still a little stunned, surprised that it actually worked. “I… I did it.” The old man nods in agreement, and Poe feels a grin stretch his face. “You were right, I…” he scrambles forward the short distance to hug the Jedi tightly. Luke grunts in surprise, and then returns it, patting Poe on the back. “Thank you, Master Luke.”

The old man hums, holding the mentally exhausted pilot for a moment. “Do not thank me, you did that on your own, Poe.” He grips the younger man’s shoulders, pulling him away for just a second. “That will be all for today. I will see you again at the same time tomorrow.”

Poe leans back, settling on he knees and toes, still smiling widely. “Yes, sir. Do you need a hand up…?” The commander asks, starting to stand himself.

The old man shakes his head, gesturing to the door. “My sister has been waiting just outside for the past six minutes. I think I'll stay here. More than likely, I'll need to sit back down to meditate once she’s done, anyways.”

The pilot laughs softly, nodding as he turns to leave. “Until tomorrow, then.”

“Until tomorrow.” The Jedi agrees, waving goodbye.

Poe exchanges a brief greeting with Leia, still smiling as he takes off down the hall towards the caf. Finn’s probably waiting for him.

Leia lifts a brow questioningly at her seated brother as she enters the room. “He seems happy.”

“As well he should be. Poe has made a lot of progress.” Her brother nods, standing up easily. His twin is amused, but says nothing of it.

“Is there a point in asking what exactly he’s made progress on?” She questions, hand automatically going to fix his messy hair.

The other hums. “That is for him to tell.” Luke swats at his sister’s hand. “He’s strong with the force, but lacks the desire to control it, like you.” The words are said mostly to himself, looking in the direction that Poe had gone. “I wonder if that tree… no, surely not.” He shakes his head, focusing back on Leia. “You wished to speak with me?”

She nods, grabbing his arm. “We think we’ve found the First Order. Luke, they’re using the old rebel alliance base on Hoth, if our sources are correct. I'm planning an offensive… but I want your opinion, first. I have a bad feeling…” she starts explaining, pulling him away and down the hall.

Luke sighs. So much for meditation.