Far Away From Nowhere

Chapter 14: Spirits In My Head

After Finn left Poe's bedside, he generated a to-do list in his mind.

And it didn't matter how tired he was or how much he felt his eyelids were covered in glue. The list needed to be accomplished immediately.

First, he sought out General Organa. She was in the thick of the command center, and although it was buzzing with activity at about 10:00, Leia was locked in a small room with a host of security cameras. Finn rapped on the door, his determination the only thing keeping him sharp and alert at this point after a sleepless night.

"One moment," came a muffled voice behind the door.

Finn waited, hands folded behind his back, thinking about what he was going to say.

General, I respectfully resign.

I have thought about this a lot, and I must respectfully decline my duties as Commander.

It is a difficult decision, one that I have not made without a great deal of thought, but in light of recent events…

Finn practiced the lines over and over in his mind, but the fact remained that he was scared out of his wits to face the General. Luckily, Finn didn't have to wait long.

"Come in."

The ex-stormtrooper smoothly opened the door, and, upon entering, the little rehearsed speech flew out of his mind.

Not because she was sitting in front of the largest collection of monitors he had ever seen, all projecting a variety of images from areas around the base. Finn lost his words because it was all too obvious that the General had been crying. Recently.

Finn stuttered: "Sh-should I come back, General?"

Leia waved him forward, drawing the other hand under her eyes to wipe away excess moisture. Her peevish response spurred Finn on, and he was about to spill his request, but the General surprised him a second time by speaking first.

"I'm not letting you quit, Finn."

And then the Commander felt his jaw drop.

How could she possibly…?

A small kind of strangled gurgle came out of his lips instead of words, and Finn quickly cleared his throat. "I-I don't understand…"

"Call it a 'Force' thing. Or a twin thing." Her mouth drew into a tight smile. "Call it whatever you want. It has to do with this Dameron business, and you feel you've neglected his recovery. Am I right?"

In a feeble attempt to not trip over his own tongue, Finn managed to choke out, "Basically…Yes."

Leia clasped her hands, standing and sizing him up. Finn felt her gaze as a tangible thing, but her look was not unkind. Rather, it was a motherly stare.

"I can't let you shirk your position. You're too valuable to this cause."

Finn finally found his voice. "With all due respect, General. I just need more time. Three fewer missions a week. And extended meals."

Leia's eyebrows raised. She cocked her head. "One less mission a week."

The Commander wanted to pinch himself. Was he actually negotiating time off with the leader of the Resistance? "Two fewer missions. And two hours a day to help Poe get better."

Leia pursed her lips together, eyes narrowed in thought. She didn't look persuaded.

"He's the best damn pilot in the Resistance," Finn added. "You're gonna need him ready to get back in the game the minute his voice returns."

General Organa paused, then: "All right. You take the time you need for your friends."

Finn could have practically hugged the General, although that would have been extremely weird for both of them. It was enough that a tired smile broke out on his face, and he turned to leave.

And just when Finn was about to check off item number one on his list and move onto the other three, Organa stopped him in his tracks.

"I know what Rey's been doing."

Finn spun around on his heels, questioning, unsure if he was about to be informed or reprimanded for his friend's actions.

Leia always had fire in her eyes, but searching her face more closely, Finn found sadness there too, mingling with weariness.

"I've been watching her interact with my son over the past few weeks. I've seen them collaborate, bicker, laugh together, and ultimately fall apart." With this, Leia began to break down, and Finn wanted nothing more than to erase the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, this mother whose own son had committed unspeakable acts.

"I saw the light wash over him," Leia said, "but now it's gone again. Rey has made her decision. What he did—threatening Poe—was the last straw, it seems."

She wiped another hand across her eyes, as if annoyed by their wetness. "She was his only hope, I'm afraid. The only one who was willing to show him compassion. I've tried to talk to him, but he won't listen to me."

Then General Organa seemed to remember herself and cleared her throat, chuckling half-heartedly. "I'm sorry, Commander. I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to an old princess moan about her wayward son."

Finn immediately said, "No. I suppose… Maybe I was wrong about him."

