They find each other on accident.
It's purely coincidental. He's swept up in the loud, rambunctious energy of the Resistance base as soon as he exits his fighter. Everyone seems to be in orbit, but he can't seem to find the center of gravity. There's no direction, no instruction - just celebration.
He beams and smiles and rides on the adrenaline rush of being alive for as long as he possibly can.
(The mourning will come later. After the high of victory has settled and the low of grief has started to set in. It's inevitable, he knows, but he lets himself have this bit of happiness.)
He turns a corner too quickly, runs into someone a bit too hard. The other's first instinct is to grab at his uniform, and he falls back, helmet clattering to the floor as he stares down at a girl.
He instantly knows that she's part of the center of gravity, if not its entirety.
And he can tell by her face that she doesn't want to be.
She's gone in a fraction of a moment, slipping out of his grip like water and rushing by him in a streak of brown and tan and cream. He stares after her, watching for her after the trails of her tunic disappear around the corner.
They find each other while looking for the same thing.
The medbay smells cold and sterile and he doesn't like it one bit. He's used to it, yes, after Jakku, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.
He wants the salt of sweat, well-worn leather and the musk of a man he's only embraced once but feels like he's known his entire life.
He wants Finn.
He feels almost too human to be in here, like he's stepping into some sacred space. But that doesn't stop him from stomping his way through every room of the medbay in search of his friend. He's scared of what he'll find, if he's completely and utterly honest with himself, but the General's voice had been hopeful and relieved when she'd told him that Finn was out of danger for now. That he would die another day.
Brown catches his eye in between the white and silver and grey, and speeds up while time seems to slow down, and it's like he can't get there fast enough. "Finn!"
But Finn isn't who he sees first.
She turns and stands, startled. He can see her hands go for something, anything to defend herself, and can then see her embarrassment when she realizes that there's no need for it here.
"I-uh-Finn," he tries, gesturing towards the man in the pod. "… the General told me that he was doing all right. Is he?"
"They did their best. They've never seen lightsaber wounds. But he'll be okay," she explains, looking back towards his - their - friend lying still in the pod.
"That's good. That's great," he says, and he feels like the fist that's been clenched around his entire being is loosened just a bit. "… Poe Dameron."
She looks at him again, and he suddenly feels like she's still the center of gravity even though the celebrations are long over.
"Rey."
They find each other when they feel afraid.
The halls of the Resistance base are empty. He doesn't even know what time it is. Late night or early morning are his only guesses, and they don't offer much in the way of specificity. He stumbles once or twice, eyes still bleary as he makes his way to the medbay.
The doors slide open, and the few medic droids on duty move out of the way for him as he walks with purpose to Finn's little corner of the vast room. As he gets closer, he can see that Finn has another guest. This one wrapped in a grey Resistance standard blanket, sitting in a chair that looks like it's been brought from the dining hall. He steps a little louder, not wanting to startle her again. He stops by her side, looking over Finn.
"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" He almost winces at how loud his voice sounds in the otherwise empty room. It practically echoes, overtaking all the beeps and bloops and breathing.
"I dreamt he died," she admits, and he pulls over a crate of supplies to settle next to her. It's a bit awkward with how short the crate is and how long his legs are, and he's a good two inches shorter than her while he's sitting on it, but he can feel the warmth of her next to him and it makes him feel a hell of a lot better.
"Me too."
They find each other when they have no one else to talk to.
He's making his way to his room when BB-8 beeps excitedly and rolls ahead at almost lightning speed.
"Whoa, there, hold on, buddy!"
He has to jog to catch up, and when he finally does he sees her, fixing the droid's antennae yet again and dressed in a blue shirt and black pants. Blue's a good color on her, he decides, right then and there. He wants to see her in it again.
Brown doesn't suit her. Brown's for the ordinary, those who want to blend in and disappear.
He doesn't want her to disappear.
He sees her smile as she fixes the droid, and promises himself that he'll make it appear more often.
"Your droid seems to have a habit of messing up his antennae," she tells him when he walks over to the pair.
"I think it was the excitement of seeing you," he tells her, grinning right back at her. "You doing anything?"
At her shake of her head, he leads her to one of the common areas. She takes the can of grape soda he offers with a confused look, and spits it out after she takes one sip.
He laughs and takes the can from her, setting it on the table in front of them with a promise that he won't take it as an offense if she doesn't drink it.
They talk about the food on Jakku. He talks about how he has to make her try this that and the other. She admits it would be great to try something that doesn't come in a packet smaller than her palm.
She talks about the sand and the sun. He talks about the water and the greens that he knows. His place is in a pilot's seat among leather and oil and metal, so he can't tell her much, but he tells her what he knows.
She takes another sip of the grape soda after a while. He sees her face and laughs again, wondering how exactly it tastes to her after years of going on the bare minimum and no sugar, much less grape soda.
He notices how she cradles it in her hand afterwards instead of putting it back on the table.
They find each other when they need each other most.
BB-8 beeps erratically at him as he practically lunges for the door of his room, yanking it open and finding himself with a chestful of distraught scavenger turned pilot turned Force user.
His hand finds her lower back, holding her to him as he closes the door behind him. BB-8's still beeping and he uses his free hand to wave the droid into silence as he settles back onto his bed with Rey in tow.
They share breath for a bit, her body curled into his because that's what she needs. She lets out a few muttered words and he replies with a steady stream of "I know,"s, because he does. He knows what it's like to have someone inside his mind, twisting and forcing their way in like a parasite and knowing everything about him.
He knows what it's like to feel like failure.
He's seen her hold Finn's hand. He's seen the way he kisses his knuckles, the way her gaze lingers on him before she leaves. He's heard of their bond from the General and a bit from Chewie, and can't help wonder if there's something between them.
That thought alone stops him from doing anything either would regret.
And he hates himself for it.
They find the map.
They find Luke, or at least his last location.
He finds her eyes across the room after the hooting and hollering has gone down.
It takes a week of more preparations. He finds her stuck in the middle of a repair more often than not, her arms elbow-deep in the Millennium Falcon.
He finds her in the few hours before she leaves. They find Finn together, settling into the two chairs that are now a seemingly permanent fixture beside the pod.
He watches as her lips find Finn's forehead, and follows her to the Falcon right up until the ramp.
"Take care of him. Tell him everything."
He finds it in himself to promise her that he will.
She leaves and he watches her path on the datapad he's been given until the communication shuts out. They can't risk the First Order finding her, and that means no communication. He can't see where she is.
He feels the fist around his entire being tighten again.
He can't find her now.