Jake Pentecost was really beginning to hate the thought of sleeping. Nightmares plagued him worse than the screams of invading Kaiju, or the screech of a Jaeger being torn to shreds and littered all across the city. Those sounds were truly terrifying, yet they had never invaded his mind with such finality, and such sharp horror. Kaiju and monsters were a part of his world now. Everyone knew that.

But Jake's dreams were not of the destroyed cities he had witness as a boy, or of the Golden Gate Bridge being decimated, as seen in every single history video about the Kaiju's first attack. His dreams were of a name…or rather, a number that even he did not know the meaning of.

FN-2187…Who gave you permission to remove that helmet?

It was what Jake was called in his dreams. The thing he was expected to answer to. His dreams were filled with white armor, cold glares, and a combat regiment that he ran through over and over again. Target practice. Fallen soldiers whom Jake could not help, even though he wanted to more than anything.

They are collateral, FN-2187, leave them. The First Order is all that matters.

Jake's dreams were haunted by a man dressed in black, and swirling snow that even covered blood.

That weapon belongs to me!

And in the mornings, Jake would awaken to his soft bed sheets, and closed window curtains, feeling less like a breathing person, and more like a cog in a machine that he had no business being a part of. Jake's shoulder burned, he felt as if his body had been seared in half.

"What the hell was that?"

And it was more terrifying than any Kaiju Jake had ever seen.

"Pentecost?"

Jake snapped his heels together and placed his arms to his side. It was always the expected response while in the academy. His father, Stacker Pentecost, had pulled some strings to get his son Jake enrolled here, and to Jake, it was probably the last place he wanted to be (and that included the cities already torn apart by the ensuing Kaiju and Jaeger battles). It wasn't that he hated the idea of military training (his father and sister, Mako, were instrumental in instilling a love of order in him), it was because he knew his father only placed him here to keep his son out harm's way. Even Mako, with her persuasive nature, and strong determination (and incredible Drift potential) could only get their father to reluctantly allow her on the same base as a Jaeger. Jake, on the other hand, was not as persuasive.

"Father, I can help," Jake said. "I have just as much potential as Mako." That was a lie. A complete and utter lie, but Jake was willing to do anything if it meant he could stay with his family. "Please, let me go with you."

But Stacker Pentecost only gave that stern look that made Jake close his mouth. The discussion was over before it even had a chance to blossom. "Make me proud, son," Stacker told Jake before his deployment.

Make me proud. Frankly, Jake wasn't sure he could do that.

"Pentecost?" Came the question once more. Jake looked around, and he found himself back in the barracks with the rest of his squad. The bunk he had slept in was unmade, and floors shined like a freshly washed lemon, and the lights overhead sparked and blinked every time someone closed the door. Shit. Had his mind wandered again?

"Yes…Captain," Jake said trying to mold his mind back to his situation. He was here at the Academy, trying to train to be a Jaeger pilot, join his family, and ensure that they were never separated again. That was his mission. His sole purpose for being here, and no memories, or crazy dreams were going to take that goal away.

Captain Rich was a short man, someone who worked his men twice as hard to overcompensate for his stature. He barely came up to Jake's chin, and whenever he tried to discipline any of the men, Jake found it hard not to laugh.

"Something funny Pentecost?" Captain Rich said?

"No sir, not at all," Jake replied.

The Captain's uniform was a stark black that made him stand out amongst the grey walls, and white ceilings. Perhaps he was trying to make himself seem bigger than what he really was.

FN-2187…Who gave you permission to remove that helmet?

Jake blinked…that voice? The one from his dreams. "W-what?"

The Captain snarled, "I said who gave you permission to smile? Is there something you'd like to share with us? A joke perhaps?" Captain Rich leaned in so close, his forehead was nearly touching the base of Jake's chin. "Is that is….FN-2187?"

And there it was again…that name.

"W-what?"

"Are you being insolent with me soldier?"