The expression of surprise on the General's face only made Finn reaffirm his statement. What did he know about family? How could he possibly relate to Leia's situation? The closest thing he had to a family were the stormtroopers that lived in the same barrack as him growing up. But those boys were constantly moved, sent from base to base around the galaxy. He never knew anyone for very long to become friends with them. And his real family—Finn had no memory of them or their whereabouts.

"General," began Finn, licking his lips. "It might not be my place, but if you saw good in your son, and Skywalker saw good in him, then it exists. It's not your imagination. If Ben is somewhere inside Kylo Ren, then he needs you, and Rey, and all of us to bring him back. I only wish my parents would have done the same for me."

With a slight nod from his superior, the ex-stormtrooper turned and walked out of the security center. Finn could feel his eyelids droop with tiredness, but he persevered. The small smile on General Organa's face as he left, like a tiny spark of hope, had been enough to set his priorities straight and keep him going, if only for a little longer.

Three more things to do.

The Commander found BB-8 at the same charging station where it had been sent the previous night. Finn crouched down and pressed a button along BB-8's metal shell. Inquisitively, the droid came to life, white lights flashing as if Finn had just pulled it out of a fast-paced dream.

It beeped straight away, head spinning around, worried for Dameron.

Finn couldn't help but grin. Maybe that's why we get along so well, my friend. We're both perpetually worried about Poe.

The ex-stormtrooper gave the astromech good news: Re-assignment to Commander Dameron until further notice. BB-8 paused, as if it was letting the news sink in, and then it whooped for joy, gyrating in circles around Finn as he laughed tiredly.

Then BB-8 pulled back, swiveling its head to gaze at him. It emitted a short twitter and then a tone that Finn could only describe as a tonal sigh.

Finn smirked. "What?"

And then his exhausted and muddled mind understood. The droid thought Finn was displeased with it, that Finn didn't want to work with it anymore.

So Finn just stroked its head reassuringly. "No, no, it's not that. You've been the best companion I could have asked for. But Poe needs you more now. And I think you miss him too—am I right?"

BB-8 chirped an affirmative and left to find Dameron back in the med bay, but not before it nudged Finn's calf and bleeped a goodbye.

Finn wiped sleep from his eyes and headed back to his quarters.

Once there, he sat down at his desk and took out a piece of paper. It was so antiquated—this method of communication. But it was somehow fitting. Perhaps it was Finn's exhaustion, or his focus on setting things right that morning, but once he put pen to paper, the words flowed with no stops or starts.

Dear Rey…

He was finished in less than ten minutes. Finn folded the piece of paper carefully, creasing it in the middle, and regarded it for a moment in his grasp. Should he deliver it then and there? No, it wasn't the right moment. Instead, Finn placed it in a trouser pocket of his flight pants and zipped it shut. The right moment would come, and he would have the note with him.

Then Finn walked to his bed and collapsed upon it. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

Poe Dameron was running at about 65%. That's what BB-8 told him first thing that morning when he woke up from the wonky beep beep beep of the droid's alarm clock impression. And then the pilot threw a pillow at the astromech teasingly.

Stop scanning me, he wanted to tell it, but he wasn't awake enough to reach for his computer pad. And it had only been a week since he was released from the medical bay. Just a week since he got BB-8 back—his very own personal alarm clock and so much more that Poe couldn't even put it into words.

With BB-8 came a week of schedules revolving around food and sleep, each step of every day dictated by his astromech friend. He could hear BB-8's insistent signals beside him, a metal claw tugging at the sheets cocooned around his body.

First a glass of water. And then breakfast. People need breakfast in the morning.

It was strange to be re-learning the most basic of human functions. Even after his collapse, Poe was mystified as to how it ever got so bad. But then he would think of Kylo Ren sitting in the dark windowless cell, and his own terror would remind him. Dameron kept the fear in the back of his mind. So far, he was able to keep it at bay.

Dameron was running at 65%. But 65% wasn't bad. In fact, Poe would take it. Gladly. 65% meant that he only needed a robotic chair to travel long distances. He could feed himself, dress himself, and perform the lightest of duties. And every day these things got easier. Finn was with him every day now too, (mostly in the evenings) and Rey would check on him in the afternoons. And BB-8 was there, every minute, by his side.

