This is set a few months before the novel Before the Awakening—Poe really hates the First Order and hates that the Republic isn't doing enough to fight them—other than his ideals, what could possibly make Poe so angry about it?

Warning: this is very long, and very sad. But there's a happy ending, obviously!

I've had worse, she almost wants to say, but that is never, never the right thing—not with the helpless way Poe is looking at her now, not when she will never forget the look on his face when she woke up in a hospital bed after, she was told, days of a machine breathing for her.

Let me die, Aviya thinks. Gods, just let me die, please just let me die.

It echoes in her head, in the refrain that's been in place for—days, maybe, or weeks or months or years or eternity, all that she knows is her cheek pressed into hard ground.

Cold. Hungry. Thirsty. Hurts. Let me die. Cold. Hungry. Thirsty. Hurts. Let me die.

She isn't so thirsty or hungry anymore though, and even the pain is starting to fade. None of that is a good sign.

The only other thing she's able to think about is Poe—his dark eyes locked on hers with too much tenderness, his curly hair wrapped in her fingers, the way all of the nicknames he has for her sound from his mouth, the way he looks climbing out of a cockpit. The way he wraps her in his arms at night—warm and safe. Two things she is not. Two things she has not been for a long time.

Poe. Cold. Hungry. Thirsty. Hurts. Let me die. Poe. Cold. Hungry. Thirsty. Hurts. Let me die. Poe.

Did he know she was missing? Was she was supposed to be back by now, had he realized?

Poe. Cold. Hungry. Thirsty. Hurts. Let me die. Poe. Cold. Hungry. Thirsty. Hurts. Let me die. Poe.

Her grasp on him is slipping. His face is blurry. His voice is distorted. He is no longer grounding her to the rough floor under her face. Instead, she just feels cold and heavy.

I'm sorry, Poe. Let me die. I'm so sorry. Let me die.

"Commander Dameron!" comes a voice, suddenly, that she knows is familiar, and she knows is out of place. But she doesn't know why—only knows that she is being lifted, and the pain is overwhelming, and then the world is black.

As Poe banks into the hangar, BB-8 chirps happily, and Poe feels just like the droid sounds.

"That's right," Poe says. "Avi should be back and waiting for us, and so should lunch." BB-8 beeps again, and Poe smiles. "Yeah, buddy, I missed her, too."

When Poe climbs out of his cockpit, there's a cadet waiting for him, looking worried.

"Commander Dameron," he says, "you're needed. Urgently."

Well, that can't be good.

"In the infirmary," the cadet continues. "It's…the other Commander Dameron. She's in bad shape."

That's all he needs to hear, to take off running across the base.

Before he can see her, he sees Jiya Prev and Evran Ozzek, her captain and lieutenant, sitting at the end of a bed, heads bent. Poe barrels into the room, his helmet in his hands and his heart in his throat.

She is so still—so pale, her dull skin even lighter than Poe's, dark purple circles under her closed eyes, her cheeks hollow, her lips cracked and split, and brightly colored bruises blooming on her face and arms.

"What—" he rushes to touch her, to look at the rise and fall of her chest—and she is so cold, her breaths so shallow.

"There are slave traders on Tyrann," Jiya says hollowly. "They captured her. Maybe they were going to sell her," she shrugs. "I don't know."

"How long?" Poe demands, and he can see Ozzek swallow hard.

"Five days," he answers, and at that, Poe can't tell if he is more overwhelmed with rage or devastation.

"Five…days?"

"She wasn't communicating with us," Jiya rushes to explain. "She does that, you know, turns off her commlink while she works. We thought—"

"After a couple of days, we knew something was wrong," Ozzek continues. "We found her yesterday morning."

"Yesterday morning?" Poe's voice cracks. "And she's—"

"Dehydrated, malnourished, hypothermic, bruised," Ozzek lists off, like it's a supply list and not a list of words that are going to tear Poe's guts out.

"She hasn't woken up yet," Jiya says quietly, and Poe has to grab the rails of Aviya's bed to keep from collapsing.

"Well. Thank you for staying with her until I got back," Poe says, a clear dismissal.

The two officers nod and exit, and Poe drops into the chair next to her, laying his head on her chest and feeling like he's made of a black hole.

When she wakes up, the world is white.