"N-no, not at all Captain." Jake tried to explain himself, but he couldn't shake the feeling of gloomy familiarity. The voice of a grand authority that he could not turn against (at least, not yet) and the shackles of a regime that he could not even fathom. It was as if his dreams were beginning to take root in his waking life, calling to him, pulling him to a world he was somehow connected to. But that couldn't be true, right? They were just dreams.

Just dreams and nothing more.

"Just because your General Pentecost's son, does not give you special treatment," the Captain said, "And just for your smart little mouth, you're gonna be runnin' laps." Riche grinned and drew out the last word from his sentence, "laaaapppsss…" as if it were honey on his tongue. "Get to it soldier."

It was clear that the good Captain riding Jake harder than the rest of the squad, perhaps some crazy way to motivate him, or maybe he was just a sicko who loved to torment his recruits. The day was over, and Jake had spent most (actually, all) of it running laps, while the rest practiced their combat, worked on their Drift routines, and familiarized themselves with potential partners for the fight against the Kaiju. It was a waste of a day for Jake. He wanted to sleep so badly, to crawl into his bunk and let the grime of the world fade away. But staring at the fitted sheets of his mattress, he felt himself hesitate. What if he had the same dream again?

"Get it together Pentecost," he whispered to himself, "What if Dad were here? Or worse, Mako? They'd laugh you outta the Shatterdome if they knew you were afraid of a few dreams."

He couldn't just stand there and argue with himself all night. He disrobed, folded his uniform and placed it at the foot of his bed. Just get to sleep, and sort it out in the morning.

And Jake slept…and Jake dreamed.

Why're you helping me? But this dream was new. Gone was the regiment, and the smell of stale conformity.

Because it's the right thing to do.

He was running away. Running from the blood soaked battle fields, and the ammunition drills. He was hijacking some kind of star craft…a-

Tie Fighter? Can you fly a TIE Fighter?

With a pilot he had just set free. And together they would run away from this world that kept them imprisoned.

What's your name?

In his dreams he had a new friend. A man who could fly anything.

FN-2187.

A man whose smile could light up a whole galaxy

FN-wha?

A man who refused to call him by a number.

It's the only name they ever gave me.

But it was only a dream right?

Well I ain't usin' it. FN, huh? Finn. I'll call you Finn. Is that alright with you?

Just a dream…

"Pentecost!"

And the dream ended with the sound of Captain Richard's bellowing. Jake awoke to see the rest of his squadron dressed, and heading out the door. Shit.

"Is getting up to much of a hassle for the great General's son?" Captain Richard crossed his arms and scowled. "Should I just come back later? Get your lazy ass up. Now."

Jake scrambled to his feet, found his army coat, and his un-ironed pants and slipped them on…all while the good Captain screamed in his ear. "You think you Pentecosts can just do whatever the fuck you want to? Well, guess what, son, it don't work that way. No matter who your Daddy is."

Captain Richard screaming…a perfect way to start the morning.

"Just for that, you're gonna run laps. Again. All day." Captain Richard pointed to the fields beyond the window and tilted his head to the side, "Now, don't that sound peachy?"

Great.

Once again, Jake found himself running laps around base camp while the rest of his squad practiced artillery. Shit, if his father could see him now…he'd be furious. And then he'd go off on a long tangent about how Jake was not ready for Jaeger combat, and how he had made the right decision in sending him here. And Mako would agree with him. It was times like these that Jake was forever grateful that his family wasn't by his side.

Sometimes, it felt like all he did was run. He ran in the Academy. He ran laps when he was a kid while his father watched. He ran in his dreams amidst harsh sand and blaster fire. He dreamed of running, while holding the hand of a pretty girl.

We need to run.

Sand and more sand. Fearing for his life, holding the hand of a girl he had just met, in a jacket that was not his to claim. The Academy disappeared, no more thoughts of war, and missions of killing Kaiju, but in its place stood a huddled village, and a panting girl who he could not take his eyes off of.

I don't even know your name?