Just having his friends with him was enough to distract him from the dark thoughts, the guilt. Having renewed energy filled Dameron with the rationality he had lacked for the past month; he knew his mother's death wasn't his fault, that the massacre on Jakku wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help dwell on the idea that he could have done something more.

I should have done something.

And been skewered in an instant by Kylo Ren? the other half of him thought. Yeah, that would have worked out really well.

Poe stood in his refresher before leaving for breakfast, and he gazed at his mirror. A shudder ran through him as he was reminded of the last time he had looked into it with any interest and the familiar face from his childhood who had stared right back. But this time, his own visage was the only image in the glass. Dameron checked his face like one would check the mileage on a podracer. Pronounced creases under eyes, but not so pronounced as before. Getting better.

Rey called it "progress." Finn called it "goal-setting." Poe called it "a waste of time."

Because he still couldn't speak. And that meant he still couldn't fly.

Softly, so BB-8 wouldn't hear in the other room, Poe tried clearing his throat, swallowing a few times. He glanced at himself in the mirror, raising his right hand up and pressing it on the side of the glass, leaning into it, concentrating. This was part of his new routine, albeit a secret one.

Poe opened his mouth and tried to speak.

A whisper trickled out, no more than a faint rattle. Dameron cleared his throat and tried again with the same results.

Poe took a quick breath, his eyes misting over with the frustration he felt, with his helplessness. But BB-8's worried chirps pulled him out of his own problems and back to the present.

Breakfast now. Try to speak later.

The pilot exited the fresher smoothly, giving BB-8 a thumbs-up and a winning smile. No sense in worrying the droid further. And his companion beeped enthusiastically, lilting out a host of plans for the day. In fact, the astromech had packed so many appointments into the day that Dameron wasn't sure they'd be able to get to all of them. But Poe knew that BB-8 was trying to keep his mind occupied, and for that the pilot was extremely grateful.

Over a generous helping of fluffy sweet bread and slices of various fruits, BB-8 trilled on about the day's agenda (sitting in on meetings, a mid-morning snack, working on a faulty engine of a starfighter, lunch, decorating Poe's quarters, another snack, dinner, watching a holovid with Finn) and Poe realized how loquacious the droid had become lately while being in his presence. Probably to make up for the lack of Dameron's usual chattiness. But Poe didn't really mind it. He supposed he had learned something after all from this unexpected absence of speech: the importance of listening.

Dameron swiveled in his seat when he felt a tug on the smooth brown leather of his jacket and noticed Finn standing behind him. Poe was about to berate him electronically for sneaking up on him, but that's when he noticed that Finn's left arm was in a sling, and a new cut marred the corner of his lip. He was wearing the standard orange jumpsuit of a pilot, helmet hanging at his side.

Fresh from a mission, Poe thought.

The pilot was about to stand, his arms outstretched inquiringly, making room for his friend to sit beside him at the mess table, but Finn waved him aside.

"No, it's fine. I ate earlier. Don't get up."

Dameron wanted to smack Finn with his own politeness. His heart was hammering in his chest as he fumbled for the computer pad, jabbing a cryptic message:

WHAT HAPPENED?

Finn glanced at the note and shrugged. "Ran into a few… problems on the last mission around Felucia."

Dameron gestured again for the younger man to sit down, and Finn eventually complied, easing onto the bench gingerly. Poe was deliberate to give Finn extra room so he wouldn't accidentally jostle the injured arm. Seeing his friend hurt was yet another reminder how he should have been in Finn's place, not the other way around.

ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?

The Commander nodded. "Just a sprain."

Aside from the injuries and worried eyes, Finn looked happier recently—probably because he had given up some of his responsibilities as Commander. The ex-stormtrooper leaned over to BB-8 beside the mess table and patted its head while it cooed a greeting. Poe finished his breakfast, licking a smidgeon of icing from the bread off his fingers.

Finn leaned over, whispering in his ear. "Got something I need to show you."

Poe scanned his friend, trying to discern what exactly was going on. There was something urgent about Finn's tone that he didn't like.

