Ben's performance was impressive that day. Poe smiled to himself as his friend fired off a volley of shots at the ground targets that were set up in the open expanse of the training area before executing a perfect, on the dime turn at Skywalker's instruction. Ben doubled back and flew smoothly over his original starting mark, whooping excitedly when he discovered that he'd done his run in record time. He had also managed to hit every target without marring up the ground around them. It was clean shooting and even better flying.

"Nicely done," Poe commended him over the comms.

"Thanks," Ben replied. "Let's see you follow that flying."

"Is that a challenge? Kylo, you should know better by now," Poe chuckled.

"Play nice you two," Hux fussed over the radio.

"Ah, lighten up," Finn chimed in. "I bet the first round next trip to the pub that Poe pulls something fancy out of his ass and outflies Kylo on his run."

"I'll take you on that bet, actually." Ben challenged confidently. "My run was damned near perfect."

"Okay, can you boys please just focus on the task at hand?" An exasperated General Luke Skywalker scolded them with a sigh. The Black Squadron was known for their unmatched skill, but also for their incessant banter and trash talk. Poe knew that Skywalker was worried that while the guys were top notch pilots, they didn't take the work seriously enough. It was all fun and games until they faced a real enemy.

"Pipe down so I can concentrate," Poe announced. But he was just trying to get their attention, really. He could fly without any problems regardless of the noise or conditions. He had pulled off moves that surprised them all during inclement weather, mock attacks, anything. Focusing was easy for him, and he was just that skilled when it came to flying.

He made a big circle before lining up with his own row of targets out in the field below. He was still up pretty high, but he could make out the crude structures built to resemble enemy military ground vehicles or buildings below. As he flew over the targets, he fired precisely and destroyed them all, only using one shot on each. But he wasn't done yet.

After he'd finished with all the targets he pointed the nose of his plane to the sky, flying straight up before doubling back down in an impressive, dangerously fast vertical spin that lined him up nicely for a second pass. He went through and hit all of the targets a second time, decimating them to rubble. The whole maneuver was done so quickly and seamlessly that he had managed to beat the others' times and they had only made one pass. The others had chosen to turn around in the usual manner, requiring a wide arc, rather than using Poe's trick to change directions quickly before returning to their original marks.

Most of them sat in a stunned silence, but Finn was elated that he'd just won himself a free drink. "Woo!" he yelled over the radio. "That's one helluva pilot!"

Poe grinned to himself as the others made their way to his flank and assumed the usual formation before returning to the landing area. But as they flew over, he noticed that a small crowd of other pilots had gathered below, shielding their eyes from the sun as they watched the Black Squadron train.

"Hey, Kylo," he said, using a direct line to only Ben's plane. "Let's not leave 'em thinking I'm the only one to look out for. Wanna show these guys one last stunt?"

Poe knew that his friend was likely sulking from being outdone. He was competitive, though, and would almost certainly be up for what Poe was planning.

"Yeah. What are you thinking?" Ben sounded serious and determined. That was good.

"Fall back with me. When the others are going in to land, you break left and fly for a good minute. I'm going to break right and do the same. Turn back on my mark."

"Roger that."

Poe slowed considerably, letting Finn and Hux pass him as they went in for a landing.

"Everything alright, Dameron?" Hux asked over the radio.

"What? Yeah, just going to fly around for another minute. Such a gorgeous day for it," Poe lied.

"You guys go ahead," Ben added.

"Suit yourselves," Hux said dismissively.

As Hux and Finn neared the landing strip, Poe looked over and could just barely see Ben watching him from his own cockpit. He nodded at his friend and then turned sharply right. In his mirror he saw that Ben had turned off as well and was fading into the distance directly behind him, accelerating in the opposite direction.

When he could no longer make out the back of Ben's plane in his rearview, he signaled him. "Turn back now," he said over the comms, pulling off the same maneuver from before, allowing him to switch directions quickly and without making a wide turn. As he did so, he noticed with appreciation that Ben had apparently done the same, because the other pilot was already in line with him and travelling straight for him.

"Ah, Poe. You didn't tell me we were doing chicken again," Ben complained. "I guess I should have known."