She asked him all of these questions.

You're with the Resistance?

And she looked at him in a way…he had never been looked at before, like he was a person with a name and a life and potential that outweighed whatever gravity that tried to keep his feet planted in the soil. She looked at him as if he were a hero.

My name is Re-

"Pentecost, who told you to stop running?"

Jake found himself standing straight in the middle of the Academy track field, his chest heaving and his arms slick with his own sweat. Where was he now? Was this his reality, or just more dreams haunting his world? This had never happened before. It was one thing for his nightmares to sneak into his mind while he slept, but this was something else entirely. Jake felt as if he was being pulled into another place, another galaxy with stars that glimmer overhead, and nights that seemed endless. Something was calling to him, pulling him towards another plane.

But…that wasn't possible. They were just dreams. Weren't they?

As much as Jake disliked the Academy, he did enjoy combat practice. There was nothing better than grabbing a bo staff, or a wooden sword and working out whatever aggression had built up inside of him that day. The loud smack of wood against mat, or the stench of blood always made Jake feel at home. It reminded him of the times he used to spar with Mako. She always beat him.

But of course, that was back home. Jake was here at the Academy now, and he was second to none in hand to hand combat.

"Alright, soldiers." Captain Richard twirled his Bo staff and marched to the front of the line where all the other cadets were standing side by side. This was a daily routine. The Captain would march up, address the class and then separate us all into groups to spar. "I want Rogers with Smith. I want Lexington with Ares, and…" his eyes fell down to me, "I want Pentecost to head back to the field to get some more laps in."

What?

"W-what?" Jake asked. "But I've been running laps all day Captain, surely it would be prudent of me to spar, right?" Jake didn't want to argue with his commanding officer, back home that was instant subordination, but Captain Richard had been riding him all week, and now he was trying to take away the one thing that could possibly give him a little solace.

"You have your orders soldier." Captain Richard looked to the rest of the corps. "Get started."

Captain Richard was an asshole. That much was certain, hell, Jake had known that since the moment he laid eyes on him. Captain Richard had worked on the Jaeger project in its infancy, but for some reason he had been taken off the project. There were rumors floating through the Academy about the reason. Some say he was really in league with the Kaiju, others thought it was because his methods were too violent. But the one thing everyone did know, was that the person who dismissed him, was none other than Jake's father, General Pentecost.

It took the rest of the day for Jake to finish his run, and by that time the rest of the crew had already eaten, and washed up for the night. Great, so now Jake had missed training and chow time. Wonderful.

Jake returned to his barracks to see an empty, unmade bed, and a wall of eyes staring at his every move. Clearly, word had gotten out about him and Captain Richard. Jake paid them no mind.

"How was the run, Pentecost?" asked a voice.

"The great Pentecost, and the only thing he can do right is run away. Some great Jaeger pilot he'll be, right?" came another.

His father always told him the rest of the squad would be harder on him than anyone else. The perks of being a Pentecost, right? Normally, the words would roll off Jake's back, but tonight, they stung harder than a Kaiju's fangs. How could he possibly fight with his father and sister if he wasn't even allowed access to basic training?

"I bet Pentecost would be better if he weren't so damn Finn…"

What?

That name. The name Jake was called in his dreams. The name he hears when his world goes into darkness. The name he hears when his hands grasp the cold hilt of a blaster. The name he holds onto in his dreams, yet fears when he has returned to the waking world.

Finn. Finn. Finn. Can you hear me?

"Hey, Pentecost? You alright?"

Jake turned to the shuffle of concerned eyes now surrounding him. Soldiers with sneers on their lips, and light in their irises. "Hey, you alright?" someone asked. "You know we don't mean anything by it. We were just funnin' is all. I didn't know finicky was such an insult to a guy like you."

"Yeah, lighten up guy. We know how badly you wanna fill your pop's shoes."

"Oh…finicky…right," Jake tried to push the name out of his head. It's just a dream, Jake told himself. Just a dream. Nothing more.