Dameron nodded and stood up, BB-8 whistling a string of positives because he had managed to finish another meal. The droid always did this, as if it was his master, a life coach of sorts. But Poe didn't mind the praise. He gave his buddy another thumbs-up and slid out of his seat, reaching to help Finn, but the Commander waved him away again. Poe picked up his computer pad and typed.

WHERE ARE WE GOING?

"Hangar bay," Finn muttered, and they took off.

Along the way, the ex-stormtrooper rambled on, and Poe eventually realized his words amounted to a bunch of excuses. But excuses for what?

"They came out of nowhere... Actually, the General is beginning to suspect that there's a spy in our midst… I wouldn't have asked you to help, but you know this craft better than anyone on the base, and it's scheduled for another mission at the end of the week…"

BB-8 trundled alongside them, chirping a query.

Finn sighed in reply. "Just… See for yourself."

Before Poe knew it, they had reached the hangar, opening up before them like an unexpected present. Sitting in one corner, still smoking like a spent Vulptereen, was something so close to Poe's heart that he had never forgotten it, even when he was lost.

The droid beneath him whirred in bursts of chatter, spinning around as if it was distressed. Or perhaps it was anticipating Dameron's reaction.

All things considered, Poe took it pretty well when he saw the damage on Black One.

Consciously shutting his mouth after it dropped open, Poe walked slowly towards the battered T-70 X-Wing like a man in a dream.

"I'm really sorry," murmured Finn behind him. "I know the ship means a lot to you…"

Poe may have seemed stoic, but he wished he could have shouted out every expletive known to the galaxy at that moment. His heart pulsed frenetically as he approached his old craft and examined the hull. He perused the shattered windows and cracks through the blaster cannon underneath.

Behind him, Finn continued his apologies, his voice becoming more strained with each sentence: "I know it looks bad, but the thrust engines are solid. Nothing wrong with the hyperdrive…"

As BB-8 finished making a circular inspection of the vehicle, it beeped preliminary findings to Poe, and Dameron heaved a sigh of relief. Just what he had assumed: the damage was superficial and more cosmetic than anything. The X-Wing would fly again with only minimal repairs.

Poe rubbed his jaw, mentally planning the adjustments when Finn stepped beside him. Dameron hadn't realized how distraught the younger man was until he saw the utter guilt on his face, hands wringing, teeth clenched together.

The astromech cooed a reassurance, and Poe placed a hand on Finn's shoulder gingerly, smiling.

"Are you going to kill me now or kill me later?" Finn asked softly.

Poe would have chuckled if he had the ability. Instead, he grasped his computer tablet in hand and punched out the words Finn needed to hear from him.

I'M JUST GLAD YOU'RE OK. YOU THINK I CARE MORE ABOUT THE SHIP THAN YOU?

Finn's eyes widened when he read the message, and he stumbled over the words. "N-no, I… I just thought you were gonna lose it when you found out…"

Dameron sighed, shaking his head.

Finn looked down, a rare flash of innocence and emotion showing on his face. "It's just that… Sometimes I forget…"

Poe tried to catch Finn's gaze, questioning his next thought.

"Sometimes I forget that the Rebellion isn't like the First Order."

HOW SO?

Finn glanced at the computer message. "Ships were more important than people."

Dameron felt the sentence sting him with emotion, and he was forced to remember that this was all new to Finn—this life of relative freedom and personal liberties. Did Finn have many friends back in the First Order? Poe was nearly one hundred percent certain that he didn't. So Poe took the computer tablet and began crafting a fairly eloquent (and somewhat sappy) reply, but then BB-8 spouted a series of blips in astromech that more profoundly and simply stated Poe's feelings. The Basic equivalent was: You are more important to us than you know.

How could Poe top that? So he just composed a short sentence and showed it to his friend.

WHAT THE DROID SAID.

A small smile hovered over Finn's face before he crouched underneath Black One, probably wanting to show Poe more damage, but then came a familiar voice from behind them.

"I heard the fleet recently returned..."

The pilot spun around and BB-8 spouted cheerful blips as another of its favorite people appeared.

Rey.

She was beaming, placing a calming hand on BB-8 as it swiveled in circles around her.