Poe laughed. "Come on, Ben. Where's your sense of adventure?"

As the two rapidly closed the distance between them, Skywalker came over the radio with a mix of fear and anger in his voice. "Dameron! Solo! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?! You're endangering yourselves as well as military aircraft. Fall back into formation and land. Now."

"Yes, sir, General. Sir." Poe barely suppressed a chuckle as he delivered his overly polite response to Skywalker.

But he was shocked back to reality when Ben's panicked voice hailed him. "Shit, Poe, are we going left or right?!"

Poe realized that he was almost upon Ben now, the two planes perfectly aligned for a deadly head-on collision. "Fuck . . . left. Right? Yeah, right."

"Right. Wait, did you mean left?" Damnit, Poe! I'm going left!" Ben called.

It was not a moment too soon. An instant later was the last possible second that the two could veer off to avoid hitting one another. Poe jerked the stick left and turned hard, tilting the aircraft so that his left wing pointed to the ground. Ben did the same and the two flashed by one another, the underbellies of their planes parallel and only feet apart.

"Hell yeah!" he exclaimed. "Nice flying, Ben! I mean-"

"You, too, Poe!" Ben yelled. Poe smiled to himself. In that moment, Ben was just his best friend, the boy who'd learned to fly alongside him. In that moment, silly titles and who flew best didn't matter.

What did matter, was the dangerous tone of Skywalker's voice. "You two. My office. The second you hit the ground. Acknowledge."

"Yes sir," Poe and Ben responded in unison. As they guided their planes toward the landing strip, he could see Skywalker standing at the end, his uniform and thinning hair whipping in the wind, his arms crossed over his chest in a defiant stance.

Poe wasn't worried, though. He and Ben would smooth talk their way out of it, like they always did. He glanced over and squinted through the windows and the distance between them to confirm that Ben, like him, was high on adrenaline and the joy of the flight.


"And another thing. These boys look up to you two!" Skywalker thundered, pacing back and forth before Poe and Ben, who were standing at attention before him in his office. The light from outside filtered through the blinds behind the general, casting his form in a dramatic silhouette as he gesticulated wildly at the young men. "What kind of example do you think it sets for them if the two of you are playing chicken in fighter planes?!"

"You're absolutely right, sir. They do . . . they look up to us. Which is why we were uh . . . trying to motivate the men, sir," Poe explained in a calm voice.

"Uh, yeah. Motivate them," Ben agreed, nodding. Skywalker was easily riled, and Poe was often the cause; but today Ben was also in the line of fire. Next to him, Poe could feel tension rolling off of Ben in waves. He frowned uncomfortably hoping that this scenario didn't remind Ben of all of the times that Poe had gotten him in trouble with his father. Han had been so tough on him . . .

Skywalker stopped walking and leveled them both with a murderous stare. "Motivate them? For what?"

"They're bored, sir. We don't do anything besides run through training every day. Bored soldiers are sloppy. Sir."

Skywalker sighed. It was an excessively tired sound and for a moment Poe felt guilty for adding to the older man's worries. "Fine," he said, rubbing a hand over his forehead as he looked down at a stack of paperwork on his desk. "But leave the motivation up to me. Another stunt like that and you'll both live to regret it. Understood?"

"Sir, yes sir," Poe and Ben said together.

"Great. Dismissed," Skywalker sighed, turning away from them and gazing out the window through the open blinds.

Poe and Ben turned to leave when Skywalker suddenly seemed to remember something. "Not you, Dameron," he called over his shoulder. Ben gave Poe an apologetic shrug before exiting the office and closing the door behind him.

Poe looked over at Skywalker uncertainly. Was he going to get chastised for taking Rey flying the day before after all? "Lieutenant Dameron, I take it you've heard the rumors about most of the active personnel on this base being transferred."

Poe tried to hide the relief he felt; it wasn't a disciplinary meeting after. He nodded at Skywalker in agreement. "Yes, sir. But I assumed they were just that—rumors. Hawaii is about as far from the action as it gets."