Her eyelids weigh more than an X-wing, and it takes every ounce of strength she has to open them, slowly and gradually.

"Aviya?"

His voice sounds like relief. She can feel his hand on hers, feel it tighten.

She opens her mouth and her own throat cracks dry like it's coated in sand, but she manages to choke out a soft, "Poe."

"Gods," is all he says as he leans forward to kiss her shoulder.

"What—"

She doesn't need to finish the question because he knows, he knows her more than anyone ever could, after so many years and so much.

"Confirmed the presence of slave traders on Tyrann," he answers, spitting it out with a Star Destroyer's worth of venom.

"How—"

"They got you—for five days," he says, and his voice is strained. "But Jiya and Ozzek brought you back—back to me."

There's something else she needs to tell him, but she can't remember what it is, because as he talks, it gets harder for her to take in each breath, like something is stopping them short.

"They brought you back yesterday, and, they say you're dehydrated and malnourished and banged up, but it's nothing they can't fix in a couple of days. Jiya and Ozzek say you look a lot better today than when they found you, which, gods, no offense, but…"

She normally loves his rambling, the way it sometimes feels as if he is physically incapable of not speaking, the way he turns it into leadership and inspiration and care, the way she can tell it's because he was so scared that all he can do is be Republic Commander Dameron with mission updates, but her lungs are on fire, and whatever he is saying is so much quieter than the burning in her chest.

"Poe," she manages to choke out, but he's so caught up in this, just stroking her hand.

"I'm so glad you're okay, kriff I can't even—"

The edges of the world are fading and she can't hear him anymore, can only think about how much it hurts and she tries one more, desperate time.

If this is her last word, it's the best one she could ever hope for.

"Poe."

He sees it, then, jumps up from the chair beside her and starts screaming.

"Help! Help her! Help!"

I should have died on Tyrann, she thinks. This is so much worse, to make him watch.

And the world is black and silent.

An infection, they tell him, finally, after rushing him out of the room to where he can still hear them, hear them shouting at each other and machines beeping and holy fuck, she's really going to die, isn't she, I'm going to lose her, I'm going to lose my whole fucking everything right here in this med bay.

An infection from the cold and the damp and the neglect is filling up her lungs with fluid, and he wants to put his hands around the medics' throats and squeeze, watch them struggle for breath, because they missed it when they examined her yesterday, and now she's—now she has so many tubes and wires and a machine next to her that whispers hiss, hiss in a rhythm he can't banish from his bones because it is her breath, being breathed by a machine and the universe or the gods or the Force or something is cruel and why can't they just take his breath and give it to her because he doesn't need it, he isn't using it if she is like this.

Sunk into the chair next to her, he's never felt this defeated, this helpless. He lets himself slump over, laying across her legs (one of the only places on her body not encumbered by machinery and tubes), and sobs.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not ever.

"Come back to me, Aves. You have to come back to me. My darling, my heart, my life. You have to come back to me."

Poe hears Karé Kun before he sees her, debating with a medic.

"Oh, no, I'm going in," she says, and she turns the corner into the room, BB-8 on her heels.

When she sees Aviya, she freezes—Karé may be Poe's lieutenant, but she's Aviya's best friend.

"Oh my gods," she says, pressing a hand to her mouth.

Poe can only nod, eyes rimmed with red, curls tangled from how many times he's run his hands through them in desperation.

BB-8 rolls over to Poe, beeping sadly, and Poe puts a hand on his droid's head with a deep sigh. With a chirp, BB-8 starts asking the medical droid stationed next to Aviya about her condition, and Poe can't handle hearing about all of it again, not even in binary, and when the medical droid says, devoid of any emotion, "status: alive, but critical, prognosis: unclear," Poe shakes his head.

"Stop! Shut up! Just stop!"

BB-8 drops his head, beeping apologetically, and Poe pets him.

"I'm sorry, buddy, I just—I can't right now."

Karé moves closer to Poe, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "She'll get better, Poe. You know she will. She's so strong."

"She better," Poe says hoarsely. "Because I am not that strong."

Karé nods knowingly. "Have you called her parents? Kes?"

"No."

"Do you want me to?" she offers. "If you don't want to…have to say…all of that."

Poe shakes his head. "No. It needs to be me." He rubs his face, feeling one hundred years old. "I, um…I guess I should tell her parents first."