There are theories about Drift compatibility. Two people connected through something greater than themselves. It can only work if the two people are on the same psychological wave length, but it also takes more than that. There's breath control, there's emotional support…and a force that brings these people together. It's not an exact science, but it is an important part of any Jaeger pilot's training. And once that connection is established…it can never be broken.

Jake's father had taught him this when he was young. Drift compatibility was as essential as it was difficult to master. But sometimes, and this was very rare, two people could form a connection without even knowing each other. Sometimes, a connection could be so strong, that it could still be felt. Even in dreams. But…that was just a theory. Merely science fiction brought about through lack of research.

Jake woke up early that morning, and found himself staring into the bathroom sink. For all its talk or regiment and hygiene, the Academy never really kept its bathrooms clean. The toilets were hardly ever cleaned. Jake splashed water onto his face. He couldn't sleep. He didn't want to sleep. It was too complicated to sleep. What the hell was going on with him? Jake looked up and saw his reflection staring back at him. Everyone always told him he looked just like his father. He had his father's strong chin, and his cocky grin. But it was the eyes that told them who Jake was. Jake's eyes…

When you live as long as my, you see the same eyes in different people. I've seen your eyes…I know your eyes…

Jake's eyes.

His world was changing, dreams and reality intermingled like dance partners, switching in and out of themselves. The bathroom turned into a dusty old room, his reflection turned into the face of some…creature. An old woman whose skin was as orange as the sand from his dreams, and whose voice was a deep as the respect he held for his own father.

I'm looking at the eyes of a man who wants to run…

And her words cut him deeply.

Jake never wanted to be here in the first place. He never wanted to be separated from his father and sister. News feeds of people losing their loved ones, and millions losing their lives. He didn't want that to be Mako. He didn't want that to be his father. He wanted to take his family, and go as far from this place as possible. Why couldn't anyone get that? Why was there always this judgement, even in his dreams?

"Well, look who's up and about"

And Jake knew that voice better than his own eyes.

"Captain Richard," Jake stood tall and saluted. Even so early in the morning, the Captain was dressed in his uniform and polished boots. He probably slept in the damn thing.

"You think that's gonna impress me soldier?" he asked. "Getting up a little earlier? Standing at attention like some boot licking cadet?" Captain Richard walked up and snarled.

This again? Now? Before the damn sun was even up?

"Sir," Jake said, gently placing his body into parade rest, "If I may speak freely, such a remark is…uncalled for."

"Permission denied soldier," Captain Richard screamed, "Let's get one thing straight Pentecost. I know you, and your pathetic father better than I know every inch of this Academy…and you're both pathetic excuses for soldiers."

"Sir, I-"

"Be silent, soldier," Captain Richard said, his voice echoing through the bathroom. "Your father was nothing but a coward. When it came time to fight the Kaiju, what was this response? He turned tail and ran."

No he didn't, Jake wanted to say, "It was a tactical retreat. The men needed more information on the enemy in order to proceed.

"I wanted to fight, to show those alien bastards who was boss, but Stacker Pentecost was too damn cowardly to back my plays." Richard folded his arms, "And now, I get his son whose just as worthless as he is. But don't worry Pentecost, I plan on keeping you right where your family talents lay. Running away."

…the eyes of a man who wants to run.

Captain Richard turned to leave, "Oh, and while you're here, how about you give the toilets a good scrub. That's an order." And with that, the Captain disappeared into the Academy hallways.

Jake's father was no coward. Jake was no coward. And Jake was sure as hell not going to allow some no neck bastard to degrade his family's name. What did Captain Richard know of his father's majesty? Of his sister's courage? Of Jake's own fortitude in the face of grand odds.

Richard knew nothing. They all knew nothing.

"You don't know a thing about me…"

But whose words were those? They felt so familiar on Jake's tongue, but came from a place Jake had only ever seen in his dreams…when his name was the only thing he had to hold onto.

