It was hollow consolation, but if Rondel had to hazard a guess, she'd say the General hadn't slept much the previous night either.
During her routine sweep of the General's office, Rondel noted the maps were still strewn across the large desk. Among them lay a sketch of an elderly man's face, and a few scribbles of description. She also noticed the deterioration of steady handwriting on a notepad—the General had only turned in for the night when she couldn't read her own writing.
So it had been a late night for all.
She pressed an intercom on the desk. "Barris, it's all clear in here; the General can come over now."
"You got it. On her way," the voice over the radio cracked.
Several minutes later, the doors gave their mechanical sound of acceptance, and parted for General Organa.
Am I an awful person, or just tired, for wishing she looked as exhausted as I feel?
"General," she smiled brightly, for both of their sakes.
"Morning, Aves," Leia announced, striding briskly through the office and settling into her characteristic standing position behind the desk. "I know you've gone over the schedules already, but before you review them with me, you should know that I've moved my 3pm to 9:30."
Rondel blinked. "9:30, as in two minutes from now?"
"If that's alright." The General looked up, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Late night, was it?"
I really need to work on that.
When she was tired, the first thing that Rondel lost was her filter; she spoke without thinking. Mercifully, the General knew by now that it was the result of sleep deprivation, not actual doubt. But it was still a little embarrassing.
"Not that late," she recovered, "I'll just step out, then, and we can go over the rest of your schedule after the meeting?"
"Actually, you'd better sit in on this one."
Rondel never just "sat in" on meetings. In the event that she was present, it was at meetings where her position was needed as a security, as a reminder to whoever the General was meeting of just how protected Leia Organa was. She had weeks of heads-up for those, weeks of planning the best way to get the General out of the room, launch herself at a potential attacker, or getting into her I-look-like-I'm-half-asleep-but-if-a-fly-lands-on-a-wall-I'm-going-to-notice-it mindset.
The doors whooshed open again, and Rondel barely registered the tall figure brushing by her into the room.
Why does no one else show that they haven't slept? Just me? That's fine.
"Two of my favorite people in the same room," Poe settled familiarly into a chair opposite the General's desk, "What a way to start the day."
Your day is just starting, bud. Mine has been going for four hours.
"Good morning, Mr. Dameron," the General positively beamed at him, before returning to the same maps and papers that had captivated her the previous night.
"Poe," Rondel mumbled. Wasn't he supposed to be out saving the galaxy? She moved to stand somewhere behind him, settling into her at-ease stance, knees bent slightly, hands locked behind her back. What else was she supposed to do? Why was she even here?
After a moment, Poe looked over his shoulder at her, his head jerking to the side, telling her to sit in the seat next to his.
Seriously, you can't tell he slept any less than 10 hours. What is wrong with this world.
Rondel shook her head, shortly but firmly. She didn't sit in these meetings, she just didn't. He knew that.
The General shuffled pages again; Poe jerked his chin again. She shook her head again.
Come on, Dameron, give me a break. You know the drill.
Although apparently he didn't, because he heaved a dramatic sigh, swinging his legs over the arm of his chair. And if that wasn't enough, he actually kicked the empty chair towards her. "Sit. Down," he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
She was glad her jaw didn't drop, because the General looked up at the sound of the metal chair scraping across the floor. She gestured airily to the chair Poe had moved in her direction.
"Yes of course, have a seat, Aves."
She sat.
If Poe had been in a position to chortle, he probably would've done so. To be fair, if she could stick her tongue out at him without being juvenile, she probably would've done so.
"You both know why you're here, yes?" the General asked.
"Yes."
"No."
They answered her simultaneously. Poe looked as though he might laugh, and the General seemed tempted to join him. But she cleared her throat instead.
"There's a treasure map of sorts, Aves, and I'm having Mr. Dameron find it for me."
"A map to what?" Rondel asked cautiously. Poe and the General were both in on something she wasn't, and she didn't like how that felt.
"A location, but that's—"
"Above my paygrade?" As soon as the words were out, Rondel winced. "Sorry."
I have got to get a handle on that no-filter thing...
Poe shrugged it off and turned to the General. "She had a late night," he said, by way of explanation, ignoring the glare Rondel shot at him.
"So this map?" Rondel interjected, before either of them could comment on her apparently obvious state of exhaustion.
"I've tasked Mr. Dameron with retrieving it for me," the General recovered smoothly. "He'll be leaving this afternoon, traveling to another system and inquiring as to its whereabouts."