Karé shrugs. "There's no harm in telling Kes first. If it will…help you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think…Yeah."

"Do you want me to stay? Or," she looks back at Aviya, trying to fight back tears, "wait outside?"

"I—" Poe takes a deep, shaky breath. "If you could wait?"

"Absolutely."

She rubs his arm and walks out of the room, touching Aviya's foot gently on the way out, beckoning BB-8 to follow her.

Poe takes his commlink out, staring at it for a moment. Even rehearsing the words in his head feels like a thousand-pound weight on his chest. He looks over at Aviya, taking her hand in his, kissing her thumb.

"Poe!" Kes greets enthusiastically, and that, somehow, is already too much.

Poe just lets out some sort of choked noise, falling back onto the bed.

"Poe?" Kes asks. "What is it, son? What's wrong?"

"Aviya," he manages to get out. "It's Ave."

"Oh, gods. What happened?"

"She's—it's not good. She got captured, and she has some sort of infection, and—" he sucks in a deep breath, holding tighter to one of Aviya's legs. "There's a machine breathing for her, Dad."

"Kriff."

"I don't know if she's gonna live," Poe admits, a sob escaping his throat. "I don't know."

"Oh, son," Kes breathes. "I'll be on the first transport out there."

Poe nods. "Thanks, Dad. I—" he shuts his eyes. "I have to call her parents."

"Okay." The tears are now evident in Kes' voice as well. "I'll see you soon."

"I can't lose her," Poe says abruptly. "I can't, Dad."

He's thinking about his mother, and he knows Kes is, too.

"I know, son." Kes takes a deep breath. "It's—"

Well, it was the worst pain Kes had ever felt. But, losing Aviya would be losing a child, and watching his child go through the worst pain of his life—and that seemed infinitely worse.

"I'll be there soon," Kes repeats.

After he hangs up with his dad, Poe just holds the commlink in his hand, looking at it. He has no idea how to call the Rimaros and tell them this.

"Avi," he says, ghosting over her fingertips, the only part of her hand still exposed. "Avi, I—" he takes a deep breath. He has to keep himself together, has to make this phone call—it isn't fair to make them wait.

"Poe Dameron," Tua Rimaro answers good-naturedly.

Poe braces himself—he just has to say this out loud one more time.

"Aviya, uh—"

"That's hospital beeping, isn't it?" Tua asks somberly.

"Yeah, it is. She, uh—" his voice cracks.

"How bad is it, son?"

"Bad," is all he manages to say. The less Poe has to speak, the better; the med team can fill the Rimaros in when they arrive, because Poe doesn't think he can do anything but cry right now.

Tua sighs. "We'll be there soon."

Karé carries dinner in, holding the bag aloft.

"I thought you might be hungry."

Poe shakes his head. "No."

Karé nods. She looks over at Aviya, watches the steady, machine-induced rise and fall of her chest.

"What the hell happened?" she asks suddenly. "Where was her team?"

"Apparently she turned her commlink off," Poe says. "I don't know who let that happen, but—"

"She's their Commander," Karé reminds him. "And she and her husband both have a tendency to be a little reckless."

"Normally, that would make me smile," Poe acknowledges. "But I can't today."

Karé nods. "I understand."

"Poe?" a voice asks the next morning, and he turns around in the chair.

"Iva."

He moves to stand, but she holds up her hand to stop him, crossing the room. Iva looks at her daughter, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

"You said it was bad, but—"

"Yeah," Poe answers gruffly.

"The doctors told us. They—they would only let one of us in here at a time. Since you're already in here."

"I'm not leaving her."

Iva puts a hand on his shoulder. "I know. As it should be."

Poe nods, rubbing his eyes.

"You haven't slept," Iva observes.

"No. Of course not." He sighs. "She looks a little better, if you can believe it."

Iva reaches for Aviya's fingertips. "My baby," she whispers. She turns back to Poe. "Your father is here, as well. He flew in with us."

Poe nods, torn. He wants to see his dad, wants Aviya's parents to have time with her—but he doesn't want to leave her side.

With a sigh, he finally stands. "I'll send Tua in."

Tua and Kes are both in the waiting room; Tua, standing placidly, hands clasped behind him, Kes, leaning against the wall. Karé is seated, filling them in on what details she can about the mission that landed them all here.