"Ordinarily, yes. But the circumstances are a little bit more complicated than that right now. While we haven't officially declared war, we have been sending assistance in the form of weaponry and other military equipment to Great Britain, along with some men. Most of this assistance has been taken from the Pacific Fleet."

"So you're sending us to fill the holes," Poe finished for him.

"Precisely." Skywalker eyed Poe as if waiting for him to say something else. But Poe stood in silence, his mind working quickly. Being transferred wouldn't have meant much to him two months ago. If anything, he might have been excited to spend time in a place as beautiful and exotic as Hawaii. Now, such a transfer meant potentially leaving Rey behind. He didn't like it. But he wasn't one to resist the call of duty.

He looked up and met Skywalker's searching gaze. The older man sighed and went on. "How would you feel about such a transfer, son?"

"I'd be grateful for the opportunity to do something to help the war effort," Poe replied immediately.

"Good. Very good," Skywalker said thoughtfully. "We aren't at war yet. Some of us might be, though, and soon."

Poe was confused. "Sir?"

Skywalker cleared his throat uncertainly before continuing. "Dameron, I don't have to tell you that you're the best pilot this base has ever seen. And you don't fly like one of the best without gaining some notice. The tide of this war is being decided in the British skies, and the Brits have handpicked you to be part of their Rapier Squadron program. It's a special group of American pilots that are being sent over to help the Royal Air Force against the Nazis."

Poe inhaled in surprise, his eyes widening. He was honored and anxious and troubled all at once. "Um, so . . . am I being assigned to transfer to England?" he asked.

"No. Again, we aren't at war yet. You would be volunteering." Skywalker paused. "But this is the part where I am supposed to talk you out of it. We will be at war soon. I'm confident of it. When that day comes, I need as many pilots like you as possible. If you're off fighting for the Brits, Black Squadron is significantly weakened. Every man makes a difference."

"But the British need our help now," Poe reasoned.

"Yes, they do."

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, what would you do?"

Skywalker grinned at Poe with a twinkle in his eye that made him look a decade younger. "If it were me? I'd go."

Poe heaved a heavy sigh before returning Skywalker's smile. "When do I leave?"


"The day after tomorrow?!" Ben asked, flabbergasted. "I don't understand. Yesterday we had never even heard of this Rapier business. How could they be sending you out so soon?" It was later that afternoon. Poe and Ben were having a snack in the mess, and Poe was already regretting sharing the news about his imminent deployment. If Ben's reaction was any indication, he was going to catch heat from everyone about his decision.

"I guess the situation over there is just that urgent," he responded with a shrug. "The British are losing a lot of good pilots."

"Sounds dangerous." Ben was staring daggers at him, his tone grave.

"Well, I . . . I expect it will be."

"Then why risk yourself?"

"Uh . . . It's not my choice. I've been assigned." Poe glanced uncomfortably at Ben. Lying had never been his strong suit. But Ben had apparently bought it. He wasn't looking at Poe anymore and was staring angrily off into the distance.

"They can't just do that," he spat, shaking his head in amazement. "We aren't even at war!"

Poe laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Look, Kylo, I'm 25. Pretty soon they're going to have me teaching flight lessons instead of actually priming me for battle. I joined to do something meaningful with my life. You know that. This is my chance." Ben turned back to Poe, his face softened. His look of indignation turning into one of resigned sadness. Poe instantly regretted his passionate words. Doubtlessly, Ben wanted just such a chance for himself. Doing something "meaningful" was just as much his dream as it was Poe's. But Poe knew that Skywalker would never send his nephew into danger unnecessarily, not after Han's reaction to Ben enlisting two years prior.

"What about Rey?" Ben asked finally.

Poe was silent. He had, of course, thought about Rey and how this would affect their relationship, how she would feel about him leaving—by choice. He had lied to Ben to save his pride, but Poe knew in his heart he couldn't lie to her, couldn't look into the depths of her intuitive eyes and tell her anything but the truth.

"Rey is stronger than she looks," he said after a moment. "She'll understand that I have to do my duty."

