Chapter Two
Nothing in the universe can travel as fast as light, they say, forgetful of the shadow's speed.
She couldn't remember the last time she had slept peacefully.
It was the same every night: collapsing into bed, sometimes still fully dressed, and falling into emptiness out of pure exhaustion. Then, in no time at all, she would startle awake, gasping for air, beaded with sweat, her anxiety creeping up her spine like a poisonous serpent.
Her nightmares were almost always about Ben. More recently, they were comprised solely of Han. Each began in blissful memory, each ended in aching agony.
Tonight, however, was completely different. And distinctly disquieting.
She needed to talk to Luke.
Throwing her hair up unceremoniously and donning the same robe she wore when nursing her newborn son, General Organa marched purposely through the empty hallways, long abandoned by an ancient civilization lost to the tales of history. The rough stone had smoothed with the passage of time, the dim lighting illuminating the soothing gold specks of clay speckled within each brick.
The massive fort was shaped like a wishbone; the living quarters on the left spoke and the training and convening rooms on the right spoke, with the command center located on the shared branch. Knowing exactly where to find her brother, the general took the main staircase up three flights, quietly pushing open the heavy stone door and stepping out onto the roof.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, the crispness of the snow-capped mountains taking her back to her childhood, to Alderaan. It brought her warmth, comfort – two scarce emotions, both of which she had forgotten how to enjoy. Almost.
"Did you see her? In your vision." Luke's voice rang out from her right. She opened her eyes and locked onto her brother's hooded figure. His back was to her as he looked out over the craggy foothills, but she could tell his shoulders were hunched and his soul was troubled.
"I saw her. And I saw him," she responded.
She saw him nod somberly, still facing away from her. "She's…precocious."
General Organa nodded and shrugged. "Of course she is. Look at her lineage."
Luke shook his head. "It's more than that. This is surprising, even for her."
"Yes, well, when we're left to fend for ourselves because no one else has the strength or nerve to, women tend to be full of the biggest surprises for the rest of you." She cringed inwardly. That sounded much harsher than she had intended. But she stood by each word she uttered.
Luke lowered his head. "Your resentment is clear and just."
Suddenly, she was overcome with emotion, and she simply couldn't contain it anymore. "Dammit, Luke, I don't need anyone to tell me that my feelings are legitimate and true, least of all you. Ben was why I smiled and laughed and lived and breathed. The day he was born I swore that I would dedicate my life to ensuring the moral and ethical governance of this galaxy, knowing without a doubt he would be by my side, fighting to realize this cause. He was my reason, Luke, my reason. Then my son – my son – fell to hatred. And as I tore my bleeding heart off of the ground, I turned around and had no one. My husband cut and run and quickly as he could, and my brother – my brother – disappeared to the outermost rim of the galaxy as if he were some runaway, starry-eyed child, requiring me, with my soul still in pieces and mourning for my family, to go traipsing across the universe in search for him."
Her eyes were fire and her tongue was sharp. "So don't you dare use your supposedly worldly wisdom to condescend to me."
She saw her brother physically wince, the pain evident as his shoulders hunched even further forward, as if trying to protect his ears from additional vicious verbal blows.
She sighed. General Organa didn't share her emotions; it didn't come easily, and she didn't like the accompanying inevitable consequence of vulnerability. But when she did, it was because she had an unquestionable, undying, passionate love for the receiver. No matter of tone, accusation or wording could ever lead either of them to, even for one second, question that they both loved each other deeply.
Heavy silence followed for what seemed to be a very long time. Neither sibling spoke, neither moved, neither conceded and neither attacked. They stood, in pure equilibrium, allowing the fresh emotional scars, while still smarting, to scab over with fresh skin. To be reminded of what had been said, but to begin anew.
He spoke first. "She'll turn."
The general nodded. "I know." She paused, watching the dawn break, a wispy breeze and gentle mist tickling her face. "But it'll be different."
Luke turned to face his sister for the first time in the daylight. His blue eyes shone brightly under his simple brown hood, a boyish contrast to his tired and line-drawn face. General Organa found herself suddenly overwhelmed with love and sympathy for her brother. Moving quickly, she threw her arms around his shoulders, feeling his strong arms circle her waist. She squeezed him tightly, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. In that moment she swore to herself that after losing her husband and most likely her son, she would die before anyone took Luke away from her.
"Everything will be different," he said, still holding his sister close.
She opened her eyes, staring over Luke's shoulder as the sun rose completely in the sky, no longer blocked by the icily peaceful mountains. "Everything already is," she responded quietly.
….
Finn hadn't stopped fuming since he found out there would be no reconnaissance mission or attempt to rescue Rey.
