"So," Rey began.
"So," Poe concurred.
"Tomorrow."
"Yeah."
They were, neither of them, blind to the reality that Poe and his daring squadron may never return from their journey to the Outer Rim where they hoped to ambush the First Order. That was palpable in the long silences between them this night. Of course, Poe had risked his life more that once, but this felt different. Unfair somehow. He had only just begun to know her.
There was one unspoken thing upon which they both agreed. Whatever they had, whatever these late nights were between them - the stories, the secrets - none of it was more important than the struggle of the Resistance.
So they would, neither of them, mention it.
"Your squadron ready?"
"A little too ready, some of them," Poe said, a tinge of disapproval in his voice. "They're already arguing over who'll down the most TIE fighters. Placing wagers too. Even after all that emphasis I tried to put on this being a team effort."
Rey's laughter burst forth, the sound free and unburdened by insecurity. The occasional snorts were almost too endearing for Poe to bear.
"What?" He asked, unable to stop himself from smiling along with her.
"That was just such a responsible statement coming from you. I hate to say it, but I think being Commander has tempered you."
"Terrible, isn't it? I have finally become the type of old killjoy I used to love ignoring when I was their age."
"How is it to get a taste of your own medicine?"
"Not all bad. At least I can enjoy the fact that I'm always right- very smugly, for that matter," he said with no shortage of sarcasm. "Oldness and wiseness and all that."
"You've certainly earned it," she said with a snicker.
He licked his lips and tried to think of something to say but it was difficult to be clever and conversational when one was also trying to stave off that harrowing old feeling. That wasn't how she saw him was it? All oldness and wiseness? Maybe he should have used a different phrase.
It's not like this was the first time he had pondered over their age difference. It started with Poe chiding himself for his wandering eyes which so often settled upon her from across the mess hall. But it wasn't her youthfulness which drew him in. He knew that right away. Rey exuded joy, and stubborn patience, and sublime curiosity.
And hope. Above all, she was hope.
He would find himself, head in his hand, expression utterly lost, just trying to get to the bottom of her. How had the barren desert, which had made itself so hostile to anything that dared to live and breath, nurtured something so unabashedly hopeful?
"Strangest thing," came her wandering words. Poe jumped, almost having become lost in the past.
"I haven't seen you in weeks, and I don't even miss you," Rey finished incredulously. Poe snorted, caught completely by surprise by the frank declaration.
"Real sweet of you, Sunshine, I haven't missed you either."
"Oh! Sorry- stars, that is not what I meant. I mean because we talk-"
"I don't even think I remember what you look like."
"Oh, stop it," she said, "I don't believe you."
"Seriously," he insisted. "And what was your name again? Was it Roy?"
"Hilarious."
"Thank you."
"I remember what you look like." She hummed inquisitively. "I think that makes me the better friend of the both of us."
"Is that so?" He said, his tone just daring her. "What color are my eyes, then?"
"Brown, obviously," she replied. "Mine?"
"Can I get a hint?"
"Poe!"
"Just givin' you a hard time," he said, shaking his head. Then, looking down at his hands, he was struck by the sudden desire to be bold.
"I don't know why I said I forgot what you look like. I didn't forget"
"I know."
"I mean, of course , I know what you look like," he said, heart racing, fighting to keep his nerves from reaching his voice. "You have hazel eyes. Brown hair. I couldn't forget."
She didn't reply, which was actually a good thing. Poe needed the momentum.
"And you're," he shook his head and blew out a puff of air, as if astonished, "I mean, Rey, you're a knockout."
"A knockout?" Rey said, as if she found the word to be quite ridiculous. "What in the galaxy does that mean?"
Poe frowned. Must she always be unwittingly chipping away at his artifice of the dashing and devil-may-care rebel pilot ? He would have to continue without the safety net of 'only teasing'. A daunting task. He took a breath to begin. Oddly, it was easier than he thought it would be.
"You're beautiful." It was quiet yet earnest and not without a hint of his trademark playfulness.
"Beautiful?" She said, at last. Incredulous. Voice quiet enough to be mistaken for a whisper.
"Yes," he said, making his feelings unequivocal. Was the sigh he heard one of offense? Indignance? Didn't matter. The truth tumbled out of his mouth like the last dregs of coin from a Sabacc players purse, so he might as well go all in.
"More so than anything I have seen in the entire galaxy."
Immediately, he regretted how much it sounded like he meant it. And it wasn't that he didn't mean it. Not at all. Poe just wasn't used to revealing so much of his heart.
"Please," she said. He could practically see the way those hazel eyes of hers might roll to accompany her wry tone. "You're having a laugh."
