"BB-8 says you're lying."
"Yeah, well, BB-8 says a lot of things," Rondel muttered, looking over her shoulder to glare at the droid, who beeped indignantly.
She and Poe were sitting in the cockpit of the supply ship, Poe's X-wing docked in the parking bay. It wasn't a large ship, really just big enough to hold the jet, have a cockpit of its own, and a few storerooms of food, fuel, and other miscellaneous necessities. They'd been in hyperspace for several minutes, but if Rondel was being honest, and BB-8 apparently existed to ensure that she was, it felt like hours.
Poe had his legs up on the dashboard, slouching in his seat like he was dozing in his bunker. Distinctly like he wasn't hurtling through space, at the mercy of the elements and miniscule in relative worth.
Rondel, conversely, had been clutching the armrests of the copilot chair, as if they were the only things that could hold the ship together. That, and insisting that she wasn't afraid of flying, despite whatever the orange droid chirped at Poe.
"Okay, so you're not scared—"
"I'm not."
"Right," Poe quirked at eyebrow at her, "Then you'll be good to watch these controls for a minute while I go get something to drink?"
"You're not funny," she replied flatly.
"I'm hilarious," Poe sighed happily to himself, sliding further down in the seat.
"You're not. Besides, if these controls are supposed to be 'watched', shouldn't you at least make the pretense of keeping your eyes open?"
He hummed the refrain of a song, it might've been the one he'd blasted the previous night. Rondel drummed her fingers against the armrests.
"How much longer?" she tried to sound casual, but even to her own ears her voice sounded strained.
Poe cracked an eye open, then his brow furrowed. He sat up, slowly; Rondel could feel the weight of his gaze on her profile. "You actually hate this?"
"No, I decided it would be fun to pretend that this is terrifying." She ran a hand through her hair, wrinkling her nose when she caught a tangle. She didn't mean to be snappy. "Sorry," she sighed.
He shrugged. "It's fine. Um…do you want to talk it out? Or something?"
Rondel had to push back a smile; she knew he was trying to help, but he looked terribly uncomfortable. It was endearing, but anything he would tell her she'd already told herself. A million times. It still wasn't working.
"It's okay. I'm okay."
"You're not, but that's not a conversation I'd be good at, so I'm not going to push it."
"How kind of you," Rondel said drily, and Poe gave a mock bow, before hesitating.
"There's nothing I can do?" he clarified.
She did smile at him, this time, reassuringly. "Nah, you're good. It's all in my head. I just run through all that could happen and it freaks me out if I let it."
White lie. I guess it's better than 'not having complete control is the worst'.
"But you're on the escort for the Governor."
She knew where he was going with that. "I am."
"Isn't that a lot of flying?"
She nodded. "It is."
Poe stared at her. "So you just, what, push that down?"
"I do."
Two word sentences, nice touch. I'm sure he's very convinced.
"It's only hyperspace that bothers me," she offered, hoping that would make it better. It didn't.
"Aves, like 90% of flying is in hyperspace."
"Is that so?" she said conversationally.
He was still staring at her, his expression showing him to be equal parts impressed and worried. "I've flown with you before, you've never seemed…" he paused, searching for an adjective, "nervous."
"I'm a good actress."
"Yeah, see, that was not the answer I wanted."
She smiled. "Sorry. If it helps, when I fly with the General, I have bigger things to worry about than the technicalities of flight. Besides, I'm usually with her, not in the cockpit."
"Rondel, we don't have to sit in here—"
"No, it's good for me," she cut him off, lifting a hand to push him back into the chair he'd already begun to rise from.
He looked unconvinced.
"No, really, it is," she tried again.
No, it's really not.
She knew the ship was safe, knew Poe was a solid pilot, and knew that hyperspace was a jump that thousands of ships made every day. She even liked the efficiency of it, just casually jumping to another dimension for the sake of speed. What she didn't like was coming out of hyperspace.
There was always that moment, that pause, where the ship hovered between dimensions before bursting into cognizance, and that second was something she could never control. No one could. Which made her job of defense very, very difficult. Vulnerability wasn't something she was good at.
So for the entire trip, no matter how long, that ate away at her. And she could never talk herself out of it. She usually did a fairly good job of hiding it; the General had no idea, and up until a minute ago even Poe hadn't actually known.
He still looked unconvinced, but he settled back into the chair dutifully.
After a moment, Rondel rolled her neck. "Okay so are you going to spend this whole time trying to pretend you're not deciding whether or not I can handle it?"
"That's not what I'm doing…"
"It is. It's okay, it's good of you, but I told you I'm okay."
"You did say that."
"I did."
He's not going to let this go.
"Okay," she slid down in her seat, mimicking his earlier position, making herself close her eyes. "Tell me something funny, then."
"What?"
