The blast is enough to shake the entire ship and alarms blare at her, indicating that the gunner post has been disabled. The sensors show that Poe is still strapped in to the seat. When she frantically yells his name over the comm system, though, he doesn't answer and all she hears is static. She knows this can't be good.

There's no time to waste so she quickly turns and chases down the fighter responsible for this and makes quick work of it. With a few more shots the rest seem to scatter and withdraw, which leaves her able to quickly turn and land the ship in an empty expanse of land far from any seeming civilization.

It takes her barely thirty seconds to power everything down and run down the hall to where the gunner post is. When she reaches the mouth of it where Poe would have lowered himself into the seat, there's a thick piece of durasteel sealing it off from the rest of the ship that won't budge; the automatic lock activated when the bolt struck. She shouldn't be surprised; it's a smart design decision as it would minimize the damage to the rest of the ship by containing it to only the gunner. It doesn't serve to settle her anxiety, however.

The button to lower the ramp is the first to be on the receiving end of her panic when she punches it harder than strictly necessary. She doesn't even wait for the ramp to fully lower to the ground before she's running down it, jumping off the end, and quickly making her way to where she knows Poe will be.

The sight before her causes her to stop in her tracks. The protective hatch around where Poe is strapped in has all but been destroyed from the blast and he's clearly been struck in many places by the debris as well as probably from the blast itself.

"No, no, no, this can't be happening." She runs over to him and reaches a hand up to press against his pulse point in search of some sign he's alive. There is none. She can barely believe it.

Carefully, using her light saber, she cuts away at the restraints and breathing mask ensnaring him until there's enough space for her to slip her arms under his and pull him from the seat he's wedged in. He's heavier than her— much heavier— but levitating boulders with the Force had been a helpful exercise for this moment as she uses her skill to assist where her muscles can't support his weight.

When she's carefully laid him out on the ground, she checks again for a pulse. Cold panic washes over her as once again she can't find one. This can't be happening; they're not even to the Finalizer yet. They haven't even reached their first check point officially! This mission was always going to be dangerous, potentially fatal to them both, but not this early.

Years ago Rey saw another scavenger bring his companion's pulse back with compressions to the man's chest and breathing into the man's mouth. When Rey had asked him later why he did that, the man told her that the compressions could restart someone's heart when it stopped beating and the breaths helped get the person to start breathing again; both vital things for someone to live.

It's fortunate that she vividly remembers what the man said to do and what it looked like as that is what guides her actions next. Placing one hand over the other she begins chest compressions, hoping that they work. She pauses after about fifteen to pinch his nose with one hand and, after opening his jaw, breathing into his mouth three times. She tells herself she'll apologize for such an invasion of personal space later.

Halfway through the second round of compressions she feels dread creep up on her and tears begin sliding down her cheeks. Her actions seem meaningless as she watches him and sees no change.

"Come on, Pilot! You can't give up this easily!" She breathes into his mouth again and more quietly adds, "don't leave me like this, Poe."

All of the moments of trading jabs and scowling at each other swim through her mind accompanied by a twinge of regret. Sure, they had disliked each other for quite a while but things had started to shift recently and those moments of anger and irritation seem wasted when she considers the man lying before her. That moment of closeness between them hours ago had shifted things further and in a direction that she didn't previously think possible. But none of that will matter if she can't revive him.

There's still no pulse as she begins her third round of chest compressions. She's just about to give in to her fear and grief when she suddenly notices him flinch and her own heart nearly stops in relief.

He suddenly gasps for air, looking around him. The world is somewhat blurry and glaringly bright for some reason. It hits him then that he has no recollection of the past several minutes, not even of landing the ship. For the first time he looks up at Rey's face—the stricken look and tear tracks—and he can surmise what happened. He tries to sit up but she pushes him back down.

"You're still injured. Don't move."

"Why?" He's confused as he watches her shift on her knees next to him. "What are you doing?"

"Force healing. Don't. Move."

It's a strange sensation, feeling someone bind your wounds through what he could only really describe as a co-mingling of their beings and energy. The very fact that this is happening is nothing short of miraculous. He can barely comprehend what's transpiring; that someone would do something like this for him. And it's her, of all people.

He chastises himself inwardly; he shouldn't be surprised by that just like he shouldn't be surprised by how captivated he is by her. It may be just striking him now but he knows that for a while he's been denying what he feels welling up in a way that won't be ignored any longer.

She leans back, breathing heavily as though she's just finished running a long distance.

"There; you can move now."

"What did you do?"

"I repaired all of the internal bleeding and broken bones."

