One-Shot: At Night, Desperate to Sleep
"AHHHH!"
The high-pitched scream yanked Poe Dameron out of a deep sleep in the middle of the night. He was yanked from slumber so sharply, in fact, that he banged his head on the viewfinder of the Millennium Falcon, where he had been sleeping in the cockpit, curled up in the captain's chair. Rubbing his head, his eyes scanned to the co-pilot seat next to him; his girlfriend, Zorri Bliss, stirred with a whimper, but did not wake.
Deep in the hull of the ship, another sharp cry pierced the night, followed by a clatter - glancing back, Poe watched as Finn half-stumbled, half-fell out of the dejarik booth, rubbing the sleep from his bleary eyes that were now rapidly widening with concern.
Pilot and ex-Stormtrooper glanced at each other in horror.
"Rey!" The name was spoken shortly and in unison. Both men tore back towards the captain's quarters, getting in each other's way as they fumbled for the doorknob in their collective panic. Finally getting a hold on it, the pair burst into Han Solo's former rooms.
Rey Skywalker was sitting up in the cot, her face streaked with tears and sobbing. She was clutching a bundle of dark clothing in her fists, keening into it like a grieving Irish widow as she bitterly wept.
Poe and Finn's faces both slacked in relief, though it was a small comfort. Wordlessly, each man clambered up onto the mattress and pulled Rey into a tight embrace, flanking her on each side of the bed.
They wished they could say that this hadn't happened before, but it had - if not quite every night, then fairly close to it. Ever since Exogol, Rey had regularly woken up during the night, crying and screaming from nightmares. What these nightmares entailed went unexplained, or under-explained, the Jedi managing to get out little more than cryptic words as Poe and Finn rocked her.
The black pile of laundry she now clutched like some kind of morbid teddy bear was also of unknown origins. It had mysteriously appeared not long after Exogol, but Rey kept it close and regarded it covetously. Neither of her friends knew how she had come about it - cowl, cape, drawstring pants and undershirt - and Rey had not said. Poe and Finn knew better than to ask, preferring instead to quietly hold Rey as she cried.
"I... I see him... his face... every night... and I can never get to him! I can never save him! Why did he leave me alo-o-o-one?" Rey wailed.
The "him" Rey spoke of was also unknown. No name had ever been uttered to identify this phantom male, almost as if Rey was terrified to speak the name aloud. But whoever he was (or had been, as it had been heavily implied that he was dead), Poe and Finn had come to surmise that he meant something very special to their dear friend.
They had all lost people in the war - and with that loss, they would all have to find some way to get on. Except, as Poe and Finn worriedly glanced to each other over where Rey lay nestled and weeping between them, both of these men doubted whether Rey - the seemingly fearless Jedi hero - ever would get over the loss of her... sweetheart. Her true love. At least, that is what Poe surmised the mysterious him had been to her.
"Ssssssh... Ssssssh, Rey..." Finn crooned, rocking her. "You're not alone... we won't leave you alone..."
"We're here, kid..." Poe murmured. "We're here..."
They held her like that until, sagging between them in exhaustion, she cried herself to sleep.