"Son," Kes says, noticing him first.

Poe nods, then turns to Tua. "You can go in there, with Iva. I figured I'd—I'd give you two a few minutes." Only a few, he hopes is clear.

Tua nods, disappearing through the doors to the rooms, and Karé stands, leaving in the opposite direction with a quick wave so that father and son are alone.

Kes walks forward and Poe collapses into his arms, exhausted and terrified and desperately sad.

"I'm here, son," Kes assures him. "I'm here."

"I have good news," a doctor says, stepping into the room.

Poe and Iva look up from their silent vigil—the three parents were taking turns sitting in the room, with Iva taking the longest shifts.

The doctor flips a screen on, pointing. "These are Commander Dameron's lungs—the fluid is almost completely gone."

Both Iva and Poe let out audible sighs of relief.

"This means that tomorrow morning, we can take her off the respirator."

"R-really?" Iva asks.

The doctor nods. "However, Lady Rimaro—we are asking that only Captain Dameron be present, to avoid any overcrowding."

Iva nods, always the picture of dignity. "Of course."

Poe sits, holding Aviya's hand, waiting, as the doctor flips the machines off and disconnects the respirator's tubes.

"Now, we'll see if she wakes up," the doctor says, checking her vitals on the monitor.

He says it cheerfully, but we'll see if she wakes up is absolutely one of the worst sentences Poe has ever heard.

The doctor ducks out with a smile that's meant to be reassuring, and Poe just sits there and looks at his wife, waiting, watching her chest rise and fall.

"Come on, Aves," Poe urges. "Please wake up, sweetheart."

Aviya's eyes stay closed.

So Poe waits and watches.

And waits and watches.

At least now, respirator gone, Poe can see her face, can touch her cheek. He sings, a lullaby Shara Bey used to sing with him.

And Aviya's eyes don't open.

Instead, one of the machines starts beeping loudly, rapidly.

"Aviya?" Poe asks.

Her chest has stopped rising and falling. Her lips are turning blue.

"What's happening?" Poe asks, jumping sideways off the bed, as doctors rush in and push him out of the way.

"You'll have to go, Commander," a nurse tells him. "She's not breathing."

Poe only backs up as far as the doorway, hanging on to the doorframe. He stands silently, frozen, in the doorway, hoping they don't notice him and push him the rest of the way out.

Not again, not again, not again, fuck. Gods, Force, universe, whoever—Mom—don't take her away. Don't do it. Please don't do it.

He feels transported, suddenly, to age eight, in the doorway of another hospital room, while another dark-haired woman fought for her life. He remembers the beeping, the doctors rushing around, holding onto the doorway even as his father tries to push him out of the room. Shara Bey lost her fight that day, Kes Dameron standing wordless as Poe sat next to his mother's still body and begged her to come back.

It was the worst day of Poe's life, and if this day has the same outcome, he doesn't think—no, he knows—he will not be able to handle it.

"Put her back on the respirator!" is one of the few things the doctors shout that Poe understands, and it yanks him back into the present.

He watches as they put the mask back on, hook all of the tubes and wires back up.

And the machine starts beeping steadily again.

"What the fuck happened?" Poe chokes out as all of the doctors back away slightly, no longer as frantic and frenzied.

"The fluid came back," one of the doctors explains. "I don't know exactly why—we'll use stronger antibiotics now, stronger oxygen therapy."

The next two days pass in mind-numbing monotony. They take turns sitting, waiting, talking. Karé comes in and out, bringing food and clean clothes, updating him on Rapier Squadron.

At the end of the second day, the doctors inform the family of their plan to spend the next three days attempting to wean Aviya off of the respirator—rather than simply turning it off all at once, the way that had gone so poorly before.

Poe falls asleep that night, as he has every night for the past week, sitting in the chair, leaned over on the bed with his head up against Aviya's thigh.

"She's doing well so far," Iva observes brightly, with Aviya only relying thirty percent on the respirator. "The doctors seem hopeful."

Poe nods. "Thank gods."

"Have you thought about…" Iva chooses her words carefully. "Her recovery?"

"What do you mean?"

Poe wishes the Rimaros spoke plainly, the way he and Kes did.

"We—her father and I—think that it might be good for her to come back to Naboo for a while. You know, the fresh air, royal doctors, many willing bedside nurses. For the both of you to come, of course."