He hadn't slept for days, found food repulsive, and wanted to rip the head off of anyone who came near him and asked him if he were okay or recommended that maybe he should go to the medical bay to get a physical or questioned why didn't he trust General Organa because she knew what was best in apparently every situation that ever happened.
Bullshit, he sneered angrily to himself. These people weren't who he thought they were.
His only saving grace had been Poe, although as of right now, Finn thought even he deserved a punch in the face. The pilot sat on a stone bench in the convening room, eating an apple, eyebrow cocked, watching Finn closely as he paced back and forth in between the rows of the auditorium.
Crunch.
"How's the apple?" Finn asked, pointedly annoyed. On top of everything, he hated hearing people chew their food. And Poe was the worst with this.
Crunch.
"Crunchy," Poe said with a full mouth, grinning like a kid.
"Lovely," retorted Finn.
Crunch.
"Buddy, are you ever going to stop?"
Still pacing, scowl firmly etched across his face, Finn looked at Poe. "Stop what?"
Crunch.
"Walking back and forth like that. It's making me nervous."
"Well you know what makes me nervous? I'll tell you what makes me nervous," Finn snapped, pausing momentarily to face Poe, who was still happily chomping on that goddamn apple.
"It's this apple, isn't it? This apple is making you nervous."
Finn ignored Poe's snarky comedic comment. "Your friends. This whole…thing," he gestured grandly, flailing his arms uncoordinatedly. He mentally blamed it on the lack of sleep. "The Resistance, or whatever you call yourselves."
Poe's boyish smile wilted, the playful light from his eyes dimming and disappearing as he stood up, tossing the apple to the ground. "Finn, buddy…watch yourself."
"You call yourselves different from the First Order, and yet when one of you gets abducted by that…that thing, all you do is shrug your shoulders and go, 'Oh, well, that sucks. We'll really miss her. We'd love to go help her out and all, but oh look, we have too many other priorities on our daily To-Do List."
Finn huffed and crossed his arms, finally sitting down where Poe had been moments before. He stared at the ground, kicking the rocky dirt with his right foot to cover his left boot. It was habit, one he'd had since childhood, when he was consigned to life as a Stormtrooper.
And, if you asked Poe, it was a clear indication that he was majorly sulking.
Finn didn't bother looking up as his friend sat down next to him and sighed. He could tell Poe was weighing his responses, choosing his words carefully. Finn appreciated it…especially since he knew he had struck Poe's ultimate nerve by questioning the Resistance and its loyalty to its fighters.
"I know you care for her, Finn."
Well that's the understatement of the millennium, thought Finn wistfully. But he remained silent and stone-faced.
Poe continued. "We all do. And if you're questioning General Organa's devotion to us – to me – then all of those years spent in those tiny white, shiny helmets must've scrambled your brain." He paused in an attempt to stay on target, biting the inside of his lip as he contemplated what to say next. "You know how long I've been with the Resistance. You know what it means to me. I've told you stories…how it saved me, made me who I am today. I owe my life to the Resistance…" he trailed off. "My point is that sometimes, you can't question. Sometimes, you have to have faith."
"Yeah," Finn grumbled. His left boot was almost completely covered in dirt. Just a couple more swipes with his right boot, and –
Poe reached out and grabbed Finn's shoulder. Surprised, he immediately stopped playing with the dirt and looked up into the pilot's kind face. Poe's grin was still absent, but the light had seeped back into his eyes. "You know I care about you, and I know you care about me. And I am asking you, as your favorite friend, to please, please trust us."
Finn looked back down at his boot, the once shiny brown leather dulled and soiled. He reached down and brushed off the mound of earth until the leather shone a bit brighter. It would need a good polishing, but he knew from experience the grimy marks wouldn't be permanent.
He looked back up at Poe and nodded. "Okay, favorite friend. I trust you…all of you."
Poe grinned wider than he had in months, and despite his best efforts, Finn was unable to prevent himself from smiling back.
The pilot stood up, extending a hand to Finn, who took it. They gripped tightly, looking at each other, a silent understanding between them. Poe released his grasp first, and with a short chortle, clapped Finn on the back. "Excellent. Now: let's go find me another apple."
Author's Note: Thank you to all who have read so far, with a special shout out to Muchadoaboutnada for being the first – and only – reviewer! I truly hope you all are enjoying, and I encourage you all to please leave me reviews; what can I do better? What am I doing great? Where would you like to see the direction of this story go? Is my characterization on point, or do I have some work to do? I'd love to hear from all of you about these questions and more.
Thank you, thank you, thank you!