Finn. In his dreams, Jake's name was Finn. In Jake's dreams, he had tasted freedom. His fate was now his to choose, and he chose to run…and he ran into her. This girl with a perfect smile, a perfect fighting style, a perfect walk, and perfect eyes that made him feel as if he could do anything. In Jake's dreams, she looked at him like no one else had. To her, he was a hero, even when he did not feel that he was.

But Finn, whoever Finn was, was no Jake. And Jake was no Finn. Finn had no family name, and Jake was trying to carry the weight of his own, yet when Jake's eyes closed, he became Finn…but was that all there was to it?

I was taken from a family I'll never know…

And what was more heartbreaking, was that Jake…in his dreams…as the runaway soldier named Finn…did not care for this family he never knew. How could you miss something if you never had it to begin with? And when Jake awoke the next morning, he felt as though his chest had been torn open with the claws of a Kaiju, raw and graceless. What would Jake have been without his father, or his sister? What would anyone be without their family's name to keep them grounded in who they were? What good was freedom, if all you did was run?

And as the nights wore on, the dreams changed. Flashes of white armor, and crazed shooting, gave way to green fields, and laser swords. A battle that Finn had lost against an old comrade who called him "Traitor."

The fear of looking up into the sky, and hearing the screams of a million voices…and then silenced, as if they were never there at all. The relief of landing on a planet called D'Qar (a name that sounded like it came from a comic book) and finding Poe. Poe Dameron…a pilot he believed to be dead.

"Buddy…"

"…you're alive."

The entire world…no, the entire galaxy began to change. A beckoning in his chest…a small hope blossoming in his mind, a whisper of a greater challenge to come, but one that he would not have to face by himself.

You're not alone.

It was combat practice again, and the cadets all lined up, one by one ready to receive orders from their Captain. Jake stood with his Bo staff to his side.

"Alright, soldiers," Captain Richard said. "We've got shit to do, and not a lot of time to do it. I want you all to pair off into your groups from yesterday." He turned to Jake, "And you know where's you're supposed to be, ain't that right?" There was venom in his words, a shallow sting that danced upon Jake's ears, before sinking into his skin and bones.

Why didn't you fire your blaster?

And the voices came back.

I'm looking in the eyes of a man who wants to run.

And they burned.

Please don't leave me

And the taste of sand hung in his mouth.

Finn…can you hear me?

And blood danced across his fingers, and blaster fire rained down all around him.

You don't know a thing about me.

"No," Jake said. "I'm not going anywhere." His chest puffed outward, and his shoulders heaved into the air, as if readying to lift a weight from the ground.

"What did you just say soldier?"

Jake stood firm. "I said I'm not going anywhere."

And he stood his ground. He stood his ground for the voices in his dreams. For the girl who looked at him with wonderment. For his father whose hands were bigger than the sky, and strong enough to hold the weight of the entire planet. For his sister who, even through tragedy, found strength to fight on. For himself, who took up arms against a foe he didn't even understand. And for Finn, the name he was called in his dreams. The freed soldier who knew not his own origin, but found solace in his own identity.

My name's Finn…and I'm in charge now.

"You're out of order so-"

"No," Jake said, "No, I'm not." He clutched his Bo staff to his side. "I'm done letting you walk over me, I'm done taking shit from a guy who isn't even fit enough to take on the Kaiju, let alone run an academy, and more importantly, I'm done letting you talk shit about my father."

The world went silent.

"What did you just say?"

And the room became cold, as if they were surrounded by snow.

"If you've got something else to say," Jake said as he stepped to the mat, "Then say it with a Bo staff."

I'm not running. Not anymore.

A heated glare amongst swirling snow. A weapon clasp in one hand, and an enemy on the far side of his vision. The final moment to take hold of one's heart, and run no more. Jake knew this story, he felt the outcome every time he closed his eyes. He had seen it in his dreams.

"Pentecost, I suggest you get off of my mats, and back in line."