"And if you don't come back?" Ben's voice was barely above a whisper but the ferocity in his tone was still apparent. Poe was surprised by the emotion etched so clearly on Ben's face. "How do you expect her, expect us to just accept the fact that you could die?"

Poe plastered a confident smile on his face as he patted Ben on the shoulder again, this time with a loud smack. "Aw, come on, Kylo. You know me better than that. I'll come back. I promise. Best pilot at Mitchel can handle the Germans any day."

Ben was unconvinced but placated for now. Poe started off toward their barracks and waved his friend over to follow. He was supposed to meet Rey later and he needed to figure out what he was going to say to her . . . or whether he was going to say anything at all.


A few hours later Poe was trying to keep calm as he made his way to Rey's house. He had picked her a handful of daisies from the overgrown garden outside the head offices. The delicate flowers were newly blooming, and when Rey had caught sight of them a couple of days prior, she had squealed in excitement and dragged him over to admire them more closely.

"Daisies are my favorite," she'd told him, eyes shining. "They're just so cheerful, you know? Every time I look at them I just think of spring and fresh air and I can't help but smile."

Earlier that day Poe had waited until no one was looking and pulled up a few, hoping that the bright bouquet would make it easier to break the news of his departure. But the closer he got to Rey's, the deeper the pit in his stomach began to feel.

He had spent almost every free minute that he had with Rey over the past several weeks. He felt like he knew her intimately. He had memorized every line of her sweet face, and he knew just how to make her laugh in that reckless sort of way that caused her to snort in spite of herself. But he had no idea how she would react to the news of his volunteer mission overseas, one he might not return from. One he could have—and probably should have—said no to.

As he came to a stop on her doorstep, he transferred the flowers from one hand to another, gathering the nerve to knock. He noticed with dismay that the white and yellow blooms looked a little the worse for wear. He was so anxious that he hadn't even noticed how hard he was squeezing them on his way over.

He knocked three times, hard, and waited for Rey to answer. Instead, her perky roommate, Natalie, opened the door. "Hi, Poe," she said with a welcoming smile. "Come on in," she stepped back to make way for Poe to pass her and enter the house.

He obliged and made his way into the living room. The house was standard military housing but Rey and Natalie had made it their own with tasteful furnishings, giving it a cozy charm. Natalie walked by Poe and plopped down on the sofa, gesturing to the empty armchair nearby for him to sit.

But as soon as he touched the seat, Rey walked into the room, and he stood immediately to acknowledge her. When their eyes met her face broke out into her trademark thousand-watt smile that warmed Poe's insides like a cup of cocoa on a snowy night.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Hi yourself," Poe replied, drinking in the sight of her in a simple green dress and low heels. It was probably what she'd worn underneath her apron at work that day, nothing special. But the color brought out the hints of green in her warm hazel eyes and was dumbfounded for the umpteenth time that this smart, pure, unassumingly pretty girl was his.

"Uh . . . these are for you," he offered awkwardly, holding out the dismal bouquet and averting his eyes.

True to form, Rey gasped with joy and practically sprinted over to him, taking the drooping flowers and cradling them like a newborn. "Daisies!" she exclaimed happily. "You remembered."

"Yeah. Sorry they're so-"

"They're lovely," she cut him off forcefully. "They're perfect. No one's ever given me flowers before," she added, her voice dropping low as though she was talking to herself.

"Well there's a first for everything," Natalie interjected in a bored voice. "Your date would show up early, and with a damned present," the redhead complained, shaking her head. "Meanwhile I seem to be getting stood up."

"Stood up?" Poe asked curiously.

"I'm going out too," Natalie said with a sigh. "Or I'm supposed to be anyway."

Poe looked over at her and noticed that Natalie was indeed dolled up like she had somewhere to be, her fiery red hair twisted into an elegant bun, her lips and cheeks rouged dramatically. "Big plans?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"If dinner with one of your scoundrel friends qualifies as big, then sure," she replied with a smirk. At that moment Poe heard a knock and turned to see Natalie's date, as she scurried quickly to answer the door.