So then why am I here?
She didn't realize she'd spoken out loud, but Poe was looking too pleased with himself for her to have done anything other than that.
The General didn't seem to mind her bluntness though. "His T-70 can make that distance for a raid, not for an extended espionage. It can't maintain the food, supplies, or fuel needed for a potentially longer-duratiom mission. He'll need a support ship that can house his ship and carry the supplies needed."
Rondel nodded, following. Made sense. She still didn't get why...
Oh no.
Support ship was code for backup, and she was pretty much the end-all when it came to back-up on this base. If her job description was formally listed anywhere, Rondel was fairly certain that that's what it would read.
She didn't mean to, but she stopped listening as the General continued describing the mission. Poe's mission. Her mission. She was to go along with him, tag along really, and make sure he had what he needed to complete his mission.
This is so many times worse than just sitting here and waiting for him to show up again.
Because if she stayed here, she'd have things to do, ways to occupy her time. What was she supposed to do, sitting in a base ship all day? Twiddle her thumbs and try to name constellations?
She chanced a glance sideways, at Poe's profile. What was he thinking right now?
He felt the weight of her gaze, she knew he did. But he was pointedly not looking at her, and she couldn't read his thoughts without seeing his eyes.
"...so I don't anticipate it'll take you longer than a week, after which I'll expect you back here," the General was finishing. "Any questions for me?"
"Why me?" Rondel spoke before Poe got the chance too.
"Because you two trust each other," the General said simply, "and what's more, I trust the both of you. Aves, if you two do this properly, I don't have to worry that you won't be here, because I'll have no cause for worry that this base will be in jeopardy. The alternative is to send someone I'm uncertain of, and risk that the need for your job here is greater than his ability to complete the mission."
That makes sense. But still…
"Who will fill in here, for me, while we're gone?"
"I think we can manage for a week."
Good to know that I'm playing such a pivotal role here.
"To be perfectly honest, General," Rondel chose her words carefully, "I'm not a step above capable when it comes to piloting and—"
"She's not going."
Both Rondel and the General froze at Poe's interruption.
The General recovered first; she tilted her head and shifted slightly, turning away from Rondel, who noted the subtlety of the movement. This was about to become a discussion from which she was excluded, between Ace Pilot and General, deciding her role.
"What do you mean, Dameron?" the General said slowly. It was a statement, too, much more so than a question.
"She's not going on this mission." Poe shrugged, as if it really were that simple. His expression hadn't changed, nor had his posture—still the same unaffectedness, serenity, control. His face was the picture of ease. But his eyes…they were burning.
Both she and the General saw it, felt the energy rolling off of him. Poe was not half as calm as he projected; something was boiling just beneath the surface.
He stood, suddenly. "With all due respect, General," he said quietly, "Put anyone else on the bloody base on that support ship. But Aves, she stays."
Without another look at either of them, he turned and strode swiftly out of the office.
The air rushing as the doors opened and shut seemed deafening as Rondel and the General stared at each other.
"Maybe I should—"
"Go."
She didn't know how she was going to finish her suggestion, or what the General was telling her to go do, but Rondel stood swiftly and rushed out of the office.
In the corridor, Poe was nowhere to be seen. After a moment, the guard by the door coughed suspiciously, then jerked his chin to the right. Nodding to him, she took off at a jog, following the direction of the guard.
It only took a moment to recognize the broad shoulders and messy hair in the busy-ness of the corridor. Taller than everyone else by at least a head, Poe easily cut through the flow of people. They just moved for him, stepping aside to let him pass. Rondel didn't want to think about what they were reading on his face, which made them move out of the way.
She called his name several times before finally getting close enough to grab his arm and make him acknowledge her. When she reached him, she kept going, latching on to his arm just above his elbow and yanking him out of the corridor and into an intersecting hallway.
For a moment, they didn't say anything, just stood there regarding each other. Rather, she was staring at him, trying to understand what was going on behind the impassive expression he wore. He was glaring at the floor, then the ceiling; fixating everywhere but on her.
"So are you going to tell me what that was about?" Rondel finally broke the silence, wishing her voice sounded like something other than what she was feeling—a combination of confusion, concern, and a little bit of wounded pride.
Poe crossed his arms, and a bit of her felt bad. He wasn't being petulant, or even difficult, he just genuinely didn't want to talk about it. "What do you want me to say?"
