Conveniently, Doctor Kalonia happened to be right outside Finn's room. As Poe exited, she hurried to him.

"Was that Finn I heard talking?" Kalonia asked incredulously. Poe nodded, smiling breathlessly. The doctor shook her head. "Poe Dameron, I swear, you are a miracle worker. We thought he wouldn't make it."

"Yeah, well . . ." Poe ran a hand through his hair. If only she knew. "I'm glad he's okay."

"Is he still awake?"

"Yeah," Poe replied. "I thought it might be best if you checked up on him, made sure he's really okay."

"Definitely," Kalonia promised. "As for you, Commander, I suggest you go to your room and rest. Any meetings you may or may not have can wait. Doctor's orders. I don't think you've slept since the attack on Starkiller, and then you go gallivanting off to who-knows-where for three days."

"I have slept," Poe protested. At Kalonia's withering glare, he amended, "A little."

The doctor patted his shoulder. "I'll send Finn your way once he's ready."

Poe nodded again and went on his way. He really did not feel like sleeping, but he went to his room anyway. No BB-8. The droid was probably in the hangar, complaining to Snap about Poe's extended "absence" in a "creepy forest".

Poe sat on the edge of his bed and got his guitarra out again and studied it. He ran his hand over the familiar patterns in the smooth wood and plucked gently at the strings. Without thinking, he set his fingers against the fretboard and just played. He didn't sing, didn't hum, just played his heart and soul out. His hand moved involuntarily from chord to chord, his fingers strumming and plucking the strings gently.

Everything came pouring out through the guitarra, every built-up pressure of pain, anger, guilt, remorse he'd felt since Ben's death. The hope and newfound fear he'd felt since he'd been rescued, and the love and joy that Finn inspired in him. The grief, the despair, the desperation he'd pushed through at Starkiller. And now. Confusion. Uncertainty. Relief. Doubt. He played Ben's story. He played Finn's story.

Poe played himself.

When he felt like he was finished, Poe let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. There were ruts in his left-hand fingertips where he'd pressed them against the strings, and he could feel blisters beginning to form on his right-hand fingers. This time, though, the pain felt clean, almost purifying.

"We'll have to do something about where to put you," Poe murmured to his guitarra, running his fingers over its worn body again. "And we'll change out your strings. Once I find some."

For now, Poe set his guitarra at the foot of his bed, neck resting against the wall. Poe leaned back into his pillows and closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply.

Sleep came not long after.


"You played beautifully, Poe."

Poe blinked, and Ben was sitting in the opposite bunk, dressed in his green-grey Pathfinder gear. "Ben?"

"Hey," Ben smiled.

"I'm dreaming," Poe said immediately.

Ben tilted his head. "What makes you say that?"

"I . . ." Poe faltered. "You can't be here."

"I'm only here because you want me to be," Ben said simply. "I can go if you want."

"No!" Poe blurted out. Softer, he added, "Please stay, Ben."

Ben flinched slightly as Poe called his name, but he came over and sat next to Poe.

Poe gazed into Ben's dark eyes, resisting the urge to brush Ben's space-black hair out of his face. He was almost afraid to ask. "Is it true? Are you alive, Ben?"

Ben looked away. "Barely."

Involuntarily, Poe laid his hand over Ben's, and the latter laced his fingers through Poe's, gently rubbing circles into the back of the pilot's hand with his thumb. Poe tightened his grip on Ben's hand. "What do you mean, barely? Are you hurt? Are you sick?"

Ben shook his head. "Not anymore. You fixed me, remember?"

"Ben, that was just a dream . . ." Poe broke off, realizing how redundant that sounded.

"This is a dream, too," Ben reminded him.

Poe nodded in frustration. "I know, I know." He sighed, remembering the second part of that dream. "Ben . . ." He couldn't bring himself to ask.

"I'm here, love," Ben said, pulling Poe into a warm embrace. Poe's arms wrapped around Ben's waist, and he pressed his ear to Ben's chest, listening to the steady beat of his ex-lover's chest. Ben's fingers threaded through Poe's hair, and he sighed softly. He looked up at the same time that Ben looked down, and their eyes locked onto each other, two matching sets of deep brown.

"Ben . . ." Poe murmured, and then their lips found each other's, all but crashing together. It was slow and hesitant at first, but desperation gave their kiss speed. Ben's tongue danced across Poe's lower lip, and he readily opened his mouth. He could feel Ben's fingers tightening in his hair as Ben's tongue danced with his own, and he pulled Ben closer. Ben moved from his mouth, and began trailing kisses all over Poe's jawline and neck. Poe moaned softly as Ben's kisses grew rougher, small bites accompanying the heat of his lips on Poe's skin.

The two of them fell backwards onto Poe's bed. Ben was on top, and it didn't occur to Poe that they needed to stop. Ben pulled Poe's collar open, his gaze momentarily lingering on Poe's scar before he continued. Poe's fingers wove through Ben's hair as Ben pressed kisses to his collarbone. Ben's tongue traced his scar, and the temperature seemed to drop thirty degrees.