As she threw it open, Poe was surprised to see Finn standing on the doorstep wearing pressed slacks and an ecstatic grin. Poe knew that his friend had been infatuated with the girl, but he missed the part where Finn had successfully scored a date. His odds of getting a second one didn't seem very high just then. Finn took one look at Natalie's scathing stare before looking away shamefully, his eyes finding Poe's behind her. "Hey, Poe," he called, waving at him from his place on the doorstep. "Uh . . . ready to go?" Finn turned back to Natalie, offering his arm.

"I've been ready for half an hour," she whined. Finn gave her an apologetic smile, holding his arm out further. She sighed before linking her arm through his and stepping outside, looking back at Poe and Rey as she went. "You two have a nice time tonight."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Finn yelled over his shoulder as he and Natalie set off across the lawn.

"Well that leaves things wide open," Poe muttered, turning back to Rey who was putting the daisies in a vase with water. "What do you want to do tonight?" he asked her, feeling more at ease now that it was just the two of them.

"It's up to you. I had a really long day today, actually. I only just got home a few minutes ago so I'm a bit . . . tired," Rey said, the end of her sentence punctuated by a yawn as she stretched and walked back into the living room, sitting on the sofa where Natalie had been.

Great, Poe thought with a sigh. She's had a shit day and I'm about to make it worse. Or I could . . . not. I could just keep my damned mouth shut. "So uh, what happened?" he asked, trying to push the troublesome thoughts of his bad news from his mind.

"Phasma gave me double cleaning duties because I was late this morning," Rey reported grumpily.

"And why is that?" Poe was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Oh, I don't know," she said vaguely. "I may or may not have been out all night with a handsome flyboy who's always up to no good."

"You don't know the half of it," he warned, moving next to her on the couch and pulling her into his lap.

"Hey, hey, food first," she scolded him teasingly, but even as she said it she was turning her face to his and leaning in for a kiss. He gratefully accepted, reveling in the familiar softness of her lips, the rosy scent of her hair.

As she pulled away and rested her head comfortably on his shoulder, he decided there was nowhere else he'd rather be. "Why don't we just stay here tonight instead of heading out?" he suggested. "I could cook you something. Sounds like you could use it after the day you've had."

Rey sat up eagerly. "You can cook?"

"Yup."

"You can cook well?" she added skeptically.

"Haha, yes," he assured her. "Cooking was actually one of my favorite hobbies back home."

"Eating is one of mine. I knew we were meant to be," she proclaimed dramatically.

He laughed, gingerly lifting her off of his lap as he stood to make his way to the kitchen. "If you feel that way now I can't wait to see what you have to say after you taste the food."


He'd done the best with what Rey and Natalie had in their small kitchen, and he was pretty pleased with the results. But "pleased" didn't even begin to describe Rey, who was groaning appreciatively—and loudly—with every bite of the roast chicken and mashed potatoes that he'd whipped up.

"This is amazing," she gushed, shoveling in another mouthful of potatoes and washing it down with a gulp of wine from her nearly empty glass. Poe couldn't help but smile. He'd been with women in the past who were concerned with being ladylike when they ate, if they ate around him at all. Rey wasn't the least bit shy about her appetite and she let nothing go to waste. She was already on her second plate of food and third glass of wine.

She looked up when she felt his eyes on her and he chuckled at her wine-stained mouth. "You enjoying yourself?"

"So much," she said, finishing her glass before leaning back in her chair and stretching. "Where did you learn to cook? Did your mom teach you that?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "She was an amazing cook. She let me help her out in the kitchen even when I was just a toddler. And it's a good thing, too, because my dad was total rubbish in the kitchen. She used to make fun of him because he couldn't even really manage a plate of eggs." He sighed, swirling his own wine thoughtfully. "I really miss her sometimes."

"Miss her?" Rey asked. "Your mom is . . .?"

"Yeah. She was sick. She died when I was ten. So it's not a fresh wound or anything," he said reassuringly to Rey, who looked mortified at having brought his dead mother up in conversation. "But you never really stop missing your mom."

"I don't really remember my mother," Rey said quietly. She was looking down at her hands folded in her lap. "Or my father."