Poe can't help but smile at the thought of Aviya's certain reaction to this plan (the way she would react behind closed doors, of course—not the diplomatic response she would surely give her mother).

"She won't, you know." He shakes his head. "I'm sure she should. But even if I try to convince her—she's just going to jump back into this. Especially now that she knows that there are sla—" he catches himself before he gives away classified information. "That the people who did this to her are out there, doing this to others. She won't let them."

"That is noble, of course, but…" Iva searches for the diplomatic phrasing, again. "Unwise."

Poe chuckles. "Probably. But that's my—our—Aves."

"I think you may have rubbed off on her, Commander," Iva says, the bitterness behind her words coming out more than she intends.

"Not as much as you would think. But you are right. That could be the Commander Dameron motto—noble, but stupid."

"I did not say stupid."

Poe grins in a way he hopes is reassuring. "I'm going to take care of her, you know. Very good care of her."

Iva nods. "I know." She strokes Aviya's arm. "My noble little bird."

Poe's chest is nothing but a mass of anxious knots.

Aviya had spent hours with the respirator turned down to five percent—then two. There was no sign of fluid buildup, no drop in oxygen saturation. Finally, the doctors had turned the machine down to zero percent, then removed it, and stopped the drugs that kept her asleep.

Poe sits on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling off the side, his torso turned to face her, an arm braced on either side of her. He's singing his mother's lullaby again, waiting and watching again.

Her chest keeps rising and falling, rising and falling.

And then her eyes start to flutter.

"Aviya," he breathes.

It takes her eyes a moment to focus on him, and the look on his face—impossibly helpless, lined with worry, unshaven, dark circles under red-rimmed eyes, hair wild—reminds her that she was lying on the ground in a cell in Tyrann, waiting to die.

She must have lived.

"Poe," she tries to say, but it comes out more of a breathy exhale. She finds that her throat doesn't quite work.

"Don't try to talk," he says, and he's crying, hand coming to his mouth to stifle sobs. "Oh, gods, I thought you weren't going to come back to me. My love, my—my everything."

It takes a vast amount of effort, but she's able to move her fingertips to meet his. I'm here.

"I really missed you, sweetheart," he says, still crying. "We all did—everyone's here—my dad, your parents. Karé and BB-8."

Why was everyone here? How was everyone here?

Her questions must show on her face, because he reaches out to stroke her cheek. "It's been days," he explains. "The longest goddamn eight days of my life."

"Eight?" she whispers.

"A machine was breathing for you, baby," he explains, and he knows the hiss, hiss is going to haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

"What?"

"You had an infection, you—from whatever those slave traders did to you on Tyrann."

"It was the First Order."

She whispers it, and it's hoarse and shaky, but it's clear.

"What?"

"The First Order," she repeats.

"Those fucking—Imperial wannabes?"

She nods.

"The fucking Imperial wannabes the fucking Navy keeps telling us that we can't do a kriffing thing about?"

She nods again, and by the Force, Poe's insides are about to explode in a ball of fire he's so angry.

"The karking First Order imprisoned and starved and beat and almost kriffing killed my wife—an officer of the Republic Navy—and we've been sitting on our hands and just letting them have their own fucking corner of the galaxy?"

Aviya waits patiently.

"We have to brief—everyone. Major Deso—the karking Senate."

"Poe," she whispers.

He looks back down at her, and comes back to himself—comes back to the fact that she's alive and awake and talking to him after eight kriffing days where he thought he was never going to see her again.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he says. "Gods, Force, I can't live without you, I—I love you."

Feeling a little stronger, she grasps his wrist. "Come here," she whispers.

"What?" He leans down, moving his ear closer to her mouth so he can hear what she's going to say.

Suddenly, she picks her head up and kisses him on the cheek. He lets out a soft noise of surprise, looking at her smug smile.

"You," he says softly, full of tenderness.

"I love you, too."

That was very long and very sad and…I'm sorry? This idea and, honestly, the first quarter or so of this have been sitting around for…a while.

You can probably expect more in the near future, as I am finding that I suddenly have… a lot of time on my hands. Do we want more angst? More happiness? Let me know!

(ALSO bonus points if you recognize where I got the ending from? Hint: it's my favorite currently airing TV show)