"Maybe," he said.
"The entire galaxy ," she said, putting on her best impression of him.
"Sheesh, gimme a break."
"A sunset is beautiful," she said, sounding slightly miffed.
"Well, I'm not-"
"A nebula is beautiful."
"Yeah, but-"
"The Millenium Falcon is beautiful." She sighed, sounding exhausted. "I'm not like those things. I'm Rey. Just Rey."
"Alright," he said, not feeling discouraged in the least. Poe had patience enough. Rey would believe him one day.
"Well, Just Rey, why don't you tell me about those plans of yours- the modifications you wanted for the Falcon?"
The awkward exchange was forgotten in an instant, as Rey happily detailed her grand plans. It was just what he needed, to hear her chatter away about the things that made her happy. Comfort and calm were fleeting the day before a mission and somehow the sound of her voice set his mind at ease.
The vast millions of stars stretched and pulled until they halted all around him. Exiting hyperdrive hadn't made him feel queasy since he was a boy and yet he felt something stirring in the pit of his stomach.
"All wings report in."
A massive rebel flagship - the Fortune - hovered behind them, gargantuan and armed to the teeth. They flew behind the cover of a looming purple gas giant. When they rounded it, there would be the enemy freighter they intended to plunder.
His squadron rattled off their assigned numbers and he squeezed his flightstick tight. BB-8 asked after his well-being.
"Jitters, pal. Just jitters. Let's do our best, okay? Bring these kids home safe."
A determined affirmative was the reply.
"Alright, you know the drill," he could feel his squadron snapping to attention at the sound of his voice. "General Organa needs a new pair of slippers so let's do this nice and clean. Lock S-foils in attack position. Target their comms first, we don't need anymore company."
There were only a few maddening minutes more before the freighter would catch sight of them, the
"Kestrel One, Rey here. How's my signal?
He chuckled.
"Hey, Hotshot." Now she was started on the nicknames. He didn't entirely mind.
"Well, well." The edges of his mouth curled upward. "Here to wish me good luck?"
"I- well, after yesterday I..." She trailed off. Rare was the moment she wasn't sure of what she was saying. With resolve she finished.
"Varnok offered me a last minute ride to Dendri."
"No kidding. Guess I'll finally see your face after all this time when I come back."
"So that's a promise?"
"That I'll see you?" The way he said it sounded cloyingly hopeful. It made him cringe.
"That you'll come back."
Poe paused. Rey was worried...about him? What a peculiar feeling. Exhilarating and terrifying.
"'Course, Rey. Always."
"Good. Good." She had to say it twice. The first time sounded too unsteady for her ears, he suspected. "Make the rebellion proud."
With that, she closed the communications feed.
The Rebellion. Right. He didn't have other, completely selfish reasons to not get killed in a dogfight on this particular day.
Around the edge of the swirling surface of the gas giant, they could see the trundling First Order shipping freighter, stark grey against black space. He pressed the throttle as far as it would go and his squadron followed.
A swarm of scrambled TIE fighters spilled out of the small accompanying carriers that flanked the freighter. Every worry he had was forced to the back of his mind as the Commander took over.
"Fortune, Kestrel One- am I coming through clearly? Fortune do you read?" Red warning lights flashed in his cockpit and the smell of important things burning overwhelmed the cockpit. A damned First Order TIE had clipped his fighter and he was beginning to think it wasn't merely a flesh wound. He smacked his console thrice.
"Damn! Comms are fried. Targeting computer too. Can't even get a read on friendlies."
BB-8 improvised in a panicked tone.
"What- no! What do you mean? I can't do anything until the computer is back up. Forget comms, I'm flying blind out here. Buddy, I need you to relax. What kind of magic can you work for me?"
BB-8 thought about it, his exposed head turning left and right as he desperately worked for a solution. Suddenly, an epiphany.
Beep. Bwoop-oop.
Poe nodded along.
"Okay, yes good. You can get it back online? And fast! Yes! This is why I love you. Right here."
Beewoop beep.
"But…? But what?"
Boop booweeeooop.
"But you have to take-" Poe froze, gripping onto his flight stick for dear life
"What do you mean you have to take Life Support Systems offline? Do not take Life Support Systems offline."
"Life Support Systems: Offline," Kestrel One notified him, in her austere monotone.
"Thanks for the warning," he said ruefully before sucking in a breath and holding it. Since his fighter was no longer producing oxygen for him, he figured it might be a prudent move. The droid's ministrations sent a flurry of sparks flying this way and that. BB-8 gave a quick apology and assured him it was only for a tick.
Or two.