"How are you?" she greeted.

Dameron nodded his head to show he was well and jabbed a thumb at the spacecraft to indicate his current problem.

Rey admired the X-Wing behind him. "I can see that." Then she averted her eyes, as if trying to decide what to say. Eventually, Rey muttered, "Do you have a free moment? I need to tell you some—"

And then Finn revealed himself, coming out from the shadows of the damaged X-Wing, and the Jakkunian stopped as if she had been turned into stone.

"Rey, I…" Finn reached for his pants pocket, hand hovering above it, and his words trailed off.

Poe flicked his gaze from Finn to Rey and back to Finn again. In those few seconds, he noticed the apology on Finn's face and the flash of anger turned to concern on Rey's when she viewed the abrasion on his lip, his arm in a sling. It was as if Rey was drifting between two possible reactions: whether to lash out against the ex-stormtrooper or rush in and embrace him. It pained Dameron to be in the middle of his friends' conflict and with no access to a voice.

If I could shout, I'd tell them to knock it off.

What good would become of this feud, anyway? They had precious little hours to spend together. And this was the first time the three had been in the same vicinity since Poe woke up after collapsing.

Rather than choosing spite or comfort, Rey's eyes turned downcast. In this way, her decision was more painful; she was simply ignoring Finn.

"I understand if you can't get away…"

Poe licked his lips, catching Finn's eyes, trying to gauge his input, but the ex-stormtrooper's shoulders were slumped in defeat.

BB-8, ever observant, rolled over to Poe and then rested beside Finn. It changed the subject, beeping about helping Finn with some diagnostics on Black One before Dameron started fixing it. Poe nodded at the Commander, making it clear that he would return soon, and followed Rey.

They walked quietly, which was perfectly fine with Poe. The longer he didn't have a voice, the more his friends felt they had to be constantly chatting to fill the void. But, of course, Rey realized the importance of silence. Besides, she walked with her head bowed, lost in thought.

Probably trying to get over seeing Finn.

It wasn't until they were outside and almost to the Millennium Falcon when Rey abruptly stopped and faced Poe.

"He's all right, isn't he? Finn?"

A smile flickered across Poe's face. He typed on the computer tablet.

YES

Relief spread across Rey's face when she read the message, and she beckoned Poe to walk up the ramp of the Falcon, following along behind him. He meandered through its short corridors, marveling at the legendary craft, remembering hours he had spent reading about the exploits of the famous Han Solo. He knew the path to the cockpit by heart, and he paused before sitting down in the pilot's seat, not wanting to overstep his bounds.

Rey gestured to the spot, and Poe complied, sinking into its soft cushion, the flight console spread out before him. He felt like a child again, his eyes lighting up with wonder.

"Sometimes I come here to be alone," Rey said softly.

Poe swiveled in his seat to examine her. Rey's eyes were far away but then snapped back immediately. She took a quick breath, as if having made her decision.

"You look much better," she said.

Poe shrugged.

Rey asked, "Do you feel better?"

He shrugged again.

Rey swallowed. "I think I can help you with that."

Dameron cocked his head, intrigued, wondering what Rey could possibly be thinking about.

"You see…" She took another deep breath. "The Force showed me inside your mind on Vera 5 when Kylo Ren… I saw the clearing, the cave, the tree…"

Poe's mouth opened in shock, his pulse quickening. Unstoppable memories threatened to spill into his vision, accosting his senses, buzzing in his ears. He remembered the boy in black, and there had been another figure too… a girl…

"I know you're haunted by what he made you see in the fire," Rey continued. "But I saw… something different. Something that he blocked from you. I think it would help if you saw what I saw… Do you want me to show you?"

Poe's eyes shone with a combination of curiosity and fear. He nodded once, twice.

Rey closed her eyes and raised a hand to Poe's forehead. Then her fingertips brushed his temple. The cockpit vanished, along with Rey, and Dameron smelled smoke and felt the heat of flames.

TBC

A/N: Action should be building in the next few chapters after this lull. Special thanks to Sina, Pricklefritz, and Neon Wish Likes Pine Trees. You all rock and deserve an extra dozen cyper cupcakes sent your way!