An enemy dressed in black amongst a world that was barely breathing.

"You insubordinate bastard," Richard screamed as he shed his black coat, and stepped onto the mat. "You think you can just mutiny in front of my men and get away with it?" His face turned the color of the golden gate bridge, the day the Kaiju attacked, bold and blaring from something unexpected and horrifying. "You're nothing but a-"

Traitor!

And that word echoed through Jake's skull, and in Jake's heart. It was a title he was branded with, a mark meant to bring him shame…and it was the truth. He was a traitor to his name, to his father's legacy, to his sister's strength, to everything he wanted to be.

Captain Richard grabbed a Bo staff, and stood face to face with Jake, his mouth deepening into a scowl so fierce it could probably win the war against the Kaiju all on its own. But it was nothing compared to the faces in Jake's dreams, the voices that called out to him, and tugged his mind in two different directions. Jake, the son of a great general, and Finn, the soldier who didn't yet know the power of his spirit.

"I'm the commanding officer here," Richard screamed, "I'm the one who tells you all what to do and when to do it. I will not be questioned." Richard stood so close that Jake could see the yellow of his teeth, and taste the onions from the sandwich the captain had for lunch.

A Jake clenched his staff in his hands as if it were a saber. Saber? But where had he learned that? Where had he learned to place his feet shoulder width apart, his face to the side, his eyes entrenched in a blue glow? He couldn't move…he didn't want to move, because, for some reason, he felt that if he moved from that spot, someone important would be taken from him. Someone who made him feel like he could stare down any threat.

"Listen Pentecost," Captain Richard said with one, burning glare (the same glare Jake had seen in the eyes of a mad man amongst a bitter snow storm) "You. Will. Respect me."

That weapon belongs to me.

And even now,

"You want respect?" Jake asked as he raised his weapon to his side, and scowled "Come get it."

Jake laid face up on his bunk, trying to slow his breathing, to find a way to sleep easy, but his mind was still turning over and over like a mint coin.

Jake Pentecost expected Captain Richard to charge at him, to scream, and howl, and spill blood. But none of that happened. Instead Pentecost was written up, placed on suspension and whatever else the Academy's disciplinary code deemed necessary. It was so much like Jake's dream…and then, suddenly it wasn't. But Jake could still feel his pulse pounding, he could still hear the voices of those distant memories flooding into his world. He felt Finn's soul seeping into his. Finn…the Stormtrooper. Finn, the hero. Finn, the man who would not run.

"But, Finn's not real," Jake told himself. "Finn's just your subconscious mind trying to fix a problem in your waking world." That's what all dreams were, that's what his father and all the psychologists he studied taught him. But Jake still was not sure. If twenty years ago, someone told any one of those men that Earth would be invaded by creatures from another dimension, no one would have believed it. But here they were now, in a war many weren't sure they could win.

Jake turned over and breathed in the rusty springs of the bunk above him. There were so many theories about mental telepathy that it was hard to distinguish between what was real and just over enthused fantasy. Perhaps Finn was just a figment of Jake's subconscious mind.

Or perhaps, Finn was just as real as the beating heart, and gushing blood that kept Jake moving through his days here. Maybe dreams and thoughts could reach beyond the physical and connect two people (entire worlds perhaps) to something greater than themselves.

"Better be careful Jake," he told himself, "If Dad caught you thinking like that…"

But that never stopped him before, and it wouldn't now.

Jake rolled to his side, he wouldn't let it bother him, not tonight at least. No, he needed his rest. The stars outside looked like they would fall from the heavens themselves, but Jake was not afraid. As strange as it sounded, he felt as if he had made a new connection to himself (or rather, the person he was inside). Perhaps he really was dreaming of another life through the eyes of a man he had never met. Perhaps dreams were something so far beyond comprehension, that the only way to make sense of them, was through sheer reverie.

And perhaps, just maybe, far beyond those falling stars, in a galaxy far far away, Finn was dreaming of him.