"An explanation would probably be good," she said gently.
"What's there to explain?"
Come on, Dameron, help me out here.
"You could start with why you don't want me on the mission. Or why you stormed out. Why you ignored me just now in the corridor or why you're not wanting to answer any of these?"
No reaction, no crack in his visage.
He lifted an arm lazily, running a hand through his hair. "I told you already, Rondel, it really is that simple. I just don't want you to be on that plane."
"Okay. Why not?"
Nothing.
Are we five years old? Is that what's happening?
"Is it because I'm not a good pilot?" she prompted.
"No."
"Because I need to be here to guard the General?"
"No."
"Because there's someone else you'd rather take?"
"Look, I really don't think you understand—"
"You're right, Poe," there was no point in trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice, "I don't understand why—"
"Because I need you to be here," he half-shouted, his eyes finally meeting hers.
Rondel faltered, and silence reigned for a moment. "I need you to tell me what you mean by that."
This time, there was no laziness in the way he raked his hand through his hair. He was confused too, she realized. By his reaction, by the vehemence of it, by the reality of it. His hand fell to his side.
"Look, when I leave, when I fly, it's what I'm supposed to do. It's why I joined up, because it felt right. But these missions…they're not certain. Each time I go out, there's a moment when I realize that this flight might be my last."
Well, you asked for it, didn't you, Aves.
"So when I do make it back," he continued, "it's not the crazy celebrations and the joviality and the praise that make it good. Because those things remind me that it is worth celebrating that I made it, because maybe one of these times I won't. What makes it okay are the dumb little things, the things that are exactly the same when I leave and when I come back. Things like the same crappy meals at commissary, the way jet fuel gets on your suit no matter what…"
He trailed off, and Rondel blinked. This was so much more than what she'd been expecting. But she could see the truth and weight of it in his eyes. Almost smiling, she finished his thought.
"Like the obnoxious girl who bangs on your door at 2 in the morning to get you to turn down your music?"
Poe returned her almost-smile. "That's the one. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it, but when life goes on, it reminds you that it's still going…So. I don't mind so much when that girl gives me a black eye trying to teach me some kick, and the rest of the squadron laughs at it for months."
"Or when she tried to help you become fluent in Ryl, and only spoke in that dialect for a month, until you came clean and admitted you couldn't speak a syllable in anything other than Aurebesh."
"Or when she organized a surprise party for your 28th birthday without realizing she was a week early."
"Or when she tells a new string of recruits about how you failed your first piloting evaluation because you were so excited?"
"Now, see, I know you don't actually do that because they only think you're cool if they think I'm cool."
"Granted."
"Yeah," he grinned, then paused. "But even if you did, you get why that would be okay?"
She did.
She nodded slowly, then tilted her head. "You know, I wouldn't magically stop being that person if I piloted your supply ship."
"I know," he said quickly, his gaze slipping away again, "It's just…"
He didn't finish, and she waited for him too. When he didn't, she stepped a bit closer to him. "It's also an order. From the General. Kind of hard to ignore."
He drew in an unsteady breath. "Yeah, I know that too. That's why I ran out; I knew there wasn't a way to fight it in there. I thought maybe, out here, maybe I could."
There was no denying that. She understood him again, knew his battle. But she also knew the General's.
"Look at me," she was in front of him, and lifted her hands to frame his face, resting along his jawline and lifting his chin so their eyes met again, "You know why it's okay that I'll be on that plane with you?"
"Tell me."
His face was so close to hers, and when she smiled, she knew he saw it from her eyes, not her mouth.
"Because you're the best pilot out there," she said simply, confidently. "And there's no safer place in the galaxy for me, than with you. And, in that same enormous galaxy, there's no one better to watch your back, than me. Right?"
"You always are."
Their foreheads touched, and they stayed like that for a long while, drawing strength from each other.
In minutes, they'd have to go back to the General; in hours, they'd leave the base. In days, they'd fight, lie, and fight some more; in a week, they'd be back again. But for now, they waited, delayed. There truly wasn't a better place for them to be.
A/N: So I wasn't planning on updating so soon, but I had an overwhelming response from you guys, and so I had to! Please review; let me know what you're thinking! I'd love to hear from you. Do you like Rondel's character/is she good enough for Poe/how they're fitting together? Is Poe close enough to canon Poe, or am I an awful writer? Dying for the next update, or ideas for a plot twist? Let me know! Thanks, everyone!