The resistance base was big, almost unbelievably big considering how often they pack up and relocate on a moment's notice. This was possible, however, because of how quick and improvised all the buildings were. Most of the base consisted of hobbled together rooms and repurposed ships and storage containers. If you ran down a hallway quick enough, the walls would shake behind you, and it wasn't uncommon for someone to lean against the wrong thing and accidentally turn on the sonar of an otherwise gutted ship.

The infirmary was no exception to this trend, with one long hallway serving as the waiting room, and a crowded, repurposed ship designated as the working space for the Resistances handful of doctors and nurses. All in all, they were shockingly effective. Most of the time, if someone didn't die in the field, and their comrades were able to get them back to safety, they were patched up and ready to go by the next mission. But like every rule, there were enough exceptions to keep people on their toes.

Poe was almost certain the chairs outside the infirmary were purposefully designed to be as uncomfortable as possible, to discourage the hoards of worried loved ones and soldiers from crowding the wings and getting in the way of the already overworked medics. That, or, he had been sitting and pacing there long enough that every inch of the room had been whittled to a sharp point.

Regardless, he had already seen enough desperate, worried next of kin asking the same questions he had been asking not 24 hour ago to know he should keep to himself and stay out of the way, especially after he noticed how similar the answers the medics gave always were.

"How are they doing?" the loved ones would ask.

"We're hopeful," the medics would reply.

"When will they be better?" the friend would beg.
"It's still a bit too soon to say," the doctor would say, eyeing the needy behind the door.

"Can I see them?" the spouse would request.

"Not yet. Soon," they would reply, and then be gone.

Was the infirmary always this busy? He couldn't imagine it always being this chaotic but the medics running back and forth didn't seem particularly stressed or flustered. It was like watching a flock of birds scattering about the trees and slowly realizing that each one is a fluid, independent, and purposeful being, instead of an instrument of chaos. After a while, even the most convoluted flight pattern had a pattern.

But still, he reasoned there had to be more injuries now than normal. Missions went out every day, but none quite as dangerous or important as the one to destroy the Starkiller, and he was under no illusion that Finn was the only one injured along the way. Poe silently contemplated what it would take to transfer from the pilot program into the medical wing as he heard a familiar voice stopping one of the doctors as they were leaving the infirmary.

"How's Finn doing today?" Rey asked, having changed out of her scavenger rags into a standard issue orange jumpsuit.

"We're hopeful," the doctor answered through a green face mask.

"When can he be discharged?"

"It's still a bit too soon to say."

"Can I see him then?"

"Not yet. Soon."

Rey turned as the doctor hurried past her, trying to stumble out another question as he made his way back into the chaos of gurneys and noise. She was half considering chasing him when she saw Poe sitting and staring at her.

Poe waved cautiously, and Rey hesitated momentarily before walking over and sitting in the chair next to him.

"Do you know anything I don't?" she asked.

"Only that he's still holding on."

Rey nodded. "I saw you yesterday, when you were sleeping over there," she said, point at the chairs on the other side of the hallway which he had taken a nap in last night. "You haven't left much, have you?"

"You came over to see him?" Poe asked, ignoring her question.

"I tried."

Poe nodded, lacing his fingers in his lap. "I keep telling myself it's only been a day. It feels like so much longer, but…"

"I understand," she interrupted.

"Thank you."

"For visiting?" she asked.

"No. For bringing him back safely."

She chuckled. "It was supposed to go the other way around, wasn't it? He wanted to bring me back."

"Doesn't matter what was supposed to happen. What matters is what you ended up doing," Poe explained.

Rey looked at Poe and smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

They paused for a minute. "Have you seen him at all?" she asked.

Poe shook his head. "No. You?"

"Once," Rey said. "When I brought him in from Starkiller I followed them. I think they were too distracted by all the people coming in to notice I wasn't supposed to be in there. I saw them hook him up and then… well, I couldn't watch."

They paused for a minute, something clearly hovering in the air as one of the nurses ran up to them, pulling their mask down as they came to a stop.

"Well, it's your lucky day. Your friend just woke up," she said, "and he's asking about you."

Rey and Poe looked at each other before standing up. Without a word, the three of them entered the infirmary.

The room was a live wire, requiring the three of them maneuver between the scattered beds and machinery as well as the vestigial chairs and panels of the ship this once was. However, Rey copied the nurse and Poe copied Rey and they all managed to get through without upsetting any bedpans.

Finn had been moved since Rey last saw him, and was now tucked away in a private corner. The nurse pulled back the curtain and the two of them slipped inside. Once they were in, the curtain slipped shut as the nurse went back to work.

