It's been a year since the destruction of Starkiller Base. A year since Finn betrayed his fellow friends, comrades, and himself. It was in his DNA to be a Stormtrooper, a murderer; he was programmed to do one thing and that was to do the First Order's bidding. Yet, he didn't. He couldn't. It just wasn't right, was it? He could've helped the villagers that were carelessly slaughtered on Jakku; but he didn't move an inch. He was afraid. He was afraid of what he might become, what he would become. Everytime he closed his eyes he would relive that moment, again and again. He would see the bodies falling to the floor, blood coating the walls; he would hear screams for help, for someone to save them. He could've been that someone. He could've done something.
"Breathe, just breathe. Everything's okay." A faint voice whispered.
A gasp was taken. Finn thrashed around wildly, knocking something off the bed. He jumped up, frightened. What was it? Who was it?
"I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Poe whispered. "It's just… I heard you screaming from down the hall. You were having another nightmare."
"Then you should've let me be." Finn replied.
"Why?"
"Because I deserve them."
Finn leaned over the cot to turn on a bright, blue hololight.
"Deserve what? The nightmares?" Poe questioned
"Yeah…" Finn whispered, casting his eyes to his hands, imagining blood on them.
Poe sighed. He hated this about Finn; always placing the blame onto himself where nothing was his fault. He cared deeply for Finn and he didn't like seeing him like this.
"Finn, you don't deserve any of it. You've done nothing wr-"
"Don't say it. Please don't say I've done nothing wrong because I did everything wrong. I just stood there, looking at them while they pleaded for help. He ordered us to slaughter them but they were innocent. They were simple farmers, families, and scavengers trying to earn a living. We could've let them go." Finn whispered with a touch of anger in his voice.
Poe sat on the edge of the cot, contemplating his decisions on what was the right thing to say next. Talking to Finn was like having a lovely stroll in a minefield; one false move and you'll be blown up to smithereens. He took a glance at Finn; he was rubbing his hands together harshly. They look sore, red… and bleeding?
"Finn, let me see your hands." Poe ordered.
"No…"
Poe leaned forward and forcibly grabbed Finn's hands pulling them upright so he can take a close look at them. The injuries looked like deep scratch wounds.
"Finn…"
Finn pulled his knees to his chest, resting his head on them. He started to frantically whisper, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He was sorry. He didn't want to bring Poe down to his level. It wouldn't be fair.
Poe sighed. He felt terrible. He was tired, cranky at BB-8 for messing with his X-Wing engine, and upset on the behalf of Finn. He placed his hands on Finn's cheeks, forcing Finn to look at him with tear-stained eyes.
"It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be okay..." Poe whispered, leaning forward to place his forehead on Finn's. "… just trust me. Please."