Poe's head snapped up. She had mentioned something about not having known her father before, but she hadn't elaborated and he hadn't wanted to push the issue. But he had been curious about Rey's past ever since. He cleared his throat into the silence. "Um, I'm really sorry, Rey. That must have been tough."

"It was and it wasn't. It's awful not having parents, but I'm glad that I didn't really get a chance to know them before I lost them. I can't really miss something I never had."

His heart ached at her words. It surprised him that she'd faced such hardship given her bubbly personality. She was wise to try to rationalize her situation but it was infinitely sad that she had to look at her life in such a grim way. "Who were they?" he asked gently.

"I can't really remember much but I have heard stories from other people," she began. Poe nodded, encouraging her to go on.

"My father was a physician. Apparently this was sort of an ironic career for him because he was never in good health himself. That was unusual, too, because he came from a long line of strong men. His father was Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Poe's eyes widened in surprise. "The famous General from the Great War?"

"That's the one," she said. There was a sense of pride in her voice even though Poe knew that Obi-Wan Kenobi had died before she was born. But it made sense for her to cling to the one relative she really knew anything about.

"My mother didn't work," she went on. "Not officially, anyway. She helped out at my father's practice as a nurse. She didn't have formal training but they made it work, I suppose.

"Anyway, the Spanish Flu had sort of died out as a major threat a few years before I was born. We lived in Philadelphia and any urban area was obviously a risk, but it wasn't bad for us. When I was still pretty young, around two, I guess, my parents got word that one of my father's closest friends, who he'd gone to medical school with and worked alongside in the war, had the flu and wasn't doing well. He lived in New York at the time.

"So the two of them packed up, placed me in the care of my mother's brother, Unkar Plutt, and left me. We never heard from them again.

"I found out later that, as you might expect, my father had contracted the flu from his friend and passed it to my mother. They both died not long after."

Poe didn't know what to say. He was the positive one in his group of friends, the one who always had a smile on his face and an encouraging word for anyone who was feeling down. But just then he couldn't think of a thing to comfort Rey. He just stared at her, so tiny and vulnerable, so clearly afraid of being abandoned. And what was he about to do?

"I know they were trying to protect me from getting sick," she said suddenly. "But it's hard not to resent them sometimes. It just bothers me every now and again that they chose their sense of duty over me."

Well, that settles that. Definitely not telling her about my deployment tonight, Poe thought grimly.

"You're a strong woman, Rey." He reached across the table, grasping her hand firmly. "You've been through a lot in a short time and it hasn't broken you. You're such a positive person. You have a lot to be proud of."

She gave him a small smile, shaking her head. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't even be talking about this. What a way to ruin the mood."

"Not at all," he protested seriously. "I want to know everything there is to know about you, Rey Kenobi." He raised her hand to his face and kissed it, looking into her eyes.

"There's not much to know," she said, blushing under his gaze.

"How did you wind up here, as a nurse in Long Island?"

"Well . . . I don't want to keep the sob story going but my Uncle wasn't exactly a loving father figure. He did the bare minimum to keep me alive. I sort of . . . ran away to New York City a couple years ago. I found work as a waitress and stayed in a girls' home until I was old enough to join the military. I've wanted to be a nurse, to help sick people, for as long as I can remember. The military seemed like a way for me to do that and have some adventure. But here I am, still in New York." She laughed and Poe smiled at the infectious sound.

"There may be some adventure in store for you yet."

"You mean Hawaii? There will be piña coladas and a sun tan in store me," she scoffed. "But I don't know about adventure.

Poe tried to hide the sadness he felt at the prospect of not going to Hawaii with her. He'd like nothing more than to lay on the beach with Rey for the rest of his life. But he knew that he would never forgive himself if he didn't take the opportunity to make a difference, to help the good guys win this war.

"Alright then. What would be more adventurous? What would do you if you weren't a nurse?"

"Hm. I love to read. I would be a book dealer. Or a writer," she mused.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "I don't much like reading. I'd rather be out there doing stuff instead of reading about it."

"That sounds like you. You're definitely a go-getter," she said affectionately. "But when I was living with Unkar, there wasn't much for me to do. I didn't have any friends or family. I read a lot to fill the time, and to escape, I guess. Reading let me live a different life. Lots of different lives, really."