Finn was sitting up in bed. He looked like he'd been asleep for 24 hours; shaken, but well. When he saw them, he smirked and muttered, "so I have some bad news about your jacket," to Poe, before breaking out in a wide, grin.

"Easy does it," Rey said, "one step at a time."

Finn leaned heavily on Rey and counted his steps as he walked down the hallway. He felt like a baby gazelle learning how to walk again, all shakey and achey. Every twenty steps he would sit down in the wheelchair that Poe was rolling behind them, and take a break. At first he could only walk for five steps, and then ten, and then he promoted himself to 15 and now he's graduated to 20, all in a few days.

"Okay, that's it," Finn said, waving his hand and grimacing. Poe quickly maneuvered the chair over to him and Rey helped to ease him down.

"How many was that?" Rey asked.

"21," Finn said, "So only a few thousand before I can walk like a normal person again."

"Come on Buddy, you're fine," Poe said, patting FInn on the shoulder as he pushed the cart towards the mess hall. They had been headed there for lunch when Finn decided he wanted to practice walking again. The routine had made them late, but as far as Poe was concerned, that just meant they got to miss the lines. And for Rey, the mess hall and the idea of eating whatever she wanted, however much of it she wanted, and without providing proof that she deserved was enough of a dream come true that she nothing could spoil it.

They had a good set up on the Rebel base. Poe was most familiar with it, naturally, so he ended up playing the tour guide often. When Finn was still bedridden, he had given Rey a tour of the hangar, which gave them the opportunity to geek out about the various planes the Resistance had access to (all of which had either been supplied by the New Republic or been stolen from the Empire, leading to a fairly eclectic collection). When Finn was discharged from the infirmary, Poe took the two of them around the training arena's, took walks through the forrests surrounding them and showed them his favorite sunbathing spots, toured their recreation zones where pilots and fighters played games to let off steam. It was an experience to see the base from such fresh perspectives, where everything didn't seem hobbled but homey (as it did to Poe) but rather magical and amazing. For brief periods, he could almost see it the way they did.

Poe was right about the mess hall, and they had missed most (although not all) of the lines by the time they made it there. Rey helped Finn fill his plate and the three of them found an empty table off to the side to sit at once they were ready.

"So, Rey, have you decided if you want to join the party looking for Skywalker?" Finn asked.

Rey took a bite of her breakfast roll and chewed, glancing at Poe. "Not yet," she finally answered.

"The mission leaves in a week. You should get on it."

"He's not wrong," Poe said, prompting a "Traitor" look from Rey. "You can't put off the decision forever."

Rey fit another bit on her fork, avoiding their eyes. "Leia said that I'd have a place on the mission if I wanted it. There wasn't a time limit on it."

Finn and Poe both looked at each other, and went back to eating.

"I was thinking of showing y'all around the armoury today. Are you two interested?"

"Yeah!" Rey said.

"As long as it's wheelchair accessible," Finn added.

"I don't know anymore," Poe said, laying on his bed. His personal quarters were a three bunk room with three stacked beds and a wall of drawers. Luckily for him, his roommates were out at the moment, and he had the space to himself. On the floor, BB-8 rolled around, beeping and whistling in Binary.

"I mean, I like them both. Finn was the most immediate connection I've ever felt with another person but Rey's amazing too. And a natural pilot to boot. You saw the way she handled herself yesterday."

Are you unsure if they return your affections, BB-8 whistled and chirped.

"No," he said, "... Yes. No. Maybe? But that's not the problem."

Then what is?

"The problem is that… I can't like both of them! Not forever, at least."

Is there any reason to hurry into making a decision?

"Some… I suppose," he said, rolling over onto his side so he could stare at BB-8. "What if they decide they like each other more than they like me, and I end up not getting to be with either of them. And, if they want to do that, should I even get in the way? Wouldn't it be selfish to be with either of them if they're meant to be together?"

Do they like each other in that manner?

"Oh yeah," he said, "Definitely."

BB-8 paused for a minute, letting the room grow silent. After that, they made a whistle that translated to Pick me up, and Poe leaned over and carried them onto his bed. BB-8 rolled around a bit before settling next to Poe's chest.

According to my understandings, there is an opportune solution to your predicament.

"Really? And what would that be buddy?"

Could the three of you form some kind of relationship together?

"What? Of course not!" Poe said, sitting up a bit.

Why?

Poe laid down again, trying to come up with an answer but instead ending up with a question. "How would that even work?"

How have your other relationships worked?

"You know," he said, before stopping realizing, "It's hard to explain."

Well, do you do anything as a couple that you couldn't do as a group.

Poe pursed his lips. "Maybe a few things."

Are they critical for peak functionability?

"Maybe?" Poe curled tighter on the bed, bringing his knees closer to his chest and squeezing BB-8. "I've never done anything like that before."