"No, I mean before— when I was unconscious."

"I revived you— your…you didn't have a pulse." She appears almost shy about the admission, like she did something wrong instead of saving him.

Before she can move very far or either one of them can think about it too much, he props himself up on an elbow and reaches up with his other hand to pull her down to him. They meet in a kiss that is both gentle and hungry simultaneously; one made of deep need and longing as well as sweet affection. After what seems like both an eternity and barely any time at all, they pull apart and Rey finds herself looking into chocolate brown eyes that she could drown in.

"Stop trying to kill yourself." She almost cringes at that being her immediate response but between the kiss and frantically trying to revive him, her thoughts are jumbled and fleeting. To her relief, she sees a small smile grow across his face.

"Trying? Jedi, I'm a focused man; I actually did kill myself that time." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, searching her eyes for some indication of whether she is feeling the same electricity he is. "And if you keep saving me like that, I'm going to start thinking you want me."

"That's ridiculous. You can't possibly both love and hate someone."

"Most people call that marriage. But who said anything about love, Jedi?" He smirks at her flustered appearance as she realizes her mistake. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

He struggles slightly to push himself up to a sitting position at her side so close that his thigh touches hers. Before he can talk himself out of it, he slips his left arm around her waist, effectively securing her to him. She can't run away from this conversation now.

"I think you wouldn't insist on saving me all the time if you hated me." He stops and feels his smile grow and the warmth of affection wash through his body. "I think you actually like me even if you say you hate me. I think you wanted me to kiss you, even."

She scrunches her nose at that. "But you're so old."

He barks out a laugh at her statement. It is true, seeing as he's twelve years older than her. He can't help but think that to her he probably seems ancient.

"You don't care and you know it." He snakes his right arm around her and pulls her toward him just enough that their faces are only about a hand's width apart. "It doesn't matter what age I am; you like me and not the way you like Finn or anyone else. You want to be with me." His gaze is unwavering as he leans forward, skimming the tip of his nose along hers. His voice drops to a low, quiet timbre, almost a whisper, when he continues. "You saved me. You were relieved and happy when I woke up. You cried over me and you yell at me to stop trying to kill myself because you like me. I died and you brought me back to life. You brought me back from the dead, Rey."

She scrunches her nose again at his remark. "Uck, I put my lips on a corpse."

He doesn't hold back the low chuckle that rattles his chest as he leans forward just enough that their lips finally meet again. The kiss is slow, as if they have all the time in the galaxy to savor each part of this, even though they know they don't. The planet around them could burn to ash and it wouldn't be enough to pull their attention from this.

When they finally do break the kiss, he places another to her right cheek. Then, with his lips grazing her ear, he whispers, "and now you've put your lips on a living, very happy man."

He's not sure what to expect as a response, so he's pleasantly surprised when he feels her arms tighten around him, holding him in an embrace while a laugh escapes her. Even more, he's surprised when she turns her head to burrow her face into the crook of his neck. It's enough to send his heart rate soaring, though he feels more relaxed and happy when he realizes that her pulse matches his. The sniffle that comes from where she's still hidden herself against his neck catches his attention, though.

"Hey, Jedi, why the tears?" The words are quiet against her ear and he strokes her hair as he talks. "Tell me what's going on."

"I was scared that you were gone." It's so quiet that he almost misses it but he's glad he doesn't.

He knows that he should be sad right now. He knows he should feel immensely guilty that she's crying and feeling this much pain over him. He knows he should be worried. And he is all of those things but beyond just that, he's also a bit happy, excited, satisfied, and maybe proud that it is him she's fretting over. It does feel good to know he has that type of affection and meaning to someone else; that he is cared about so deeply. There's been an extended amount of time since he's felt that. Sure, he's a terrible flirt— something he knows he'll have to rectify if they survive this— and he has had some flings over the years but he hasn't had a relationship in which he really and truly felt like his partner valued him this way. Really, he doesn't think he's felt anything close to it outside of his relationship with his father and grandfather and that is obviously very different.

"But I'm not; I'm right here, Rey. And it's because of you, my Jedi. It's because you're wonderful and ridiculous and so damn stubborn and bossy. Even when it grates on me I know I can't do anything other than what you tell me to do. I couldn't stay dead if I wanted to."

He presses a kiss to her temple before wrapping his arms around her again, tighter than last time. They stay like that wordlessly, slightly rocking in silence. Even though her face is splotchy and her eyes are rimmed with red when she looks up at him, he can only think right then she's the most beautiful woman he'll ever meet. He has a sneaking suspicion that's not going to change for him.