"What do you like to read?"

"Loads of things. Lately I've been reading a lot of poetry."

"Ugh, poetry? Blegh." Poe couldn't imagination the appeal of poetry but he supposed he would give it a chance if Rey really liked it so much.

She giggled at his hyperbolic reaction before getting up and walking over to her bookshelf. She selected a volume and carried it back to the table. "This is my favorite right now."

Poe took the proffered book and read the cover. "50 Poems by E. E. Cummings," he read aloud. "Fifty? Why would he need to write fifty poems? I feel like he should be able to get his point across in a few. Ten max."

"No," she argued, shaking her head defiantly. "They're all lovely and they all have something different to offer."

Poe began flipping through the book and was perplexed at what he saw. Disjointed words that didn't form sentences, a lack of punctuation, of capitalization. "This is weird," he announced, shutting the book. "The guy doesn't even capitalize anything."

"I know," Rey said with feeling, running her hand reverently over the book as he handed it back to her. "It's so rebellious and unique."

"Alright, but you gotta ease me into it," he said jokingly. "What else do you like?"

"I've got just the thing," she said brightly, hurrying over to the shelf and returning with another book, this one worn from years of loving use. She extended a hand to Poe and he took it, rising and following her to the couch. As he sat down, Rey calmly and methodically seated herself on his lap and leaned back against his chest.

Poe gulped at the closeness, the pressure of her weight on his thighs. His mind swam pleasantly from the wine and he wrapped his arms around her, all but forgetting that in a day's time he'd be saying goodbye to her.

"Okay, this is one of my favorite poems," she explained as an introduction. "It's written by a woman, which makes it even better."

"Lay it on me," Poe urged.

"This poem is called 'I Love You,' by Ella Wheeler Wilcox."

Poe snickered. "'I Love You?' Really? What an original title," he commented sarcastically.

"Shh!" she shushed him, swatting him playfully.

Rey cleared her throat before beginning.

"'I love your lips when they're wet with wine

And red with a wild desire;

I love your eyes when the lovelight lies

Lit with a passionate fire.

I love your arms when the warm white flesh

Touches mine in a fond embrace;

I love your hair when the strands enmesh

Your kisses against my face . . .'"

Rey had a wonderful reading voice. Each line sounded like a song that she was singing for him alone. Poe realized that he was holding his breath, hyper aware of the proximity of Rey's face and the hammering of his own heart. He didn't know what he'd expected from the poem, but it wasn't this.

She turned in his lap as she went on, facing him now. She enunciated each word carefully, her voice breathy in the quiet.

"'Not for me the cold, calm kiss

Of a virgin's bloodless love;

Not for me the saint's white bliss,

Nor the heart of a spotless dove.

But give me the love that so freely gives

And laughs at the whole world's blame,

With your body so young and warm in my arms,

It sets my poor heart aflame . . ."

Rey had looked up from the book now, her eyes locked on his with an intensity he hadn't seen in her before. She clearly had the poem memorized, because she didn't break eye contact as she finished the last stanza.

"'So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,

Still fragrant with ruby wine,

And say with a fervor born of the South

That your body and soul are mine.

Clasp me close in your warm young arms,

While the pale stars shine above,

And we'll live our whole young lives away

In the joys of a living love."

The words of the poem, the pressure of her butt in his lap, and the feel of her breath against his face as she slowly drew closer were driving him mad.

He and Rey had never slept together. To his knowledge, she was a virgin, and he respected that. He had wanted to take their relationship slowly, something he had never bothered doing with any other woman. Then again, he'd never met a woman like Rey. But the voracious glow in her eyes and the way the provocative poem rolled off her tongue suggested her intentions were less than pure.

And that he was just fine with that. It was spectacular even. Except.

Except that in roughly thirty hours he would be leaving the country. He would be gone for an indeterminate amount of time, and he would be facing certain danger and possible death. He couldn't in good conscience take his relationship with Rey to the next level without her knowing the truth.

