"You're the Tico, right?"

Rose blinked. It was a relief to have met up with the Resistance's scattered reserve forces, and a pleasant surprise to find someone who didn't already recognize her. On board the Millennium Falcon she had been forced to endure everyone's quirks; Poe's annoying whistling and Chewbacca's repelling diet and Finn's—well, Finn wasn't so bad, he just kept finding space to avoid her. Jess Pava, however, was an unknown quantity.

"I'm Rose," she corrected.

"Right!" said Jess, her grin undiminished. "I heard you're an amazing pilot. Um, where do you need me?"

Jess's version of events was probably garbled, Rose thought, the details blurred after one too many repetitions. She had flown brilliantly, yes, but not in triumph or evasion. Only to catch up with Finn. Part of him had wanted to guard him at any cost, a tiny part of her she refused to acknowledge had been concerned for the oncoming troops—were they just children like him, recruited from faltering planets?—and another part had, selfishly, wanted to escape. From the futile war without victory, from her hero-worship and disillusionment at Finn, from a dark galaxy without Paige, without family, without anyone to hold onto.

"General Organa's resting," she responded, the directions half-memorized. "First priority right now is staying undetected, so make sure to sign up for a turn on shield patrol with BB-8. Then if you have any information about available ships, talk to Kaydel—she'll be up in the control tower." Rose nodded at an abandoned airship patrol tower that had been converted into a hub for the Resistance that had gone to ground there.

"Awesome," Jess nodded, "thanks." And, mercifully, she jogged off, leaving Rose alone on the landing strip.

How could war be so exhausting one day, life resolving to flashes of sound and light, and so boring the next? At the sound of footsteps, she braced herself for another round of introductions and deflections and half-explanations—how many pilots were on Snap Wexley's team anyway?—before noticing Finn trying to sneak towards the canteen.

"Hey," she called. Louder than she'd meant; he turned and froze as if she was accusing him of trying to desert again. Well, she kind of was. "You have a minute?"

There was no way for him to lie. His routines, analyzing incoming data streams and flagging anomalies, were just as tedious as hers. "Sure."

Her lips felt suddenly dry as he approached, and she felt a surge of frustration and not having prepared better. Eventually he'd have to have run into her, right? The base, though spacious in comparison to a Corellian ship, wasn't that spacious. "You really need a family name."

"Has Poe been giving you ideas?" he laughed. "He won't stop with 'suggestions.' Finn Jakkusurge—no. Finn Freemoon. Finn Orbitson. Gag me."

"Something normal," she said. "Like Chivi or Axcon or Pural." She saw him blink quickly—maybe those were only common names on her planet?

"Axcon?" he echoed, mangling the vowels. "Could be worse, I guess. Why?"

"So you have something to be connected to," she stammered. "You don't have to be—just yourself. You can be one of many."

Finn gave a bitter smile. "I don't think that exactly counts as forging family bonds, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It's fine!" he said. "Much better than Poe's ideas."

"No, no," said Rose, trying to reach for the right words. "I'm sorry for—the way I treated you. That first day."

Finn shrugged. "I was kind of being a selfish jerk. You had a point."

"Oh, that was nothing new," she said. She couldn't blame the others for wanting to desert, in retrospect. Maybe they'd have been better off. "I mean, for—seeing you as just the Finn. Putting you on, on a pedestal."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Finn said. "I like being a big deal."

"But don't people not understand? I only know a little of what you went through, I can't take in the full story."

"Yeah," he said. "So?"

"So it's terrible! People look at me like I'm some kind of legend even though I—" was about to get myself killed, she broke off. Was thinking with my heart. Didn't accomplish anything like Finn might have, if I'd let him grow into a rebel.

"Because you are?" he said.

"No! I'm—nobody."

Finn rolled his eyes. "And you think that everyone else is transparent? Just the last couple days I've heard people say that Rey killed the Supreme Leader, that Han Solo flew the Kessel Run in ten parsecs, that Kaydel is the lost princess of Alderaan, that C-3PO speaks a billion languages. You're part of this too."

Rose did a double-take. "The Supreme Leader died?"

"No. Well, yes, but—that's not the point. People are going to misunderstand you. It's part of the cost for doing the right thing."

"Doesn't seem like a very fair deal."

"Well," he said, "maybe you save the galaxy. And maybe you find someone who does understand."

Rose shivered. Surely he still remembered seeing her at her most impulsive, when she didn't expect there to be an after. "I'll stick with saving the galaxy."

"Rose," he said, "I don't like you because you're a hero. I like you because you're you."

And then he bent to kiss her, full of energy and life.

A moment later, she was smiling, curling her toes as if to feel the ground beneath her, reassure her it was real. "That was…"

"It's okay," said Finn, "you can be honest."

"I like you!" she blurted. "Uh, a lot. It was just, um, mediocre."

Finn laughed. "We can't be legends at everything."

Rose nodded. "Try again?"

"Yeah," said Finn. "Practice."

She kissed him back, and didn't care who saw.