Poe gasped in shock, shivering. "Ben . . . Ben, hang on."

Ben looked up. "What's wrong?"

"Cold . . ." Poe managed. "It feels so . . . c-cold."

A shadow passed over Ben's face. "I need to go."

"What? Why?"

Ben stood up, turning away from Poe. "Nothing. I just need to go."

Poe noticed an abrupt change in his voice and rolled out of bed. "Ben, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Ben's voice had turned to a snarl. Keeping his face hidden, he shoved Poe away from himself. "Stay away from me!"

Stunned by the sudden turn of events, Poe tried to pull Ben back, but as his hand approached Ben's arm, a visible shock of blue lightning arced between them. Warmth surged through Poe's hands, but at the same time, he felt an air of frigidity hanging around Ben. Ben roared in pain, and he turned and slapped Poe's face, hard enough to send him tumbling to the floor.

Poe gasped, more from the shock of Ben's ice-cold touch than the ensuing pain. He didn't have time to catch his breath before Ben's hands closed around his throat and shoved him against the wall. Poe's hands beat at Ben's wrists, trying to free himself.

"You did this to me!" Ben screamed. Poe stopped struggling for an instant when he caught sight of Ben's face. Half of it seemed to be the molten metal of Kylo Ren's mask, burned and branded into Ben's soft flesh. His eyes were a sickly shade of yellow, wide and bloodshot. A long scar ran down his right cheek, metal and blood oozing from it. "You made me this monster!"

Poe couldn't reply. He couldn't breathe. He tried his best to communicate to Ben that he was choking, but Ben couldn't seem to understand him. Rather, Ben didn't seem interested in trying to let him speak. Angrily, he continued.

"How do you think I felt? When they told me you were dead?" Ben's voice was filled with a rawness that Poe had never heard, a terrible combination of pain and anger. "That you were dead because of me, because I killed you? They told me that I'd put a lightsaber through your chest, and I believed it. I accepted it, and I learned to live with it. I did live with it. And then you come back from the dead, and I'm forced to hurt you again?" Something in his voice broke, and he let go of Poe, who fell on his hands and knees, gasping. He might have said something, some word of assurance, but Ben kept talking. "So I did. I hurt you. I wanted to. I was angry at you and angry at myself, and then you escaped, and then - " Ben waved his hands in frustration. "I thought that if you'd known, if you'd cared at all, you would have come back. But you never did, until I had to pull a blasted map out of your head. How do you think I felt?"

It was Poe's turn to shout. "How was I supposed to know you were alive? I woke up from that crash, and you were gone. Han told me you were dead. What else was I supposed to believe?"

"You knew who I was," Ben flashed back. "You saw me. You knew where I was, and what I was doing. I, on the other hand, never knew you were still alive. You are a pilot, one of many. There is only one of me in the galaxy, and you knew that."

"I knew a better man than you," Poe spat. "I don't know who I'm talking to now. You knew what they were doing to me on that ship, and you did nothing to stop it. That's not the Ben Solo I know."

"I did stop it," Ben seethed. "At first, I didn't want to. I let them have you because I wanted them to hurt you. To break you. I wanted you to suffer the same way I'd suffered. I was stronger without you. You were my one weakness, and when you were gone, I was invincible. But then you came back, so I had them hurt you. I could feel your pain on the Finalizer, and it felt good. You were broken. You were hopeless. You were ready to give up, and then I came to you. I thought you'd recognize me then. But still, you didn't. It was like there was a hole in your mind, like someone stole everything about us. You didn't respond. You didn't know me." He knelt and took a fistful of Poe's hair, and the pilot gave a small whimper of pain. "Why. Didn't. You. Know. Me."

Each word felt like a blaster shot to Poe's chest, and his anger turned to hurt and betrayal. "I mourned for you. I fought in your name. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Ben sneered, and he shoved Poe to the ground. "You fought for Ben Solo, but he is dead, and I live. You fight for nothing, Poe Dameron. You will die for nothing."

Ben's hand stretched out over Poe's face, and agony flared to life throughout his body. His mouth opened in a silent scream, and he writhed on the ground, desperately trying to free himself from a pain that was coming from inside himself, feeding off his energy, his life force -

Something tapped his forehead, and Poe's eyes snapped open. He found himself staring back at Leia Organa, an unknowable expression on her face. It took him a moment to make sense of his surroundings. He realized he was on the floor of his room, his legs half-tangled in a blanket. Leia was crouching over him, her hand over his face. Sitting up, he realized that Finn and Snap were in the far corner of the room, dual expressions of fear etched on their faces.

Poe took a few deep breaths to slow his racing pulse, still not yet recovered from his dream. He stammered, "What happened?"

Snap made as if to reply, but Leia beat him to it. "You were having a bad dream, Poe. Part of it was hurting you through the Force, and I had to force you awake."

Poe's eyebrows furrowed. "How is that even possible? Are you -? Am I - ?"

Leia and Snap shared a quick glance before she said, "Poe, I think it's time we talked about what really happened between you and Ben."