Poe is on the precipice. Will he fall over the edge?

XXXXXX

Poe looked around at the handful of officers in his stateroom. Every one of them he had known since before Exegol; they all had come with him from the Resistance. Every one of them was trusted. Every one of them was needed to win this war.

"Caleb came back with the recon of Malestare and it's not good news in more ways than one," he began. "They are using the old malsarr factory to build fighters. Now, we don't know how many pilots they may have, and it doesn't matter if they have no fighters to fly. So, how are we going to prevent them from getting more ships?"

"Hit and run," Haakon said with a grin. "Blow the factory to bits."

Poe nodded. "Right, only one problem, and it's a big one." He paused. "Recon also found out that at least three hundred human prisoners are being kept right next door to said factory." He watched as every face in the room fell. "So, what are we gonna do?"

Everyone was silent. Poe walked a path in front of his friends, arms folded. "Syver'cho?" he looked at the Mirialan. "How good are your commandos?"

Syver'cho raised his head. "Good enough to rescue three hundred humans. If we have the right intel."

"Would a layout of the plant and the surrounding area work?" Poe asked.

"That would be a start," Syver'cho responded.

"You get the prisoners out as covertly as possible, then both Sabre and Matrix Squadrons will go in and blast that factory to hell." Poe took a deep breath. "Timing will be everything. They'll be on the alert as soon as they realize what's going on with the prisoners, but we need to make sure those people are out of harm's way before we strike." He cocked his head at the small group. "What do you think? Is it doable?"

"I think it's not only doable," replied Sharla Gareth, one of Syver'cho's best commandos. "It's gonna be awesome. They're not gonna know what hit 'em!"

Her comment resulted in several head nods and smiles.

Poe gave a firm nod of his own and looked at Syver'cho. "I need you and Kip and Hvel to meet me back here in an hour to finalize this thing." Kip and Hvel were the squadron leaders. "Beaumont, if you could get a hard copy of those plans you found and bring them, I want you here, too." He took a deep breath. "Okay, guys. Nobody that's not in this room needs to know anything about this. You'll brief your squads immediately beforehand, no sooner. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!"

Everyone dispersed, and for a moment Poe was alone. He sat down at his desk and rubbed his eyes. This had to work. It would be a major victory for them, and would send the Traagmol into a tailspin.

There was a soft knock on the frame of his open door. He opened his eyes and looked over at Mikaela Dean.

"Hey, can I come in?" she asked, smiling at him, her blue eyes bright.

"Of course, Mik," he told her. "What can I do for you?"

"It's what I can do for you," she countered. "I know you haven't been yourself since you disappeared a couple of weeks ago." She paused. "I'm guessing you slipped away to see your new baby?" she asked quietly. "Anyway, I wanted to know if you needed to talk."

Poe narrowed his eyes at her, but he wasn't really angry. Mik had been nothing but a friend since she came on board, not even close to being the nuisance that he thought she would be. "Talk? Really?"

She shrugged. "I suspect you never visit the councilors on this ship," she frowned.

"We don't have enough of them to go around," he told her. "They don't need to waste their time on me when I have soldiers out there that face death every day."

"It would not be a waste of time," she argued. "You may be safer on this ship than those that go out in fighters or face the enemy on the ground, but you're still facing death every day. Their deaths."

He stood. "Mik, I know what you're saying, and I appreciate it." He walked over to her and grasped her lightly by her shoulders. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm doing okay." She was so small, he thought. He wasn't used to women so much shorter than him. "I did see my son. He's beautiful and healthy and safe." He cocked his head at her. "If I'm 'not myself,' it's only because I'm even more anxious than ever to end this war so I can go home." He wasn't exactly lying, but he wasn't telling her the whole truth, either.

She smiled again, and brought her hands up to his chest. "I know," she agreed. "I am very anxious to end this war, too." She looked up at him, her eyes moist. "But I'll miss seeing you every day," she whispered.

Poe felt like he was falling, only in a good way. Her eyes were so blue. And she smelled so wonderful, especially considering he had been surrounded by pilots and commandos most of the day. He leaned down, wanting so desperately to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. She met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his neck, pushing her chest into his.

She did taste as good, he thought. And then some. He felt her breasts pressing against his chest; they were large for her small frame, and he itched to touch them. He slid his hands along her sides in order to do so while her tongue tangled with his. That's when he felt it. The chain on the back of his neck. Subtle weight pressing it down. The almost burning heat of metal against his chest. It had been almost three years since he had worn it, but he could still feel it.

Shara Bey's ring around his neck.

He jerked back, breathing hard, staring at the woman in front of him. Her eyes were startled open by his movement, but they were still full of passion, her lips swollen and wet from his mouth. He stared at her in panic, not seeing her blue eyes, but a pair of hazel ones instead. Big and beautiful. Honest and caring. And the last time he had seen them, despondent and grief-stricken. He brought his hand up to his chest, knowing the ring was no longer there, but still feeling it. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I shouldn't have done that."

Mikaela licked her lips and blinked at him. "Poe?" She stepped toward him again. "Why?" she asked, her voice soft. Enticing. "If it makes you feel better, then why not?"

He shook his head and stepped back another step. "But it doesn't," he told her. "It would be like putting Maridun oil on an open wound. It may feel cooling and bring relief for a moment, but it will only cause the wound to fester and get worse." He swallowed. "I love my wife, Mik. I made promises to her that I will never break."

Mikaela pursed her lips, and he thought he saw a brief flash of anger in her eyes. He had never seen Mikaela angry. But then she blinked and it was gone. She smiled. "I understand," she told him. "You're an honorable man, Poe Dameron. Too bad your wife doesn't recognize how lucky she is." She gave him another sad smile, then turned and left the stateroom.

Poe rubbed his hands over his face and groaned. Kriff, what had he almost done? And why? Since the day he had been standing next to Leia watching Rey practicing with a lightsaber in the jungle of Ajan Kloss, Poe had never desired another woman. Rey had been like a dancer, graceful and practiced, every move controlled but fluid. They had been on Ajan Kloss for a few months, and Poe had already admitted his attraction to the Jedi-in-training to himself, but it was the first time he had been completely turned on by her. It had been so powerful he had to leave, worried Leia would sense it. For the next several months leading up to Exegol and beyond, he had continued to flirt and dance and spend time with other women, but it had never gone beyond that; they just didn't compare to her.

Rey.

He sank down on the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands. How could he have said those things to her? Did he really believe that she controlled him through the Force? It was ridiculous. It was insulting, to both him and her. Why had he felt such rage, such jealousy? Was it this war? Was it messing with his head? And if so, why was he still so clear headed and logical when it came to battle tactics and plans? He was so confused.

He should comm her, he thought. Apologize. Over the comm? Yeah, that would go over well. Nobody on Yavin probably wanted anything to do with him right now. For days after he returned, he learned of messages left for him. From Finn. From his dad. Even Rose.

None of them had been from Rey.

He took a deep breath and stood. The others would be here soon, and plans for the rescue/raid on Malestare would commence. He needed to focus on that. The only thing he could do now to make things right was to win this damn war so he could go home. Then he could spend the rest of his life apologizing to his wife.

XXXXXX