"Come on, Dameron, you've got a captive audience, how often does that happen?"
"All the time. People can't get enough of me."
That's probably true.
"Alright, say something clever, then."
"Are we talking one-liners or actual wit? Because the jury's out on whether I actually possess the latter."
"I'll leave the degree of hilarity up to you?"
"Dumb jokes it is then," he said, with entirely too much relish, and Rondel smiled in spite of herself.
Poe rubbed his hands together, and she could tell her was sitting up straight, looking intently at her. They were still hurtling towards uncertainty, but this was amusing. If her mind was convinced they were going to die, hopefully it wouldn't be in the wake of a bantha pun.
"Okay," he said solemnly, "What did the Jedi say to the sheep?"
"May the force be with ewe," she replied without thinking.
"Come on, at least pretend to play along."
"Right, sorry. I have no idea! Whatever could it be?"
"You're just loads of fun at parties, aren't you?"
"Bushels. Got any others?"
"You're demanding when you're pretending to be fine. Why is the droid mechanic never lonely?"
She thought about it for a minute, coming up blank. "Why?"
"Because he's always making new friends."
She grimaced. "Now who's fun at parties."
"Don't you know it. What do Gungans put things in?"
"Oh no, don't say it—"
"Jar Jars."
"I was afraid that's where that was going." Her eyes were still shut, but she could picture him grinning.
"Hey, you brought this upon yourself."
"Too true."
"What's the difference between an ATAT and a stormtrooper?"
"I haven't a clue."
"One's an Imperial walker and the other is a walking Imperial."
Rondel cracked an eye open at him. "That's almost impressive."
"I can see you're convulsing with laughter."
"Indeed. It's a miracle I can even speak straight. Not bad, Dameron."
"Thanks. I pride myself on my impeccable sense of humor."
"Hmm. Not your 'absolutely beautiful smile, devil-may-care attitude, or gorgeous eyes'?"
Poe made a face. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Give me a few millennia, then we'll see."
Years ago, Poe had been instructing a group of pilot-hopefuls on decoding messages with classified intel. It backfired when, a few weeks later, Rondel caught several recruits testing their new skill by passing notes during her session outlining the finer points of breaking a nose. When she'd decoded it, she was delighted to find the conversation was just short of an ode to their favorite instructor, and all his virtues. Poe had all but blushed when he found out about it, but Rondel thought it was hilarious.
"You just like to enjoy my misery."
"Oh, yes, how terribly miserable it must be to have waves of new recruits, all equally starstruck and smitten," Rondel teased.
"No one is starstruck," Poe insisted, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Besides, it's more weird than complementary…"
"If it makes you feel any better, it's intrinsic to the job."
"What does that mean?"
Ah, Dameron. So innocent as to the workings of the teenage recruit mind.
"Pilot—daring, brave, sweeping in to save the day. It's already implied before they meet you."
"Well what's implied with Head of Security, then?"
Rondel formed a loose fist with her hand and tapped her jawline with it. "Can take a hit."
"Come on, there's more to it than that."
"Oh I know that. You know that. They don't, though, not right off the bat. It makes the first session kind of funny."
"Funny?"
"Sure," she shrugged, "It's always a good time, taking down the but-you-can't-be-the-instructor-you're-half-my-size kid."
"You don't 'take down' recruits."
"Not as a rule. But sometimes it has to be done…" she sighed melodramatically.
Poe grinned. "You're a menace."
"Fair. But I don't have poems written about me."
"Oh come on, you don't know that."
Rondel tilted her head. "I have yet to read a sonnet about an impressive stranglehold, Dameron."
"That's not what I meant."
He said it very quietly, almost like he hadn't meant for the words to escape his mouth. He sat up straight, then, looking over the dashboard, toggling switches that Rondel knew full well needed no tampering.
"What did you mean?" she asked curiously. Not because she was dumb, but because, for some reason, his answer suddenly seemed very, very important.
His hands stilled over the controls, and his gaze shifted from the glass to her face. For a long moment, he stared at her, and Rondel couldn't read his expression.
Okay, so his eyes are gorgeous.
Then the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a soft smile. In one quick motion, he flipped a switch on the dashboard, before the same hand drifted up to her face. His thumb brushed her chin, and he grinned.
"Don't push for compliments, Aves. And you can stop gripping those armrests like there's no tomorrow; we're out of hyperspace."
And so they were.
He looked incredibly pleased with himself, so she smiled easily back at him, making some inane remark about time flying or dragging or something that made him laugh.
Internally, her mind was still in hyperspace, trying to figure out why, for the first time ever, she hadn't noticed the jump back down.
A/N: Here it is, the next installment! This one's a little shorter, but it was either going to be on the short side and just cover their flight, or a small novel with their first adventure on Jakku. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Keep it up! Thanks everyone, and Happy New Year!