And yet he couldn't tell her. Not tonight. Not when the wine had brought about a delightful boldness in her that set his soul on fire. Not when she'd opened up to him in a way that he hadn't expected. Not when he realized for the first time that he was completely and irrevocably in love with her.

He met her passionate stare and ran his hands lightly up her forearms, feeling goosebumps erupt under his fingertips. Rey dropped the forgotten book, which hit the ground with a light thump, before leaning in and assailing him with a demanding kiss. He couldn't help but smile against her insistent mouth, savoring the moment, the simple pleasure of kissing Rey. How many more times would he get to do this?

She was turned fully toward him on his lap now, her dress riding up to the very top of her thighs as she straddled him. He was beginning to wonder how he was going to resist her, what he could possibly say to explain that he wanted nothing more than what she was giving, that if she only knew the things he wanted to do to her . . . but that he couldn't do those things, not now. He didn't want to hurt her pride. But giving in would likely hurt her worse in the long run.

Before Poe had to worry about it, though, the front door opened, starling them both. A tipsy-looking Natalie stumbled over the threshold, grasping Finn by the hand. Both of them were grinning like idiots.

They took one look at Rey splayed out on Poe's lap, empty wine bottles on the table, and burst into hysterical laughter. "Don't mind us," Natalie spluttered, waving dismissively at the two of them before turning back to Finn and placing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "'Night," she said, marching down the hall to her bedroom and winking at Rey on the way.

Finn saluted Poe before turning on his heel to make his own exit. This was his chance. "Wait up, buddy," he called to Finn.

"You serious?" he asked, turning back to Poe in confusion.

"Hey, he seems pretty drunk," he said to Rey. "I'm gonna help him get home so he doesn't get himself into any trouble."

Rey looked disappointed for a flash before her brilliant smile took over. "Alright. Thanks for a great night."

He gave her one last peck on the lips before she stood up and awkwardly smoothed her dress down.

"Still wanna be my date for the big farewell dance thing tomorrow?" Word about Hawaii had finally gotten out and been confirmed. Most of the soldiers and nurses from Mitchel would be transferred the following week, and a huge group of them were being hosted at a local jazz club in Manhattan as a sort of final hoorah for the New York City military personnel.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Rey replied earnestly.

"Good night," he said quietly in parting. Poe gave her hand a squeeze before catching up with Finn out in front of the house.

"Are you crazy man?!" Finn asked in a frantic whisper. "She clearly wanted you. I can get home fine. What's going on?"

"She uh . . . she doesn't know I'm going to the front," Poe said quietly, staring guiltily at his feet as they walked.

"Wow. Yeah. That's . . . sorry, man, I don't know what to say."

"It's fine," Poe said, patting his friend on the back. "I'll figure it out. You and Natalie seem to be having a nice time."

"Yeah," Finn agreed, a smile in his voice. "She's pretty great."

As they walked home in the gathering dark, Poe wondered for the first time if he was making the right choice. He had wanted to be a pilot like his dad for as long as he could remember. And he was a good one. He had chance to make a real difference in the world, to bring honor to his family, to put his skills to use.

But as he thought of Rey with her ready smiles, dorky laugh, and shelves of beat-up books, he realized that to take one chance he was giving up another. Because with her, he had a chance to be truly happy with someone he loved. He'd never had that before. If he went to Skywalker's office in the morning and told him that he'd changed his mind, he could pack his bags and spend a summer in paradise with the woman of his dreams.

It was just that, though—a dream. In his heart he knew he could never shirk his duty for his own selfish desires. He just hoped that he wouldn't live to regret it.


A/N: Hey again. First of all, thanks so much to everyone who left encouraging words on my last chapter. It makes me so happy that so many of you are still following my story and this ship in general.

I hope you enjoyed this long update. I will try to keep updating this fic weekly but next weekend may not happen because I am going to a wedding out of town, so I thought I would do a long update this weekend :)

Lastly, I really hope you guys like this chapter. I hope this story is not going to slow/boring anyone. I promise that things are about to change, big time. It was just important to me to lay the groundwork well for our damerey looove. Anyway, please let me know what you think!

Have a nice night and watch Game of Thrones tonight! Winter is coming :P