"Are you OK?"

She nods and belatedly croaks out a weak 'yes' but avoids eye contact.

"I meant what I said, Rey. Everything about you draws me to you, even if you drive me nuts."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment? You're not very good at this, are you, Pilot?"

"I drive you nuts, too, and you know what I mean. I'm drawn to you in a way I can't ignore."

"You have the worst timing, Dameron."

"So do you because I'm certain I'm not the only one feeling this way." He pulls away in favor of pushing himself up to standing. "Come on, we're still in the middle of a mission. We should take a look at the damage to the ship."

"Right."

She stands quickly and wobbles as she reaches her feet. The energy has drained from her fully— she knew it would but had held out hope that it wouldn't be this drastic.

"Are you OK?" He's quick to wrap a steadying arm around her waist. "Rey?" She can hear the concern laced in his voice.

"Force healing always takes a toll on the Force user doing it." Her breaths are more shallow now as if she'd just run a long distance instead of sat on the ground next to him. "The more severe the wound, the more draining it is."

"So this is because you saved me?"

"Don't sound so guilty. I'll be fine."

"Let's get you into the ship to rest, then. We can fix the ship later."

By the time they reach the crew quarters, she's shivering and cold to the touch.

"Is this supposed to happen, Rey?"

"It's fine. I just need to get warm." Her words are slowed by the chattering of her teeth.

"You're not convincing me too well when you can't stop shivering."

The bed in the crew quarters is surprisingly nice, which, when Poe had first seen it, further confirmed his suspicions that the ship was meant for use by an officer of at least moderate rank. Overall the room itself is small but not cramped, featuring a small table and space for a crew member to place belongings for longer trips. Early in the morning on the day they had departed, Poe had dropped off his own belongings in the room next door, which is the mirror image of this one.

The blanket is adequate for normal circumstances but Poe notes that he'll need to fetch more as he pulls back the blanket and sheet for Rey to slip into the bed. Once she's settled and he's removed her boots, he pulls the blanket around her and turns to leave.

"Don't go." Her hand shoots out to grasp his wrist in an uncharacteristic display of need.

"I'm just going to get more blankets for you. I'll be right back." His smile is gentle as he steps out of her reach.

He returns several moments later, his arms laden with a few more blankets— every single blanket he could find in the ship— and busies himself covering Rey with them. She's still awake, her eyelids fluttering with the tell tale signs of fatigue as she watches him work.

"You should go to sleep, Jedi. Don't worry— I'll keep myself from dying while you do." She frowns at his joke so he decides to change the subject. "The door to the ramp needs to be closed so we don't get any unwanted visitors. It will only take a moment."

As much as Rey had admonished him not to feel guilty about her current state, he can't help but be addled with it as he walks to the back of the ship and punches the button to close the door. He wants to believe that she will be fine but her constant shivering and fatigue worries him that she's playing off a condition that is more serious. Even if she can recover, will it be enough for her to have the strength to fight Snoke? Has he unwittingly endangered the entire mission and her life?

By the time he returns to her bedside, his mind has traveled to dark places it usually does not reach. Many regard him as optimistic and positive— how surprised any of them would be to see him at this moment. He must be thinking too loudly because Rey looks up at him with intense concern as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and rests a hand on her cheek.

"You haven't endangered anything, Poe. I'll be back to normal in the morning."

"How do you know that?"

She rolls her eyes at him, at least not so out of it as to have lost her unrelenting needling. "Because Master Luke told me." Her teeth chatter throughout her words, further concerning him.

"Here." His jacket shrugs off his shoulders and falls to the floor with a soft thud and he quickly unties his boots and pulls them off. It's difficult not to disturb the layers of blankets covering her so much that it exposes her to the cold as he slips under them, but he tries as best as he can. Turning on his side he opens his arms to her. "You'll get warmer quicker with extra body heat."

It's only a few seconds of hesitation before she nods and slides the short distance to rest flush against his chest. His arms wrap around her while hers come up so her hands can grasp on to the front of his shirt and both of them revel in how this feels natural. It's him who voices it.

"I don't wanna sound too sentimental but this? It just feels right."

She doesn't answer immediately but turns her head so her ear is pressed against his chest so she can hear his heart beat.

"I know."

It's a whisper but he doesn't care— it's all he needs to hear.

Slowly he runs his hands over her back, hoping to both soothe and warm her more quickly. It's not long before her breaths deepen and even out and her body relaxes against him. When the tug of sleep comes he doesn't fight it, figuring that he can doze for a while— after all, he did die and come back to life today.