Ben - Age 9
"Poe, have you seen Ben anywhere?"
To be addressed by General Leia Organa Solo was an honor. To be requested personally for a mission was a privilege. To be held responsible for her son's whereabouts heralded disaster.
"Is he missing, General?" General, Your Ladyship, Your Highness – Poe was still confused about present titles and how they pertained to which monarchs of which galaxy. He was only beginning to cover the inner rim hierarchies in the academy. For now, General was the safest honorary.
Leia rolled her eyes. "They're still teaching that to kids? I haven't used 'General' since the Endor battle. Yes, Cadet Dameron; Ben is missing and I'm told you do a decent job keeping an eye on him."
"I…" That was a new transition. Promoted to guardian or demoted to babysitter? Poe didn't think Ben would appreciate either. "When did anyone last see him, General? I mean, your ladyship – ma'am?"
"Stop trying." Leia patted his shoulder unconsciously and Poe wondered if he'd been adopted on a whim. "Just call me Leia – Ben's mother if you must."
"Yes, Gen – I mean – of course." Poe wet his lips nervously. His instructors had drilled into each class that to neglect a title was not only a sign of disrespect, but an insult. It was a difficult lesson to ignore. "Where was Ben sighted last?"
"The communications post," Leia said. "We were waiting for contact from the Falcon. The transmission was jammed; that's the last I saw of Ben. I think he's worried for his father."
Ben's eyes were dark and vibrant, clamping down any visible emotions. His mother's couldn't have been more incomparable. Swirling tides of brown, flurried with anxiety and doubt, captivated Poe and before he heard the words coming out of his own mouth he saluted and assured, "I'll find him, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Poe; I knew I could count on you."
He was too flabbergasted to realize she had neglected to call him 'Cadet Dameron'.
Stopping by his room in a daze, Poe retrieved his cloth helmet and the jacket that had belonged to his father. If Han Solo was missing, there was only one place where Ben could be at this time of night.
The hangar was as frigid as Poe anticipated. He rubbed his hands briskly, wishing he'd brought gloves instead of extra socks. One of the returning pilots reciprocated his salute as they passed one another.
"Ben, where are you?" Poe murmured, scanning the shadowed nooks. There. Curled in a corner near the hangar doors was a mop of untidy black hair and quivering shoulders. Poe ducked under an X-wing cannon and approached, deliberately scuffing his feet. He was halfway across the hangar when Ben's head snapped up and he wiped his eyes dry, looking up to Poe as though he was Anakin Skywalker himself.
"You're late," Ben accused. "Mother should have sent you sooner."
Well, that was a bit presumptuous, but then again, Ben expected much from the universe. The young Jedi squirmed aside just far enough that Poe could sit beside him without freezing his tailbone. As Poe had guessed, Ben had forgotten his coat – again.
"Here." Deftly Poe slung his oversized jacket around the child's shoulders. Ben wormed against him, and Poe suspected he craved more than a warm cushion. Leisurely he looped an arm around the trembling frame. For once Ben seemed to relish the contact. "Waiting for your dad?"
"He'll come back," Ben whispered shakily. "He'll come back…. Won't he, Poe?"
"I'm sure he's fine," Poe said blithely. You'll be back, Mom? Won't you? Mom, where's Dad? You'll come back….. Pushing the memories away, Poe plastered a confident smile. "The storm probably delayed him."
"What if you're wrong?" Ben accused. Dark eyes drilled into Poe, brimming with a passion he rarely saw in Skywalker's apprentice. "What if he's gone?"
So defiant. So easily accepting the truth. Poe had denied the reports until the bodies were counted. Until the shards of his mother's X-wing were uncovered. Until they found….
"We don't know yet," Poe said, his voice nearly inaudible. Mechanically he tightened his grip, holding on to the one capricious yet infallible constant in the entire base. Ben squirmed and jabbed an elbow into Poe's ribs.
"Get off, Dameron!"
"Did I lose the rights to my first name?" Poe quipped, plastering a smile as he ruffled Ben's hair.
"I'll see to it that Mother banishes you to a mynock-infested asteroid," Ben warned. He shuffled close all the same, his gaze riveted on the hangar door. "How much longer?"
"Close your eyes and count the seconds," Poe coaxed. "When you reach a thousand, I'll take you outside and we'll have a look around."
Ben's forehead creased at the notion of a silly game. Such was the trust in his most vulnerable moment, that he laid his head against Poe's shoulder and began counting. He began sliding at five hundred. At six hundred and fifty he let Poe settle is head in the cadet's lap. At eight hundred and three Poe took up the count, a young Jedi sleeping beside him.
At a thousand, five hundred and fifty-six, a hangar guard tucked a blanket around them both. Eight thousand counts later, the hangar doors opened. Scuffed boots coated with fresh snow approached the sleeping boys. Cracked, frosted gloves were removed as the general snorted fondly and brushed a hand over his son's forehead. Chestnut eyes cracked open.
Poe was awakened with a thwack to his jaw as Ben lunged into his father's arms. Ragged gasps were quickly hushed as Han bundled his son into his own thicker, warmer coat. "I've got you, Ben. I've got you."
Ben clung to him, uncharacteristically silent, ashen with untold fear. Han swung around and winked conspiratorially at Poe.
"He'll be fine," Han whispered.
Poe smiled shakily, lost for response. Silently he retrieved his coat and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing away.
"Poe said you'd be back." He heard Ben exclaim breathlessly.
"Oh, did he now?" Looking back, Han nodded after Poe in thanks. The cadet didn't dare glance over his shoulder.
You'll be back Mom, won't you?... Mom? ... Mom?
Where's Dad?
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